DISCLAIMER: It's been 18 chapters so I guess you know it already. I own nothing in the entirety of this fanfiction other than my sick plot and even that is sometimes derived from songs, books and movies.

One more thing. The line, "... is a side effect of War" "... is a side effect of dying", is a quote from The Fault in Our Stars by John Green which I hope that you have at least heard about otherwise you're living underneath a rock. The original idea/quotes go something along the lines of, "the booklets said that depression might be a side effect of cancer but quite frankly, depression is a side effect of dying." Okay something along the lines of that, I don't specifically remember but the idea is repeated throughout the entire book and it sounded fantastic.

Epilogue: Okay

2 months later

Hermione walked past vividly blooming freesias and crimson red carnations, the clean scent of freshly cut grass and jasmine in the air.

Narcissia Malfoy's extensive gardens that surrounded the Manor were oddly comforting for such a place.

It had been bloody 2 months.


It had taken the entirety of two months after Voldemort's death for the forces to 'retreat' from full fledged war and for the Order to be off red alert. An entirety of two months for the War to become small enough to be considered normal behaviour. But the War never truly ends, it just blends seamlessly with the primitive and inhumane behaviour that society accepts.

Voldemort might have fallen but that didn't mean he hadn't sparked an idea. An idea for a revolution. And an idea is impossible to destroy.

Impure blood was still considered the scum of the earth but there is no law against harbouring ideals and morals.

It wasn't the same violent War they'd seen that night that Voldemort fell.

They were days of darkness.

The days in which both sides wished for this madness to end.

The days in which nothing was certain and nothing was expected.

The days of darkness before the dark ideals of Voldemort and followers were small enough to ignore.

But the madness never ends. It only becomes regular life because regular life is just a toned down version of the War.

The War never began and it will never end either.

It had already been weeks since the Dark Days had officially ended according to the Ministry and yet she was still being hustled about, never receiving time alone, tending to the fragments left. Stabilising the community, establishing contact with the rest of the magical world, speaking to the press, all infuriatingly boorish revolutionary acts to be made because she had to. And she should.

Hermione Granger hardly knew what she wanted anymore. She did what she was supposed to do because she was Hermione Granger and she was meant to be normal now. Everything was meant to be normal now. They were meant to return to their normal, relaxed lifestyles but how could she? When everything seemed so fickle in comparison?

The only thing that seemed to spark a flame in her comparatively numb ordered mind was the thought of the deceptively silent malfoy family, with one particular member in mind.

They seemed to have disappeared but she knew they were there.

They steered clear of the press and remained unnoticed through the chaos of rebuilding.

She'd only seen them once. Only once.

At the Wizengamot while Harry testified Narcissia's selfless act.

She attended all the hearings because she was supposed to.

How were others allowed to decide what she was supposed to do and what she wasn't?

But it hardly mattered because there he was.

He'd stood there, the same snarky bastard she'd known all these years and absolutely unlikeable, completely unaware of how the people in the room would be determining his future.

She had every intention to vote against him seeing as he was being so bloody ungrateful until his eyes flickered over to where she had been sitting and his shoulders slumped for a second as his façade fell, brows furrowing, lips parted and teeth clenched before he stood up straight once more, the stormy grey eyes leaving her.

Hermione bit her lip anxiously as the door to the Malfoy Manor came into her view.

She wondered if he remembered her.

He had probably written her off.

He may not have been in the press much but she knew that he was far too busy to think about something as trivial as herself. He'd taken over the family business and was also working part time at the Ministry as well as at St Mungo's Hospital.

He had a normal life, she thought, a faint smile on her lips.

She could only hope to god that he hadn't forgotten because she certainly hadn't.

Hermione pursed her lips firmly as she steadily knocked on the rich mahogany door.

Well, there was no backing down now.

Her hand shook in nervous anticipation. Maybe she hadn't thought this through. He was surely out, busy as he was. What if his parents answered the door? What if they laughed in her face? What if he refused to see her? What if he laughed in her face?

The door suddenly opened.

Hermione's jaw dropped as a dishevelled platinum blonde appeared in the doorframe wearing nothing but black pyjama bottoms.

"Granger?" A hoarse voice said as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

Her eyes widened in surprise, gaze scouring his features like a drowning man gasping for air.

She inhaled a deep breath of fresh air before composing her features. "Hello Mr. Malfoy, are your parents home?"

