Work Text:
The air was warm for mid-December. As the sun started peaking over the horizon, Hermione stretched her muscles before turning and laying an arm across the man sleeping next to her. Marcus's face had more lines than the last time she had seen him. His body was harder. The war dragged on with each passing month, and the longer she went without seeing him, the deeper the hole in the heart became. Yet here they were, in their cottage by the sea, all because of a risky midnight run-in that had them unexpectedly crossing paths.
The fact they were on opposite sides of the war wasn't lost on Hermione. She also knew Lord Voldemort dealt with defectors on a permanent basis. It was safer for all if Marcus kept up the act of the Dark Lord's most loyal supporter. It was the only way forward, whether they wanted it to be that way or not. There was nothing for it now. As the weeks and months dragged on and the war took heavy loses on both sides, they had found a way back to each other. Through hell and high water, they had managed to come back together again. It was serendipitous in a way. The fact Marcus was here, in her arms, when she hadn't known if she would ever see him again.
It was almost painful to be back together again. Because it meant they would have to part. That the war would have to end before they came back together permanently. It was painful in a way that didn't bare thinking about. Not now. Not tonight, when she had him within arm's reach. The sea crashed against the sand in a calming rhythm that Hermione could hear from her perch on the bed. The candles had long since burned out, but the night had been perfect in so many ways. She didn't want to break the bubble they had created. Their own little sanctuary from the war. Something Hermione didn't think would be possible given their circumstances. Yet here they were, curled up together after a round of the most passionate sex she could remember having.
“You're thinking too loud.” His voice carried to her ear, causing her to shiver at his tone. Half-asleep, Marcus still sounded like he wanted to devour her. Turing her head to face him, she pressed a kiss to his bare chest before she rose enough to lightly brush her lips against his. “What's got you thinking so hard? I thought I wore you out.” The smirk was evident in his tone, but he had the decency to wince when Hermione hit him in the chest for his comment.
“You already know. There's no point in us getting upset over it.” She replied, even as she reached to lace her fingers into his, marveling at the way their finger's interlaced. Their hands fit together like a glove, it was a wonder they hadn't noticed beforehand. They were made for each other. To love each other. To burn for each other. To consume each other. It was as if the Gods had created them as a pair.
“No, there's not. So stop thinking about it.” Marcus replied, nudging her shoulder with his and giving her a charming smile. Sighing, she plastered a smile on her face before she rested her head on his chest and let sleep claim her again.
When she woke the next time, the moon was high in the sky and the bed beside her was empty. Panic filled her, until she saw Marcus's shoes still sitting by the open french doors. Slipping into a dressing gown, Hermione followed the path of footprints Marcus had left in the sand. When she found him standing in the water, his trousers rolled up to his knees, she wrapped her arms around his waist.
They didn't speak; but a lot was said in the silence. I miss you. I love you. Please don't die. The moon saw all their words and carried them to the skies as they held onto each other.
They still had several hours before Marcus had to leave, but it would never be long enough.
When the sun rose, Hermione's hopes were dashed with it. She watched as Marcus pulled on his clothes and then sat on the bed to step into his shoes. Coming up behind him on the bed, she wrapped her arms around his neck before pressing a kiss into the flesh there. She could feel his grin before he even opened his mouth.
“It's not goodbye.” They had yet to say goodbye during this winding, ever-lasting war. They wouldn't start today. “I'll see you again, love.” Hermione bit back a sob and tried to fight back the tears that threatened to spill. They severed no practical purpose, even as she clung to Marcus to keep him from leaving. “It'll be okay, sweetheart. I'll try to get away again.”
“You will?” Hermione cursed the shred of hope that had crept into her tone at his statement. Marcus shifted on the bed to face her, shifting her hold on him and pulling her into his lap.
“It's worth a shot. Maybe we can steal away for another night.” Marcus said, a fake smile plastered on his face that Hermione didn't have the heart to see through. “It won't be soon.” He warned, attempting to keep her from getting her hopes up. But it was enough. A shred of hope was better than none at all.
“It's better than nothing.” Marcus nodded, conceding her point, as he leaned in and kissed her again. He was acting like he couldn't get enough. Like he was a man starved, and she was his salvation. His Ophelia and Goddess all wrapped into one.
They would come out the other side of this war. One way or another. And Hermione had a feeling they would return to their cottage by the sea. If everything went well, likely permanently.
If everything went well.