Life is full of mysteries, mysteries that can sometimes be discovered and become facts or mysteries that forever remain just that…mysteries.
And to me women will forever be a mystery. One minute they want something and the next they want the complete opposite. Don't get me wrong, I love women, loved them since the day I was born, and why they must be so completely impossible is unknown to me. We men and I honestly do believe it is better say what we have to say, but women they just keep it all bottled inside and then before you know it they explode. How can they be kissing you at one moment and the next hate you for reasons unnamed? That's a mystery to me. Perhaps this isn't true with all women, but it is with her-or rather it was.
Her long golden brown waves will never caress my face, and I will never again run my fingers through her hair. From the bathroom mirror I stare at my reflection, and a gaunt, sickly pale man stares back at me. Our last fight was more than five months ago and still I find myself unable to eat, unable to comprehend just what had happened. Sure we had our fights, just like any other couple, but the latter was different. I knew it had been different from the moment she walked out that door, though still I had hoped she would return. I've owled her, owled everyone that knew her really, even my old enemies back at school, but their respond was anything but informative. They were hiding her of course, and they had all the reasons in the world too.
I was without a doubt an imbecile I'll admit that, I truly was and there is no one that regrets that more than I do. The man in the mirror smiles at me now with a mocking smile and shrugs. He's the shadow of who I used to be, the person I used to be before she scooped me up and brought me into the light. Oh my dear Hermione, how I miss her. Her departure was my own fault, but she had been suffocating me, she had asked for more than I could have given, or rather she asked for nothing at all and I was too stupid then to realize it. Why was it then so hard for me to say a simple 'I love you'. It had been, and still is, but I would say it now, I would say it again and again if that meant that she would stay.
Five months and I haven't stepped foot out of our flat for fear that she might come, pick up her clothes and I will miss her. This had not happened, she had not come back to pick up her belongings, and this I told myself was eventually going to happen. And now five months later I'm not too convince, but still I find myself unable to go to work, wishing, praying, crying for her return. Had I noticed then my mortal mistake I would have done anything in my power to prevent it, but I hadn't or rather I didn't wish to see it. The platinum blonde haired man in the mirror pulled on his already disheveled hair as an ugly scowl curled on his pink lips. And perhaps I hoped she would see me like this and take pity, or see the truth in the words I desperately yelled the very same night she walked out of my life.
I wish I had gone after her but I didn't, and now there's no reason to torture myself about what cannot be fixed. On the left side of the bed (on the side of the open space) where she had laid now sits her picture. She's smiling in it, (at a joke I had probably made) her brown eyes glowing. Every night since her departure I've lain in bed, running my fingers over the picture, pressing my lips over her smiling lips, or her flushed cheeks.
A bottle of firewhisky sits by my nightstand waiting for me, the glass a long time forgotten. Shots after shots of the throat burning amber liquid and still here I sit waiting for her, drowning my sorrow in something that will do nothing to bring her back.
A creak in the silence and I don't bother to look up, for that same noise has been haunting me for five long months. At this very time, nine o'clock on the dot there's a creak outside our flat, and for the first four months I've rushed to the door, and opened it to see nothing but a passageway mocking me. And still I sit alone and desperate without the energy or the heart to lift myself up and away from this dirty and dark flat. I know that I will not move a muscle to step foot out of this flat until my beloved Hermione returns.
About a dozen of empty bottles of firewhisky lay on the dirty wood floor, the only witness of my solace, of my broken heart. I will never understand why she left so unexpectedly, without a goodbye, without a reason. Reasons enough she must have had, but why, why now after two years spent together had she decided to take flight. That alone is another mystery to me, a mystery my weary mind can't and will not comprehend. I once believed that love was just a fancy word, a word only existing in fairytales, but I was wrong, oh how wrong I was and for it I curse her now. I curse her for showing me otherwise.
There's that insensible creak again and I rub my face in annoyance, then suddenly my hand freezes and without knowing I had the ability I lift myself up, wavering but maintaining my balance. And as if in slow motion I reach for the doorknob. Outside the door I can hear footsteps, a clinking sound I've had associated with the creaking, the same noise caused by Hermione's clinking stilettos when she walked in aggravation or annoyance. My hand circles around the doorknob and I swing it open, my eyes for a moment blinded by the light coming from the hallway. I close them, and opened them again, my eyes instinctively moving down, down to her small and delicate body. I think I gasped, or rather growled my content. She was as stunning as ever, her brown waves loose, her cheeks flushed, her lips reddened I knew with her constant nibbling on them.
"Please come in." I took a step backward to let her in. She sighed and entered. Her eyes widened, and she stared from me to the filthy flat then back at me. She sighed again and turned to me, running her fingers through her hair, just the way she always did when she's nervous.
"I'm glad you came back, I've tried to contact you, I've owled everyone we know but-"
"I know, I know you've had," she said softly.
For a moment I stared at her before I spoke, my eyes devouring her, my heart skipping beats, I would have smiled if I wasn't sure she would misinterpret it. She was wearing her usual knee length black pleated skirt, a white button up work shirt, and her usual black stilettos. "Where have you been?"
