Week Three (Sloth) - He Kept Her Standing
Gentle lips brush against her own. He tastes like hot sweetened tea, and she melts into him. His arms, lean and strong, hold her up.
He keeps her standing.
“I love you,” he murmurs into her jawline, kissing there then down her throat. She closes her eyes, groaning as they travel lower to her chest.
“I love you, too.”
She opens her eyes, and he’s gone. He hadn’t been kissing her—hadn’t kissed her since that last morning. The pain of it, heavy on her heart, pressing her into the ground, returns.
She’s alone in their—her kitchen. The cup of tea in her hand is cold. She places it on the counter, not bothering to vanish it or even dump the tea into the sink. It hadn’t been sweet enough anyway.
He’s been gone for nearly a week now, she thinks, but can’t be sure.
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She climbs into their—her bed, head falling onto her pillow. His is across the room on the floor where she’d thrown it when she could no longer stand the smell of him.
She rots, closing her tired eyes to keep more tears from falling.
He isn’t here to keep her standing.
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“Draco—he wouldn’t want this, Hermione,” Harry says, as if he has any idea what Draco would want.
She ignores him. It’s not worth the effort.
“Come back to work. Some routine would do you good. The entire DMLE misses you. Hermione, I miss you.”
The sincerity in Harry’s eyes makes her breath catch, and she has to look away. “I can’t.”
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She’s lost in tart green apple and musky cologne. He’s here. She’s cocooned in his embrace, head on his shoulder where it belongs, nose in his neck.
“I want to stay like this forever,” he sighs, twirling a stray curl around a long finger.
“Forever and always,” she breathes as he presses a kiss into her hairline.
She opens her eyes, and she’s alone, sitting on their—her bedroom floor, clutching his pillow to her heart.
He’s gone, and the insurmountable ache for him returns.
There’s nothing left to keep her standing.