Draco watched her incredulously, he must still be dreaming but she looked so fucking real right there in front of her. So goddamn fucking edible, her hair messy and spilling over her shoulders with bright eyes framed with lovely long lashes. He would never have been able to dream such a creature with such detail.

"Well, my Fathers in Azkaban so I'm assuming that he is by definition 'out' but I'm presume you mean my other parent," he shrugged.

She remained implanted in her place, still waiting for an answer.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, my Mother's out," he said, hand reaching for the door frame to steady himself.

Hermione nodded, blinking rapidly. "Okay," she breathed.

He would've smiled if he hadn't been so nervous.

Why was she here? Was she here for him? Did she come to tell her to forget her?

He didn't want to forget her.

He never fucking wanted to forget her no matter how much it pained him to remember.

And besides, she couldn't possibly be here for him. It'd been nearly 2 months. Well, exactly 2 months; not like he was counting or anything, it was just rather hard to forget. 2 months was an awfully long time to get around to talking to a person. 2 months was long enough for her to have forgotten about the time they'd spent together.

He noticed she was staring; staring rather hard at him. He shook away the thoughts and instead merely looked at her, pretending just for a moment that she was his. "Okay," he murmured in response.

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. "Okay," she said again, tense silence falling between them.

Draco couldn't help but chuckle low in his throat before brushing away loving thoughts. "Granger, what is it that you want because I have a bed to get to and all. Do you want me to leave a note for my Mother because…" He trailed off, brows furrowing in confusion. "Granger quit staring, it's unnerving. I think this is the longest I've gone talking without you interrupting me." He paused, surveying her for a moment. "Bloody hell, woman, are you alright? Look, I―"

And before he could continue his sentence he was cut off as Hermione came running the last few steps and launched herself in his arms.

He staggered back and leant himself against the wall as she buried her head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his fresh scent of clean laundry, morning dew and mint.

Draco tentatively wrapped his arms around her waist in surprise before inhaling a deep breath of her fragrance that seemed to burn through his nostrils and ignite his senses. He pulled her frame into his as a sound trapped between a laugh and a groan escaped his lips. She felt deliriously good. He smiled into her hair as he noticed the way that her jutting hips clashed into his upper thighs and how her chest collided with his ribs. Not two perfectly fitting puzzle pieces, but two rough pieces finding ways to fit and that was so fucking brilliant.

"After all this time, I don't think we've ever just hugged before," he murmured into her ear, smiling.

Hermione pulled away with a frown on her lips. "I don't suppose we have."

His stormy grey eyes locked on hers and she nearly looked away from the intensity of his gaze. "Granger, I'm sorry for everything. I―"

But he was interrupted by her seeking lips.

Draco groaned low in his throat before complying.

Her hands tangled in his feathery locks of snowy white hair as her nails scraped the skin at the base of his neck. He shuddered as her scorching lips coaxed something deep within him, rising and threatening to escape.

Hermione sighed as she embraced the feeling of his body against hers, lips parting and allowing Draco's feverish tongue to slip through.

Fuck, she was exactly the fucking same.

So fucking familiar it hurt.

Their tongues danced wildly between harsh clashing lips as she pressed him tighter up against the wall, his hands running raggedly up and down her sides.

"Merlin," he breathed hazily before returning to her awaiting lips, kissing hungrily like a starved man.

She laughed at how much she'd missed this, pulling away; eyes alight as Draco observed her through heavy lids and dilated pupils.

"Malfoy," she murmured against his neck.

"Mmm?" He replied distractedly, hands still skimming along her back.

Hermione sighed and jumped onto her toes until her breath ticked the back of his ear.

She gently bit down on his lobe and Draco hissed, clenching his teeth to suppress a groan.

"I love you too," she whispered, hot breath against the sensitive skin of his ear.

Draco smiled dazedly until the words sunk in. "What," he said in shock, pushing her away, eyes wide.

She shrugged, staring at him intently instead.

"Granger, what did you just say," he hissed urgently, pushing her until she was pressed up against the opposite wall, pining her wrists above her head.

Hermione merely bit her lip as she looked at him.

"For Christ's sake, Hermione, say it again," he groaned, nipping her jaw. "Please."

She shook her head playfully, bringing her hand to his chin to lift it up until his steely grey eyes met hers. "Maybe later," she murmured, a devilish smile playing on her lips.

"You're messing with the wrong guy, Princess," he said, picking her up.