She waved her hand dismissively, her eyes traveling over the dingy flat, the same flat that had been too tidy when she inhabited it. Her face formed into the prettiest of scowls, and then she sighed again, turning to me, without daring to look me in the eyes. Her dainty little hands went to her hair as she ran her long fingers through their long waves in the nervous habit I was so accustomed to. She shifted from one leg to the other, and again there was a sigh.
"I don't care where you've been, I'm just glad you came back." She looked up and into my eyes then, her eyes were red, and under them she had bags, signs of lack of sleep. I'm sure I had them too. "Will you like a drink?" I asked, my mind weary, all I could do was stare at her.
She shook her head. "No, thanks."
"Why don't you take a seat?" She shook her head again but I insisted, and with another of her delightful sighs she nodded. As quickly as I could I ran to my nightstand, but tripped on one of the many bottles laid across the floor taking the coat hanger down with me.
"Oh my god, are you alright?" she asked moving towards me. I groaned and nodded, I had already become accustomed to falling in my drunkenness over things, sometimes I will get up and sometimes I will remain on the floor weeping, but tonight I had to get up and fight off the dizzying feeling that had me so close to puking. "Are you sure?" she asked again. Again I nodded and lifted myself up, but wavered, she was there on my side, her little arms around my waist.
"Look at you, you're a complete mess," she scowled as I smiled, my hands reaching up to caress her face sluggishly. She let me do this as her eyes closed. "Come on, come on, let's get you in bed," she groaned trying to pull me up but couldn't. "A little bit of help will be nice." She snapped staring daggers at me. I chuckled and her face warmed and I was more than sure she hid the grin that threatened to curl on her lips.
Hermione's POV
His icy gray eyes stared at me just the same way they had always, with hunger, as if I was piece of meat he wished to be devouring. But I was no such thing! And yet as much as I hated that look I desired it, I've ached it for it for more than five months. Every night after the night I walked away from the arrogant and insolent blonde I've came back, at nine o'clock on the dot, my hand on the doorknob just before I turn away and disappear. Had he noticed? Had he even been aware that I had been outside, waiting for him to surprise me and pull me in?
"I've missed you Hermione," he said softly, his voice husky because of the amount of liquor he had been drinking. I sighed, and turned away, my wand on my right hand as I muttered incantations and the room began to clean itself. "No don't, you don't have to do that," he said sitting up, groaning and then laying back down.
"You shouldn't have drank so much." He shrugged.
"I'm used to it," he said huskily as I bit down on my lip, and then grimaced mad at myself for letting him have this effect over me.
"Have you missed me Hermione?" he asked softly, his fingers trailing circles over my back. I moaned but quickly hid it with a cough and stood up. I wasn't going to let him get to me.
"I'm not here to talk about things like that Draco. Please do behave."
He sniggered and sat up, slowly this time. "Enlighten me then, what are you here to talk about?" His lips moved slowly, every syllable utter having its own special attention as they left his succulent lips. Draco ran his very long finger through his tangled blonde hair, and I was momentarily tempted to rush to him and let him get his way with me. I sighed and shook my head slowly. "Did I say something to upset you?" he asked mockingly. He crawled over to the edge of bed with a catlike grace that had me swallowing and hurrying away.
He chuckled. A shifting noise, footsteps echoing on the wood floor, he was walking slowly, biting his time. How he could move so gracefully, and have that foolish yet mouthwatering smirk while being pissed drunk was completely without explanation to me. "Draco, keep your distance," I tried to say but rather stuttered. Very effective! He chuckled again and rolled his eyes.
"You can't deny you've missed me, my voice, my touch, my kisses," he whispered caressing my upper arm. I swallowed and turned my head away. He was far too close, so close I could feel him breathing on my neck. His fingers he trailed from my shoulder blade to my fingertip, and tried but couldn't control the shivers that crept over my body, my breathing hoarse.
"It was a mistake, I should have never come," I said very quietly, so quietly I doubted he had even heard me though he was standing mere inches from my face. I felt him shake his head and I moved backward, my breath unsteady.
"Don't say things you don't mean," he whispered on my neck, his breathing causing goose bumps to spread all over my body, the hairs on the back of my neck to stand, my hands to form into fists. Draco slid his hands up my thighs, I bit my lower lip to prevent myself from moaning out loud, and his lips he trailed from my long neck to my chin. "Look at me," he ordered. I did, shaking, and unable to control the power he's always had over me. His icy gray eyes penetrating me, staring into the very depths on my soul searching me, stripping me bear, shutting down my defenses. Proclaiming me, claiming that I am his, and he will have it no other way. I shook my head and moved backward, he moved forward.
"I won't fall for you again," I said, my voice hoarse.
He chuckled. "Are you sure?" I nodded, though my body shivered and my fists had gone white. He took my hands in his and kissed them, running my open palms over his roughened face, he moaned and I along with him. "I love you Hermione."
I pulled away and slapped him, his left cheek red his face one of puzzlement. "Don't you dare make a fool of me!" How dare he? Why do I let myself be taken over!? I was so furious I could scarcely think, scarcely register his lips on mine, his hands up my skirt, or the fact that I was moaning, my back pressed against the window of our flat.
