you me and the rain

8/13/2019 You me and the rain

1/24

TITLE: You and Me and The Rain

AUTHOR: eudaimon

WRITTEN FOR: canellaphile.Her original challenge was "realized attractions" and

scenarios where the girl prefers another girl before she'd pick a boy. No the-boys-didn't-want-

me, or boy-voyeurism, please.

DISCLAIMER: None of this, not even the holes in Charlie Weasleys Quidditch jersey, are mine.PAIRING: Hermione/Tonks (though, because of communiquills, Im incapable of calling

Tonks Tonks. Forgive).

RATING: R. Most definitely R.

WORD COUNT: 8896

WARNINGS: Character death(s).

SUMMARY: Love is watching someone die.

A/N: betaed to perfection by pre_raphaelite1.Any mistakes are, deplorably, my own.

Nobody else here baby

No-one here to blame

No-one to point the fingerIts just you and me and the rain

- u2

On her belly in the dirt she waited until she realised that the ringing was in her and not the

world. Still, she lay motionless for a time, until the edges of burnt clothing cooled, until Kingsley

came to gather blistered skin into a blanket, and all the time, one thought.

Oh, mate, Im sorry I didnt feel more.

-

In the middle of the bed, the pitched roof of the attic room, she sat stripped to the waist,

hunched over her knees, curled in around her own breasts, while behind her Ron puffed and

swore and dabbed her with ointment which smelt like chamomile tea tasted. Breathing was

difficult. She felt crushed, smaller than she had before. Charlie set on the bed beside her, tears

running numbly down his face. She tried to say something, couldnt. Her voice felt like a frail,

fluttering thing, its wings caught in her throat. It felt so alien that it made her cough, and Charlie

thumped her on the shoulder, which hurt more than it should and, unbidden, came the memory

of sneaking her dads cigarettes behind the fourth greenhouse, fifteen years old.

Youre not helping, Charlie, Ron said, still dabbing, wiping, piecing her back together, almost

a doctor, nearly enough. Dora, drink your tea. Itll help. She sipped the hot liquid.

It took a long time; Ron was smoothing plaster across the more burnt places on her back. It

took a long time, but, finally, she managed it.

Hermione. Even her name sounded burnt, coming past charred lips. Later, Dora wouldnt be
http://eudaimon.livejournal.com/http://eudaimon.livejournal.com/http://eudaimon.livejournal.com/http://canellaphile.livejournal.com/http://canellaphile.livejournal.com/http://canellaphile.livejournal.com/http://communiquills.livejournal.com/http://communiquills.livejournal.com/http://communiquills.livejournal.com/http://pre-raphaelite1.livejournal.com/http://pre-raphaelite1.livejournal.com/http://pre-raphaelite1.livejournal.com/http://pre-raphaelite1.livejournal.com/profilehttp://communiquills.livejournal.com/profilehttp://canellaphile.livejournal.com/profilehttp://eudaimon.livejournal.com/profilehttp://pre-raphaelite1.livejournal.com/profilehttp://communiquills.livejournal.com/profilehttp://canellaphile.livejournal.com/profilehttp://eudaimon.livejournal.com/profilehttp://pre-raphaelite1.livejournal.com/profilehttp://communiquills.livejournal.com/profilehttp://canellaphile.livejournal.com/profilehttp://eudaimon.livejournal.com/profilehttp://pre-raphaelite1.livejournal.com/profilehttp://communiquills.livejournal.com/profilehttp://canellaphile.livejournal.com/profilehttp://eudaimon.livejournal.com/profilehttp://pre-raphaelite1.livejournal.com/http://communiquills.livejournal.com/http://canellaphile.livejournal.com/http://eudaimon.livejournal.com/


2/24

able to say why it was Hermiones name that came first when she wanted to know if theyd

been told; why not Harry or Fleur or Molly? None of themjust Her-mi-one like a song.

I went and told her, Charlie was saying. Brought her home. Shes with HarrySheisnt

taking it so well.

Which made Dora feel colder and more cruel than she had before, burnt and wizened by

smoke and heat until she couldnt bear her own weight.

The day that Remus Lupin died.

-

Grimmauld Place had a malevolent, sour feel, and she was always cold. You dont belong

here, said the walls. Or you do, and thats the problem, isnt it, Nymphadorascared of fitting

too well? She dressed herself in layers to dull the noise, her dads old jumpers, Charlies socks.

