Duet 6 ivory88s and evil_kitten18
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Title: Senses
Author: ivory88s
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1700
Summary: Hermione trusted her senses.
Warnings: None
Author's Note(s): Thanks to Stacy for the beta and the hand-holding and the last-minute aim chats. For my giftee - thank you so much for your fun prompts! I had a huge story and I just didn’t have enough time to do it justice so hopefully this little section of it is to your liking!
Hermione trusted her senses. She loved the smell of citrus and the sound of popcorn popping. She loved the colours of Autumn and the sensation of magic.
She still remembered the smell of her mother’s Sunday roast and the feel of Harry and Ron’s hugs when she left for the States. Even now, seven years after she left, she can remember how the Burrow looks, smells, and feels like home.
Hermione looked around her apartment and smiled. She was finally going home. When she left wizarding Britain, she asked Harry and Ron to write but not visit. She needed to define herself away from the identity she had with them. They didn’t understand but respected her decision. They had written to her, filled at first with “are you sure” and “why would it hurt just once.” And now she was going back to show them why. She had received both wizarding and Muggle education - forensic psychology on the Muggle side for their fantastic advances in the neuropsychology field and forensic charm work (with a little forensic rune study) in the wizarding world. She wanted to know what made criminals tick. She wanted to be able to feel empowered and psychology was something that crossed the magic/Muggle barrier.
She took one last deep breath and ran a final check of her apartment. It had been her home for the past seven years and she loved it but it was time to move on. Satisfied and nervous, she picked up her bag packed with her shrunken belongings and checked her watch. Two minutes to go, she took out her specially-ordered international portkey and closed her eyes. She smiled as she had the urge to tap her heels together as she felt the magic engage.
--
The first time Hermione couldn’t believe her eyes was seeing Malfoy at Sunday dinner at the Burrow. She probably wouldn’t have believed at all except Harry had warned her.
When she first Apparated to the edge of the property, she just stood there taking in the sameness and familiarity of the crazy gravity-defying home. She smiled in gratitude when no one met her at the door. She savoured the moment of taking it all in. She knew Molly knew she was there from the wards and was thankful she let her take her time. When she opened the door, everyone was milling around the kitchen waiting to eat and there he was - he looked like a statue of crisp angles in the sea of soft, welcoming redheads. Her eyes told her he was relaxed here - his posture was open and casual. Her scrutiny was over in several seconds though as the Weasleys and Harry descended upon her. When she was released, he was still there, eyeing her with an amused quirk of his lips and a raised brow. She nodded to cover her light blush as she straightened her ruffled clothes and went to sit as Molly ushered everyone to the table.
As she let the sounds of a Weasley dinner wash over her in waves, she knew she was home.
---
6 Months Later..
Hermione jolted awake and looked around. With adrenaline pumping through her, she looked around her bedroom. No invaders, no sounds. Then she looked at the clock. She cursed. Ten minutes late for work.
Jumping from bed, she grabbed a skirt and a button-up, then changed her mind to dress slacks when she realized she needed to shave. She barely missed tripping on the rug in the kitchen (she still wasn’t completely used to her new flat) as she grabbed a muffin and threw some powder in the fireplace. Coming to a spinning halt, she did her best to keep her pace to a brisk walk, though she was mentally wishing it was acceptable to flat-out sprint through the Ministry offices. She hated - hated - being late. And she had an important case she was working a profile for and she needed to have a meeting with -
“Malfoy.”
“Morning, Granger! You seem in fine form this morning,” he said with a smirk from her chair. Her chair! She took a calming breath. He made her office smell of citrus.
“Get out of my chair, Malfoy.”
“Well, I figured that when I came in this morning -”
“Breaking past my wards!”
He continued as if she had not spoken, “- for our meeting to find that you weren’t using it, that I probably should. Let me just say, this one is not as comfortable as your chair for guests. You can do better.”
As if to show he was obviously moving to the other chair of his own accord, he got up and walked around to the correct side of the desk.
“Ahh, yes. This one is much better,” he said with a smile.
