Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters I am about to write about. Actually, this is all just a glorious, blatant rip-off...but by putting this up, it makes it okay. :-P
(A/N...Wow...I haven't written fanfiction in almost two years :) Hope I still have 'it'...whatever 'it' is.)
NOTE: The rest of the story takes place before the events in this chapter. This takes place at the beginning of 6th year, while most of the following chapters will take place the summer beforehand.
He was the summer. He was the calm, cool nights where you ran around barefoot and caught fireflies. She had never liked fireflies until this summer, (annoyingly useless little things), granted, but here, she was willing to make an exception. And she hated everything about him. Hated the way he made her laugh when she wasn't supposed to. Hated the way his gray eyes smiled, even when he yelled. The summer had been the best. He had been the best. For once in her life, she didn't want to go back to Hogwarts. In all honesty, she quietly thought that she'd rather burn every single book she ever owned, in a huge heap of undeserved cleansing, then give up the mornings of the rising suns and the cold, rippled lake water. At Hogwarts, there wasn't any soft grass to run through, nor was there fireflies waiting to be caught in the cooridors. And to be fair, as soon as she returned to it's unchartable premises, he hated her.
"I love you, Draco."
Tears shone in her eyes, the chocolate eyes of which he loved.
"I don't."
Her eyes overflowed, and then she remembered she was Hermione Granger. Like an obedient campus during a fire drill, the tears exited in a calm, single-file manner.
"Did this summer mean nothing to you?"
She surprised herself with each word she managed to utter. He had been so much a part of her that now she felt empty, naked, like she was standing there, void of arms, or legs. Or a heart.
"There was never a summer I spent with you. You don't exist."
Each word he spoke drove daggers into her. A particularly sharp one became ensnared on her soft peasant shirt, and it was with some dificulty it broke through and speared her heart. It began to bleed, spill for the only boy she had ever loved.
There was nothing to say. Three months repressed. She couldn't look at him, or else she would be running the risk of dehydration, or, at the very least, flooding the grounds with her tears of disbelief. She looked away, catching a glimpse of the Hogwarts Express. It had been her chariot to Hell. With a whimper, she wished that the dark sky would come crashing down on her, each star embedding in her shaking body, so that she would have an extravagent reason for it all to end.
She wanted to run away. She wanted to jump on him, cling to the only thing that gave her a reason to be. She dared to look up. He was expressionless. A wall. Hell, she could love a wall. If he was a rock, she'd clutch him against her chest for forever and after, never to let go.
His eyes weren't smiling anymore.
And although she didn't know it, as he walked away, his heart spilled too, their love dripping out onto the dead, September grass beneath them.
(A/N...Wow...I haven't written fanfiction in almost two years :) Hope I still have 'it'...whatever 'it' is.)
NOTE: The rest of the story takes place before the events in this chapter. This takes place at the beginning of 6th year, while most of the following chapters will take place the summer beforehand.
He was the summer. He was the calm, cool nights where you ran around barefoot and caught fireflies. She had never liked fireflies until this summer, (annoyingly useless little things), granted, but here, she was willing to make an exception. And she hated everything about him. Hated the way he made her laugh when she wasn't supposed to. Hated the way his gray eyes smiled, even when he yelled. The summer had been the best. He had been the best. For once in her life, she didn't want to go back to Hogwarts. In all honesty, she quietly thought that she'd rather burn every single book she ever owned, in a huge heap of undeserved cleansing, then give up the mornings of the rising suns and the cold, rippled lake water. At Hogwarts, there wasn't any soft grass to run through, nor was there fireflies waiting to be caught in the cooridors. And to be fair, as soon as she returned to it's unchartable premises, he hated her.
"I love you, Draco."
Tears shone in her eyes, the chocolate eyes of which he loved.
"I don't."
Her eyes overflowed, and then she remembered she was Hermione Granger. Like an obedient campus during a fire drill, the tears exited in a calm, single-file manner.
"Did this summer mean nothing to you?"
She surprised herself with each word she managed to utter. He had been so much a part of her that now she felt empty, naked, like she was standing there, void of arms, or legs. Or a heart.
"There was never a summer I spent with you. You don't exist."
Each word he spoke drove daggers into her. A particularly sharp one became ensnared on her soft peasant shirt, and it was with some dificulty it broke through and speared her heart. It began to bleed, spill for the only boy she had ever loved.
There was nothing to say. Three months repressed. She couldn't look at him, or else she would be running the risk of dehydration, or, at the very least, flooding the grounds with her tears of disbelief. She looked away, catching a glimpse of the Hogwarts Express. It had been her chariot to Hell. With a whimper, she wished that the dark sky would come crashing down on her, each star embedding in her shaking body, so that she would have an extravagent reason for it all to end.
She wanted to run away. She wanted to jump on him, cling to the only thing that gave her a reason to be. She dared to look up. He was expressionless. A wall. Hell, she could love a wall. If he was a rock, she'd clutch him against her chest for forever and after, never to let go.
His eyes weren't smiling anymore.
And although she didn't know it, as he walked away, his heart spilled too, their love dripping out onto the dead, September grass beneath them.