Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, any of the characters in the book, or anything else related to the book.
A/N: This is a oneshot. It's my first and it's Draco/Hermione. Enjoy.
Heaven Beside You
A snowy, winter day solidified with white flakes caressing the air beckoned to the two fools. A man and his lover lay limp in his bed, the forest of sleep trapping them. It was almost time for the sun to wake and bring them back to life. With weary movements and subtle grunts she woke, scrubbing the sleep from her sagging eyes. Her eyes then noticed the ceiling: popcorn and white. She stole a quick intake of breath before recalling that they should be smooth. There should be no bumps, no shapes in the ceiling. Her bare hand scraped against the sheets as she turned over, dropping her face into his silver pillow. Until she could barely breathe she waited. Yielded by the leaking sun, he too opened his eyes.
He was surprised at her company. She had obviously made the mistake of sleeping over—something she mustn't do. But she had and here she was. Her very presence was a mask for her uncertainties. With careful hands he traced her sides before calling her name softly. She smiled and turned to face him, allowing her vulnerability to shine through her eyes.
"You're here." He stated plainly. His voice was blunt and rather frank, but she still felt the subtle emotion. The very words proved he cared.
"I forgot," she stuttered, unable to decide which words to use. She did not wish to hurt him. She did not wish to bring him harm with the insensitivity of her words.
"You shouldn't be here." Again he practiced his simplicity, "You know it's a sin."
She chose not to answer, considering the brutality of her sin for she had promised her fiancé of two years to wait until marriage. She had told him her pureness was of importance. She had told him it meant everything to her to make it special. But white dresses and children with red hair only hampered her potential happiness. They only prevented her from living out this lovely affair.
Drawing a slow, staggered breath he left for the bathroom, returning moments later, dressed in a tuxedo and a green tie. She was too dressed and ready to leave. He brought her to her house and then abandoned her lustful heart, never bothering to bid her goodbye.
She walked inside. Her mascara was a line of fragments on her cheek and her hair was a mess of its kind. Her friend greeted her with a beaming smile—the sister of the groom, her hair just as red.
"Oh, we thought you weren't coming!" she squealed, obviously happy with her arrival. The girl watched the redhead as she hurried around. Soon a dress of white was on the bed. Soon she was in the dress. Soon she was walking down the aisle and her groom stood with a giddy smile.
When she took the two steps and stood across from him on the altar, she swept the audience with a glance and all the way in the back on the right, seven people in was her lover. The man whose hair almost matched her dress, the man who insisted she follow this through, the man who promised her that all they would ever be was a solitary affair of which would never amount to the fantasies played out in her mind. Back arched, mouth closed and eyes glued, he sat. Her heart tempted her to run to him and pull him into a passionate embrace. What a mockery of a heart she had, one who betrayed and lied, yet still believed it deserved the decency of love.
It was a momentary silence of which her groom gazed down upon her, until he too noticed the silent man in the corner and attempted to swallow his outrage. "What is he doing here?" he whispered, his voice inaudible to their company. "He doesn't even speak to us anymore."
She laughed spitefully; leave it up to her fiancé to bring up matters like these at their nuptials. He braced himself for an answer, one of which she was reluctant to give. The only gift she had was a shrug and a meaningful glance in her lover's direction. But he wasn't there. Only an empty space of which once contained him remained. With a rapid beat of her heart she turned back to her groom, her brain ready to vomit at the thought of saying "I do."
Before long it was her turn to confirm their everlasting love. It was now the moment to promise her looming redhead that their life together would indeed insure them with happiness, but her mouth was refusing to move. She attempted to smile with assurance, but the longer it took her the more frustrated he became.
His flesh now matched his hair, a blush creeping through his collar as he struggled to fight off the stares. He stroked his bride's arm with as much sincerity as he could muster, which to this day remained little to none.
A deep intake of musty air, a clench of her jaw and a steady exhale and she was ready, "I," she started. She was almost there, almost to her unwanted destination. "I—"
"She doesn't, you redheaded bastard." All eyes turned, including hers. And strolling up the aisle with a single white rose and a green tie was Draco Malfoy. Before a reaction was beneficial he was standing before her and holding out a single rose. Extending her slender fingers she tried to accept but they were slapped away by the angry hand of her fiancé.
"Hermione," Ron fumed, unable to control his volume. His voice echoed against the stone walls of the church. "May I have a word?"
"No, you may not." Draco countered before smiling pleasantly at the gaping people. "I have come here to remove Hermione from your custody, your presence and your unrealistic union. I believe that she is actually mine. I'm almost positive that she would confirm her unfinished business with me."
"What unfinished business?" she mused aloud, turning to him with furrowed brows. But he didn't answer right away; instead he pulled her into a passionate embrace and kissed her. This kiss earned several gasps from the crowd and cry from Mrs. Weasely.
Even the subtle whispers that traveled up and down the aisle couldn't help her from taking Draco's hand and following him out the door. The only thing left in their wake was a signature Malfoy smirk.
"Draco," she stated as they walked into a nearby park, "I almost thought you weren't going to go through with it. I thought we were only an affair."
"You can't deny you wished it more. I can't even deny it and denial is practically sewn in my skin." He smiled before leading her into the flurry of white flecks and once again taking her hand in his. But as they strolled through the trees and towards the center, their usual meeting spot, a man clad in a black tuxedo stood. He was looming above the two, his hair a fire of anger. His wand was extended rather far.
"Ron," she started, as if to calm his anger. Instead of granting her with the ability to redeem herself he shot the worst and most fatal of all curses in her direction and as she fell he duplicated it once more to hit her heart-broken lover—not giving him enough time to mourn the death of his heart's truthful desire. And even as he fell to the ground a mask of sorrow and a solitary tear sat on his face. Ron's heart raced and he grinned, the glowing green now shrank back into his wand as their limp bodies lay together—this time never to awake for they now had a sudden lust for death.
With a skip in his step and a formidable sneer he walked away, the only thing left in his wake was the solitary consequence of a sin.