Rubbing her temples, Hermione sat in her chair, not bothering to explain her choice in desk chairs. This one fit her perfectly fine, thank you very much.
“Late night?” he goaded, “Weasley keeping you up too late?”
Another deep breath. Citrus.
“You know very well Ron is seeing Stacy from the Prophet. Shall we talk about the Ramsey case? I believe you have some of the Rune work from his background check?”
Once they settled down to work, they worked well. And well into lunchtime.
“Malfoy, we really need to stop for lunch,” she complained. Her stomach was letting her know the small muffin wasn’t going to cut it for sustenance.
“Yeah, just a minute,” he said, rising from his chair to look at a parchment at the top of the desk. They had managed to create quite the mess. As he leaned over, she stiffened and closed her eyes. He smelled so good. She took a deep breath and -
“You ok, Granger?” She snapped her eyes open to find Malfoy staring down at her inquisitively. Scent of citrus around her, she just stared for a moment, dazed. Slowly blinking, she shook her head.
“Yeah, sorry,” she said distracted, “I’m just hungry. Low blood sugar and all that.”
“Better get that looked at,” he replied, already on his way toward the door, “I’m going to call it a day, Granger. Party at my house for the benefit tonight - don’t forget.”
“Right.”
Of course she had forgotten, working this case. She hated these parties but her friends went and it looked good if she attended, as well. Might as well suck it up.
--
Two hours in and she was already contemplating which would be a more swift way of offing herself. Currently she was torn between a fork to the eyes or breaking the nearest vase and stabbing herself with it. The food had been wonderful - the dessert had been her absolute favourite, chocolate cake with raspberries. But now that was gone and so were her friends. Harry was deep in conversation with the head of the research department of St. Mungo’s, Ron and Stacy were probably making out in a closet somewhere (he never really did grow out of that particular habit), Malfoy was being manhandled by Astoria while talking to their boss, and she wasn’t sure Ginny had come at all.
She decided a nice walk would be nice. Malfoy had built himself a new Manor after burning down the old one after the war. She smiled as she thought about how much they had all changed in the years she was gone. The first room she came to that was open seemed to be a music room. Deep plush carpets hugged the floors and rich tapestries adorned the walls. But what really beckoned to you was the beautiful dark wood grand piano in one corner. She sat down almost reverently on the bench and, not for the first time, wish she played. She lightly ran her fingers over the keys. Hearing the door click, she turned on the bench to apologize, only to find Malfoy leaning with his head on the door. She smiled.
“Your own party too much for you?”
He spun around, startled, relaxing when he saw who it was. He chuckled.
“Not the party. My date is a little tiring.”
“What, girls throwing themselves at you is too tiring?” she scoffed.
“Thanks for the scorn but no, I don’t like women throwing themselves at me,” he said as he walked toward her, stopping just behind the bench and looking down at her. He nodded at the instrument, “You play?”
She turned back to the keys, touching them lightly and smiled, “No, but I wish I did. Do you?”
“I do, in fact. Proper upbringing and all that,” he said as he put his arms on either side of her to rest his hands on the keys. She made to move her hands.
“Malfoy, I can get up if -”
“Shhh -” he breathed in her ear as he started, fingers brushing the sides of hers as he played. It wasn’t anything complex but it was beautiful nonetheless.
For once, Hermione gave into her senses. She was surrounded by the tune, his scent, and the tingling of her back where he was almost touching her. If she leaned back just this much...
He finished the song, letting the notes die on their own. His hands left the keys for her arms as she leaned back into him.
“Malfoy?” she whispered, afraid to break the silence.
“Shhh,” he whispered for the second time that night, “listen to your senses.”
And with that, she did. She revelled in the here and now. When he pushed her back into the keys, she knew she would have bruise on her back tomorrow, but he felt good in her hands. His lips tingled and seared the flesh of her neck as he made his own map of her skin. His skin was hot under her hands and his touch burned through her clothes.
For a brief moment, she thought about consequences and tomorrow and what if, what if? Then the scent of citrus overwhelmed her and she knew she could sort all those out tomorrow.
