Battlefield, a harry potter fanfic

Battlefield

By: Etern

Disclaimer: Unless it's in pity, I doubt JK Rowling would hand the rights over to me!

Song: Battlefield by Jordin Sparks.

It was a rainy day at Hogwarts. From her familiar spot in the library, Hermione watched the rain cascade down the clear glass in rivulets; rivulets that fell down her own face.

Wasn't it odd that the sky cried with her?

She really didn't have a reason to cry, not at all. At least, around her friends she didn't. Around her friends her tears would not only have flabbergasted them, but disgusted them. Because if they knew who her tears were for… If they ever knew why her heart was breaking in her chest…

Well, Hermione Granger was sure that her life as the Gryffindor princess would be over.

Don't try to explain your mind

I know what's happening here

One minute it's love and suddenly

It's like a battle-field

She could still remember, especially now in the aftermath of the whole torrid affair, how it had all started. She really should not have been expected that she felt anything more than loathing for him; in some place, she was convinced that she had known all along.

Draco Malfoy had always treated her like she was beneath him. He had always called her cruel names and insulted everything she had ever done.

He had always been the bane of her existence, just as he had always been the one person who let her see that she was not perfect, the one person who, out of everyone she knew, showed her so much passion, even if it had been through jeers and anger.

Draco Malfoy had always intrigued her with his cryptic ways, always made her wonder with his sometimes wayward actions, and had never failed to make her laugh at some snarky comment he could not resist making at a teacher at one point or another.

He had always fascinated her, and so when the chance had come when she could be alone with him one night, no one else around, no one else to judge, she had taken it. She had followed him, as the clock had struck midnight, down into the dungeons, her books clutched to her chest as she'd followed him into the darkness.

And she had not been scared, not once. She had been…exhilarated as he'd stopped, her heart had raced and jumped in ways she had never thought possible when he had turned to face her, and those familiar flat silver eyes had burned at her, fucking burned at her, and she had gasped, shocked. She had never seen so much blatant emotion on his pale features before then, in that dark corridor in the dungeons.

She had been breathless.

"What do you want, Granger?" he had sneered, his eyes had flashed. She had only kept staring, and forgotten to look away. "Why did you follow me?"

Why had she followed him? She had not had an answer. She had simply seen him walking by on her way outside of the library and she had followed him. He'd waited for an answer. She had given him one, her jaw set, her chin up.

She had given him the truth.

"You fascinate me, Malfoy."

He had stepped towards her. His sneer had fell. His eyes had darkened.

"I fascinate you? I fascinate you how, Granger?"

How, indeed.

He had stopped before her. She had trembled. She remembered thinking that this was insane, that she was insane as she had gazed up into his eyes, eyes that for once had seemed to let all defenses fall.

She'd seen his inner turmoil. She'd seen his suspicion, she saw his mistrust.

She'd seen his own fascination, parallel to hers, staring back at her.

It had set her jaw, it had firmed her courage. Her eyes had met his, and they had never looked away.

"You're an enigma."

"An enigma?"

Her breathing had caught. She had not known why. She never really knew why.

"Yes."

He had stepped closer. She had not stepped back. She had known that it was all wrong as he had leaned down to whisper in her ear, his hot breath on her sensitive flesh. "Are you afraid of me, Mudblood?"

She had known that it had been an insult; she had known there were a million reasons for her to say yes to him, say that she was afraid, that she was half afraid then.

She could have told him that, and would the result have been the same?

She had turned her face to him, her eyes shuttered, and whispered back to him.

"No."

His lips had hit her with a force, with the same brutal passion that had always been there. Against her lips, lips that she had not known were kissing him back, she felt him mouth a word. A response that had made her lost.

"Good." He had said. "Good."

One word turns into a

Why is it the smallest things that tear us down

From there nothing had made sense anymore. Nothing really had made sense to begin with.

Was it weird to say that every time she spent with him felt like a dream? It felt like she had been sleeping through the kisses, in a world so removed by the real one that it seemed impossible that they would collide at all.

