17. SLATE BLACK - CHROME BLACK
"So you've forgiven Malfoy, have you?"
I give Ginny, who is leaning against a tree trunk a few feet away, watching the access road to Ottery St. Catchpole with a concentrated expression, a scowl with no heat to it. Her curiosity really knows no bounds, but tonight I'm in too good a mood to be miffed about it. Well, looks like I'm a better person when the day starts with multiple orgasms. Who would have thought?
"I wouldn't say I've forgiven him for his choice of words," I drawl, "but I now know why he overreacted and I've decided I can live with his explanation."
"Mm," Ginny hums. "Did he apologize then?"
"Yep."
"Very good. Would you like to tell me more about it?"
Thoughtfully, I twirl my wand between my fingers. After the third rotation, I firmly shake my head.
"Another time."
"Okay."
For a while, neither of us says a word. The only thing that now breaks the silence is the December wind whistling through the deserted alleyways and the leafless crowns of the trees. For a few days now, the temperature has regularly dropped below freezing, making the night watches in particular an extremely unpleasant affair. Shivering, I raise my wand and refresh our Warming Charms for what feels like the hundredth time.
Ginny expresses her gratitude by giving me a two-finger salute.
"And you've resumed shagging," she says suddenly, making me suck in a sharp breath.
Furthermore, as I realize just a millisecond later, a certain heat is creeping up my neck. Yet again. Bugger, bugger, bugger.
I like most of what I've felt since Malfoy arrived at Camp Black. It's new and exciting and vitalizing. What I could happily do without, however, is the abashedness that I've been carrying around with me all the time; the feeling of being easy to see through and therefore unusually vulnerable; all this fucking blushing. I've always prided myself on not being that kind of woman (anymore), but apparently all it takes is the right man to bring the schoolgirl in me back to life. Embarrassing, really.
Ginny doesn't notice my reaction, thank Merlin, for her gaze is stoically trained on the village, as required by the Resistance's watch protocol. It almost makes me a little wistful that she gives me no reason to reprimand her.
"And how would you know?" I ask for lack of a more clever answer.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ginny smirk.
"I'm just an acute observer, you know," she explains with a dismissive wave of her hand. "And it's not hard to come to that conclusion when you know exactly what to look for. The way your gaze flits to him as soon as he enters the room, for example. The way you literally undress him with your eyes. One might even say you're pining after him. Have you ever seen your face when—"
"Ginny," I say warningly, but it only sounds half as indignant as I would have liked.
In response, for the first time that night, she turns her face towards me. When our eyes meet, I can no longer stop myself: I give her a tiny grin. She returns it with a mischievous gleam in her eyes, then looks away again.
***
"Is it official now?"
My hand is already on the door handle of the briefing room when Blaise's voice rings out. I frown and turn around to face him again.
YOU ARE READING
REBEL
Fanfictionᴅʀᴀᴍɪᴏɴᴇ • Hermione is a rebel. She knows better than anyone that the line between good and evil is thin. That thin line is grey. Like Malfoy's eyes. Now he's here, at headquarters, equal parts provocation incarnate and persistent glimmer of hope.