She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist as he strode down the hallway and through the living room with only one destination on his mind.

His bedroom.

He was going to wipe that goddamn arousing coy smile off of her face until she was screaming his name.

Hermione lazily buried her head in his neck, languidly sucking the slightly salty tang of his skin.

"Mmm," he murmured in contentment, voice becoming hoarse.

Fuck it had been too long.

Too fucking long.

Too long without her teasing words and sharp tongue. Too long without being assaulted by her scent. Too long without her.

Her nose nudged his jaw line before pressing a series of wet kisses down, teeth occasionally grazing.

Draco paused, arms trembling as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, a noise escaping his lips that was barely human.

Salazar save him.

She was going to be the death of him.

Hermione bit down hard at the base of his neck and he swore to himself underneath his breath.

Screw it.

And he found the first surface available.

Kitchen counter top.

Good enough.

Hermione gasped at the cool surface against the back of her legs as Draco dropped her.

"Malfoy, what are you―"

But she was interrupted by hungry lips claiming hers.

"Oh," she murmured, out of breath as he pressed her lustily against the cool marble surface of the counter top, hands already devilishly tugging at her clothes, eyes a stormy grey, framed by low hanging dirty blonde lashes.

"Merlin Granger, the things I want to do to you," he spoke in a raspy voice.

His nimble hands dexterously undid the first too buttons of her shirt before impatiently ripping it open, buttons scattering across the stone tiled floor.

"Malfoy!" She hissed angrily.

"I'll repair it later," he murmured before frantically ripping off the rest of her clothes, fabric tearing and laying abandoned on the floor.

Hermione lay panting underneath him, skin completely bare as he sucked hazily against her neck, her breath hot on his forehead.

"Sweet Salazar," he groaned at the feeling of her silky smooth skin.

She teasingly played with the edges of his silk pyjama bottoms before he irately pulled off the offending piece of fabric.

Hands sliding up her sides he kissed her desperately, she was his. All fucking his.

Her hands tugged painfully at his hair and he nearly growled in response.

His hands clasped her hips tightly in which she would later find bruises upon. Lovely blue and purple finger shaped bruises.

He slid her up the countertop and he climbed onto the marble surface between her legs until he was hovering mere centimetres above her.

"Draco for god's sake, just do it," she scolded, legs unfolding and wrapping around his waist. He was so close yet so goddamn far. She needed more.

He chuckled, chest rumbling with low vibrations, his arms trembling from the effort of holding himself up. He could feel her shallow breath against his neck as her hands ran up and down his chest wildly.

He positioned himself unsteadily and with one rough and raggedly hard thrust, he was buried with her absolutely divine cavern, smooth as silk, already slick with her desire and so fucking hot.

"Oh sweet merciful lord," he murmured to himself.

Skin on skin. The most raw feeling ever.

Hermione's hands tugged hungrily at his locks of hair, gasping at the feeling as his fringe fell in front of his eyes.

His lips crashed into hers with wild abandon like a tornado; tasting, biting, sucking, gorging.

Fuck, it had been far too long. Merlin, he had missed this.

And without even asking if she was alright, he began moving with long, forcefully disjointed thrusts as he fought to regain control of his composure that was rapidly falling with her keening gasps.

Hermione moaned against his assaulting lips as he slammed into her repeatedly, bordering pain and breaching pleasure. Her eyes fluttered shut each time he withdrew and widened with each deliciously frenzied coursing of hips.

Their skin smacked painfully against one another, a symphony of the most carnal music, their respective moans and hisses singing together after all this time.

He pulled away to thrust harder into her terrifyingly addictive warmth, losing sense of himself as his vision began blurring around the edges.

Fuck, how was he this close already?

It was like he was a pubescent teenage boy all over again.

Draco growled low in his throat as she tilted her pelvis up to meet his, sucking his length deeper within her.

He kissed her with hot, hungry, lustful lips as her moans were lost between erratic gasps of air.

He could feel the tension build frighting high in his lower abdomen. Draco fought with himself to last just a little fucking longer but it was as if she were everywhere. Everywhere and everything. She was just unmissable and unbelievable. Like the brightest of lights. Something that seemed to surround you in all its magnitude and had absolutely nothing parallel to it. She was that.

And she was doing absolutely sinful things to his neck.

"Fuck, Granger," he hissed between clenched teeth, jaw tight as sweat beaded on his forehead. "You better be fucking close because I am."

