Author's note: Hello friends! It has been quite some time since I have written and/or posted anything, but I am proud to announce my new story, Shards of Silence. This is going to be a chaptered fic. My hope is to get out a chapter every other week, but college demands me a bit more sometimes, so we shall see.
Thank you for reading, and as always,
enjoy...
It's December. The makeshift igloo they built months ago was far warmer than what lay outside of it, and it was holding up far better than they could have ever expected. Hermione breathed warm breath on her mitted hands and proceeded to ball her fist and strike down on the sheets of ice she had before her. The reluctant layers shattered and left Hermione with shards of various colorful, triangle-shaped crystals. She scooped a handful and wrapped them in her handkerchief. Taking a deep breath and a preemptive shutter, she braced herself to go back out into the cold.
"It's about time you came back out! If I have to endure the frost, then my darling so do you." Draco teased from his place in the snow.
Hermione rolled her eyes, signing to him to shut up. Getting down on her knees in the snow, she opened the handkerchief and began arranging them on the leveled ground.
Before she was able to place another shard, Draco wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek. He certainly was feeling spunky today. Hermione felt a twinge of remorse for not feeling the way he did because she knew that it would be a while before he felt this way again.
"I love you." He whispered into her ear, his warm breath tickling her and allowing her to melt into his tight grasp.
Because her hands were too busy to sign and she could not say it back, she turned to look him in the eyes, pressing the words into his with her eyes, and then advancing to press her lips to his.
Four….five seconds and Hermione retracted her lips and he released me from his warmth.
"Okay. I'll let you get back." He said with a wistful and almost sad smile. Hermione knew the reason. She knew that every time she could not say the words back, he felt that there was something missing. And even if the unspoken words were true, she knew that even though he knew that, the fact that she could never say them back meant that she could not love him as much as he loved her.
His pride and his love for Hermione would not allow him to tell her of this hurt. But in the same way, she could not tell him how much he hurt her in return.
Hermione shrugged it off, but it would be back when his form was holding hers.
Turning away, the bushy-haired girl resumed her project of broken slivers. She was unsure as to what she was making, but she was also beginning to really like it. It took her mind off of the pressing circumstances and trapped it in the world of mind-numbing nothingness of crystal blues, sparkling pinks, and twinkling greens, spreading out before her.
Draco began to hum something behind her, and in that moment she was happier that she could hear him than she was saddened that she could not tell him how she felt about it.
Hermione could not pinpoint exactly what he was humming, but it was somber, yet very hopeful. It reminded her of the many years they had spent together on the run. It reminded her of the first echo of freedom and the last echo of it. It reminded her of when she felt so heavily for him that she could hardly breathe and it reminded her of the joy they felt together and also of the day that completely shattered her heart.
Now, Hermione's inspiration was suddenly drawn from these emotions and the colors seemed to change. Transparent red and almost obsidian black appeared in the mix and transformed the piece. She felt the joy and the heartache mixed with the frustration of never really having a place to call home.
He's my home. She thought, assuring myself. He is my only home.
She felt the colors getting darker and darker as she sustained her steady pace until she felt a warm, gloved hand on her shoulder pull her out of her trance.
"It's getting late 'Mione," he spoke gently, then smirked: "and as much as I would love to continue watching my artist work, I can hardly see you anymore…and it's getting colder. Come inside."
Nodding her head, Hermione smiled and put her pointer finger up, indicating that she would just be another minute.
Draco went inside the igloo and Hermione turned back to her creation. She was unsure as to what she had made exactly, but it looked almost like a throne room. The inner most places were made up of the light colors of ice and they wound their way around like clockwork, creating a dazzling design of transparent pastels, but what was truly daunting was how the colors grew deeper and darker as the piece expanded. The delicate colors turned to violent colors and the violent colors turned to sad colors and the sad and violent colors mixed and became an emotion all of their own. This was certainly her best piece by far.
As vain as it may sound, Hermione longed to continue the study of what she had just created. She longed to stare at it for hours so that she could understand everything. Every centimeter of it…
But the cold became too much. She had barely noticed it before because she was so focused on the task at hand, but now that her head was not completely fixated on the piece, the cold became too much for her small frame to bare.
The shivering witch stood up and took one last longing glance at her creation, then with a stretch, she dusted herself off and ambled back to their little house.
The warmth hit as soon as she was inside. The fireplace was lit up with nearly-roaring flames and Draco was in the kitchen.
She gazed longingly at the fire that danced away, burning hot and licking the sides of the fireplace, its dangerously graceful arms beckoning me forward. Heeding its call, she moved her numb legs toward the flaming tendrils. Had it not been for the incantations Hermione and Draco had placed in this igloo to make it larger and far more resilient, she would be worried that the fire would swallow up their little residency, but their placement had remained unhindered by the warmth that so entranced Hermione now.
Minutes passed by in what felt like hours, and somewhere along the line, the shivering stopped, she regained feeling in her appendages, and her peculiar longing to climb into the fiery box only increased. When the sweat beads began to form on her forehead, she found that it was time to take a step back.
Draco, still in the kitchen, was whistling the same somber melody that he had been humming hours before. Hermione craved to know what was going on in his head.
We used to talk. We used to know each other. Hermione thought.
Now, she could only see see hurt in eyes when she could not speak back, and because she could not return a piece of witty banter or engage in an intellectual conversation, he had retreated, and he continues to retreat.
A surge of emotion for him came upon Hermione, so she ran up behind him and threw her arms around his waist, hugging him from behind.
He let out a surprised chuckle and twisted around in her grasp. Turning her gaze to meet his, she mouthed "I love you."
His eyes softened and he leaned down to press a gentle, heartfelt kiss on her yearning lips. She closed her eyes and melted into his grasp.
Taking a pause, Hermione looked deeply into him and then pressed her lips to his, expressing her passion and longing. He eagerly obliged.
Their pace began slow and steady, taking in each other's air between each searching kiss, until he began to kiss her jaw line and down her neck—soft pecks, leaving goosebumps in their wake—and Hermione began to feel like the fire. She was shivering again, but not because she was cold.
Draco took her hands and lifted them over her head, pressing her and them up against a beam in the igloo.
The kissing on her neck and cheeks continued and her head began to grow fuzzy, like she was spinning around and around.
The warmth of her back against the beam made the ice fixture melt which caused the back of her shirt to become soaked.
Still holding Hermione's wrists up in one hand, Draco skillfully peeled off her shirt between fiery kisses.
Still kissing, they made their way to the pillow-covered, raised platform they used as a bed.
"I love you," Draco whispered, "and I know you love me too." With that, their words were drowned out by passion and eventually that passion was drowned out by the darkness.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! There is more to come!
Please let me know any thoughts you have on it. I would love to read them in your review.
Make sure to follow the story so you can get updates on when the next chapters are uploaded.
Much love,
Caroline (aka Dear. Dark. Destiny)