End of the Tunnel

VII

Two weeks later, he was nervous for a different reason. He was not entering a cave of enemies, instead he was joining friends, but that seemed far worse. They would all stare at him when Fred's name was announced as one those tragically lost to the war. People would pat him on the shoulder and offer the same shallow condolences they had offered at the funeral almost a year ago. All the sympathy he needed had been offered through tender touches and thoughtful gazes across a makeshift breakfast table of milkcrates. Leading up to the day she had asked him if he was okay to go. Three months ago, he never would have imagined himself going to something like this, but three months ago he didn't have Hannah. He could handle every moment as long as she was by his side. He was even grateful he had been struck with the need to make Hannah happy and invited Malfoy. At least the weasel wouldn't send him stares of pity across the great marble floor or whisper about him behind thick velvet curtains.

Hannah was still getting ready in their tiny bathroom, cursing every time she bumped against the lopsided shelf, he had installed to hold her absurd number of products. The time was ticking down, and Malfoy had rented a car for the two couples, and it was going to be here any minute.

"Hannah," he called, flopping back onto the bed, wrinkles be damned.

"Coming," she hollered back with that infinite amount of optimism one would have to possess on a night like this. The door flew open and she grinned. "Zip me?"

He would have, it would have been the polite thing to do, and it was an excellent excuse to try and seduce her into staying home, but his motor skills seemed to fail him.

She was beautiful. He had known this before, of course, but now dressed long red crushed velvet she was... breathtaking. Most of her hair was pinned to the back of her head, but a few soft, golden curls framed her face, brushing her cheeks.

"Are you alright?" she asked with a grin, dark red lipstick contrasting the whiteness of her teeth. She knew exactly what she was doing as she stepped closer, looking as innocent as ever. "You going to zip me?"

"I might unzip you," he muttered, pulling her closer as she laughed. He leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled away before he could.

"You'll smudge my lipstick," she muttered before planting a soft kiss on the tip of his nose before turning around, exposing the soft skin of her back to greedy fingers. He placed a kiss to her spine before pulling up the zipper with slow deliberation. She shivered as he allowed his finger to drag along her skin, back arching ever so slightly until he reached the end. It didn't cover much, reaching only the small of her back, a temptation he was going to have to deal with for the rest of the night.

"I like the red," he whispered.

"I thought a little statement about Gryffindor would be appropriate," she replied.

"Oh yes, very. One day when I can bare it, I'll have to dig out the old quidditch jersey, you'll look remarkable in it." His heart panged at the mention of the garment, knowing that an almost identical one sat in the chest beneath the bed, a garment he couldn't care to look at quite yet. Quickly, she spun around and kissed him again, soft and meaningful, full of the unspoken message that if it was better to stay home, she would do just that.

A cordial knock snapped against the door; Malfoy had arrived.

"Last chance to cancel," she whispered against his neck, but he shook his head.

"No, it'll be good for me, I have to get out there anyways."

"I'm so proud of you," she whispered against his lips. The chocolatey taste of her lipstick filled his senses, and he pulled her tight against him, forgetting all about the boy at the door until another harsh knock sounded at the door.