Hermione's nails clawed frenziedly across his back as her body began to tense, her heartbeat hammering against her ribcage.

Why had it taken her two goddamn months to find him? She would've been doing this far sooner.

He frantically held on his remaining threads of sanity as his hips thrust sporadically at their own accord. Fuck, he was going to come. Draco's hands roughly grabbed her hips and lifted them to meet his in what would be his downfall.

He choked on a groan that released a sound which resembled a drowning cat as his body tensed to a standstill. "Hermione," he managed to croak hoarsely as he felt the pressure behind his lower abdomen burst, thrusting into her with spasmodic jolts of twitching muscles matched with keening chaotic lips.

Hermione gasped at the feeling of him coming inside of her and that was the catalyst for her own orgasm.

If anyone had asked, she would deny it but it was just so goddamn stimulatingly arousing.

She threw her head back, hitting it on the marble surface of the countertop but she hardly cared as her limbs tensed inexplicably, her fire exploding and racing throughout her entire body. She desperately clawed at the rippling muscles of his back with her nails as she panted, hot, harsh breaths against his shoulder blade.

Draco pressed his forehead against hers, pushing his tousled, damp fringe to the side.

"Merlin, Granger. Don't ever leave," he murmured, breathlessly.

She grinned before pressing a gentle kiss against his, soothing his bruised and battered lips.

"Now I'm sorry for that. It was a little rushed but I just couldn't resist," he said, stormy grey eyes meeting hers.

"Malfoy, don't apologise for sex but I suppose you could make it up to me later," she smirked.

He let out a deep rumbling laugh, forcing himself to pull away from her before jumping down off the kitchen counter. He held out his arms open for her to come and she sat up, shuffling lazily to the edge where he picked her up once again, her legs wrapping around him like instinct.

He continued his previously interrupted walk to his bedroom, albeit this time with slightly trembling limbs and a mischievous smirk on his lips.

Oh he was definitely going to make it up to her. Time and fucking time again.

"Wow," she panted, attempting to catch her breath as Draco emerged from between her legs.

He crawled up to lay beside her, propping his head up with his arm. "You should've come sooner."

Hermione laughed languidly in amazement, the warm afterglow of her orgasm flitting by. "I definitely should have," she agreed.

His arms came to circle around her waist, pulling her closer towards his feverish torso. "Busy?"

She scoffed. "No kidding, Sherlock."

He raised an eyebrow in perplexity. "Sherlock? I'm not even going to ask. But what I meant was…" He paused, ducking down his head to kiss her collarbone. "I was just wondering if you'd been busy with other people."

She furrowed her brows in confusion. "People?"

Draco sighed in aggravation. "Merlin, you're thick. I mean men. Have you been seeing anyone?"

Hermione's eyes widened in realisation. "Oh!" She exclaimed in surprise. She looked at him in bewilderment for a moment before laughing hysterically.

He watched her laughing with apprehensive eyes. "You're completely off your rocker."

She choked on a laugh and buried her head into his chest, stifling her mirth against his skin as he merely observed in wonder. "Granger, you're really starting to scare me."

She smothered one last cough of laughter before emerging with flushed cheeks.

He raised an eyebrow in question, still waiting for an explanation.

Hermione shook her head ruefully. "And you say I'm thick, Malfoy. Why on earth would I want anyone else after you?"

He blinked rapidly for a moment before crushing her frame into his. "Hermione," he croaked against her hair, breathing in the intoxicating fragrance that he'd missed so much.

She smiled and leant against his shoulder, locks of auburn hair spilling down his back to rest against his shoulder blades. She sighed contently for a minute as he continued pressing her body tightly into his.

Her eyes gaze wandered down his porcelain skin with a few feathery white gold hairs against the surface and found a long red mark disappearing down his back and out of her view.

She furrowed her brows and tore herself away from his embrace, gesturing him to flip over. Draco rolled his eyes and obeyed.

Hermione's jaw dropped at the state of his back. Marring the pristine porcelain skin were several red scratches of varying length, some beginning to swell whilst others were completely inflamed. "Draco, where did they come from?"

He frowned and craned his head back to look before chuckling to himself.

"Malfoy! Tell me," she demanded.

"Bird watching," he snarked, muffled against the pillow.

"Draco," she warned.

He picked himself up to flip over, taking her with him. "Where do you think, woman. Having sex with you, obviously.

"Oh," she said sheepishly. "Sorry."

