Clean

The Calm

Chapter 16: The Calm

Hermione lay on her stomach, resting her head on her arms while she stretched out languidly on the bed. She felt an odd sort of tingling at her core, like her very essence was wholly and preternaturally satisfied. She closed her eyes and allowed glimpses of skin and fire and contact to dance around her mind, each more vibrant and raw and real than the hasty imaginings she'd had to settle for until now.

She opened her eyes and he was there, chest bare and silky blond hair ruffled and matted, his head propped up indolently on one arm as he traced lazy patterns down her spine. His grey eyes, always alert, were watching her closely, eyeing her now as she smiled shyly at him. That was one thing she liked about him, she thought. She could admit that now. When he looked at her, he took his time, absorbing her. It wasn't the practiced glance of an old friend. It was the look of an artist, a scholar – he was studying her, memorizing her. And maybe she was art in his eyes.

It had been an immensely successful day.

She reached up and touched his lips gently. "What's wrong?"

His fingers paused their wanderings down her back as he frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "You're thinking about something."

He raised an eyebrow. "Reading my mind now, Granger?"

"You're always thinking about something," she clarified. "I just thought you might actually tell me, now."

He didn't say anything at first, and though his expression didn't change, she understood intuitively that he wasn't quite there yet.

"I suppose," he ventured, after a while, "I could do with hearing about your duel with Weasley."

She smiled broadly. "You don't want to just wait and hear the rumors?"

He tucked a curl behind her ear, sliding a cool hand over her shoulder. "I'm sure your version will do."

"Not much to report," she said, leaning into his touch. "Very similar to the lesson in class. I disarmed him, and that was pretty much that."

His grip tightened as he laughed. "You're fucking joking, Granger," he said, shaking his head. "You just disarmed him, and 'that was that'?"

"He, ah – he didn't try to use a nonverbal spell, he just sort of started saying something out loud, which I thought was horrifically lazy," she said, her tone very similar to the one she adopted when supplying answers in class.

His eyes were flashing with amusement. "So, what? If he hadn't been lazy – "

"I hadn't made up my mind yet, about what I was going to do," she admitted. "I know you think – "

"Never mind what I think, Granger."

"Well – in any case," she continued, "But when I saw he wasn't even trying . . . I just did it. Quick and painless."

"Oh I highly doubt 'painless' had anything to do with it," he said gleefully.

She groaned. "Look, I'm sure it may take longer now, but I do still plan to be friends with Ron – "

"Waste of time, if you ask me – "

" – so it'd be best if you didn't get too attached to the process of brainwashing me – "

"I resent the implication, Granger, I've done nothing of the sort – "

" – because whatever I feel for you is distinctly separate from my relationship with Ron and Harry – "

"Oh?" he said, his tone lightly mocking. He leaned over to kiss her shoulder. "And what is it you feel for me?"

She rolled her eyes but let him collect her in his arms, pulling her back to his chest and tucking his legs under hers. He slid his hand lightly up over her waist, bearing down on her hip and thigh before running back up past her rib cage, coming to rest possessively over her abdomen. She had to remind herself to breathe.