My first Dhr story. Please read and review, tell me whatcha think. I personally really like this one, one of my best oneshots in my opinion, but I might be a tad biased. Anywhoodles, enjoy. And review, please.
The first time multiplied into a ritual. Their ritual turned into a way of life that no one understood but them.
Everyday, their lives ensue in a way that others consider normal. Arguing, fighting, glaring. He would lash out a harsh name, it rolled off the tongue as if it came as naturally as the sun rising and setting each day. She'd retort back, a fire burning in her eyes that onlookers mistook for anger. But only they knew different.
Every evening, when classes had ended, they'd make up an excuse to get away. Hers having something to do with homework in need of completion or extra studying for a test that seemed ages away; his a rushed reason only half thought out in comparison - he knew none of his cronies would care where he was going, and that no one would dare stop him.
Every evening, they'd meet at a previously agreed upon location. Each moved slowly, shyly, cautiously, holding back because what they were doing was deemed wrong. Soon enough, however, all boundaries and differences keeping them apart plummeted into oblivion, erased from each of their memories, as their bodies met in a hurricane of passion and desire. No contrasts in blood or background existed; unspoken rules separating enemy houses were no more. They were the only ones in the world.
Their mouths crashed together, hungrily, passionately, driven by stifled desire. Words did not suit either, letting their actions speak and communicate their emotions. Always escalating faster than either imagined, they soon found themselves entangled in each other, both physically and emotionally. Her nails raked down his back, leaving trails of crimson, raw skin behind them. A constant reminder that he was hers. His hands gripped her body roughly, blood clouding beneath her skin, forming bruises that only they saw. A ceaseless reminder that he claimed her as his own, defiled her like no one else could. Skin to skin, body to body, heart to heart. Soul to soul. Creating body heat that not even the greatest wildfire could measure up to, they lay together, breathing heavily, reveling in the present. Whether it was love or lust, they never knew. They never cared. All that existed was them.
Every night, she whispered words of comfort into his ear, reassuring both him and herself that what they were doing was more than just an escape. He muttered words of caution in response, ensuring that they both comprehended the current situation. Secrecy. Not only was it thrilling, it was the basis around which their relationship was built. Mandatory.
No one could know.
If fellow students at Hogwarts found out that a Slytherin, the Slytherin, was meddling, dating, having relations with a Gryffindor - a mudblood no less - nothing would be the same. Ridicule. Hatred. Disgust. Heart break. Staying in the shadows saved them of those burdens. Better - easier - to endure short meetings and sudden bursts of passion than an open relationship filled with pointed fingers and half-concealed whispers.
It was wrong. He was a pureblood of the highest descent. She was a mudblood, the cleverest witch around. He hated her. He was meant to hate her. He was suppose to hate her.
But he didn't.
It had to be wrong. But nothing this wrong had ever felt so right.
He'd go back to his dormitory, she to hers. Hair more tousled han when they left, slightly more sore than the were an hour earlier, a smile present on their each of their faces that wasn't there before.
Only they knew.
Their ritual turned into a way of life that only they understood.
And on it continued.