Mollys constant cups of tea and fussing were almost welcome. Shed never really liked tea.

She was twenty seven when Remus died. She sat staring into her cup and wondering about

how grief could feel so much like relief. She thought of the pencil mark count which her mother

kept in the back of an old exercise book hidden in dads shed. One mark for Remus, now.

Yeah, it was almost a relief. Theyd been waiting so long for the next one. There had been

such a lot of loss. Dumbledore, the Diggory boy whose face she only knew from Auror

reportsSeverus Snape and Sirius Sirius Sirius. She glanced at the heavy clock on the wall, a

split second before it began to strike twelve. With a sigh, she heaved herself up out of the soft

chair and sank down beside the fire, wrapping herself around herself, ignoring the pull in her

back. She turned up the collar of her jumper against the sound of pouring rain and watched as

the fire resolved into her old dads handsome face.

Wotcher, Dad.

ello, Dora. It was nice to hear his voice, harsh and whispery as it was, forced through the

embers. Is that my jumper, Dragonfly? She plucked at moss green wool, riddled with holes.

Yeah. Mom was throwing it away. In the fire, Ted shrugged or seemed to shrug.

This isnt about jumpers, Dora. We heard. We wish youd come home.

I cant just come home, Dad. Theres a lot to do here.

But your mother and I are verywe know how much Remuswe just wish that you were

here, Dora.

I will be soon, Dad. Itll be Christmas soon andyknowthere are lots of peoplehere, Dad,

and the less time I spend at home the better and Even her own jokes tasted forced. She

could hear her mothers voice in the background, a hum, a buzz of sparks. Tell Mom not to

worry either. Tell herwere looking after each other.


3/24


4/24

Oh God, oh GodIm so very, horribly drunk. She was still crying, pulling ineffectually at the

buttons of her wet blouse. The thin (cheap) fabric clung across the neat swell of her breasts.

Dora felt herself flush, not just from the radiating heat of the fire. Her skin stung as her drying

shirt plastered across her shoulders. Hermione was a vision, flushed, damp eyed and damp

lipped. God, it had been such a long time since girls. Too much of a good thing is as bad as

none at all. Hermione twisted the weight of her long hair up from the nape of her neck, and the

way it stretched the muscles in her arms, made arches of the lines of her back and neck

Whendid you get so beautiful, Hermione? Which was another way of saying when did you

grow up without me noticing?

Hermione made one of the fluttering fingers dismissive gestures that shed perfected in a

house full of boys. She pulled at her blouse again, her hair falling across her face.

Ohfor fuckssake. A hiccupping sob shook her. Dora fought the urge not to laugh;

capable Hermione Granger, jewel of the Department for Lost Spells, capable, clever,

flummoxed by a damp shirt.

Sit still." Carefully, very aware of the way that breathing changed Hermiones shape, Dora

picked open the white buttons. It was the kind of blouse that a little girl might wear for school.

Beneath it, in black lace, Hermiones breasts were like everything else about her: neat, exact.

Dora pushed the wet fabric down over her arms. The curls stuck to Hermiones shoulders

looked painted on, showed up gold in the glowing light. That was it. She sat back on her heels

and looked at Hermione in her black bra and her tweed skirt, her hair in curls and disarray. She

reminded Dora of a painting shed seen in a book which her mom had, once. She didnt look

quite real in her angles and her lines, her soft glow.

Do you know said Hermione, in the heightened conversational tone of the really, truly

drunk, How long its been since anybody saw me in my bra? Dora shrugged. It was Ron and

I was seventeen years old. That summer with the Horcruxes. That summer when we all did

things because we thought that the world was ending. Oh, mate, Im sorry that I didnt feel

more.What I remember most about that summer is this house, she said. This house and

you.

Me?

You. You dont have any idea whatwatching you is like, do you, Dora. Youre

likesomething loud happening in a quiet room. The world cant stay the same because it

echoes, see? She moved her hands, trying to shape what she was saying. I was with Ron

and itit was nice but it wasnt enough, it wasnt, and I seemed to spend my entire time

watching you. I remember everything, Dora. I remember every single thing.

Youre very drunk, Hermione.

