This is a story I posted way back in the day in 2006 or something (it was called While), and I reread it recently and realised it was a sort of a total and complete mess, so I've cleaned it up and hopefully have managed to make it a bit more coherent and thus, more enjoyable. Its quite revamped, so I hope it suffices as a repost.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I own some books with the name Harry Potter on them, but in no way do I own the rights. Big difference. ;)
Thanks for this edition go to y-x for betaing and helping me with this.(y-x betaed the first posting of this, and did a fantastic job, no one has betaed the second posting of this...)
This Good Communication
-- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --
So many times I'd wondered. What had happened to him? What had changed him so much?
And I wondered about the strange puzzle of lies that so strongly governed his mind.
I was walking through those tight city streets, turning corners and listening to the sound of my heels against the sidewalk. Clack, clack, clack, clack.
Flashing neon signs and backlit advertisements for sex, the only things around that illuminated anything.
I passed a car. It was dark, crayola grey and paintbrush blue, parked at the end of the street. There was a thin mist of deep night fog. Sequins flashed catching bits of yellow light, women and a few men congregated in doorways skin smooth and an odd contrast to their painted faces.
The lights blinked, shuddering; I started at the sound of someone speaking.
"Why were you speaking to Potter?"
The voice seemed to cut straight through the tense cacophony of red light business to reach my ears.
The shock was searing, made me wary, cold sifting into my lungs and pulling my heart into my throat.
I turned my head, I knew this voice. I hadn't heard it in years, since that fateful night where he stood at the end of my bed, rumbling in anger, yelling at me.
"He promised me something."
The prince has returned to find his princess taken.
I didn't stop walking.
"What?"
His eternal love...
I closed my eyes and a brown curl fell from its braid, caressing the side of my face.
"Just, something."
The streetlights seemed to sputter, immersing us in darkness save for what we might see from the faint light of his weak lumosspell.
I wanted nothing, wished for that which basked in simplicity.
In a dissociated part of my mind, I truly wished he'd go away. He was nagging at me, maybe in jealousy, I didn't know. Maybe I didn't want to know anymore; what good would it have done to resurrect that which has been buried such a long while ago? The night was slowly aging, and the walking pattern of my quick steps and his long strides wasn't pleasant.
I missed that feeling of newness, of surprise.
"What could he possibly have to give you?"
Clack, clack, skid, step, thump. Clack.
I was suddenly sitting on my bum, my hands resting on the gray pavement. I don't move.
"Who said he was giving me anything?"
-- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --
Warm hot skin, I writhed under his touch. I felt so justified, acting in a way completely unordinary to myself. So intensely foreign a person I'd become to those who thought they knew me.
He moved inside me, pushing in, matching the rhythm, meeting my own thrust against him. Give and take, give, give, get.
I was never beautiful, and one could barely call me pretty. My body was too thin, my eyes too dull, my hair too wild.
My back arched tautly and a deep sigh fell from between my lips. He grunted and ground his hips into mine. I threw back my head; I couldn't swear I didn't love him.
A scattered trail of clothing led a pathway toward the bed: a tie; a pair of trousers; a discarded bra; a pair of high heeled shoes.
Sweat slid between our bodies, mingling as we moved tightly against each other. My legs tightened around his hips as he reached to knot my sweat streaked hair in his fist. The strands caught between his long fingers, twisting. Another moan escaped my lips, I felt the sharpness of his strength and thick tears stained my eyelids.
He was 'evil'. I was 'good'. Evil, evil, evil. Good, bad, morality and justice. Though religion is scarcely noted, sinners are still punished.
I kissed his open, panting mouth. How could sinners taste so good?
I felt his tongue twine around mine, push against mine. He seemed desperate to claim me, take me deeper into this madness that only existed in concealment.
Moving away, he licked my cheek and gave wet, open mouthed kisses down my neck, behind my ear. I rested my chin on his shoulder, but he pulled my head back as his mouth moved onto my chest and breasts; kissing, sucking. Slowly he untangled his hand of my hair, pressing gently into stinging scalp as though repentant for anything, everything.
