"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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"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."