Broken Bits

39. Cost of a Funeral pt. 2

Fred found Hermione heaving into the toilet of his childhood bathroom. He knelt beside her, one hand landing on her spine and the other reaching to brush her hair away. She swatted him away, groaning as she heaved into the toilet. He backed away, taking the signal and leaned against the closed bathroom door. 

He used this stolen time to admire the Quidditch wallpaper around him, noticing the peeling edges and yellowed corners. He wondered briefly what sort of wallpaper they'd eventually put in their own children's bathroom, when the toilet flushed. Fred snapped back to reality, and turned to find Hermione her pushing herself up to stand. 

Her legs shook slightly, overcome with a slight sheen of sweat from her episode and she reached up to wipe at the corners of her mouth. 

"It's all my fault isn't it?" Hermione whispered, she moved to the sink only to stare at the cup of toothbrushes. Her fingers twitched but she didn't move them from the side of the porcelain sink. She wasn't sure how to ask, or voice her need. 

Fred stepped forward, snapped his fingers and in his palm appeared Hermione's toothbrush from home. She took it gratefully, and moved to brush her teeth while Fred mulled over her words. 

"What's your fault?" Fred decided to ask, taking note that assumptions might not fair well, watching as Hermione rinsed off her toothbrush. Something warm settled in his stomach as he watched her place it in the cup of others. As if it belonged there.  He wondered what their own bathroom's toothbrush cup would look like overtime. Would it be overflowing? Or would it always be just the two? 

"All those reports, they are detailed on how those different creatures live. How they function in society. Their strengths, their weaknesses and all these years I've just been handing them over." Hermione waved her hands above her head annoyed with herself. "I handed them over blindly, trusting that they would land in the hands of the right person." 

Hermione spun, coming face to face with Fred. Fred could see a line of agitation across her forehead, he reached up to smooth it away with the pad of his thumb. Her skin was hot to the touch, and he bit his lip to keep from commenting. She blinked before continuing. 

"I was blinded by the need for justice, I didn't even check if I was making it worse."

"You didn't know." Fred whispered, trailing his thumb down to her chin. His eyes followed his own movements, while she stared at the spot between his eyes. 

"I was so stupid Fred. How could I just trust someone like that?" Hermione asked, her voice shook as she spoke and Fred felt her tense under his hand. 

"Do you trust me?" Fred whispered, leaning in close to press their foreheads together. 

"Yes." Hermione scoffed, her cheeks heating. "Of course I do." Hermione whispered, closing her eyes as Fred pressed their heads together harder, his head was cool in comparison to her burning one. "Thought that was clear enough last night." 

Both their cheeks flushed at her words, and Fred felt a heat pool in his chest that he let meditate for a moment, before speaking. 

"Then we'll be alright." Fred whispered, he began trailing his lips gently down the side of Hermione's face until he ended in the crook of her neck. 

"Fred." Hermione whined softly, bunching her hands in Fred's sweater she pushed, but Fred didn't budge. 

"All those carefully written out details that you worked so very hard on." Fred whispered against her skin, moving to the other side of her neck to trail his lips upwards. Hermione arched in his arms, pressing their waists together before settling back on the sink. "They'll help us save them." Fred whispered, before slotting their lips together.