(Hermione and Draco take on the zombie apocalypse) It's been five years since Harry, Hermione and Ron left Hogwarts.
Hermione, now twenty-two and engaged to Ron, prides herself in her intelligence. All her life, Hermione has always needed to kno...
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Hermione plunged herself into the cool water, letting the wetness lap at her skin as she dunked her head in the slow running part of the river. The morning sun was beaming down on her during an unusually warm fall day as she impulsively allowed herself the closest thing to a luxury of a bath that she had in days.
With a gasp, she came up for air, grabbing the soap so she could quickly try to wash the tumbling mess of her wet hair. She worked it into a lather quickly, already feeling iciness of the water, her teeth chattering as she quickly tried to wash herbody.
Hermione had sneaked off alone, wanting to have privacy as she bathed. She knew it wasn't the brightest thing to do, but she had felt unsure about asking Draco Malfoy to come along and take watch for her so she could wash her hair. For many reasons.
After her hair was well and soaped up, she quickly dunked again, allowing the water the lap at her a few moments as she felt her body temperature lower even further, her skin starting to burn as it conserved heat. Hermione ran her hands through her hair, trying to tame what she could of the tangles. As she did so, her mind wandered to the pale-haired Slytherin.
Out of all those in their small group, she found herself relying on him the most. She frowned, her eyes closing as bubbles stung them and she quickly washed her face. She had been surprised when Draco comforted her the other night, and ever since then, she had looked at him differently. The boy he had been before had traversed leagues to become the much more mature young man he was now.
And...she couldn't deny the comfort she had found in his arms.
However, guilt, heavy and sinking, weighed down upon her. Ron – whatever he was now – would have been her husband by this time had things not turned out as they had. It may have felt like years that they had been out there in the Stadium, but it had really been just under a month. Sure, nothing had happened other than sleeping side by side and some comfort when she needed it, but she knew she wasn't looking at him through completely innocent eyes. She had noticed how she preferred his hair long, loose, and untamed. It softened the sharpness of his features on his aristocratic face.
She was more than aware that he was a man -- and a strong one too. His arms, as he wrapped them around her at night, were well-muscled, and his body was lean as it brushed against hers.
Hermione dunked herself again. For good measure. There was no time to think about Draco that way. A part of her worried she was just latching on to the first kindness she was shown after all the horribleness she had experienced.
Was it a crime for her to allow Draco in? She craved it. Some softness in a time when everything had gone to hell. She knew who he was, who he had been. But that seemed to matter less and less. He was different now...she was different now too.
She clenched her eyes against the hot tears as they tried to fall down her face. Thinking of Draco was so much easier than thinking of Ron. Her heart ached for him every day. For him, Ginny, Molly, Arthur...and her parents that were likely gone too, not that they remembered her. At least if they were alive they wouldn't be worrying about her after she had obliviated them six years ago.