I am, but it isntdont you see? It isnt the point, Dora. She was fumbling behind her now.


5/24

The waistband of her tweed skirt dug in to pale skin and Dora found herself picturing

Hermionesbelly button above the waistband of knickers which would, undoubtedly, be black.

There was a day when I came downstairs and you were sitting on the counter in the kitchen

talking to Remus, and your shirt had ridden up and you were wearingturquoise knickers, and

I remember never seeing anything like it, and I remember being so jealous of him.

Of Remus? Hermione nodded, still fumbling behind her back.

Because hed probably bought them for you. I was seventeenI didnt have to be rational.

You? Were the most rational seventeen year old that I have ever met.

Yes. Well. Thats not really the point, is it?

Apparently not. Suddenly, she needed a drink.

You made me feel like such a little girl, said Hermione, finally, abandoning the catch of her

bra and pushing the straps down her arms, the tilt of her breasts keeping the fabric gathered

and in place. You made me feel like something waiting to happen.

Im sorry.

Dont bejustjust help me with this. Not knowing what she was doing, not sure why, Dora

reached around Hermione and unhooked the triple catch of her bra. It was like riding (or falling

off) a bike; Hermiones bra was Angelinas bra was the bra that Charlie had worn for a panto

was all bras. Nothing mystical to it. She felt her breath catch, at the sight of Hermiones bare

breasts, her nipples pale pink. She felt like a clich, but still, it was difficult to breathe, as black

lace dropped to the carpet.

What are we doing, Hermione? said Dora, as Hermione leant forward and pressed a kiss to

her mouth, the corner, a sweet and off centre kiss. Youre drunk, we shouldnt.

Im drunk and we should. she said. Im not jealous of him anymore, Dora.

Oh, God. Dora spilled forward against Hermione, crushed a kiss against her lips , pressed

Hermiones breasts against her t-shirt still damp in spots from the rain. And there it was.

Suddenly, Dora couldnt breathe for feeling.

I have wanted to kiss you for years, said Hermione, breathless, burnished.

But why now?

Death makes us brave. She stood up, a little clumpy in her librarians shoes. Does this door

lock? Dora nodded. She still wanted a beer, found herself staring up at Hermione from below,

as she worked her heavy skirt down over her thighs. She was so beautiful in that particular

light. A fire in every bedroom kept Molly fussing.


6/24

God bless Molly Weasley, and all who sailed on her.

Hermiones knickers were black and barely there, a touch of pink ribbon, unexpected, lovely.

They didnt quite match her bra, which was even more perfect.

In the bed, they moved more slowly, Hermione in her knickers, Dora still in her jeans, her t-

shirt, Charlies socks. If Dora had ever thought of Hermione that way (and, guiltily, with Remus,

she had), shed expected her to be a typical Gryffindor virgin, white cotton panties, pulling

faces, hiding in pillows. What shed never imagined, with Remus or otherwise, was Hermiones

body above her, Hermione lifting her neat breasts with her hands.

Christ youre drunk, she said, meaningGod when did you get so beautiful and how did we get

here? She ran her hands over Hermiones arse, lace catching on her palms. The tweed skirts

werent doing Hermione any justice. Dora own figure was the product of years of careful study;

her moms eyebrows and ankles, Aunt Julies breasts (bigger than Hermiones), Minerva

McGonagalls tidy waist. That Hermione came out perfect, just perfect, first time, was

something of a marvel. As Hermione shifted down her, pushed her shirt up and kissed bare

skin, Dora thought about how a lot of this was whiskey and grief and regret. She wondered if

not telling Hermione to stop made her a bad person.

When Hermione peeled her shirt up over her head, cotton caught on the edges of sticking

plaster. Hermione tutted and kissed the singed edges of burns. Dora was braless and

Hermione pressed her breasts together, kissed and licked her nipples hard, blew across damp

skin. Dora wriggled under Hermiones weight.

Stay still, said Hermione, fumbling with the conundrum that was Dora button fly. She lifted

her legs to squirm out of her jeans, caught herself smiling as Hermione ran her hands down

bare thighs. Her own knickers were green satin and Hermiones fingers skittered over the shiny

fabric. She found herself wishing that shed shaved her legs more recentlyit had been so

long since shed needed to. Hermione leant down against her, kissing her deeply, her hips

pressing Dora down into the mattress. Hermione flicked her nipple with her tongue, kissed

down between her breasts, spread her thighs around Hermiones hips. Hermione reached

between them, traced her finger over the dampness on the front of her knickers. Dora tried to

buck her hips, couldnt, pinned in place as she was. Suddenly, she had the feeling that she

was quietly, yet very firmly, being ambushed.