She had hoped that they would never collide. She had hoped and hoped and hoped for that so much that it had started to tear them down, what ever it was between them in the first place.

Around others she hated him. In her sleeping reality, she found that she could not get enough of him, and when she awoke, as the preferred to think she did, she only hated him more. He had done something to her, she had been convinced after she could not stop kissing him, or thinking about kissing him, since the first time in that dark corridor.

He had done something to her without words. When they were alone together, when he was kissing the breath from her lungs, she did not remember him ever talking to her, at all. They had just touched, hands fumbling together, and kissed and kissed and drowned and drowned.

Always she had kept her eyes open, locked on his. Always he had stared right back at her, warm brown into cool grey, and they had known all along who they were kissing, touching, who's heart beat against theirs. They had known all along, and yet they had kept silent about it. She had known who she was with in every kiss, every caress, and she had known that it was against everything that was right, she had known that it was against her friends and her own morality.

She had not cared.

She was testing her own limits by being in his arms. Under his kisses she was not the Gryffindor princess, not a know-it-all and a bookworm, but she was just a girl, she was just lost, and she was just so attracted and fascinated by him that everything else spiraled away.

She had known that it would come back. And even when it did, even when she left him with one last lingering kiss, she did not regret a thing.

She had become two people; the one everyone saw, and the one only her heart and Draco Malfoy's knew, hidden in closets and deserted classrooms in his arms.

My world's nothing when you don't

I'm not here without a shield

Can't go back now

She had thought they'd both be safe so long as these two Hermiones did not meet. So long as she stayed the Gryffindor princess around everyone and the normal, lusting girl only for Draco, she thought she would be fine.

Oh god how she had been wrong.

For although there were two Hermiones, they still shared the same body. The same heart.

And it was not before long that heart became a battleground.

Both hands tied behind my back with nothing

Oh no

These times when we climb so fast to fall again

Why we gotta fall for it now

She had never had to really feel the pressures of guilt before; she had never had a reason to lie. She had always put her friends first, using her honesty, honoring her own integrity. But now… Everything had changed.

She'd known that whatever it was that she had with Malfoy would eventually cause side effects; Hermione was not the smartest witch of her age for nothing, after all. But while she was not by any means stupid, she did not realize until now, as the sat crying all alone, that she had been naïve. So fucking naïve to think that whatever it was that was going on with Malfoy could just stay as stolen kisses and secret thrills.

Hermione Granger, in her naivety, had never thought that whatever was between them had the potency to evolve into more. She had never thought that there was a thin line between lust and love, and an even smaller line between hate and love.

She had not been aware that she had started to cross that line. She had been perfectly oblivious until the day when she'd seen them, in broad daylight, on her way to Ancient Runes.

Pansy Parkinson in Draco Malfoy's arms.

She had never felt such pain hit her heart before, as he had leaned down to kiss her. He had not even noticed Hermione. And if he had, he hadn't even looked at her.

What had there been for her to do but flee? Flee back to the Common Room where she was alone, startled and shaken and amazed by the tears running silently down her cheeks.

They had been the first tears that she had cried for Draco Malfoy. They would not be the last. Oh no, they would not be the last.

I never meant to start a war

You know I never wanna hurt you

Don't even know what we're fighting for

She had confronted him about Pansy, simply because her heart had started to hurt too much in her chest. She had tried to kiss the memory of him with another girl away, but this time not even his kisses seemed to ease the image away. On his lips, she had thought she'd tasted Pansy, and she had been disgusted.

It was never really the same after that.

"Why are you with her?" she had found herself asking him one day, in the dim light of an unused classroom. It had been risky to meet in the middle of the day like this, when anyone could have walked in on them. She had not cared. And she could tell through his kisses that he hadn't either.

"Why are you with Pansy Parkinson?" She had said the name in a growl that she had not bothered to repress. He had released her then, his eyes seeming to have darkened on her. She should have known that it had been a stupid question to ask. But she had not even tried to take it back.

She had waited on bated breath for the answer she had known had been coming, and had felt her heart inexplicably break.

"Because Granger, you and I are not together. Are you forgetting the terms of this deal we have going on?"