"Oh Hermione I need you, I've missed you," he moaned on my neck, licking from my chin to my collarbone as my hands flew to his disheveled hair, pulling him closer to me. His lips met mine again and I felt my knees give way but he was there to hold me. "Hermione," he groaned pulling up my black skirt as I wrapped my legs around his waist.
Nothing about our love making was delicate, or sweet, Draco was never one for sweet embraces but this, tonight it was different, and I felt it with every kiss, with every caress, with every breath he took, with every heartbeat. The love he said he had for me, was it true? Was it a lie? Or was I just completely mad for even caring? "I love you," he whispered again his lips caressing my neck, his hands on my hips.
"You need to go back to work, everyone is worried about you," I said softly running my fingers through his tangled hair. He smiled and pulled me closer to his naked chest, his fingers trailing circles over my bare back. Causing sensations that sent my head spinning and my body shivering.
Draco sighed. "I doubt anyone is worried about me, but I do need to go back to work."
"You do." I closed my eyes knowing that I wouldn't stay, but wishing I could. Wishing I could forget that my life was split in two. "I need to go."
"What? I-you need to go? Why?!" Draco asked his tone icy. I sighed closing my eyes tightly, as I slid off the bed. I fitted my clothes on, flattening the crumbles with my wand as he stared, his hands clenched into fists. "Why did you come?"
"To pick up my belongings, I need them you know-"
"Hermione, please don't do this to us."
"Too us? We were never an us!"
"Why would you say that?" He growled rounding on me, his reddened face inches away from mine.
"Don't! Just don't, get away from me."
"Is this why you left me? Because he came back!?" he growled his strong hands encircling over my upper arms and pulling me closer, his lips almost touching mine.
"Hermione are you in there?" a very familiar voice called from outside the door.
Draco's grip tightened on my arms and I bit down on my lower lip cursing Ron for his bad timing. "What is he doing here?"
"To pick me up," I said trying to sound brave but failing miserably.
"You asked the weasel to come and get you?" he growled throwing me on the bed as he stared menacingly at me. "You're not going anywhere!"
"And how are you planning to stop me?" I asked as he smirked, his arrogantly irresistible smirk. His pale face though covered in blonde unshaved hair was still perfect in its luminous complexion. He let his weight fall on me, his eyes causing a sort of spell over me that had me unable to push him away or rather had be without wanting to pull him away.
"Hermione if you don't answer me right now I'll break this door down!" Ron yelled from outside the small flat.
"I have to go," I said halfheartedly feeling no conviction in my words.
Draco's POV
Weasley's ceaseless knocks vibrated around the room as my hands ran down from Hermione's neck to her long legs, sweat coating our bodies as she quivered under me, her head going from side to side as I nestled my head in between her shoulder and the left side of her face. "Hermione I am serious I will have this door flying open!"
Hermione bit down on her lower lip, her eyes wide though blurred with passion. "Stay with me, forgive me," I said softly kissing her neck.
She shook her head and I slid down on our bed next to her, our breathings coming in rasping sounds, she sighed and went to touch my face but I slapped it away. I wasn't stupid I knew what was going, I never thought she would stay with me forever, but leaving as soon as he had come back was just lower than me.
"I knew you would leave me when you found out he was alive."
"I'm sorry Draco, but you knew, you knew he was-is"
"The love of your life?"
She nodded her head slowly sliding off the bed. "Then why did you come?"
"I don't know," she said softly pulling up her skirt.
"Will I see you again?"
"Hermione open up! Are you in there? Is he forcing you not to talk!?"
"I'll be right out Ron!" she yelled then turned to me with half a smile, and sighed.
"I thought he was dead for almost three years, you have to understand. You and I-it was a mistake."
"No Hermione a mistake is once or twice but two years? How, how could you ask for me to say I love you when you yourself do not?"
"But I love you Draco, I do, but-"
"Not more than you love him? Tell me something does he make you feel the same way I do, does he make you tremble, does he-"
"Enough, I will go back to my husband and you will go on with your life as if these two years have never happened." She said softly caressing my face. I sighed and closed my eyes resting my hands over hers.
"I'm not giving up on you."
"I suggest you do because I am not leaving Ronald." She spat sliding her white work blouse on, fighting with the buttons as if they had sworn a life of loathing to her.
"You'll come back tomorrow." She looked up at me, her eyes narrowed and she grinned.
"What makes you think I will come back?" she asked unable to hide the grin that broadened on her face.
"I just know," I grinned flopping down on the bed as she grabbed her black stilettos and fitted them on. If she would really come he wasn't sure, but she had this time and he knew it wasn't to pick up her clothes, she could have asked someone to do it for her. She was legally married to the idiot of Ronald Weasley but she was mine, no matter how much she denied it, she was mine, and forever will remain so. Hermione ran out of the bathroom her hair tidy in a bun, her eyes glowing the way they always did after making love to me.
"Farewell," she sneered walking to the door.
"Till tomorrow night." She smirked, opened the door and walked out.