Between her legs, Hermione pressed her lips to damp satin. Dora closed her eyes, let out her

breath shakily. Hermione started to peel Doras knickers down around her thighs. Dora got up

on her elbows, glanced down between her own legs. Neat dark hair. Hermione draped green

silk across Dora belly, straightened up to work her own underwear down. Between her thighs,

Hermione was almost blond.

Youre not what I thought youd be.

Hermione bent down to kiss Dora belly, her hand between her own thighs.


7/24

You thought that Id be all innocent and then you found out that I wasfantasizing about your

knickers? Hermione grinned, shifted to lie between Dora legs. Dora lifted her leg to drape it

over Hermiones slender shoulder. She raised her hips as Hermione spread her cunt with her

fingers.

You make me want to do filthy things, said Hermione, every word a sucking kiss between

Dora legs that made her squirm. All of my life, Ive wanted to do filthy things.

Youre twenty one years old, Hermione. Youreahyouve very young.

Youre thinking about normal years, Dora. War years cut your life in half.

Come here, pretty girl Gently, Dora reached down and disengaged Hermione from between

her legs, drawing her up to lie beside her. She kissed Hermiones damp lips. Gorgeous, daft

girl. She rolled Hermiones body against hers, breasts pressed against breasts.

Mnot gorgeous. Mclever.

You can be both, Hermione, said Dora, stifling a yawn, kissing both of Hermioneseyelids,

still dying for a beer.

-

Headache?

Mmph.

Poor baby.

Can I get in there with you?

I think theres room for a skinny piece like you.

The Blacks had never embraced Muggle technology; no showers, but the baths were deep and

round. Dora lay in the hot water, short hair slicked back, and watched Hermione, her long hair

corkscrewing, wrapped in Dora moms old robe, black silk, printed flowers.

Are you working today?

Dora shook her head.

Weve got bury Remus by sun-down.

Are you going to say something? Later, I mean.


8/24

Possibly, probably. The waters getting cold, she said, meaning I dont want to talk about it

anymore.

With her back to the tub, Hermione shimmied out of Andromedas robe. Dora hunched up,

anticipating Hermiones legs folding against her own. She was surprised when, gently but

insistently, Hermione slid between her legs. Dora hooked one knee over the edge of the tub to

make room as Hermione settled into the curve of her. She wrapped one arm across

Hermiones chest, palming her breast idly.

I half expected you to be all penitent and reluctant this morning.

I am never drinking again.

That isnt what I meant, Hermione.

I know.

No regrets?

Hermione twisted, pressed her mouth against Dora at an odd angle; the kiss was crooked but

it held.

I am never drinking again.

Dora punched her nipple, grinning.

Outside, there was still rain falling.

-

After the bath, Hermione draped herself in Andromedas old robe while Dora toweled her thick

hair. Hermione studied herself critically in the mirror, cupped her neat breasts through satin.

I wish that these were bigger. Behind her, Dora turned sideways, arching her back to stick out

her own bust. She was still naked. Its alright for you though, isnt it? You can be whatever you

want.

Dora went back to combing the snarls out of Hermiones hair.

Mmph.

Hermione was chewing the nail on her little finger.

What do you look like really? Dora eyebrow twitched.

I When NymphadoraDora was fifteen years old, she had made a list of her faults, the


9/24


10/24

fingers to feel where Hermione was still wet. I

Right on cue, the doorbell rang.

Shit. Bugger. She ran her damp thumb over Hermiones bottom lip. Hold that thought, pretty

girl.

Im not-

When Dora opened the door, her dad was perched against the banister, reading the football

scores on the back page of the newspaper. There was a hole in the chest of his jumper. His

reading glasses were too far down his nose. Of all things, Ted Dora was a blissful constant.

Hello, Dad.

Ello, Dragonfly, I He looked up.

It isnt polite to stare, Dad. And a fly is going to fly in there and take up residence and then

Momll banish you to the shed forever, and

Im sorry, Dora. Id forgotten what you looked like.

