Blue

The mind has already forgotten what the body still longs for…


It was an odd pain, really; a lingering ache in her joints that had no detectable cause and no logical reasoning. She was perfectly healthy, ate a balanced diet, exercised daily, and got a full serving of her vitamins daily. So what was this unease that settled into the very marrow of her structure?

Hermione shook her head at herself, mentally begging the ache to disappear so she could return her full attention to the assignment spread out before her. Luck, however, was not on her side.

“Hermione!” A voice bellowed from the floor below. “Hermione Jane Granger! Where the bloody hell are you?”

Hermione sighed and sat back in her seat, rubbing her forehead wearily and smearing ink stains across her face.

“Up here, Ginny!” she called back half-heartedly.

“Okay!” Ginny said enthusiastically as she bounced into the room. “Get off your arse, now, and follow me.”

Hermione looked up, scowling. Her face quickly rearranged itself into a mask of shock as she was greeted by Ginny’s wand, not even inches in front of her own nose.

“Now that you know I mean business, will you kindly stand up and come along quietly or do I have to hex you first?” Ginny spoke softly but there was an underlying threat.

“Ginny! What are you doing?” Hermione gasped, pushing her chair back slightly while attempting to withdraw her wand from its drawer in the desk before her.

“Uh-uh,” Ginny said with a shake of her head. “Show your hands. No funny business, ‘Mione. Just come with me and don’t make this so difficult, yeah? I really don’t want to cast any spells on you but I gave an oath. I have to do what I have to do, you see.”

“No,” Hermione said crossly, standing and edging around the room as Ginny directed her. “I really don’t see.”

Ginny shrugged indifferently. “Well, you will. And that’s the part that matters.”

Held at wand point, Hermione was forced into her bedroom and made to stand in front of a full-length mirror.

“Hmm…” Ginny mumbled thoughtfully. She turned her wand to Hermione’s closet and an assembly of clothes flew out, arranging themselves on the bed. Several moments later, Ginny gave a happy nod and began a new series of flicks with her wand. Hermione kept her grumbling down to a minimum as her clothes flew off her frame and new clothes were put on in their place. She had finally recognized the signs and had already resigned.

At least once a month Ginny would show up at Hermione’s flat and steal the older girl away for a night of fun. Ginny always complained that Hermione worked too much and Hermione knew it was true. But she just couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm to go out. Not after…

“No fight this time?” Ginny asked smirking. She had moved on to Hermione’s hair and make up. Hermione continued to just stand, a living doll if you will. Hermione shook her head and the smirk on Ginny’s face fell just the slightest bit.

“I’m doing this for your own good you know,” she said in a small voice. “Harry, Ron, Luna, and I are worried about you, ‘Mione. All you ever do anymore is sit in your office and-”

“I know, Gin,” Hermione interrupted. “And I’m not fighting you. I’m not thrilled to go, but I see it for what it is and I’m willing to go. So can that please just be enough for now?”

Ginny pouted. “I think I liked it better when you fought me the whole way.”

Heads turned as Ginny and Hermione entered the latest club to arrive in Diagon Alley. Club Potions had become a wildly popular spot for witches and wizards in Britain.

“Ginny! ‘Mione! Over here!” Harry’s call came, cutting across the pounding music. In the dim, colorful light, Hermione could just make out his shape as he gestured to them wildly. They fought their way through the throngs of people to reach the table where he sat. Ron was with him, as were Luna, Neville, and Hannah Abbot. Hermione found herself being passed from one hug to the next.

“What do you want to drink, ‘Mione?” Ron shouted to be heard. “I was just about to go get Luna another gillywater. I’ll get you something while I’m up at the bar.”

Hermione shrugged indifferently, noting silently to herself that once again she was the only one without someone in her circle of friends. “Whatever the special is tonight,” she responded.

Ron nodded and took off, pushing people out of the way and ducking around others.

“How have you been, Hermione?” Luna’s dreamy voice seemed to penetrate the pulsating music without the need to shout. Hermione forced a smile on her face.

“Fine, thanks Luna. How about you?”

“Oh, just splendid. Ronald and I have sex quite regularly and it just does wonders for my mood.”

Hermione grimaced openly. Luna was always too forth coming with information.

“Er, that’s nice!” Hermione yelled back. Luna smiled and began bobbing her head to the music.

“Good to see you again, Hermione,” Neville said, leaning across the table and knocking a drink over in the progress. Hannah had her wand out and the mess gone before Neville could even work up an appropriate blush. He smiled at her and Hermione felt that familiar ache creeping in again at the blatant display of affection between the two.

“Here you go!” Ron shouted in her ear, shoving a drink into her hand. She sniffed the contents of the glass and made a face.

“What’s it called?” she asked.

Ron gave her a lopsided grin and from the corner of her eye Hermione could see Luna staring at Ron as though she wanted to eat him whole. She grimaced again as Ron answered.

“Tipsy Cauldron! Bartender said it wouldn’t take more than two of those to set even the most experienced drink straight on his arse! Take it slow, ‘Mione. We want you around for a while.”

Hermione regarded her drink for a second before taking a deep breath and chugging the whole thing. As she slammed the empty glass to the tabletop she caught Ginny and Harry snogging madly in the swirl of multicolored lights. Another grimace.

“Think I’ll give dancing ago!” she shouted, making a hasty retreat from the table full of lovers.

