Disclaimer: I am rich. You know why? Because I obviously own Harry Potter
and all the assorted ness that goes with him. Oh, wait. I can't even pay
for college... So I'm not rich... So then...(come on all you logicians.) I don't
own Harry Potter after all...so sad...maybe J.K. Rowling will read this, and
feel pity and pay for college...until that day, I'll keep writing fanfiction.
It's safe, free, and a nice way to get compliments!!!
A/N – if you missed that cheap plug for reviewers you are so sad. PLEASE read and review! What's the good of knowing you read it if I don't know what you think??
Love's Perfection...
by One Soul Joy18
Hermione crept out through the portrait hole, and slowly walked down the stone corridor. She looked both ways to make sure that no one was following her, and to make sure that Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, was nowhere in sight. The last thing she needed on this night was a detention.
Walking past the certain spot in the hallway three times, a door appeared. She opened it, and there was a hallway, or more actually, a stairway. She sighed with relief. For some reason no matter how many times she snuck out, she was always apprehensive that her routes would fail her. She never had the knack for sneaking around and keeping secrets like her friends did.
When she finally crept up the last stair, she was happy to find that the door was already partially open. It was almost as if he was waiting for her. But she didn't dare get her hopes up...
Why does my heart cry?
He stood by the open window. With the dampness of the old castle, the May air felt good running through his hair. He knew that he shouldn't be there. By everything he knew about life, family, and honor, he had no right to be waiting by that window. And yet, waiting he was.
He heard her. He always heard her. And he knew that she was there... waiting for him. To defend what little honor he had left, he made her wait. And he felt like a world-class asshole doing it. But it was like he had always been taught. The second you let someone in they could crush you.
He often wondered what it would be like not to be in control. To let someone else have full reign of him; body, mind, spirit. And it was during one of those thoughts that he turned around and looked at her. It was then that he realized, she did.
Feelings I can't fight
She looked at him, and her breath hitched in her throat. He was beautiful. Every time she saw him, she loved him that much more.
Love. What a funny thing. It sort of sneaks up on you, and pounces you from behind, and then tickles you in front of all your friends, just to make a fool out of you. And yet, for some reason, she wouldn't have it any other way. And even if he didn't say it, she knew he loved her, too. Everything about loving him was right.
She stood at the doorway, and waited for him to call to her. She knew that if she made the first move, it would all be over. And she was okay with that, too. Hell, if she could make him come to her, she would! No other woman was ever able to. Sure, he thought he was in control. He thought he was the one who made the first moves, and decided when and where. But really, it was all an intricate game. A dance, actually. She'd step, and then he'd step again, leading.
It was his step.
You're free to leave me but just don't deceive me
He stepped toward her. Inwardly, he knew nothing could ever be wrong if she was with him. And yet a small part of him still wondered at her love for him. As his arms slid around her waist, he looked down into her eyes. They showed him everything he needed to know.
There was always that little bit of apprehension. He supposed that came with the territory of secretly dating one of the most influential men in the wizarding world. It also may have been a bit of the fear of what his life could do to her. Since becoming his girlfriend, he had really opened up to her. She knew his every fear, and his every weakness. The knowledge that she could break him if she wanted to scared him more than anything Voldemort could ever throw at him.
And yet, in her eyes, there was always that gentleness. The patient love with which she bore him. He knew that there were times when she wanted to smack him. And he could actually remember a couple of times when she actually had. That had been interesting. He had been so pissed off. They hadn't talked for weeks. But she missed him, and while the apology was more from him than from her, they had gotten back together. And all the while, the loving gentleness in her eyes was always there.
And please, believe me when I say...
She was watching him watch her. His piercing eyes never left her face for a second. She blushed under the careful criticism. With each shade of red that she turned, his smile widened that much more. She was certain he was watching her just to see her turn red.
She stood on the balls of her feet, and leaned into his strong arms. Years of Quidditch had done him so much good. Every muscle of his shirtless body rippled. She could feel his heartbeat against his chest. Her arms slid up his chest and around his neck, and in the dance of passion, he knew the next step. It was a turn.
He leaned down so that his face was close to hers, and they closed their eyes, as if it was all perfectly timed and coordinated. The kiss was gentle, and sweet. He was so tempted to take it farther, and to deepen the kiss. But he didn't. As her lips searched for his, he couldn't help but smile at her face, when she opened her eyes and looked at him questioningly.