Bollocks, you. Fancy a cuppa? She pushed her hand through pink hair, making it spike.

Well, I shouldnt He held up a knotted carrier bag from a Muggle supermarket. I just

dropped by to bring these from your mother for tonightafterwards, I mean, and theres a

match on, and

Theres a TV in the kitchen, Dad.

OKwell, maybe a quick one, then.

-

Honest to God cats, Dora. Cats.

Cats? How awful. Her dad regarded her balefully over the rim of his mug.

It is not nice to take the piss out of your father, Dora.

Yes, Daddy. Ooh, look. Youre a goal down.

Dora.

CanI have a cup? Hermione was standing in the doorway from the bedroom, still wearing


11/24


12/24

were a lot of faces which she didnt recognize; Remus had been quiet and yet everywhere at

once. In her corner, she watched these things happen and said nothing.

Who put you in the corner? said Hermione, offering her cheek for a kiss. Shed spritzed

perfume in the coils of her hair. Her dress was blue. She was wearing the same shoes as she

did for the ministry.

Im hiding, said Dora.

Not very well, said Hermione, stepping back to scan over neatly fitted black dress and

Andromedas old red shoes, dancing shoes. They were missing six red sequins over one heel,

the reason why Andromeda Dora hadnt danced in an awful lot of years. She was dancing for

Remus Lupin, though, Doras beautiful mother.

Penny for them? Charlie slid between herself and Hermione. Hed resisted a tie manfully, was

tanned and burnt and handsome, open collared. Dora realized that she hadnt seen him since

that night when shed opened her eyes, half of her clothes burnt away or sticking to her skin

and hed appeared against seared retinas like an angel.

Keep it, she said, letting him thread his rough fingers through hers as he bent to give

Hermione a kiss.

Come and dance with me, Dora.

What else to do but dance?

Hermione, she started, making excuses, but Ron was there, his tie loosely knotted, his shirt

sleeves rolled up. He looked like he almost always did.

Fancy a dance, librarian girl?

I have told you this before, Ronald. I am not a librarian. I research.

Ron looked up at the ceiling, weighing something up.

As far as I can tell, he said, slowly, It all comes down to one thing.

Oh?

LibrarianResearcher. Its all just ugly shoes, isnt it?

Ronald.

Charlie rolled his eyes, chuckling.

Dance, Dora?


13/24

Why not, she said.

While they danced, when they danced, in his arms, she felt seventeen again. Funeral, what

funeral; shed never met Remus Lupin in his tired tweed. There was no such thing as war.

Charlie Weasley had always dealt in minor miracles.

At a table in the corner, Hermione had kicked off her ugly shoes and sat wiggling her toes in

Harrys lap. Ron was sitting with them and the three of them were laughing. They had each

other, regardless, through training and exams, long shifts, conundrums and war; through all of

that, there was the three of them.

The doctor, the librarian and the boy who lived.

With the smell of Hermiones hair clinging to her fingers and Charlies shirt, Dora closed her

eyes and danced and clung to what she had.

-

She sat on a bench in the pubs garden with her head between her knees, not drunk but dizzy

the dancing and the grief. She had stood up in front of all those people; she wasnt a war

widow but she owed up him all the same.

What have you done with your hair, Dora? said Charlie, almost but not quite touching her

hair; mousey brown, twisted up almost neatly.

It was clashing with my shoes, shed said and stood.

At first, she thought that she wouldnt look at anybody, but then she opened her eyes and saw

Hermione in her blue dress, her hair pinned to one side of her face, barefoot and beautiful like

the promise of a new life, smoking a Muggle cigarette.

Okay, thought Dora, and spoke only to her.

Theres been a lot, she said, Of death. This isnt just about him. Remus used to say that the

moon is bright because it has the capacity toto reflect all light. She pushed her hair back off

her forehead. He would have said that we were all stars. And hes right. A star She lo oked

at her father, who had told her these things when she was little, who believed that Muggles had

it better because they wanted to understand, Shines for a long time after it actually dies. It

takes a long time for all of that light to run out. We mustNoWe Will not and we are not

going quietly. Its for them, isnt it? For Bill and Dumbledore and Mad Eye, dear Mad Eye. For

Cedric Diggory who I never met and dont remember, for Luna and for Sirius too. She smiled

and couldnt hold it, raised her glassinstead, a finger of gin for Remus Lupin and all of them

who still shone. To all of them and to Remus Lupin, who had his fair share of light. Dont

worry, mate, we arent going quietly. Not yet.


