"The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows"
We saw the western coast,
I saw the hospital,
Nursed the shoreline like a wound.
She had seen things she never wanted to remember, but would never be able to forget. Bloody and mangled corpses had lined the ground, many of them beyond her help. But the physical part of the war between Dark and Light had concluded now. Both sides were so utterly demolished, that it was a mental battle that they played instead. Small skirmishes, strategic planning, and thinning numbers were all that was left. Inside, Hermione was scarred beyond recognition, but only he could tell, and only he knew why.
Reports of lover's tryst,
Were neither clear nor descript.
We kept it safe and slow,
The quiet things that no one ever knows.
They had met that fateful day under the blood red sky, the stench of death engraved in their skin. He was the 'reformed' one, carrying the half-dead body of Ginny Weasley in his arms. She was ever the trusting Gryffindor and welcomed him without a thought. Their romance blossomed from the pits of despair, but it was far from a faerie tale. They were the grey in the black-and-white war. Her life was secrets and midnight meetings.
I contemplate the day we wed;
Your friends are boring me to death.
Your veil is ruined in the rain.
It was a quiet ceremony by the sea with a few scattered disapproving guests. Draco could see the unshed tears behind the veil; she could see that her beloved raven and red headed men weren't there. The proceedings were over before she knew they had begun and she stood alone in the rain after, in her muddy white dress, feeling a little emptier on the inside.
Gave up my body and bed,
All for an empty hotel.
Everyday he could see her dying internally, and everyday he began to care less and less. As more people fell around them, she could see the blood on his hands, but she continued to let him mould her into a shell of a woman. He was the only purpose in her life, the only constant. She would do anything to keep it that way.
Wasting words on lower cases and capitals.
Her secure fortress was falling to pieces around her and she frantically was building it back up. But the haphazardly placed stones just crumbled to dust in her fingers. They would sit together some evenings, or lie together some nights, and always she would prattle on. He was always silent and she knew he heard not a word that she said. But she would talk of old times, old friends, back when the world seemed less complicated. It comforted her from the burning black hell where she currently resided.
Hermione awoke one morning to an empty bed, the pillow next to her showing no signs of being slept on; but it was always like that. She dressed slowly, and passed him coming in as she left, as she always did. And like always, he didn't look at her or give any indication that she was there. But today she looked at him; and saw his perfect blonde hair and black robes. And today his image flickered in front of her. She saw momentarily the red gash across his soul, the blood dripping from his hands, and the beating, pulsing, blackness of his heart. Just as suddenly as time had slowed down for her, it sped back up as he disappeared into the bedroom and she went out the door.
They were all waiting for her when she apparated to Grimmauld Place; she was constantly the final one to arrive, it was another familiarity in her foundation. She received no more than a nod from four of the five others gathered around the scratched table; the wizard at the head did not acknowledge her at all.
I lie for only you.
And I lie well...
Hallelu...
"Ron's dead," Harry stated sullenly.
Hermione felt nothing; her emotions had run dry long ago.
"We can no longer pretend to believe that Malfoy is on our side, witnesses saw him kill Ron last night," Harry continued.
A small body hugged Hermione. "I'm sorry, 'Mione," Ginny whispered.
Hermione regarded the head that was settled on her chest. Her eyes were black and emotionless as she spoke. "That's impossible."
As Ginny pulled away from Hermione, Harry's head snapped over in her direction, his eyes were flashing in rage. "Damn it, Hermione," he cried, banging his fist on the table. "We have witnesses!"
"That's impossible," Hermione said again. "Draco was with me all night."
Harry slumped back into his chair, unable to fight her. He and she both knew she was lying, but they both knew he had to believe her. They were all that was left.
She left a few minutes later, feeling no different than when she arrived. But a small envelope containing a letter was left sitting on the table bearing two words.
For Harry.
Ron was gone, but then again soon she would be too, so would Harry, so would Ginny. In a war where mentality was everything, the heartless Death Eaters took losses easier than the emotional Phoenixes. The emotional would not survive. But she would be damned if one certain heartless Death Eater did.
I lie for only you.
And I lie well...
Hallelu...
He was sitting in the armchair next to the fire when she got home. Wordlessly, she went to the kitchen to prepare their usual drinks of firewhiskey. Such a normal task, he did not notice the small vial she pulled from her pocket and poured into each goblet.
"Ron was killed," she remarked dully from the other room. She heard a grunt from him. "Witnesses say you did it," she added.
"And what did you say?" he asked. His voice was almost unrecognizable; it had been so long she he had spoken to her.
"I said it was impossible," she replied. "That we were together all night. We were, weren't we?"
"Of course," he said curtly.
So keep the blood in your head,
And keep your feet on the ground.
Today's the day it gets tired,
Today's the day we drop out.
She walked over to him and handed him his drink. He sniffed at the liquid suspiciously, but she took no notice. He had been wary of her for years now. Apparently he found nothing wrong with it and downed the drink in one gulp.
Immediately his head snapped up as he felt his blood boiling. He gave her one last look of pure hatred before his body slumped back into the chair, lifeless.
She walked about the apartment, picking up hidden books and parchments from where she knew he hid them. Placing everything in a pile on the coffee table, she scribbled two words on a blank sheet and placed it on top of her husband's immaculate plans.
For Harry.
Gave up my body and bed,
All for an empty hotel.
Without a thought, she poured her goblet full of liquid fire down her throat. As she felt the burning sensation spreading throughout her body, Hermione crawled into Draco's lap. She reached for his arms and wrapped them around her before burying her head in the crook of his neck. With one last sigh, she finally surrendered to the anticipated calmness of death.
A slight breeze rippled through the room then, lifting the corners of the parchments waiting to be read on the table. She had spent her life wasting words on lower cases and capitals, but she'd be damned if she wasted her final ones.
-The End-