He pressed a kiss against her lips. "Don't apologise, Princess."

Hermione rested her head on the curve of his shoulder marvelling the feeling of their skin pressed against one another's. It was positively, unbearably delicious. "I wish I found you sooner."

He smirked and played with her tangled hair, running fingers through her dark brown locks.

"I mean why did it have to be War? Why couldn't Voldemort have challenged us to …" She bit her lip in thought. "Say, an academic debate?"

He laughed in shock at her words. "Only you'd think that, Granger."

Hermione exhaled loudly. "I mean, I would win, obviously."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, I think I would be a worthy opponent if I was on the Dark Lord's side," he teased.

"You were on their side," she said softly. "In the actual War I mean."

Draco bit his lip in all seriousness, eyes flickering to hers. "I suppose I was," he murmured. She breathed in deeply, sinking back into the mattress as his arms circled her waist, pulling her closer. "Sorry about that."

"I understand," was all she said in response before a silence fell between the two.

A silence filled with unspoken words and never performed actions. Where the illusions faded away to reveal what was being hidden. Where words and actions weren't necessary because they understood. A silence so true it was comfortably uncomfortable. Familiar yet unrecognisable. Because silence changes with each moment, with each person, with each frame of mind. No two silences are the same yet they all are the same one silence. One entity that takes different forms and different shapes. There are the heartbroken silences, the content silences and the devastated silences. The contemplative silences, the nervous silences and the yearning silences. And this silence shimmered over the pair, curling around them to bring them together and to force them apart. But most of all, silence always shows you something. Silence reveals true intentions and unforgivable thoughts paired with unmistakable actions that can never be wiped away.

She opened her mouth. "I've missed you, Malfoy." And the silence was shattered.

"Me too, Princess," he murmured, leg rubbing against hers. "Do you want to try this?"

She lifted her head infinitesimally to meet his eyes that resembled mercurial fog with shadows of black. Hermione nodded in reply, leaning her head back down to press a kiss to his chest.

He pulled her tighter if that were possible, crushing her frame into his.

"So now what do we do?" She thought out loud.

Draco frowned in thought. "I don't know. I've never really done this before. I thought you were the expert."

Hermione laughed. "I'm certainly no expert and most definitely no expert of you. What do you want?"

He bit his lip in thought. "You can meet Narcissa. She'll be home soon."

She raised her head in surprise. "You're Mother?"

"Yes, my Mother, Granger. Or would you prefer to meet Lucius? Just to warn you though, dementors are experts at ruining the moment."

She laughed, licking her lips as he pressed a kiss above her eyebrow. "Alright," she mumbled against the curve of his neck. "I don't think your Mother will like me much though. You know, muggleborn and all."

Draco shook his head ruefully. "She'll absolutely fucking adore you."

She laughed doubtfully. "We'll see, Draco."

He almost fucking purred at the sound of his name leaving her lips. His nose nudging her forehead, closing his eyes against her hair and sighing in contentment. "She'd be crazy not to love you," he mumbled softly, barely audible.

She could've sworn her heart skipped a beat at his words if that was possible.

"Granger," he said quietly.

"Mmm?" She mumbled into his neck as recognition.

"You know how I always say Salazar save me?"

She nodded against his chest.

"Well, I don't think I need to say it anymore."

Hermione shifted slightly. "Why?"

"Because I don't need him to save me. Because you've already saved me. At Hogwarts, during the War and after it too. You're the only one who's kept me sane even though I thought that I was going insane."

She raised her head in disbelief. "I never knew you were such a sap, Malfoy."

He laughed, heartily. "I just wore my heart out for you and you insult me? Thanks, Granger. I'm really feeling the love."

She shook her head incredulously before returning to all seriousness. "You might have come out of the War unscathed but I don't think everybody did. I don't think I did." He opened his mouth to speak but she interrupted him. "It's as if…" She trailed off.

His arm uncurled from her waist to tilt her chin up so that she met his pale eyes. "What is it?"

She blinked rapidly as if shaking off something. "It's nothing."

"Granger," he said sternly.

Hermione scowled and he fought the urge to smile. "It's as if…" She paused, thinking. "It's as if I can't feel anything. It's like I know what I'm doing and everything but it feels as if I'm just going through the motion of it all. As if I'm just watching from a distance of myself doing the daily motions things I'm supposed to do. But it just seems so fickle. I was so ready to die, Draco. So goddamn ready. I learnt how to numb myself from the War but how can I just return to a normal life after all of that?" She bit her lip and buried her head into his neck.