The pressure builds upon itself, rubber bands of tension, holding us together almost painfully. Our bodies were taut and moving frantically against one another.
I thought of the flowers sitting in the kitchen, the broken relationship. The love that I was sure we shared, but was never voiced.
It builds, it stacks and pulls.
Tears leaked as I clenched my eyes shut against this intensity. And suddenly-
it breaks, shattering.
He moved to bury his face in my neck, the breath whooshing from his lungs, synchronized with my high cries as we found ourselves floating. Ecstasy wracks our bodies and shuddering, we fell.
It was language, a method of communication, mine and his, ours; a secret to be held in cold hearts, desperate for heat.
-- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --
She was still sitting there, looking more than a little bit lost.
"Here," I offered her a hand. "Get up."
Wrinkling her nose, she grasped my outstretched hand. I pulled her up to my chest and kissed her. She didn't seem to appreciate the action as she stepped back and glared.
"Draco! I've told you before. We have to stop! It wasn't working and we have other obligations in life, plus no one suspects anything-"
"-other than an odd friendship between a goody Gryffindor and a bloody Slytherin." I finished for her. "I know. But darling, I still believe the ideal that they accept us for who we are."
We were still standing close, her brunette head reaching to just below my chin. Her face was lifted to look me defiantly in the eyes.
"Yeah, right. You kept promising, but have you left Pansy yet? No. We're weak Draco. Don't you get it? We can't exist without a stronger half; neither of us can fulfil that position for one another. It's why we're still attached to others."
I didn't stop staring. She might be right, but it didn't bother me, that Gryffindor to the bone. Slytherin blood ran through my veins, and I wondered: What happens now?
"Granger, don't assume my romance is with Pansy; though she's not a frequent guest at my flat, she does come to visit every now and then." I winked and she looked confused. So cute, she was, standing in her stiletto heels, long legs and perfect little waist, hips flaring just so. I wanted nothing more than to touch her.
"So what do you propose we do? Stop our simple romance? We were at the edge of an affair, we tumbled down most ungracefully, but that didn't stop us." She said, challenging me. She placed her hands on her hips. "You hid me away Draco! I know it wasn't just Harry's idea!"
I glared. The men had gone into an ultimate protective mode, putting all the women and children in safe houses. The more important the woman, the smaller her cell. The war lasted for six years, but for at least two she was locked in one of those places. It was unfair, I knew. It wasn't the sort wherein they were treated badly, but the lack of freedom must have been suffocating for one such as her.
"You could've gotten yourself killed," I said, pausing for a moment. "Don't you love that feeling, the ruthlessness that sits hidden in your soul? I know your tendencies, no matter how blind the Order is. I worried about your actions." And your safety.
I was looking at my hands, as if my confession was unfounded.
Hermione had managed to break out and alarms rang throughout the wizarding world. With her knowledge of the Order and personal capabilities, she was a prime target. Everyone was looking for her, especially Voldemort.
She moved her hands to swipe off the dirt off her bum and reached into her purse, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.
Orange sparked at the end and she looked a bit less anxious as she brought it to her lips.
"They don't even know who you are."
They never thought she'd changed. The majority of the Order had turned a blind eye towards her and who she now was.
Smoke wafted in thin tendrils from her mouth as she started to speak.
"Yes, but that works in my favour, does it not?" She smiled again.
Raising my eyebrows slightly, I cocked my head to the side.
-- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --
"We are here today to join this lovely couple in a marriage of affection. Love knows no bounds, and we are blessed to witness such a happy union." Dumbledore spoke quietly, but everyone heard his words.
I was wearing a pale wedding gown. A cream coloured boned corset sat outside my dress, hugging my waist and pushing my breasts up toward my collarbone. I felt as if I was drowning but then again, I knew I was safe. I was marrying the eternally good saviour, wasn't I?
