When the Bell Tolls - Dramione

19.

December 28; 10:06pm

She stifles a yawn when the loo door creaks open, and blinks three times to try getting the words in front of her to stop blending together. She checks her watch when it doesn't work, and pulls a vial from her briefcase. It's more difficult than it should be to pull the stopper out, and she downs the bitter liquid in a gulp.

"What is that?"

She pulls her tongue from the roof of her mouth, cringing before she washes the taste down with her water. It's still there, at the back of her tongue.

"Rejuvenation Potion."

He studies her until she's shifting under the weight of it. "Does it work more for the feeling than it seems to for the look?"

She glares at him, pulling her book closer. It's bad enough she has to hear it from Harry and Neville during the day. "Sometimes there's not enough time for the amount of work."

He props his shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms. "If you can't handle it, perhaps I shouldn't tell you anything else for awhile."

She rolls her eyes, sitting up from her slump as the potion starts working through her body. "It has nothing to do with not being able to handle it. I just have to figure out these Dark objects from the logs, then how to dismantle them. And I have a presentation to the Wizengamot next week for a law about the tax cuts to organizations that promote history of the wizarding world, which are just really fronts for pure-blood-- A lot of things, is my point."

She thinks his comment was just a way to get her angry enough to tell him things she wouldn't normally consider telling him. He has a way of doing that to her, and she has a way of falling for it despite knowing this. This is why she expected him to lose interest in her to-do list when it's nothing really concerning or problematic to him. But he seemed to be listening as closely as he had in the beginning, which made her more aware of her rambling than his disinterest tended to do.

"Were you the one who started the investigation into the Fillmore company?" he asks, and she clears her throat, rearranging her books, quills, and parchment.

"The Wizengamot launched the investigation. I only presented a list of companies who might have been in violation of disclosing house-elves as employees, and a few reasons why that might be. With house-elves usually working in grunt jobs like cleaning and shipping, I imagine it's only a matter of time before one discusses the shipments of Muggle objects they're not allowed to talk about. With the company shut down for inspection, they should find the prototypes with Dark magic soon enough."

He smirks at her, and the wickedness makes her torn between feeling a little more pride or a little dirty. "You're well-suited for politics and business, Granger."

"As long as it serves the greater good."

"I take that back."

She throws the cap of her highlighter at him.

December 30; 1:24pm

Blurry images of hands, dark grey eyes, and damp skin. Kisses, and fingers, and...lazy touches. Lazy, rubbing, circling touches, and warmth, and...

Hermione's body feels heavy and sore as the images float in the darkness of her mind, like a faraway memory that's too new to have been so. She opens her eyes, the left more reluctant, and they try to shut again. It's the stretch of skin under her that keeps her from drifting off, and she stares blankly at a flat nipple and the even rises and falls of breathing. Not a dream either, then.

It's like she's recalling things after a drunken night, where it's flashes of events in a head that hurts. She's surprised she even managed this when she had been so tired that her recollection is as fuzzy as a dream. Had they even had sex, or had-oh, no. No, they certainly had. She must have just fallen--