"Can you feel me?" He forced himself not to stammer.

She laughed incredulously. "Of course!" She exclaimed before pulling him in for a ragged kiss that burnt her tongue. "You feel like fire," she murmured against his lips.

Draco finally reluctantly pulled away, blinking away the lust-filled haze. "I was so ready to fucking die too. But I can help you," he said steadily.

She shook her head animatedly. "It's no big deal, Malfoy. It'll probably fade. I can sometimes feel myself living, maybe. I don't know why I told you. You don't need to worry. Just another side effect of the war."

"It's a side effect of dying," he corrected.

"You're philosophical today aren't you?" Hermione teased.

Draco shrugged. "I can help you," he restated.

She sighed and took a deep breath of his calming fresh scent of clean laundry. "You already are, Draco. You feel like goddamn fire."

"We all have wounds that healed the wrong way. And scars that will never fade. But I promise to make them lighter."

"You're awfully pretentious. Did you know that?" She joked.

His eyes twinkled as the worry still niggled at the corner of his mind.

She shook her head as if shaking away the negative thoughts. "Just because I told you something nobody else knew about doesn't mean I think any differently of you, alright? I still think you're a prat," she murmured.

He chuckled lowly, pushing the anxiety of knowing that they would never be the same. They were all wounded from things that no one should ever have to endure. How could one possibly just simply reverse back into a normal lifestyle after being so ready to die? To forget the defensive strategies, the deadly curses learnt and the extensive knowledge of dark spells that wrecked havoc on the body. All learnt from the War. Not to mention the thick wall used to separate one from their emotions because it just fucking hurt too much to feel.

She was right though. He did come out of the War unscathed. But only because he was already destroyed before it even began. He'd learnt to distance himself from his emotions. He knew dangerous curses that killed slowly and how to protect himself, purely himself. He was the perfect soldier. Calm, stoic, unmovable, betraying not even a slither of emotion.

No grief nor anger, not even when he'd tortured and killed so many untarnished souls. Not even guilt.

But she'd always been there. That all consuming thought at the back of his mind. Unintentionally showing, guiding and giving.

She brought up all his emotions to the surface until the guilt was unbearable. Until he couldn't remember a time in which he hadn't hated himself.

The guilt and the self loathing weren't as all consuming as it used to be. War had been so numbingly strong in emotions that all others paled in comparison. The anger, the grief, the self protection.

His guilt over all the wrongs he'd committed was still there, but faded now. It would sometimes flare but it was no different to what he'd been experiencing when he was a soldier.

He could've chosen to not kill those innocent souls. He could've chosen to not manipulate weak spirits to his advantage. He could've chosen to not corner Albus fucking Dumbledore that night so long ago.

But even with all the guilt and self loathing in the world on his shoulders, he could not, would not ever trade that for a life without Hermione Granger despite the flooding emotions that came with her.

She was here. She was right here before him and he would never wish to relinquish her.

"Draco?" She questioned after he remained silent for some time.

He shook himself out of his revere and grinned benignly. "And I still think you know too much for your own good," he mocked lightly, continuing the conversation. She scoffed at the words. "But I still love you."

Hermione's eyes flickered up nervously to find his gaze already focused on her, his stormy eyes fixatedly unmoving. "I love you too," she said, smiling.

Draco nearly shivered at the words before capturing her lips once more in a rough embrace. He practically melted as her tongue swept through his mouth like a tsunami. "Fuck, Granger," he hissed as she bit his lip.

Grinning, she pulled away as he nibbled along her jaw-line and down her neck. "Are we going to be okay?"

He stopped his ministrations to centre his eyes on her amber ones. "We're going to be okay, Hermione."

She exhaled loudly before letting herself be brought back into his arms once again. It was all going to be fine. They would work through everything slowly and methodically. She smiled at the idea of him holding her knowing that she was the only one he was holding at this current time. And although her pride refused to let her admit to it, she was relieved that he still loved her despite everything. "So, Harry tells me you're a healer?"

And they dissolved into talk, fitting easily into routine.

Because at the end of the day, they were all teenagers trying to grow up.


AN. This is truly the end. Hit me up with a review about what you think or shoot me a PM if you want to ask me a question. I have an idea for another long fic but I'm going to take a break and just write some one shots or short ones.

Have a wonderful summer/winter.