Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
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The lipstick glided on effortlessly, staining her lips a dark, rich shade of red. Red- the color of passion, mystery and allure. The color of a woman, she mused. She had bought the lipstick on a whim and fell in love with its soft and velvet touch. So much so, her satin dress was dyed to match the exact shade. It all contrasted sharply with her porcelain white face, yet the woman smiled approvingly in the mirror.
Time seemed to be eternal as she stood there, her mind both blank and working furiously. Notes, melodies and beats kept running through her head, subconsciously trying to keep ihim/i out. It was the memory of ihim/i that made her buy the lipstick. It was ihis/i face peering out from the crowd every night. i His/i voice asking for itheir/i song.
Abruptly, she was interrupted by loud knocking. I must be late, she thought haphazardly. Grabbing her purse, she moved towards the door and opened it.
"Hermione.....where are you ?" growled her boss. "Its almost nine, goddammit."
"I know, I know. I..the..my clock's broken in here, Joe."
Mumbling, he left her. The woman sighed, and started to walk down the narrow hall. Her hands flew to her hair nervously, as if to make sure her French bun was in place. Finding a loose bobby pin, she stopped in front of a small, crooked mirror right before the lounge door. The last checkpoint, she thought amusingly. The mirror, tinged with cigarette smoke and yellow with age, had a fine crack running down the center. Fixing the pin, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her skin was yellow and looked sickly. Anemic, almost. She stood entranced, not flinching when people brushed against her on their way to the bathroom. How did she get this bad? She questioned herself, wonderingly.
"Doll, get over here. I just simply need a break" someone drawled softly, their words floating over to her ears. "You know that's the worst mirror in the place...stop looking like you've just seen a ghost!" Fay laughed at her friend, watching her from the lounge.
Hermione slowly walked towards her, mentally kicking herself for being so easily sidetracked. She had a job to do, tonight and every night. People came from around town to see her sing. She had made the Elysium Club famous.
"How's the crowd tonight, Fay?"
"Lord, cold as they ever come. Like ice, doll. Like ice. But you always like a challenge, don't you?" Fay replied, hiding her bitterness. Jealous of Hermione's success, Fay never could bring herself to admit so. Hermione's fame was just as surprising to her as it was to Hermione. It was that voice of hers, Fay knew it. It was cool, throaty and deep...perfectly enticing. Sighing, she watched her friend get up and walk to the stage, lost.
She heard a man's voice announce her name and a splattering of applause from the crowd. Fay was right, she thought. They're here more for the alcohol than us tonight. Slightly dazed, she began to hum along with the beats of the drummer. Slowly, she began to sing to one of her favorite songs.
"We suffer everyday, what is it for
These crimes of illusion, are fooling us all
And now I am weary and I feel like I do"
She closed her eyes and let the music overtake her. Hermione was confident and knew she had the crowd's attention. Yet-- there was that feeling. Something was not right. It felt almost as if someone was peering into her soul, intruding upon it and desecrating it. No one had ever made her feel like this, in all her years on stage. No one could except..... Hermione's eyes flew open in fright. It was ihim./i
Scanning the crowd, they locked eye contact. He held her gaze, daring her to break away. Her heart struggled within her, torn between anger, joy, resentment, pain, vengeance, elatement. iIts been three long years!/i she screamed at him inside her head. iI hurt so much. So much because of you/i. Her voice faltered, and looking up, she realized he was leaving. Automatically, she mirrored his steps and followed him to the side of the stage. Joe and Fay, sitting at the bar, looked at each other alarmed, unaware of what was happening.
"Just what does she think she's doing ? " Joe growled.
"Shhhh...", replied Fay, mesmerized by Hermione and the mysterious blond man.
They were standing a foot apart, oblivious to all around them. Gulping, Hermione stood in front of him, silently pleading for an answer. She was sick of the gnawing pain in her stomach, a constant for the past three years. She needed something, something to help her heal. She caught her breath as he came closer to her, his mouth just barely above her ear.
"You've come a long way, now haven't you?" he whispered to her in his cold, arrogant voice. "My little whore. I do love that red lipstick you have on, however. It does wonders for your appearance." Chuckling softly to himself, he was tried to hold her close to him only to be stunned by the force of Hermione's slap. Smiling cruelly, he grasped her arm, yet she escaped from his grip and ran.
Sobs racked her whole body as she stumbled through the hallway, pushing herself to reach her room. I can't make it, she thought desperately, her mind spinning rapidly. Hogwarts, Notting Hill, Malfoy Mansion, Harry's Funeral, Seedy Washington D.C. Gasping, Hermione entered the room and pulled herself over to her vanity. She ripped a washcloth from a hanger and attempted to wipe layers of makeup off. Yet she was worn, and too tired to fight back. She sat back and closed her eyes, envisioning their last night together. The love they had. Only to be waken up to...........
Rage filled her body as Hermione glanced in the mirror. He had reduced her to this. i I hate myself more than him/i, she thought sadly. Punching the mirror infront of her, shattered glass and droplets of blood covered the floor as Hermione sunk down, tears streaming down her face. Cradling her arm, she rocked back and forth, praying for strength.