Her heart had nearly burst. Her eyes had hurt. What had been wrong with her? "I never knew that this had been a deal to begin with Malfoy," she had bit out, trying to bury her hurt. If he had seen it, he had answered it anyway with his typical sneer.

"Oh come on Granger, don't tell me you expected something to become of this? Of us! My god, you're a Mudblood!"

A Mudblood. The term had bit into her in a whole new way now. Here she had thought that he had finally released her from that name's clutches; she had been so naïve. He had always thought of her as that, hadn't he? Even as he had kissed her, even as he had held her in his arms, she had only ever been a Mudblood.

There had been shame, but there had been hurt as well. Hurt that she had adamantly resented, because it made her remember that she did care for him, somehow, somewhere, she did. Somewhere along the way, she had looked beyond the Draco Malfoy that she had loathed so much to find a passion in him that she had been foolish enough to think that only she had known.

But why would he ever show that to a Mudblood in the first place?

His answer had been the final blow to her heart, which she had found had been held fragilely in his hands. "Because Granger, you're a good fuck, and a good kisser, although I am loathe to admit that. Besides, I thought you just wanted a taste of me?" He had smirked and she had died. "Not that I blame you; everyone wants a taste of me."

Her fist had hit his face, and her tears had burned as they had fallen quietly down her cheeks. She had only caught one last glimpse of his shocked silver eyes before she had bolted, not bothering to wipe her eyes, not bothering to look back.

Her fist had still stung from where she had hit him all throughout the day. She had only made her heart hurt more, and her confusion from then could only grow.

Why did it hurt so badly…?

Why does love always feel like ...

A battlefield (battlefield)

From then on they had avoided one another like the plague. She refused to look at him; he refused to acknowledge her. Over and over in her head she had to keep repeating to herself that it was better this way, it was better.

But if it was for the better, then why had her heart not stopped aching?

Why had she not been able to stop crying?

Why…was she still crying now?

Why does love always feel like—?

She did not know how long she had gone without him; the only thing she had known was that there was an aching in her chest that she had been unable to stop. It had eaten at her, had grown worse with each glimpse of him, with each flash of his cold eyes in her direction.

Why couldn't she get him out of her head?

For the first time in what felt like forever she had been confused, so confused. She had wanted to talk to him, but she had been afraid of what being around him might have done to her. Her only option had seemed to be to start seeing other people, although she had known, somewhere, that that plan wouldn't have worked anyway.

Ron had always fancied her. Ron still fancied her. She had seen the way he watched her, had heard his soft sighs and taken notice to his gentle blushes. Ron had been her best friend for so long, that she knew everything there was to know about him, which she had hoped, in turn, would make dating him less awkward.

But of course even Hermione Granger could be wrong; dating Ron, her best friend, had only seemed to make things so much more awkward and worse.

It had felt nothing short of odd when he touched her; his kisses had been so flat, so dull, so dead. Certainly not at all like they had been with Malfoy. Why had it been that with Malfoy everything had seemed so…normal? Why had it been that she always knew exactly what she had been doing around him, but with Ron she completely forgot how to kiss and hold him and simply be with him.

Why was it like that…?

She had not found any answers at all in Ron Weasley's happy, freckled face.

Can't swallow our pride,

Neither of us wanna raise that flag

She had assumed that her dating Ron would have no effect on the boy that she could not seem to get out of her head. Malfoy had been dating Pansy Parkinson, so why had it mattered to him who she was with?

When he had confronted her about it in the library she had not understood.

"Don't date him," he had all but growled, shoving her back against the library shelves.

At that point she had done little more than gape at him. She had not understood; he had ignored her for weeks now as though he had completely forgotten about her, and there he was demanding something of her.

Having had noticed her stunned expression, he had growled again and pushed her harder back into the shelves until she had gasped, feeling a twinge of pain.

"Let me go Malfoy," she had spat, "What I do is no concern of yours!"

And she had meant it; she really, really had. Draco had made it so clear before that he wanted nothing to do with her, and so she had vowed that she would have nothing to do with him.

