"Trust me: it doesn't." He reaches back over for his teacup. Innocently: "Well, mine are. I'm afraid that after this, all other kisses will be a bit of a let down."
"Everyone in the Drabwurld will have to try and compare to Dorian Gray's executive kissing technique." It makes her laugh, the sound escaping her even as she leans up to wrap her arms around his neck to hug him. "How will I possibly survive the unfortunate comparisons? My poor future husband."
"Not really? I've never really been interested in girls that way. They're beautiful, of course, but when I ever thought about relationships..." Well, it had been boys. Viktor and then Ron and then Luke, here, in this world, but she's biting her tongue on that matter. "Boys, I think."
She softens, a little wry smile crossing her lips, and she leans in to kiss his forehead gently, tender and sweet. "You'd look ridiculous sneezing non-stop, that's all I'm going to say."
"Oh, no?" He pushes to his feet. Away from the table he walks, over to the fireplace. It isn't burning so strongly, with spring coming into fullness, but still it burns to fight off the last of winter chill. And down he kneels, perfectly prepared to shove his head right into the flames—
"No!" Hermione stands up, moving over. "Accio Dorian Gray!" It doesn't pull him to her, of course, not the way the spell works, but Harry had told her he had used it on Hagrid once - and he does move away from the fireplace and closer to her, which is what she had wanted. Dropping to her knees, she glares. "Are you absolutely mental?"
His smile becomes less loud. Softer, sadder. He shakes his head.
"Sorry, Hermione. But I am what I have become. That wouldn't have been the first death by fire. Pain scales differently when you've died as much as I have."
"That doesn't mean you can joke about it," she says, voice soft, her fingers brushing over his skin. "Not this, not with me. I know that you've suffered, but you don't... You shouldn't have to suffer just because you can." Hermione's hand drops, touching his chest, where his heart lies, before she leans in and kisses him again, another chaste thing, comfort more than anything else. "I would take all of it away if I could."
There it is: one of those sudden moments of coldness. After all that play and fun and offering of protection, the wall comes down.
"You can't. And I wouldn't want you to." He draws to his feet, away from her touch. "There's no stripping back what I've been through to reveal the real boy underneath it."
"Maybe I don't want just the boy." Hermione stands up, turning to look at him. "I don't want just - whatever you want to pretend to be, or the person you might think you want me to have. I've seen your soul, Dorian, and I'm not running away. I'm not turning my back on you and wherever you go I'll go with you if you need me to." Her arms cross tight across her chest, unsure; no matter how many strides she makes she continues to ruin the friendship between them, saying the wrong thing and bringing back that ice. "I told you. I love you, not what you might think I think you are."
"Of course I do. I loved him, but Dorian," she takes a step closer. "I can love you too. It's not a situation where I have to pick either one of you. You're right here and, yes, maybe sometimes I miss him, but that doesn't matter. Because I get you. I get to see you and I get to talk to you and I get to be around you and have toast with you and just... Have a friend. And it doesn't matter if you're not that child any more. I still love the man you've become and I'm going to until the day I die."
Her eyes flick, here and there, over his face before her lips turn into a smile, her arms sliding around his waist so she can step into his personal space. She might be a little more awkward were it anyone else, but this is Dorian. She feels safe with him.
Her hands squeeze the fabric of his shirt gently.
"I'll do my best. I don't intend to go anywhere any time soon, so you're quite stuck with me."
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Not like he's trying to narrow down who she should look through or anything.
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"Sorry, Hermione. But I am what I have become. That wouldn't have been the first death by fire. Pain scales differently when you've died as much as I have."
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"You can't. And I wouldn't want you to." He draws to his feet, away from her touch. "There's no stripping back what I've been through to reveal the real boy underneath it."
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But she won't. Not here. It is as Tzilan said: Dorian Gray is young here. As long as she stays in this world, she will live for a long time.
So instead he warns her, "Don't make that too soon," almost harsh in the protective scowl (sulk).
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Her hands squeeze the fabric of his shirt gently.
"I'll do my best. I don't intend to go anywhere any time soon, so you're quite stuck with me."