Fic: Moving On (Hermione/Blaise)
Title: Moving On
Characters/Pairings: Hermione/Blaise, past Hermione/Ron
Rating: Any Age
Summary: It’s taken her time to realize that it’s okay to move on.
Word Count: 625
A/N: Written for hp_goldenage Bathilda Bagshot Bingo’s prompt: Balcony. Last part of my little Bingo series. I made “Bingo”. Yay!
The air is warm, a gentle breeze that ruffles disheveled hair and causes soft silk to brush against bare legs. Hermione reaches up to push her hair out of her face, fingers trailing down the streaks of white that are slowly starting to outnumber the brown. At the moment, she feels anything but old yet her hair is a reminder that she’s not a young woman anymore. Her body also reminds her as she feels a slight twinge in her lower back that she knows is from her attempts to be as flexible as she used to be and the slight ache between her legs from vigorous activity that she hasn’t indulged in since before Ron died.
The thought of her husband brings a gentle smile to her lips, and she steps closer to the balcony railing as she looks out over the calm sea. The sun is barely starting to appear over the horizon, the sky taking on the beautiful colors of sunrise. Ron hadn’t been an early riser, preferring to watch a sunset to getting up at dawn to see the start of a new day, so the memories of their sunsets are special to her. It doesn’t hurt to think about him anymore. Instead of tears and grief, she’s able to smile and remember him with happiness and love that doesn’t end just because he’s gone.
There are footsteps behind her, a strong arm moving around her waist as a warm body presses closer. Full lips press against her neck before a chin rests on her shoulder. It’s taken her a long time to realize that certain aspects of her life also don’t have to end just because Ron’s gone, but there’s been healing, her children supporting her in their own ways, and she doesn’t feel guilty for what she has now because she knows Ron approves. He would want her to be happy, after all.
It took four months for her to reach a point where she was able to accept what Blaise had offered during that first meal they shared together, but he’s been patient and gentle with her in a way she hadn’t expected. Age has softened some of his rough spots, but there are still edges and points that aren’t at all soft. She doesn’t mind that because they’re both old enough to know what life is really like, to have the patience that comes with age.
She strokes her fingers over the rail of the balcony, the metal cool beneath her hands despite the warmth of the early morning hours. His hand is on her belly, his thumb rubbing back and forth, neither of them speaking because words aren’t necessary. Last night was their first time together, and it had been difficult at times, her insecurities and guilt rearing their ugly heads as soon as she’d been naked. Blaise had fought them perfectly, though, and he’d proven that the gentleness didn’t necessarily extend to the bedroom, much to her unexpected delight. Her current soreness is a direct result from his athleticism and energetic love making, after all.
“Goodbye, Ron. I love you,” she whispers, needing the closure. She feels Blaise’s arm tighten around her waist before he turns her towards him. She looks up at him, smiling as she moves her fingers along his jaw, thumb brushing across the laugh lines by his mouth. She admires the face that has somehow become more beautiful with age, envious that he can make wrinkles and grey hair distinguished and handsome while she just looks old. The balcony railing is behind her back as she leans up to kiss him, ready to start a new day. She understands now that moving on doesn’t mean forgetting.
It just means letting go.
End
Characters/Pairings: Hermione/Blaise, past Hermione/Ron
Rating: Any Age
Summary: It’s taken her time to realize that it’s okay to move on.
Word Count: 625
A/N: Written for hp_goldenage Bathilda Bagshot Bingo’s prompt: Balcony. Last part of my little Bingo series. I made “Bingo”. Yay!
The air is warm, a gentle breeze that ruffles disheveled hair and causes soft silk to brush against bare legs. Hermione reaches up to push her hair out of her face, fingers trailing down the streaks of white that are slowly starting to outnumber the brown. At the moment, she feels anything but old yet her hair is a reminder that she’s not a young woman anymore. Her body also reminds her as she feels a slight twinge in her lower back that she knows is from her attempts to be as flexible as she used to be and the slight ache between her legs from vigorous activity that she hasn’t indulged in since before Ron died.
The thought of her husband brings a gentle smile to her lips, and she steps closer to the balcony railing as she looks out over the calm sea. The sun is barely starting to appear over the horizon, the sky taking on the beautiful colors of sunrise. Ron hadn’t been an early riser, preferring to watch a sunset to getting up at dawn to see the start of a new day, so the memories of their sunsets are special to her. It doesn’t hurt to think about him anymore. Instead of tears and grief, she’s able to smile and remember him with happiness and love that doesn’t end just because he’s gone.
There are footsteps behind her, a strong arm moving around her waist as a warm body presses closer. Full lips press against her neck before a chin rests on her shoulder. It’s taken her a long time to realize that certain aspects of her life also don’t have to end just because Ron’s gone, but there’s been healing, her children supporting her in their own ways, and she doesn’t feel guilty for what she has now because she knows Ron approves. He would want her to be happy, after all.
It took four months for her to reach a point where she was able to accept what Blaise had offered during that first meal they shared together, but he’s been patient and gentle with her in a way she hadn’t expected. Age has softened some of his rough spots, but there are still edges and points that aren’t at all soft. She doesn’t mind that because they’re both old enough to know what life is really like, to have the patience that comes with age.
She strokes her fingers over the rail of the balcony, the metal cool beneath her hands despite the warmth of the early morning hours. His hand is on her belly, his thumb rubbing back and forth, neither of them speaking because words aren’t necessary. Last night was their first time together, and it had been difficult at times, her insecurities and guilt rearing their ugly heads as soon as she’d been naked. Blaise had fought them perfectly, though, and he’d proven that the gentleness didn’t necessarily extend to the bedroom, much to her unexpected delight. Her current soreness is a direct result from his athleticism and energetic love making, after all.
“Goodbye, Ron. I love you,” she whispers, needing the closure. She feels Blaise’s arm tighten around her waist before he turns her towards him. She looks up at him, smiling as she moves her fingers along his jaw, thumb brushing across the laugh lines by his mouth. She admires the face that has somehow become more beautiful with age, envious that he can make wrinkles and grey hair distinguished and handsome while she just looks old. The balcony railing is behind her back as she leans up to kiss him, ready to start a new day. She understands now that moving on doesn’t mean forgetting.
It just means letting go.
End