Author's Note: Mature subject is within this story, do not read if you are not comfortable with such matters. Read and review please; and enjoy. :)
A Stolen Moment
He caressed her, lust fulfilling him. Their senses twined together, their bodies the same. His breath shallow, sweat beading down his self, he would have her pleasure first, before succumbing to his own.
A shiver ran down her spine, yet she wasn't cold. She groaned, yet she wasn't annoyed. She screamed his name, yet she wasn't angry. She came, yet she wasn't going anywhere.
He stilled, fatigue penetrating his every vein; pore; and sense.
Her vibrations eased to a finish, his following, not missing a beat. Her body filled with ache and elation, as was his.
Getting up slowly, his body wanting to collapse into a restful slumber; he held his hand out.
She took his hand in hers, willing to stand, he pulled her up. She inwardly sighed, body and soul fighting to keep her awake.
He gazed upon her face, knowingly. That wasn't something he had expected, they were far from friends or lovers. They were sworn enemies. And yet, she had given him her whole self, and he had taken it fully.
She dressed herself silently, not knowing what to say, which was new. She patted down her hair, had she just done that… with him? She could feel the guilt rise from beneath her gut, fulfilling her with the most treacherous feeling, it flooded her whole; tips of her fingers could feel it, ends of her hair could sense it, her eyes could show it.
He had dressed, just as she had dressed, silent. The silence so thick and consuming, ready to swallow them whole without warning, he knew not of what to speak to contain the discomfort in which sustained the air. He bashed himself within, his hate for his self overriding the deepest pleasures he had experienced. How could something so good be so terribly wrong, it wasn't a hard answer, it was simply this: the two were foes.
Hate to love it, and would love to hate it, these words describing their acts of pleasure with one another. She would give anything to change what occurred, and give nothing to do it again. She wanted, she lusted, and she secretly pleaded for him. She detested him, as he her, but passion and infatuation collided with lust and desire. It seeped throughout their bodies and souls; control was not apparent nor was it sought after.
He hungered for her body more so than before, now having had it. Once something's been had, it is yearned for more than before. But it would be unattainable from this night on, a mistake they had together made, one which could not be reversed or forgotten. It would haunt them for eternity, looming above them and corroding their beings. It had been a pleasure beyond any measure they could ever experience, but it was forbidden.
For the time they had joined, hate transformed to passion and desire, while hunger and greed motivated them. She knew not of what next to do, should she speak, letting the words pass from tongue to lips? Or should silence keep a hold of her vocals, restraining her from causing damage to the situation?
He wanted to apologize, tell her to forget; say to her it meant nothing. But if it meant nothing, nothing would have happened, he wouldn't lie. He couldn't lie after something so sacred, so sensual, not after she had given him her virtue. He needed to say something, anything. Anything to water the flame they had begun, before it grew to unimaginable size, burning them wholly.
Seizing the moment she nodded, her eyes speaking her words that dare not pass her swollen lips. Her eyes dropped contact with his, wishing not to submit to the tears of hate for herself.
Raising his hand he touched her shoulder, a gesture to which he wanted to accompany with words. He should tell her he was sorry, but he wasn't. He desired her then, and more even now. Breathing deep, letting the air constricted deep within his lungs free, he sighed.
Her body tingled as his hand fell upon her shoulder, comforting. Even now, she wanted him still, more, and she choked down this feeling, where it landed in the depths of her stomach. She despised herself more than ever before for the feelings of lust still within her.
He lifted his hand from her shoulder and let it slide to her dark curls, grasping them softly. He released his fingers and let his palm rest on the side of her cheek, curls between his hand and her face. He could feel her tremble at his touch.
She let him pull her head up so her eyes were consumed by his gaze, his silvery grey eyes speaking for him. Her eyes shining with tears not fallen, she blinked, willing them to stay. Her eyes said everything she had been thinking, telling him it was all wrong.
He wished nothing more than to grasp her tightly, to pull her to him and ravish her again. But he knew he couldn't, and he knew he shouldn't, so he didn't. But he did however; stare into her deep brown eyes, willing them to tell her what his body wanted to do.
She tried but she failed, a tear cascaded down from the corner of her eye, to the sides of her cheek, stopping once it dropped to his hand.
"Hermione…" he whispered, breaking the silence which had consumed them, she had jumped at the suddenness of his voice, not prepared.
She nodded, motioning him to continue, she couldn't voice herself, still in shock.
"I'm not sorry… I wanted this… but it was a mistake," he spoke, nearly silent with his words.
"I know," she choked, words finding their escape.
"This cannot ever happen again… though I wish it could."
She brought her hand up to rest upon his which still held her face, "I know."
He paused for a moment before leaning his head down, placing a light kiss upon her forehead, whispering into it, "goodbye Hermione."
As he let her go and paced to the door of the room, readying himself to leave she spoke again, "Goodbye Malfoy," she let another tear escape her eye. And he disappeared behind the door.
The End