By ThatRomantic
Hermione reflected on their relationship as Ron was driving the family, minus Rose, back from King’s Cross. She always knew she had fallen in love with him for the wrong reasons”it wasn’t like they had ever had a civil conversation in their whole affair”but she loved him all the same.
She couldn’t help but think that he was a man now. She hadn’t seen him since the Final Battle, and she had not wanted to attend his trial for fear that she would break down into tears, but he had changed. The mask was ever present on his face but she knew he was happy, she could see it in his eyes; his beautiful grey eyes that she used to stare into endlessly in stolen moments of passion.
They only ever had the physical side of love; that was how it was with them. It was a world she was not ashamed to get lost in. It had started at the Yule Ball when Ron had shouted at her for being with Krum. She was crying on the steps leading to the tower; she couldn’t go up them because that would mean facing Ron, she couldn’t go down them to the Ball because she had mascara running down her face. Then he came. There he was, in all his pureblood glory. Glowing. He bent down to her ear and whispered breathily, sending shivers down her spine.
“You know, I was looking around the hall, Granger, and came to the regretful conclusion that you are the prettiest Mudblood at this thing.” She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry harder, it sounded so ridiculous that Draco Malfoy was almost giving her a compliment, but she was also insulted, it wasn’t until what he said next that she made up her mind. “Whoever made you cry so unattractively; deserves a slap like the one you gave me in third year.” At this she smiled and looked up at him through the cloudy haze of her tears. The next thing she knew she was pinned to a wall with his tongue down her throat, his hand in her knickers and her fingers around his member. That was how it started.
She would tell the boys the believable story that she was going to the library and they’d sneak around behind everyone’s backs. At first she felt guilty about what she was doing, but it was soon remedied. She lost her virginity to him in February during her fourth year. She was 15. She remembered it vividly: in the dungeons on a desk top. It started slow because he didn’t want to hurt her, but after their first time it was generally a lot rougher. Fifth Year came and went in a blur of skin and sweat but they used the Room of Requirement instead of classrooms, which she admitted was comfier. They even fell asleep in each other’s arms a couple of times. On one of the very few times they had talked as lovers rather than enemies, he told her that he’d wanted to kiss her since she hit him in Third Year. She still remembered the exact words he spoke to her. “I wanted to grab your arm, pull you in and kiss you until the cows came home.”
Sixth Year was when it got complicated. She realised that somewhere between the beginning of Fifth and the end of Sixth she had fallen in love with him. They didn’t see each other as much that year, he was busy with his ‘duties.’ When they did see one another he used a concealment charm on the tattoo on his left arm. That was why she refused to believe what Harry and Ron were saying about him. I would know, she kept thinking, I would see the mark on his arm. When she found out it was him that had made the attack happen that year she cried herself to sleep for weeks afterward.
It was then that she started questioning the dilemma-that-was her love life. She was in love with two different men for completely different reasons. Ron was a good friend and she had actually had a conversation with him. Draco was her comfort when Ron had hurt her; she had run to him just after the canary incident and they had made love. That was the best time, she had decided afterward, because she had put the love that she held for both of them into one physical motion and it took her to heights she had never been before.
When she had cried in the tent after Ron had left it wasn’t just because he was gone, but because the only other man who may have been able to comfort her was not there either. So she, selfishly, cried because after having two men to love she had none.
She had no regrets about their relationship. She had no regrets about marrying Ron. She had loved them both and still did on some level, but with Draco she knew it could never be. She loved Ron, truly loved him, she loved their beautiful children, she loved their house, their car, their town, their friends. It wasn’t until September first, Rose’s first day, that she realised she had missed Draco Malfoy’s touch. That was why she had told Rose to be friends with whoever she pleased when Ron had told her to beat Scorpius. She wanted an excuse, she supposed, to see him again. To love him again.