marked me (like a bloodstain)

the taste of regret

marked me like a bloodstain

She could easily kill Ron.

Maybe shock would ripple out among the crowd when his body hit the floor, but no one would point a wand at Hermione to stop her from walking over him to leave the room with her freedom and a little-to-no inkling of guilt. It would just be another Tuesday for the DMLE—Aurors Granger and Weasley at each other's throats again.

Although her magic sparked and crackled with every breath, Hermione refused to let it mix with the rage causing a tsunami tide inside of her, threatening to flood past her walls of obedience and skill to stun him with a breathtaking use of wandless magic. Instead, she aimed a right fist into the hollow of his throat. Ron staggered, choking, but recovered quickly enough to lunge forward. His elbow attempted to collide against her ribs, but she ducked from the would-be impact, punching his knee before driving her weight against his midsection. When the momentum flipped his lean frame over, Hermione stomped a bare foot onto his chest, keeping him in place.

When he did not move to strike, a bell dinged, dinged, dinged over Hermione's head.

"Fuck sakes, mate," said Harry, squatting to look down at Ron's pained, red face. "I told you not to go one-on-one with her when she's mad at you."

"She's always mad at me," Ron groaned, closing his eyes as he snaked fingers around Hermione's ankle, squeezing.

With her nose wrinkling in irritation, Hermione subdued the particles of her magic that were untamable against raw emotion. While she was indeed furious with Ron, she chose to remember she quite loved the idiot; she took her foot off his chest before waving a wrist to help him into a sitting position. She felt a lecture pool at the tip of her tongue, but before it could come out in a reprimanding tone all too familiar from their school days, an arm wrapped around Hermione's sweaty, sore shoulders.

Blaise Zabini was smirking, exposing sharp, blinding-white teeth as his free hand extended out to the other gathered Aurors. "Right. Pay up now. I told you Granger wouldn't make it until the end of the week before maiming Weasley in one manner or another."

Hermione shoved him off, but turned her frown at Harry when he pulled out a few galleons from the pocket of his sweatpants. "Harry! You're not supposed to make wagers, you're Head Auror !"

"Which is why I had a little more faith that you'd resist seeking vengeance against your own partner—"

"It wasn't vengeance," hissed Hermione, her magic causing the lights of the training room to flicker. She took a breath as Harry gave her a pointed look and the others leered. "We're practicing physical defensive tactics. It's not my fault Ronald can't last more than a minute with a woman, is it?"

"Oi!" With difficulty, Ron pulled himself back up to his feet. He started to glare down at her, but the fire in her gaze scorched him a few paces back. "I last long enough, all right?"

Blaise scoffed at the remark as he counted his winnings. "Never with Granger," he sneered. "It's probably why she broke up with you."

"We never dated!" both Hermione and Ron shot back, causing the round of laughter around them to echo louder.

With a deep breath of his own, Ron managed to turn them away from their nosy comrades, his fingers circling Hermione's arms as he took a cautious step forward. "How many times am I going to have to say sorry?"

"Don't be sorry," she told him, meeting his blue eyes with the same indignation that started them on the wrong foot the day before, "be careful ."