Fixing what you broke

Chapter 22: Fixing

Chapter 22: Fixing
Notes:
Oh man. The last chapter... I am so emotional about this one! I think this has to be my favorite piece yet and I hope you guys have loved it as much as I have.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text
It would not be an accurate description to say that they spent all night between the sheets together.

For instance, there were brief moments of running to the rest room or grabbing a snack and some water.

They ate chocolate chip cookies in the sheets and Hermione had grumbled about Draco spilling crumbs in her sheets until he gave her a flat look, waved his wand and they vanished.

They argued about something silly and when she tried to storm out of bed he caught her around the waist and dragged her back in bed, pinning her beneath him, grinning. She was still holding on tightly to her anger and so he had mercilessly tickled her until she squirmed in laughter.

They didn’t talk about anything important… not yet.

They were trapped in a bubble that they didn’t dare tamper with. It reminded her of Cartagena… a bubble too perfect to be real. So they just... ignored that it existed.

At least for now.

For now, they couldn’t get enough of each other. Every inch of skin was a long ago secret that they were indulging in remembering.

They moved together like they had never stopped.

In a canopy of curls, they kissed in every way. Slow and languidly, fast and breathlessly. They memorized everything they had forgotten the last few months.

She hoped this part would never end.

But it was never that simple. The world outside her bedroom door waited with bated breath as they lay there, a entanglement of limbs and whispered endearments.

-----

Hermione jumped as a knock of knuckles hit her flat door.

She sucked in a breath and cowered underneath her loose sheet, covering her face.

“Who could that be I wonder?” Draco drawled, his voice had a twinge of playfulness.

The bubble had been burst.

All it took was three short knocks and the crushing weight of reality descended.

“I assume it could be any number of people…” she said from beneath the covers, the tops of her curls escaping wildly.

“What are the chances that the person has red hair?”

“I would say at least 90%...” she groaned.

Knock, knock, knock.

“So, should I get it then?”

“NO!” she screamed, “Maybe they’ll go away…”

Knock, knock, knock.

“That isn’t looking likely, Granger. I’m happy to incur the wrath of any Weasley on the other side of that door for you,” Draco said with a puffed up chest and air of chivalry.

She smiled against his chest.

“Thank you, Draco. But this is something I’m going to have to deal with sooner or later… The longer I put it off, the worse it will be.”

She pushed up to seated and brought the sheet with her, draping it over her nakedness.

She dropped it to reach for her sweats and her Gryffindor Tshirt, the ratty one with the hole in the neck that she had worn the last time they really kissed in Cartagena.