"I wanted everything to be perfect for this," he said.
"For what?" She asked.
All Draco could reply was,
"I love you."
A/N – if you missed that cheap plug for reviewers you are so sad. PLEASE read and review! What's the good of knowing you read it if I don't know what you think??
Love's Perfection...
by One Soul Joy18
Hermione crept out through the portrait hole, and slowly walked down the stone corridor. She looked both ways to make sure that no one was following her, and to make sure that Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, was nowhere in sight. The last thing she needed on this night was a detention.
Walking past the certain spot in the hallway three times, a door appeared. She opened it, and there was a hallway, or more actually, a stairway. She sighed with relief. For some reason no matter how many times she snuck out, she was always apprehensive that her routes would fail her. She never had the knack for sneaking around and keeping secrets like her friends did.
When she finally crept up the last stair, she was happy to find that the door was already partially open. It was almost as if he was waiting for her. But she didn't dare get her hopes up...
Why does my heart cry?
He stood by the open window. With the dampness of the old castle, the May air felt good running through his hair. He knew that he shouldn't be there. By everything he knew about life, family, and honor, he had no right to be waiting by that window. And yet, waiting he was.
He heard her. He always heard her. And he knew that she was there... waiting for him. To defend what little honor he had left, he made her wait. And he felt like a world-class asshole doing it. But it was like he had always been taught. The second you let someone in they could crush you.
He often wondered what it would be like not to be in control. To let someone else have full reign of him; body, mind, spirit. And it was during one of those thoughts that he turned around and looked at her. It was then that he realized, she did.
Feelings I can't fight
She looked at him, and her breath hitched in her throat. He was beautiful. Every time she saw him, she loved him that much more.
Love. What a funny thing. It sort of sneaks up on you, and pounces you from behind, and then tickles you in front of all your friends, just to make a fool out of you. And yet, for some reason, she wouldn't have it any other way. And even if he didn't say it, she knew he loved her, too. Everything about loving him was right.
She stood at the doorway, and waited for him to call to her. She knew that if she made the first move, it would all be over. And she was okay with that, too. Hell, if she could make him come to her, she would! No other woman was ever able to. Sure, he thought he was in control. He thought he was the one who made the first moves, and decided when and where. But really, it was all an intricate game. A dance, actually. She'd step, and then he'd step again, leading.
It was his step.
You're free to leave me but just don't deceive me
He stepped toward her. Inwardly, he knew nothing could ever be wrong if she was with him. And yet a small part of him still wondered at her love for him. As his arms slid around her waist, he looked down into her eyes. They showed him everything he needed to know.
There was always that little bit of apprehension. He supposed that came with the territory of secretly dating one of the most influential men in the wizarding world. It also may have been a bit of the fear of what his life could do to her. Since becoming his girlfriend, he had really opened up to her. She knew his every fear, and his every weakness. The knowledge that she could break him if she wanted to scared him more than anything Voldemort could ever throw at him.
And yet, in her eyes, there was always that gentleness. The patient love with which she bore him. He knew that there were times when she wanted to smack him. And he could actually remember a couple of times when she actually had. That had been interesting. He had been so pissed off. They hadn't talked for weeks. But she missed him, and while the apology was more from him than from her, they had gotten back together. And all the while, the loving gentleness in her eyes was always there.
And please, believe me when I say...
She was watching him watch her. His piercing eyes never left her face for a second. She blushed under the careful criticism. With each shade of red that she turned, his smile widened that much more. She was certain he was watching her just to see her turn red.
She stood on the balls of her feet, and leaned into his strong arms. Years of Quidditch had done him so much good. Every muscle of his shirtless body rippled. She could feel his heartbeat against his chest. Her arms slid up his chest and around his neck, and in the dance of passion, he knew the next step. It was a turn.
He leaned down so that his face was close to hers, and they closed their eyes, as if it was all perfectly timed and coordinated. The kiss was gentle, and sweet. He was so tempted to take it farther, and to deepen the kiss. But he didn't. As her lips searched for his, he couldn't help but smile at her face, when she opened her eyes and looked at him questioningly.
"I wanted everything to be perfect for this," he said.
"For what?" She asked.
All Draco could reply was,
"I love you."