14/24

It was very cold. She wrapped herself around herself.

Im sorry, mate, I really am sorry. Still no tears. She thought about Fawkes, very gone, and

how the world had been growing steadily darker for years and years.

A hand touched the back of her neck, out of all of that dark.

Room for a little one?

Dont underestimate an arse like that one, pretty girl.

Laughing, Hermione slid onto the bench, bare legs, Rons overcoat huddled around her. There

was plenty of room, too much. The two of them echoed.

You did a great job, Dora.

Not a job, is it?

You were still goodDiddid you love him?

I wish Id done more.

Love isnt about doing things, Dora.

Sometimes it is.

Hermione wrapped her fingers through Dora.

Lets not go back there tonight, hmm?

I can give you a lift to the Ministry from my place in the morning.

Okay, good.

Im going to Leeds for Christmas on Friday. Mom and Dad.

Hermione nodded.

Lets go home, said Hermione, squeezing Dora fingers in the dark, echoing, doing.

-

Tell me you didnt bring work with you, pretty girl.

Imaybe a little.


15/24

Oh, Hermione. Dora crossed her arms across her chest, Charlies old Quidditch jersey

against the chill of a house with a wood stove. Love, its Christmas.

Its Boxing Day, said Hermione, a defiant tilt to her chin,flushed and pretty above her old

Gryffindor scarf.

Come in, come inMomll make you a cup of tea.

Ah. Clothes, this time, said Ted from the lounge, behind his newspaper, contriving to sound

almost disappointed.

Dad.

Hermione blushed, unwinding her scarf in the doorway.

Hi, Ted. Ive got some things you might be interested in with me. Hellenic. Were trying to fill in

the gaps. I mentioned your name and Lewis went spare.

Behind his newspaper, Ted made interested noises.

With her mother in the kitchen, her dad smiling at Muggle horoscopes, Dora pulled Hermione

against her in the hall, her hand unconsciously jerking a fistful of wool in the small of

Hermiones back.

I missed you.

I missed you tooI boughtthings.

Dora raised an eyebrow, watched as Hermione flushed and fussed with her satchel. Go and

do your work, pretty girl. Drink your tea. Charm my Daddy.

Hermione smiled and ducked into the lounge.

The afternoon passed slowly, evening falling early, lights showing up better in the dark. In the

evening, after dinner, while Dora and her mother worked their way through a bottle of red wine

and watched black and white Muggle movies on television, Hermione and Ted sat on the rug

and puzzled over notes.

I feel like Im missing something obvious, muttered Hermione, massaging her stockinged

insole. Something that has to be here.

Bloody Greeks, said Ted, magnanimously, sipping beer for a bottle. Hed fetched one for

Hermione too and Dora reflected on the beauty of Hermiones lines when he lifted her drink. I

met an oracle once. Shrew. Andy was not impressed by the scars, were you, Dove

I was not. Her mother tousled her fathers hair fondly. Finding another husband after you got


16/24


17/24

Dora bit back a laugh.

Come here, stupid girl.

Hermione tottered a little in very high heels before she found her feet. She hoisted her battered

leather handbag.

Bag of tricks. She gave a tremulous smile. On the bed, Dora lay back and spread her legs.

Hermione knelt on the mattress between them. Do you want to touch me, Dora? I think that I

might like for you toyknow, touch me. She had laid her hands on the front of Dora jeans,

over her hips, her fingers splayed to touch bare skin where Dora sweater had ridden.

In the time it took Dora to wriggle down onto her knees on the floor, Hermione had lifted her

breasts out of her corset. Dora leant forward and licked Hermiones left nipple, nipping at it with

the edges of her teeth. She kissed down the red satin, ran her tongue over the strip of bare

skin between ribboned waistband and corset. She hooked her thumbs under the elastic in

Hermiones knickers. Hermiones fingers tightened in her hair as she worked the fabric down

over hipbones and the curve of Hermiones arse. Once she had Hermione naked from the

waist down, Dora guided her leg up over her shoulder. She ran her finger down the damp

furrow between Hermiones legs. She pushed a finger up inside Hermione, licked a line from

her knuckle to Hermiones clit to make her shudder.

