Tragic Love Story
Summery: Short One-shot "Then maybe, just maybe they could be. Be more than just, a tragic love story." It was midnight escapades that allowed them to have what they really wanted and could never have again after the year was finished.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter because I'm only 14 and I believe J.K. Rowling is a bit older than that.
In my quest to expose those obscure pairings I love I brought you another one-whot and the last fic I posting tonight. I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I do
Sandwiched between a body and a wall. Cold stone pressing against exposed skin, contrasting greatly against the heat radiating from them. Minds completely devoid of all but one thought. How right this felt. Every breath breathed together. Every heartbeat synchronized. Fingers entwined and tangled in masses of hair. Tugging, touching, loving. Sudden contact and a smothered gasp. Tongues engaged in a passionate dance. Low murmurs and flushed faces. Fire. Flames dancing slowly up a wet trail from neck to ear, burning, tingling. Mouth to mouth, body to body, two minds bent on the same task. An impossible task, though it may be. Making this moment last for eternity.
He broke away first. Glancing around the empty classroom before looking at her. She looked up at him, a question in her eyes. They had another thirty minutes at least and she didn't want to waste a minute by stopping, so why had he pulled away? When her eyes met his she involuntarily shivered. He wanted her. He needed her. It was frightening, the passion he held, smoldering in his pale eyes. She could see it clearly in his eyes; he didn't want to leave this room, leave her. She didn't want to leave the arms the wound so tightly around her either. It wasn't because they made her feel safe or that they fit perfectly around her. No, it wasn't a romance novel cliché that had her wishing she would never have to leave. Why she loved this, this sin so much she couldn't say, but no matter the reason she didn't want to leave him. But the truth of the matter was that they would have to part soon. They both knew that what they were doing was wrong on so many levels, but then why did it feel so, so right?
Incomprehensible whispers echoed through the vacant room. The words held no meaning yet they silently told of a promise. A promise that one-day would come. One-day they would be allowed. One-day they wouldn't have to hide their secret romance. One-day everything would be all right. Sadly, one-day was the single day that never seemed to come. But they would both be back in the same empty classroom the next night, and the night after. They would share their passion, secretly for an hour before returning to their separate rooms. Until the day they left these halls, they would spend their nights, together in this room. It was their silent promise.
He touched her face, cupping it slightly, memorizing every contour of her body and the color of every stand of hair with his eyes. He knew these moments were precious. She threaded her fingers in his vibrant, thick hair and pulled down lightly so that he was looking straight at her. She saw the sadness in his eyes, and felt the awful realization rush over her. This happened every night. They would hesitate; remember how wrong this was, but like always they remembered how much they wanted this. She felt in the very fiber of her being that these moments were precious.
His gaze quickly flickered to her lips and then back up to her eyes with a silent question. She didn't pull away and that was all the answer he needed. Without hesitation he moved in for the kill, bringing his lips crashing down on hers. And she met him with the same force because this was what she really wanted, and this is what she could never have. She shouldn't have ever engaged in these after-hours games that they played. But still engage in them they did. And for tonight, for the next half-hour, she was all his. They belonged to each other, tonight. This hour of night was precious because it was theirs.
It was foolish to dream of anything more. To dream of this romance continuing outside the walls of this room, unconcealed and accepted. It was even more foolish to wish it to continue outside of the walls of their school, after this year was up, in secret or unrestrained. It just made the truth harder to except. They would never be anything more. Never be anything more than midnight escapades in empty castle halls. Nothing more than a secret between the two, of a passion they so lovingly shared. Nothing more than a wish, a longing, a need. They would forever be nothing more than a secret love between a beater and a chaser. If only she wasn't Fred's. Then maybe, just maybe they could be. Be more than just, a tragic love story.