THE END
Title: Senses
Author: ivory88s
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1700
Summary: Hermione trusted her senses.
Warnings: None
Author's Note(s): Thanks to Stacy for the beta and the hand-holding and the last-minute aim chats. For my giftee - thank you so much for your fun prompts! I had a huge story and I just didn’t have enough time to do it justice so hopefully this little section of it is to your liking!
Hermione trusted her senses. She loved the smell of citrus and the sound of popcorn popping. She loved the colours of Autumn and the sensation of magic.
She still remembered the smell of her mother’s Sunday roast and the feel of Harry and Ron’s hugs when she left for the States. Even now, seven years after she left, she can remember how the Burrow looks, smells, and feels like home.
Hermione looked around her apartment and smiled. She was finally going home. When she left wizarding Britain, she asked Harry and Ron to write but not visit. She needed to define herself away from the identity she had with them. They didn’t understand but respected her decision. They had written to her, filled at first with “are you sure” and “why would it hurt just once.” And now she was going back to show them why. She had received both wizarding and Muggle education - forensic psychology on the Muggle side for their fantastic advances in the neuropsychology field and forensic charm work (with a little forensic rune study) in the wizarding world. She wanted to know what made criminals tick. She wanted to be able to feel empowered and psychology was something that crossed the magic/Muggle barrier.
She took one last deep breath and ran a final check of her apartment. It had been her home for the past seven years and she loved it but it was time to move on. Satisfied and nervous, she picked up her bag packed with her shrunken belongings and checked her watch. Two minutes to go, she took out her specially-ordered international portkey and closed her eyes. She smiled as she had the urge to tap her heels together as she felt the magic engage.
--
The first time Hermione couldn’t believe her eyes was seeing Malfoy at Sunday dinner at the Burrow. She probably wouldn’t have believed at all except Harry had warned her.
When she first Apparated to the edge of the property, she just stood there taking in the sameness and familiarity of the crazy gravity-defying home. She smiled in gratitude when no one met her at the door. She savoured the moment of taking it all in. She knew Molly knew she was there from the wards and was thankful she let her take her time. When she opened the door, everyone was milling around the kitchen waiting to eat and there he was - he looked like a statue of crisp angles in the sea of soft, welcoming redheads. Her eyes told her he was relaxed here - his posture was open and casual. Her scrutiny was over in several seconds though as the Weasleys and Harry descended upon her. When she was released, he was still there, eyeing her with an amused quirk of his lips and a raised brow. She nodded to cover her light blush as she straightened her ruffled clothes and went to sit as Molly ushered everyone to the table.
As she let the sounds of a Weasley dinner wash over her in waves, she knew she was home.
---
6 Months Later..
Hermione jolted awake and looked around. With adrenaline pumping through her, she looked around her bedroom. No invaders, no sounds. Then she looked at the clock. She cursed. Ten minutes late for work.
Jumping from bed, she grabbed a skirt and a button-up, then changed her mind to dress slacks when she realized she needed to shave. She barely missed tripping on the rug in the kitchen (she still wasn’t completely used to her new flat) as she grabbed a muffin and threw some powder in the fireplace. Coming to a spinning halt, she did her best to keep her pace to a brisk walk, though she was mentally wishing it was acceptable to flat-out sprint through the Ministry offices. She hated - hated - being late. And she had an important case she was working a profile for and she needed to have a meeting with -
“Malfoy.”
“Morning, Granger! You seem in fine form this morning,” he said with a smirk from her chair. Her chair! She took a calming breath. He made her office smell of citrus.
“Get out of my chair, Malfoy.”
“Well, I figured that when I came in this morning -”
“Breaking past my wards!”
He continued as if she had not spoken, “- for our meeting to find that you weren’t using it, that I probably should. Let me just say, this one is not as comfortable as your chair for guests. You can do better.”
As if to show he was obviously moving to the other chair of his own accord, he got up and walked around to the correct side of the desk.
“Ahh, yes. This one is much better,” he said with a smile.