Come on pretty girl, murmured, encouraging. Hermione cupped her breasts as Dora licked

and sucked, slid her finger in and out of Hermiones cunt. Hermione rolled her breasts with the

palms of her hands, pinched her nipples and rolled up towards Dora lips.

Filthy enough for you, pretty girl? Hermione twisted, her leg tightening over Dora shoulder.

Shut up She sucked in a breath, sounded desperate, her head tipped back, her next breath

almost a groan. Youve done this before.

Sometimes, murmured Dora, pressing the word up inside Hermiones body.

Im going toI cant whimpered Hermione, writhing, poetry in bare skin and red satin. Dora

didnt say anything, added a second finger, mouthing a little prayer against all of that heat.

Hermiones orgasm came with a soft sigh.

Dora kissed her way back up Hermiones body w ith damp lips. She gave Hermione a long,

loose kiss, her fingers moving lazily between spread legs. She wrapped her own legs around

Hermiones thigh, still in her jeans.

How was that then, filthy girl?

Hermione coloured prettily.


18/24


19/24

(not hers) Hermiones eyes were closed, but there was something watchful in the way she held

her shoulders. At the bedside, a calendar read March. March? Where did February go?

She tried to speak. Her voice felt tight and swollen; her eyes teared with the effort of forcing the

word passed cracked lips.

ermione?

Hermiones eyes flickered open, too big and bright in a pale face.

Dora.

Whats up, pretty girl? She said, meaning nobody calls me Dora and dont tell me dont tell

me.

Hermione leant forward, gently took Dora' hand. There was something black under both of their

fingernails.

Dont you remember, Dora? You gotyou did gethit in the head. Charlie brought you back.

Kingsley was angry. He didnt want you there, but

Me? Hit in the She heard the dismissive tone in her hoarse voice even as she became

aware of the dull ache in the back of her head. Hermione had mentioned it and made it hurt. In

the hurt was a memory, screwed up tight and small and sore, of stumbling through smoke,

bending to pick something upwhat? Something, and the sky falling then, the roof, and shed

fallen, and hurt.

She blinked, a tear slipping down her face. It wasnt her room. It wasnt her bed. She didnt

want toshe didnt want, and something was so terribly wrong in the world.

HermioneI dont remember.

Shhh, Love. Its okay. It isnt. Dont lie to me. Youve got a glass forehead, pretty girl.

Hermione squeezed her hand. It was nobodys fault, DoraAn accident. At first, Kingsley

thoughtbut no, Dora, no. Just a stupid terrible bloody accident. Im so sorry, love. Im so very

sorry.

Shed been bending to pick something up. Her dads train . Red paint black split. Charlemagne.

Her dads train. Her dad.

I dont believe you, she said, her bottom lip trembling wildly. Youre lying to me. Her mom as

well, the bright gypsy colours of Andromedas shawl, miraculously whole colours blowing,

snagged on blackened wood. She was shaking her head fit to snap her neck. She jerked her

hand free of Hermiones, rubbed her knuckles, her entire surface scorched.

Dora, I


20/24


21/24

shoots of green, watching as the Spring fought valiantly to win. It was something, she decided,

that the world went on. She took a long drag on her cigarette. During the first war, the war

when she was very little, her dad had taken up smoking on the porch at night. Her dad had

smoked with relish, like a man who really enjoyed the act of smoking, but hed also kept a good

watch, had Ted. Dora huddled in the damp, and kept a watch of sorts. Eventually, Charlie

came to sit beside her. There was something endearing about a twenty seven year old man

still wearing a Quidditch jersey with holes in the elbows.

Hello, pretty girl.

So thats where that had come fromCharlie and all of those years ago.

Wotcher, Charlie.

Whatre you thinking about? She offered him the cigarette and he took it.

Just the way that my dad used to smoke.

Mmph. I miss your mom and dad.

You miss them.

She took her cigarette back from him and smoked in silence, her fingers curled just so, like her

dad used to.

Ginnys about ready to pop, said Charlie, scrubbing his hands through red hair. And shes

furious with Kingsley all of the timeShe figures either hes going to miss it or, worse still, hell

actually get back. Either way, I figure that New York is the place to stay. Which made her

laugh, which made him perfect in her eyes, just then.

