Smouldering grey eyes following the lithe figure gliding sensually across the stage, Draco watches her with a meticulously bored expression. Leaning on his left knuckle, elbow on the glass table, he looks so out of place in the filthy club in his expensive suit. Waitresses in flimsy pieces of cloth have been giving him sultry looks since the start of the long night, but he pays them no heed.
His focus is solely on her. HER.
His dirty little secret.
It's finally over. She heaves out a heavy sigh, exhaustion and fatigue evident. Sweat rolling down the sides of her face, her neck and her back, she pulls at the strings of her corset roughly and peels it off her body. Throwing the piece of trash they call "clothes" on the ground, she lets out a sigh of relief, relishing in the feeling of being able to breathe again.
She trudges ungracefully to the vanity, plopping unceremoniously on the stool in front of the mirror. Staring at her is a girl- no, woman- so pathetic that she can't even bear the sight; make-up so thick she can't feel her skin, lips so red she looks like some pitiful hooker, eyes so dark with Kohl that seems like she hasn't slept for days. After what seems like an eternity, she decides to turn away from the piteous reflection.
As she wipes her face off of the disgusting make-up, a soft knock on the door informs her of a guest. Seemingly too impatient to wait for her answer, the door knob twists as her guest enters the room nonchalantly. Even without glancing back, she knows who it is.
"Hermione."- He greets. His blank voice penetrates her head, as quiet as it is. She hates him even more.
"What do you want?"-With her back towards him, she snarls lowly, "Here to make fun of me again? You must be very free." Her eyes flash dangerously as she whirls around to face him.
"Hm." is his infuriating reply as he advances slowly but purposefully towards her, "Can't I visit a friend?" He inquires silently, voice as smooth and deep as water. One of his hands twirls a lock of her chestnut hair, his smirk as irritating as ever.
"A friend? Don't make me laugh. I'm no more than just a toy to you."- She sneers in her most scornful tone as she smacks his hand away- "Can't you leave me alone for ONCE, Draco? I'm sick of this game you're always playing!" Her voice rises with every word, dripping with fury and frustration. Resentment.
"Hah. You don't make me laugh, Hermione. Despite what you said, you've never once refused my advances, have you?"- His derisive smirk stretches, as her eyes widen in shock. How dare he use that against her? Burning with white hot rage and hatred, she raises her hand, ready to strike him across his despicably handsome face. However, he's faster.
He catches her wrist. With one smooth movement, he sends her crashing to him, his lips smashing against hers with such force that it feels like she's just walked straight into concrete.
Their lips move against one another in a violent dance; fierce and hot and animalistic. His hands bury themselves in her silky brown locks, her arms wound around his neck and shoulders tightly. Tongues wrestling fervently, teeth clashing uncomfortably, their kisses always resemble raging storms to her.
Panting hard as they part, eyes glazed over with lust, lips bruised and swollen, she stares at him dazedly. All of sudden, it seems like yesterday again, when they were more than….this. But every spell has a time when it must be broken.
"See? I told you. You'll never be able to resist me."- Just like that, he shatters her.
SLAP
"AM I JUST A DOLL FOR YOU TO PLAY WITH? WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME? HAVEN'T YOU DESTROYED ENOUGH?"- She shrieks, tears streaming down her cheeks, glittering under the dim lights, "Enough…Just…what…am I…to you?" voice quivering in defeat, her whole body drops heavily on the cold floor.
"You're nothing."- He states ice cold, without hesitation. It freezes her entire being, more than she'd ever thought he could. "I only came to bid you farewell. As you've already known, I'm getting married. This will be the last meeting." He shrugs easily, like what he just said was any casual greetings.
Her eyes dull and soulless, she can only look at him. As always, he stares down at her with those frigid grey eyes, apathetic and impassive. He kneels down to her level on the floor.
"Our game ends here, Hermione. You're free."- He whispers softly in her ears.
But not a word he says registers. Her entire world crumbles beneath her feet. She is still and unmoving, paralysed, as he leaves with a click of the door.
Pain has never been more soothing.
He bites his lips so hard blood starts to drip down his chin, knuckles clenched so tight they're paper white. He has done what he has to. There's no more regret.
But why don't his tears stop?
Pain has never been more excruciating.