[He's too weak to this sort of attention now. When first he arrived, he would've thrown her off for the insult—dashed her against the wall, while he was at it—but she hits a vulnerable spot, touching his hair, tracing along his face, and there's the softest sigh on his end that can't be faked. He wants to throw her into his bed instead and curl up against her and fade in her arms. Diarmuid has pulled him back from the very brink with this sort of tenderness; Hermione manages much the same and settles him by unwittingly nudging at what's become instinctual.
He isn't sorry. He'd play the game again, and play to win, if he knew that he could. Maybe he'd still play even if he knew that he'd lose. He isn't human anymore and they can't live like fellows but maybe this is better, maybe just this is fine, and maybe he can have what he wants anyway.
He shifts from his seat to rise, but as he does so he holds her hand tight on its arm. He inclines his chin and catches her by the cheek and kisses her—but only on the very corner of her mouth, only briefly, only a brush. It's almost painfully chaste. Bleak and personal, from the lips of a man who wants to her and to hold her all at once. To have her forever, as he wishes of all his most prized possessions.]
I do like you. I always did. I always will. Just you. Just Hermione.
[He lets go before he oversteps himself, and moves to collect his bag and tuck those crowns safely away. He's smiling to himself, contented.]
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He isn't sorry. He'd play the game again, and play to win, if he knew that he could. Maybe he'd still play even if he knew that he'd lose. He isn't human anymore and they can't live like fellows but maybe this is better, maybe just this is fine, and maybe he can have what he wants anyway.
He shifts from his seat to rise, but as he does so he holds her hand tight on its arm. He inclines his chin and catches her by the cheek and kisses her—but only on the very corner of her mouth, only briefly, only a brush. It's almost painfully chaste. Bleak and personal, from the lips of a man who wants to her and to hold her all at once. To have her forever, as he wishes of all his most prized possessions.]
I do like you. I always did. I always will. Just you. Just Hermione.
[He lets go before he oversteps himself, and moves to collect his bag and tuck those crowns safely away. He's smiling to himself, contented.]