Three months from one end of the world to another, she said, finally. Doesnt seem like a lot

of time does it, mate

Its only the world, Dora.

She leant her head against his shoulder.

I just thought itd be bigger, thats all, she said.

-

Philomena Bill Shacklebolt was born nearly four months to the day after the first end of the

world. Her father made it back from New York in time to be in attendance. Ginny, formidable as

she always been and ever would be (her mothers daughter) swore and sweated, but

afterwards, she glowed. She was twenty years old; war makes young wives. They were making

the best of what they had, Ginny and Kingsley were. How easily life stops.


22/24

Dora sat back and held Bill in a bundle of patchwork, after Ginny had managed to shoo away a

flock of adoring uncles.

Youll confuse her, said Ginny, fondly, stifling a yawn. Always changing girl.

Nawh, said Dora, smiling as Bill rooted blinding against the front of her old Rolling Stones t-

shirt. Clever girl, this one. Shell know me by my eyes. No milk there, pretty one.

All of that death and still a little life, said Ginny, smiling wanly and holding out her hands for

her little proof of life. She settled Bill against her breast, grasping mouth, gold brown skin,

dusky head.

And then love arrived, said Dora, quoting some Muggle poet she couldnt remember, getting

up to leave.

Oh, no, stay a while, said Ginny, baring her breast for her baby, most definite proof of life.

Talk to me like a real human being, Dora. Nobody talks to me anymore. Everybody just oohs

and ahhs and treats me like a milk cow.

Dora sat back in her chair, her bare feet up on the edge of Ginnys bed.

What do you want to talk about?

Ginny rolled her shoulder, made a soft surprised sound when Bill snuffled and snorted.

Not the war. Anything but the bloody war. I look at them sometimes and it just feels like theyre

getting further and further away.

Who?

The three of them.

Dora shrugged.

I just love her. Just like that, she said it. Ginny smiled.

The thing about loving Kingsley, said Ginny, shifting Bill to the other breast, Is that I feel like

nobody could take him away from me. A long time ago, there wasHarry and hewas going

to break my heart but Kingsley wouldnt know how. Kingsleys got such big hands but hes so

careful.

I think..what it ishow it isIts been cold for so long, Ginny, but shes very warm. Ive been

cold for so fucking long.

Shhh, said Ginny, shielding Bills tiny shell ear.


23/24


24/24

If she goes, make it quick.

If she goes, just give me enough time to say goodbye.

Please.

Dora made a wish on the constellation which shone under Hermiones left breast, and slowly

fell asleep.

-

Remember, remember, the fifth...

Remember, oh, remember me.

Been there before, or had she? The walls all seemed to be moving, which recalled kissing in

the shadows of a staircase, side step waltzing, her mouth pressed to Hermiones. Never was

much of a dancer, couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, but you, oh you. Never was much of a

dancer, but with you to follow. The walls of the room are charred and dark (Harry went

supernova and blew the world away). Brief vision of Harry and Hermione and Ron, hands

linked before the light went bright, went so bright, and they gave all of everything, all of that

love for a moment's silence after all of those years of noise.

Her ears were ringing. The insides of her eyes were spangled with stars.

All of that noise.

She sat up, felt crushed, smaller than she had been before. Charlie sat beside her, tears

running down his face. She tried to say something, couldnt. Her voice felt like a frail, fluttering

thing. Its wings got stuck in her throat and made her cough. Charlie thumped her on the back

and unbidden came the thought of sneaking her Dads cigarettes behind the fourth green

house, fifteen years old.

Finally, she managed it. Finally, it came, an ugly sound, a croak.

Hermione?

Even her name sounded burnt now, blackened, and Charlie was shaking his head.

She didnt so much collapse as shrink, fold down, wizened by the smoke and the heat until she

couldnt bear her own weight. She closed her eyes but colour see nothing but white. There had

been so much light. On her back in the dirt, the world was very dark after all of the white light

which love shed. It came back to her in flashes, a year from one of the world to the other.

Shed been right; it had been bigger all along. Dora closed her eyes and cried, that one word

hanging in the air, Her-mi-one like a song, as, with a shudder, the world began again.

you me and the rain

Documents