"What we had is over Malfoy," she had continued, ignoring the way his eyes had flashed. "You made it clear enough when you started to hang off Parkinson."

"Parkinson? Dammit Granger, she's been hanging off of me, I certainly haven't been willingly hanging off of her!"

"Then why did you tell me that what we had was over then?" she had fought on. "It was just a deal remember? And guess what, now it's over, so you can leave me the hell alone!"

If we can't surrender

Then we both gonna lose what we had, oh no

Both hands tied behind my back with nothing

(Nothing)

She had went to storm past him, all worked up and ashamed to feel tears prickling the corner of her eyes, when he had caught her elbow and forced her to look back at him.

She had never before seen such a look on his face. Normally stoic features had been ravished with so much pain and longing, so much fear and desperation that she had been stuck there, staring into his turbulent grey eyes.

And despite herself she had felt her heart flutter and had known, in that instant under his clear gaze, that somehow against all odds she had started to fall for Draco Malfoy.

Oh no, these times when we climb so fast to fall again

I don't wanna fall for it now

She'd been completely helpless to the power of his gaze and her own feelings as he had caught her lips in a bruising kiss, and the fireworks had exploded once again.

Finally, she had thought somewhere deep inside her heart, when her lips had attacked his. Finally she was back where she belonged.

Too bad where that place was could only lead to destruction.

She had pulled away from him feeling better than she had in so long, and looked up into his open face; saw every emotion flicker through his eyes.

"We can't do this," he had whispered, even as his lips had skimmed hers again. "This is wrong."

For the first time in her life, Hermione had decided not to think clearly. "I don't care," she had muttered back. Her voice had been firm. "I want to be with you Malfoy. I don't know why—" But she had, oh she had. "—but I do. Don't…give us up."

He had stared down at her for a long time after that, perhaps too long. She'd given up trying to read the expressions in his eyes, which had started to grow colder and colder again as time passed.

In her chest her heart had caught in foreboding. She had known that look…

I never meant to start a war

You know I never wanna hurt you

Don't even know what we're fighting for

"Granger, this can't happen," he had said to her, and his hands had pushed hers away from him. He had made to leave her then, but this time she had been the one to pull him back.

She had not known that her pulse could race so quickly; she had not known how bitter the taste of loss was as she had stared into his eyes. She had not cared if she'd looked desperate as she'd pulled his head down to hers and had gone about trying to kiss those words right out of his mind. She had just found him, even if what she felt was so wrong. She had just found him and she could not just let him walk away, not like this.

Not until she could stop kissing him without feeling her heartbeat.

But god, when would that be?

Would that ever be?

He'd pushed her away from him and she had looked up at him through glazed eyes. He had stared back, and there had been something indefinable flickering in his irises before they'd frosted over again and he'd regained himself. An emotion that she could not understand…

"Granger don't you get it?" he'd snapped at her, "It's over! It was all a joke, don't you see? You are nothing, nothing at all. Leave me alone."

This time, she had not followed him. This time, she had let him go.

This time, she had believed his words.

And so here she had ended up, crying her tears away pathetically in the library where he had let her, where he haunted her. Outside the rain seemed to grow stronger.

Why does love always feel like...

A battlefield (battlefield)

Battlefield (battlefield)

(Repeat)

Why does love always feel like

She loved the git, and he had trampled her heart. Stupid Hermione, she thought cynically, of course she would fall in love with the person most likely to break her, and of course he would. And they called her the brightest witch?

Her tears had turned to self pitying sobs. She was happy that none of her friends saw her now; she was embarrassed with herself. She had let Malfoy take advantage of her; she had let him use her, he had made her believe that everything was real only to hurt her in the end.

It had all been a twisted game to him, hadn't it? A game which had cost Hermione Granger her heart. She wanted to hurt him as badly as he'd hurt her then, collapsed in the library; she wanted to make him suffer too. Dating Ron had brought him to her; maybe…

No, she couldn't still want him; even in her heartbreak—or perhaps because of her heartbreak, she knew that. He would only use her again, and she was sure that he would never want her around him again in the first place…

And yet…

Through her tears, she remembered him. She recalled all of their kisses, so wild and passionate, so untamable, so fiery and lust filled and absolutely bloody perfect…

Could someone fake a passion like that?

