Draco and Hermione have been secretly seeing each other. Its been 274 days, and that is exactly how long Hermione has been planning her escape, however she finds herself returning to him every night
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He has become a virus.
Every time you begin to think you can finally breathe,
every time you begin to think you have finally won the fight,
he returns to remind you that its not over.
That he isn't going anywhere.
Fighting becomes and impossibility,
especially when the fight isn't fair.
He used to be loving.
Forgetting the past, and what he was forced to believe.
He holds you close at night, not wanting to release you.
For releasing you means a new day.
A new day of secrets, lie, and deception.
So you allow him a few more moments,
face drowning in your hair,
breathing in your plain scent.
Exploring your body.
Challenging you.
Before you face a world that would never understand.
He is surrounded by his friends.
They laugh as you walk by,
his smile never falters.
Names are shouted,
reflecting off the walls,
echoing in your ears.
You're unresponsive.
Nothing you say could ever return this pain.
He is doing it for his friends, you tell yourself.
He would never hurt you intentionally.
Still, its been a while since those words have dripped from his lips.
A month prior to kissing you.
Fourteen weeks prior to making love to you.
Two hundred and seventy four days prior to today.
You've been counting.
A lifetime ago this wouldn't have hurt you,
but things have changed,
and you feel it cut deeper
than ever before.
He has another girl in his arms.
You've never seen her before.
When you walk by,
he smirks,
she throws her nose in the air.
Hearts race.
Tempers flare.
You were never the jealous type.
He brings out the worst in you,
And you wonder for a moment,
if you could ever bring out the best in him.
He breaks your heart,
with every look sent your way.
You promise yourself once again,
that you'll never take him back.
When night falls, you lock your door
to keep yourself in
and him away.
You hide under your sheets,
they shield your heart.
And then you wait.
Wait for his quiet footsteps to approach.
Wait for your doorknob to rattle.
Wait for his knuckles to grace the wood that separates you.
Wait for him to gently call out your name.
He doesn't come.
A hallway separates you.
You slowly make your way towards the light that leaks out from beneath his door.
Instead he hears your footsteps,
and looks up as his doorknob turns
and shivers as you call out his name.
He was waiting for you.
He knew you would come.
You always do.
Clothing is shed.
Fingers roam.
Moans escape.
You remind yourself to breathe as he sighs your name.
He has become a virus.
A virus without a cure.
What and unfair advantage.