Rubbing her temples, Hermione sat in her chair, not bothering to explain her choice in desk chairs. This one fit her perfectly fine, thank you very much.
“Late night?” he goaded, “Weasley keeping you up too late?”
Another deep breath. Citrus.
“You know very well Ron is seeing Stacy from the Prophet. Shall we talk about the Ramsey case? I believe you have some of the Rune work from his background check?”
Once they settled down to work, they worked well. And well into lunchtime.
“Malfoy, we really need to stop for lunch,” she complained. Her stomach was letting her know the small muffin wasn’t going to cut it for sustenance.
“Yeah, just a minute,” he said, rising from his chair to look at a parchment at the top of the desk. They had managed to create quite the mess. As he leaned over, she stiffened and closed her eyes. He smelled so good. She took a deep breath and -
“You ok, Granger?” She snapped her eyes open to find Malfoy staring down at her inquisitively. Scent of citrus around her, she just stared for a moment, dazed. Slowly blinking, she shook her head.
“Yeah, sorry,” she said distracted, “I’m just hungry. Low blood sugar and all that.”
“Better get that looked at,” he replied, already on his way toward the door, “I’m going to call it a day, Granger. Party at my house for the benefit tonight - don’t forget.”
“Right.”
Of course she had forgotten, working this case. She hated these parties but her friends went and it looked good if she attended, as well. Might as well suck it up.
--
Two hours in and she was already contemplating which would be a more swift way of offing herself. Currently she was torn between a fork to the eyes or breaking the nearest vase and stabbing herself with it. The food had been wonderful - the dessert had been her absolute favourite, chocolate cake with raspberries. But now that was gone and so were her friends. Harry was deep in conversation with the head of the research department of St. Mungo’s, Ron and Stacy were probably making out in a closet somewhere (he never really did grow out of that particular habit), Malfoy was being manhandled by Astoria while talking to their boss, and she wasn’t sure Ginny had come at all.
She decided a nice walk would be nice. Malfoy had built himself a new Manor after burning down the old one after the war. She smiled as she thought about how much they had all changed in the years she was gone. The first room she came to that was open seemed to be a music room. Deep plush carpets hugged the floors and rich tapestries adorned the walls. But what really beckoned to you was the beautiful dark wood grand piano in one corner. She sat down almost reverently on the bench and, not for the first time, wish she played. She lightly ran her fingers over the keys. Hearing the door click, she turned on the bench to apologize, only to find Malfoy leaning with his head on the door. She smiled.
“Your own party too much for you?”
He spun around, startled, relaxing when he saw who it was. He chuckled.
“Not the party. My date is a little tiring.”
“What, girls throwing themselves at you is too tiring?” she scoffed.
“Thanks for the scorn but no, I don’t like women throwing themselves at me,” he said as he walked toward her, stopping just behind the bench and looking down at her. He nodded at the instrument, “You play?”
She turned back to the keys, touching them lightly and smiled, “No, but I wish I did. Do you?”
“I do, in fact. Proper upbringing and all that,” he said as he put his arms on either side of her to rest his hands on the keys. She made to move her hands.
“Malfoy, I can get up if -”
“Shhh -” he breathed in her ear as he started, fingers brushing the sides of hers as he played. It wasn’t anything complex but it was beautiful nonetheless.
For once, Hermione gave into her senses. She was surrounded by the tune, his scent, and the tingling of her back where he was almost touching her. If she leaned back just this much...
He finished the song, letting the notes die on their own. His hands left the keys for her arms as she leaned back into him.
“Malfoy?” she whispered, afraid to break the silence.
“Shhh,” he whispered for the second time that night, “listen to your senses.”
And with that, she did. She revelled in the here and now. When he pushed her back into the keys, she knew she would have bruise on her back tomorrow, but he felt good in her hands. His lips tingled and seared the flesh of her neck as he made his own map of her skin. His skin was hot under her hands and his touch burned through her clothes.
For a brief moment, she thought about consequences and tomorrow and what if, what if? Then the scent of citrus overwhelmed her and she knew she could sort all those out tomorrow.
THE END