Bewitched by You (A Marvel/Harry Potter Crossover) COMPLETED

Chapter Eleven: Bare Bones in the Mire

Hermione turned slowly, meeting Bucky's gaze. That rich, blue gaze that could go from fiercely protective to lost and broken so fast, the change tore at her heart. In the quiet of their quarters, she could hear his breath as he exhaled—thought for certain her heart was beating so loud, he could hear the thump of it against her rib cage.

He was waiting for her to say something, to do something.

And all she could think was how hard she was falling for him. It seemed utterly absurd. Less than a week they'd known one another, yet they seemed to have been through so much . . . .

But then there was Loki, and whatever strange magic he was using intensifying their connection. So, maybe it wasn't so absurd, after all.

Yet, they weren't on even terms, not really. Not yet. In their very first discussion, he'd shared the deepest, darkest part of himself, because he'd needed her trust—he'd hardly given her detailed accounts, but he had told her enough that there was no ambiguity about his past.

But he'd trusted her after learning only the bare bones of hers.

Something in her expression must've alerted him to her inner turmoil—or, she thought, the fact that I've been staring at him in silence for a solid two minutes might've clued him in—because he stepped closer, cupping her cheek with his right hand.

"Tell me," he said, his voice tumbling out in a whisper. "Whatever's got you making that face, just tell me."

She nodded, feeling stuck for a moment as she held his gaze. "Um, there's just . . . there's just one thing I have to do first."

"Sure, okay. What—?"

Before Bucky could finish the question, she slid a hand around the back of his neck. Pulling his face toward hers and bouncing up on her toes, she closed the distance between them.

Her mouth pressing to his caught him by surprise, but instinct took over immediately. His arms slipped around her to pull her against him as he tilted his head, parting her lips with the tip of his tongue to dart inside.

Giddy at his response, she eagerly caressed his plunging tongue with her own. Her fingers tangled in the long hair at the back of his neck as she playfully nipped and suckled at his tongue.

After a few pulse-quickening minutes, she broke the kiss. Dropping her forehead down against his chest as they caught their breath a little, she whispered, "You remember what I said in your dream? That we needn't share our private miseries until we're ready?"

"Of course."

"I'm ready. I want to tell you . . . about—about what happened with Draco."

Nodding, even as he darted his gaze about the room, he said, "Not where I thought you were going with that kiss, but okay."

Hermione giggled and shook her head before looking up at him. "I . . . . Look, I know what you've been through, so you deserve to know what I've been through, too."

Nodding again, he slipped his arms from her to grasp her hand in his. He led her to the bed and sat her down, settling on his knees on the floor before her. That this was a reversal of the way they'd sat in their quaint enchanted tent the evening prior was not lost on either of them.

"I'm listening," he said, his hand giving hers a gentle, encouraging squeeze.

* * * * *

Loki wandered through the rolling, inky darkness. This was quite the predicament in which he found himself. After popping into her head to show her that pleasant little fantasy, he'd gotten a bit . . . lost in the mire, it seemed. Now he had to find his way back out of her subconscious.