PAIN
There he stood, as dangerous as ever.
She loathed him. She really did, but he was just so addictive.
She knew it was so horribly wrong. She really did, but there was just something...
Something that she saw, past the darkness of his cruel tendencies, underneath the heavy grey cloud of his many, many difficulties within himself, and towards other people.
The thing is, she also knew that he hated himself too, and she assumed that's what swayed her to be so terribley drawn to him.
His sleek back was to her, drawing himself into the shadows, wishing to hide himself from her. For his own benefit of course, never for her. She thought, at least. She always thought that he didn't want her the way she wanted him. She always thought that he just had her because he knew he could, and that she was easy to manipulate. She was, of course. She would do anything for him.
Even kill.
"Did you succeed?", his face, an alluring shadow, turned to her. She straightened, her pulse so alive.
"Yes", she breathed. He turned fully to look at her, his eyes intimidating and addictive. She froze.
"Did you like it?", the question terrified her, and the answer horrified her. He already knew the answer, already knew her like the back of his own hand. She hated him for that.
Her mouth dry, self-loathing leaving a foul taste there, she answered him, "Yes". It was quiet and small, ashamed. Her brown eyes dropped to the floor because she thought that if she looked at his beautiful face anymore she would vomit. She does, but not because of his beautiful face.
It rushed upon her, jerking her body onto the cold stone floor, her hands and knees pressed harshly into the ground. She hated herself. She detested the feeling she felt when she whispered that killing curse, the excitement, the absolute rush. The need for more.
Her body convulsed violently, her throat already sore and raw from the harshness of her stomach acid. She began to cry, and to bleed. It was a horrible scene, too raw and honest for any mere person to handle.
It was a good thing that Draco wasn't easily deterred. He watched her for the first few minutes, feeling for her. He knew that Hermione thought he didn't love her, but he did. He really did, he was just selfish. And cruel.
After the first few minutes of watching her pale, shaking body convulse as if under the cruciatus curse, her wonderful brown hair falling wildly around her face, and of listening to the retching and the crying, he approached her. The crying did it for him, he didn't like to hear Hermione cry, wasn't really like her.
His hand touched her back as he knelt down to her fragile body, and he felt her jerk. He scowled. I know I scare her, but really? Silly Hermione.
He spoke, his voice quiet and calming, casual, as if this was normal. It was for him, he had seen worse actually, "Hermione, lovely, get up". The first part was careful and affectionate, the second was a command, but only as a natural response. Draco was used to telling people what to do, which was usually followed by them complying.
She sobbed and wiped her mouth, trying to pull away from him. He found that very odd, Hermione rarely tryed to distance herself from him, unless trying to prove a point. It took a second of her weakly batting his cold hands away from her waist to help her before he realised that it was probably the command that had irritated her. He always forgot that she didn't appreciate being told what to do.
At his realisation, Draco carressed her waist and bent close to her face, speaking quietly so as not to scare her, "Lovely, don't fret. You did it for me, didn't you? Lovely?", She shivered.
Her voice was small, "Yes I did...but that doesn't make it okay", a sob climbed through her, her voice tumbling down to the floor and more tears streaming down her cheeks. Draco watched her, curious and interested. He had felt the same at the beginning, but it was peculiar to watch it rather than experience it for once. Poor, lovely Hermione.
Her hands shook, her sobs raw and strong. His hands rested lightly on her waist, his mouth beside her ear,"Hermione, please hush. You know I don't like it when you cry", He was a very selfish man, but not that bad, "It breaks my heart to listen to such a lovely creature be in such pain". She shook her head, covering her quivering mouth with a cold hand.
He was silent as he straightened up and led them away from the putrid smell of her vomit and into his quarters. She followed easily, to shook to protest. The candle light around them showed the mess as he pulled her in front of him; vomit on her hands and blood smeared over her mouth and throat, tears wet on her cheeks. Her eyes met his as she wept, and he looked down at her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"Oh lovely, what shall I ever do with you?", He mumbled quietly and she responded with a shake of her head, slow and dejected. He sighed and pulled them onto his plush bed, cradling her against him, stroking her head.
She cried into the night, forever saying the phrase, "I killed for you", sounding horrified, and he did not sleep until she stopped.
TO BE CONTINUED...
~Thank you for reading, let me know what you thought?~