He would save me.
I didn't know that he'd succeed, but he'd at least try.
"As a wife, it is required of you to care for your husband, be there in sickness and in unfortunate times. Do you feel capable of this Hermione?" His cornflower blue eyes were twinkling. And though this was in all seriousness, I could feel the smile tugging at the corner of his lips
I was draped in lace. The lace was latched and sewn into the thin silk material of my skirts. Cloud white designs and flowers, it was opaque in some spots, clear mesh in others.
I loved this dress.
"I am capable."
He nods and repeats a slightly altered form of the question to my soon to be husband:
"As a husband, it is a necessity that you honour and protect your wife; to take care of her in sickness and in the mist of unfortunate times. Do you feel capable of this Harry?"
"Yes, I feel, and I am." He was so concrete. I laughed under my breath.
He claimed I changed him, helped him see the goodness in all that was. All he could save.
I didn't believe that.
The ceremony was slow, and my legs began to tire from standing.
I tuned out.
I wondered if he really knew who he was marrying. Had he any idea that the woman he adored, the woman who wore this beautiful dress; who looked pure and angelic to his eyes was the same odd woman who found the dark magic so alluring? Did he have any idea that the very same person he'd declared to have made him renew his hope was the very one who enjoyed the use of the deplorable curses in her private interrogations?
No, he didn't. I should correct that misconception but I found that I couldn't. Not when he looked the way he did at the moment.
He was so happy, and this union was so strangely expected that I hadn't the confidence to say no.
He never doubted I was beautiful, inside and out, only in his eyes, I knew.
"Hermione?" Harry asked me hesitantly. His handsome face looking inquiringly into my eyes.
"Yes?" I smiled my sweetest smile at him and I watched his eyes alight as he leaned in to kiss me.
Closing my eyes I immersed myself in the feel of his soft lips moving against my own. It was almost like kissing him. The warmth and passion emanating from his skin set fire to mine. In my lust, I wished we were alone.
Clapping and whistles could be heard from our forgotten audience.
I know I didn't love him.
-- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --
I felt cold.
"What do you want?" I asked him, "Why are you here anyway?" I dropped the cigarette and dug my heel onto the burning stub.
"Shut up Granger, I know the manipulative bitch in you is up to something. It's not that I don't want something from you, you know damn well what I want and I encourage you to change your answer." He stepped back, and crossing his arms in front of his chest, he started to smirk.
He really hadn't changed, but Merlin, I did love that twist of his lips.
"We're trapped Malfoy, by actions of the past. I'm not going tojust drop everything and run back into your arms when you've decided you're finally ready to pursue a relationship with me. Must I repeat myself? You left me. You didn't want the responsibility, and I've got my own commitments now!" The words came out in a rush of breath, and by the end of it all I was almost panting.
If I didn't know better, I'd say he almost looked hurt. His eyes flashed and he stepped closer to me.
"You've got your own bloody commitments now? Is that what you call your relationship to Potter? You don't love him, and he doesn't bloody well know you! How can he possibly take care of you?"
"Why should -" I began, but was interrupted by soft voices and footsteps. We both tensed.
Three figures came into view. I narrowed my eyes and could see the plaster skull masks strapped heavily to their faces.
Renegade Death Eaters. They starved themselves of leniency and continued to fight for their fallen master.
I could see his ears perk as he heard them.
Draco turned and his eyes widened. They'd spotted us, rushing towards us, wands drawn.
He pulled at my sleeve and leaned in to whisper into my ear.
"I guess it's time for goodbyes then, love." He kissed my mouth and pressed something into my hands.
Before I understood what was happening, I saw a flash of green and with a crack, I disappeared.
I think that turned out alright, I feel the ending is a bit... meh, but maybe one day I'll be inspired to clean it up even more. Its just sort of plotless anyway, but maybe I'll make a prequel or something... someday =p
I really hope you enjoyed this! Please review!
