if this isn't love, how do we get out?

.

it is the feel of his stubble against her cheek;

it scared her, at first,

because ron had always been so anal about shaving

and she had never known anything else.

she is coming to love it.

.

she wakes,

presses her lips against his jaw,

stands.

"i have to go."

"you always say that."

she dresses silently,

his eyes on her.

"stay, hermione. once."

she pulls up her skirt, smoothes the wrinkles.

"must we have this argument every morning i stay?"

[yes]. no answer.

"you know my reasons, percy."

"in what way is this not love?"

she stops, turns.

"in all the important ones."

[stolen kisses, secret nights. the usual.]

"we don't have to hide."

she crosses the room,

straddles him,

kisses him with

everything

she has.

"yes, we do."

"we're done, hermione."

the scent of sweat on his face,

the taste of him on her lips.

"we're not. you'll see."

.

he comes back to her that evening,

and he hasn't shaved.

[he knows she loves the roughness of his skin.]

.

a/n: oh, freeverse. i'm falling in love, here. the first line is borrowed and paraphrased from rise against's "savior."