She pushed her way onto the dancing floor and shut her eyes as the magical workings of her drink began to take effect over her body. The pain was still there but it was muted now. Eyes still closed, she gave herself to the music, ignoring everyone around her and moving to the demanding beat.

She stayed lost in her own world through several dances while different wizards passed her around, dancing with her in turn. She paid no mind to any of them, caught up in the inner workings of her mind. She was still attempting to place the unexplained aches that claimed her. They would come around from time to time and plague her for several days before vanishing once more. After months of this reoccurrence, she was no closer to naming the mysterious happenings than she had been the first time it had taken place.

An arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back flush against a male body. Warm and firm. His scent enveloped her through the smoky mist of the club. It fought against the smell of alcohol and sweat and the ache burst forth in her belly so sharply that she would have doubled over if not for the arm holding tight to her.

The scent had no name. It was not cologne or soap. It was the scent she knew as well as her own, but had not smelled in too long a time. Suddenly the ache had a name and a reason and all her questions had answers. What her head had forced itself to forget, her body had remembered, still craving the touch and taste.

“Draco…” she whispered, relaxing into him. The alcohol had numbed her sensibility and she didn’t feel like questioning his motives or even why he was there – there pressed against her, guiding her body against his own to the music in the crowd of strangers.

His lips fell to the side of her neck and she dropped her head back again his shoulder. How many times had they stood just like this? After sleepless nights spent together or while she cooked breakfast for the both of them in his flat…

His hands dropped to her waist and turned her to face him. Her eyes raked over him quickly. Black shoes, pants, and belt. Wife beater under a steel gray top, hanging open to reveal the planes of his muscular chest through the shirt that clung like a second skin. His pale flesh, unblemished face, full lips, and stormy eyes…

Her knees gave slightly and he wrapped his arms quickly around her, pulling her against him again. Weakly, her arms went around his waist and she inhaled deeply. His essence permeated her senses, rendering her completely helpless to his charms – and he was yet to so much as speak a word.

“Why?” she whispered against his neck. The music changed and the new song was sensual and driving. They moved together in motions that were as natural as breathing.

“I couldn’t stand the pain,” he answered, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he spoke. “It took me ages to figure out what it was and when I realized it was you… well, here I am, right?”

Hermione tilted her head back, instantly drowning in his eyes. “You were my pain, too.”

His gorgeous eyes were hidden as his lids slid over them, pain of a different sort obvious over his perfect features. He tightened his arms once more and the club disappeared.

“Think we did the right thing?” Ginny asked, worrying her lower lip.

“Yeah, I do,” Harry assured her, both of them staring at the spot where Hermione had vanished from.

They were at his flat. Hermione hadn’t been there in nearly a year. A year had passed since she and Draco had ended their whirlwind relationship. A year spent buried in books and work and anything else that kept her mind preoccupied enough to prevent thoughts of him from creeping in. Yet she now found herself right back where she had been all that time ago.

Draco relaxed his arms slightly, staring down at Hermione. Her eyes were soft, like melted chocolate spiked with drops of honey and molasses. His drew his hand up her side, revisiting the curves he had missed with quick passing. His palm curved to her cheek, his fingers itching to reunite with her silken curls.

As his hand moved to cradle her head, a sigh of homecoming escaping as his fingers wound into her hair, Hermione stared at his mouth. It lowered to her own and she found herself gripping his over-shirt, the material bunching as she crushed it into her palms.

The kiss was hesitant, a testing of the waters. She pushed herself up on tiptoe, leaning heavily into his chiseled chest as she eagerly pressed for more. Draco’s worries were abandoned in that moment and the onslaught of emotions was comparable only by the sensations coursing through his body from her touch.

Pulling away, breathing ragged, he stared at her once more. Both of his hands carefully framed her face.

“Hermione, now that I have you here again, I’m never letting you go. It’s physically painful to be without you. I need you like I need air. Please say you’ll stay. Don’t leave me again.”

Hermione shook her head feverently. “It does hurt too much to be away. I can’t even remember why I left in the first place.”

“I didn’t want to paint the bathroom blue,” Draco said softly, cringing at the memory. Hermione’s jaw dropped.

“Really? I left because of a paint color?”

“Silly, isn’t it? How crazy things got over a bathroom?”

Hermione’s mouth was opening and shutting like a fish out of water.

“Hermione, I’ve painted the bathroom blue. I’ll paint the whole flat blue. Hell, I’ll go round and paint all of bloody London blue if you’ll stay with me. I never stopped loving you and I never will. Please, say you’ll stay? Give me another chance and I swear paint will never separate us again – neither will any other trifle reasoning, or gigantic reasoning. You can have everything your way, all the time. I swear.”

Hermione shook her head again, slowly this time. Draco’s heart sank.

“I don’t think I care for blue enough to see all of London done up that way.” A small smile formed on her lips and Draco’s heart jumped into his throat, afloat with hope. “And I don’t want to have my way all the time. How will we have make up sex if we don’t have something to make up for?”

Draco’s grin lit his face up, his eyes shinning with happiness.

“But,” she continued, “I do love you and I don’t believe I ever stopped, no matter what I told myself. And of course I’ll stay. I’d need to be admitted to St. Mungo’s or shipped of to live with crumple-horned snorsnaks if I didn’t stay.”

“Crumple-horned..?”

Draco’s confusion was cut short as Hermione’s lips caressed gently over his. He bent slightly, never breaking the kiss, the caught Hermione behind her legs. Carrying her in his arms he made the way to the bedroom, passing a blue bathroom along the way.