When he had kissed her, never had it been soft, never had it been any less intense. Never had they both stopped moaning. Could he have faked it all?

Her head was starting to hurt; her eyes were stinging incessantly. She wished, not for the first time, that she was strong enough to battle the emotions Draco Malfoy inspired within her, but alas she was to suffer through them. She was only strong in knowledge, she knew, and that thought destroyed her.

Why couldn't she be strong…?

The rain was blurring the world as she looked out the window, not really seeing anything in her thoughts, her feelings. She had never felt love before, not to this extent; she had never felt a love that she could not fully grasp. It scared her, and yet it intrigued her, just like the boy who inspired it in the first place.

He was probably expecting her to back down; he was probably expecting her to leave him alone for good now, once he'd seen her pained expression. He probably expected to move on.

Thunder ripped the air as her hands curled into fists.

The shadows of the rain droplets reflected in her dark eyes as she allowed one more tear to slip down her cheek, and then her eyes weren't so watery anymore. Oh no, they would not be watery again, she vowed, until she showed Draco Malfoy just what she was made of.

"I'm more than brains," she whispered to herself, to the rain pouring down the glass. "I'll show him that Mudblood or not, he can't just push me aside!"

Thunder rumbled in approval throughout the library as the sky agreed with her.

You better go and get your armor

(Get your armor)

Get your armor (get your armor)

It was lunchtime. A time where every house was crowded together under the lights of the candles glowing above, clattering plates and chattering away. Lunch time was the time where anything really could happen, and everyone was there to witness it.

Lunchtime was when Hermione Granger decided to strike.

It was still raining out as she stood, her face perfectly clear, her cheeks now dry, her face expressionless. No one recognized the look on the Gryffindor Princess's face; the table of red and gold fell silent as her housemates watched her, waiting.

Over at the Slytherin table, no one, not even Malfoy, noticed her stand. Her lips curved into a wicked grin that left her friends baffled. They were too startled to speak.

She would speak for them.

"I have something to say," she announced, and a great hush fell over the Gryffindor table, eventually shifting to encompass the whole Great Hall. All eyes were trained on her with curiosity, including a pair of all too familiar silver eyes. They were the only ones she seemed to feel staring into her; they were the only eyes that, above the crowd, hers met. Silver into honey. A smirk pulled at her lips as he arched one fine brow. Oh yes, she had something to say alright.

"I would just like to say that lately I've become involved with someone, and this someone has made me feel so many things, from rage to love, and…" She took pleasure in seeing his eyes start to widen. Around them both the mutterings rose up again. "And that someone is actually Draco Malfoy." The Hall had fallen dead silent that fast. The only sound could be Draco groaning.

"And even though he has ended things between us, he should know that no one steals and breaks my heart without a little vengeance. So yes, Draco Malfoy actually made out with a Mudblood. And in fact…"

I guess you better go and get your armor

(Get your armor)

Get your armor (get your armor)

I guess you better go and get your

All eyes followed her as she approached the wide eyed Slytherin with a smirk still on her lips that could have rivaled his own. He watched helplessly as she approached him, was frozen as she pulled him to his feet, her eyes wicked, her hands clenching in his robes. She spent only a second looking into his mortified face before she swooped in and claimed his lips in a passionate kiss, eyes still open, staring into his dazed ones.

When she pulled away the Great Hall was starting to turn into an uproar, but above the din she whispered to him. "You still fascinate me, Malfoy," she said, "But I think that I won this battle."

Why does love always feel like

(Whooaa ooow)

Why does love always feel like

(Whooaa ooow)

A battlefield, a battlefield…

Hermione Granger walked away with her head held high as Draco Malfoy began to wonder why he had ever let her go.

She exited the Great Hall with a smile on her lips and wondered how long it would take Draco Malfoy to come to his senses. This fight was not over…

I never meant to start a war

Don't even know what we're fighting for…

Feel free to drop in a pretty little review to make me smile!