Author's Note: This is a very real conversation that I needed to write down somewhere. I figured it's safe here.
Hermione sat on the edge of the rusting chair that filled up most of the patio of the apartment room she had rented while at university for her post-potions-apprentice study. She lit a cigarette and took a long drag, a habit she had picked up while traveling in the United States a few months ago, and held it precariously between her fingers as her mind drifted. She bent one leg up, hugging her knee to her chest, and was startled by the sudden vibration in her pocket. The number that showed on the LCD screen was not one that her phone recognized, yet she answered anyway.
"Hermione." She said quietly, taking another drag.
"You looked good today, " A male voice answered. "I'm almost glad I transferred."
Hermione dropped her cigarette.
"Draco." She inhaled slowly and abandoned the cigarette on the ground where it had fallen, emitting tendrils of smoke. "I..um. Thanks, I guess."
"You guess?" Hermione could practically see Draco on the other end of the phone, eyes narrowed and fingers taping impatiently against his leg. "Oh, I try to be friendly..."
"It's hard to be friendly back when you talk to someone selectively," Hermione interrupted. She could hear Draco's exasperated sigh on the other end.
"Does it really matter that much to you?"
"No, not really," She lied.
"Well then what do you care about? I'm saying I was checking you out." She pictured the smirk on his face as he said those words.
"I meant the thanks."
"Mmmmm."
Hermione laughed, a forced sound. "I would respond if I knew what that meant. You're always so cryptic. I never know how you mean things when you say them."
There was a pause, and Hermione pulled another cigarette from a pack resting on the arm of her chair.
"So," Draco broke the silence. "How are you."
"I'm fine." Another lie. "No, actually, I feel terrible. But I'll just say I'm fine." She exhaled and watched the smoke drift out through the black iron railings.
"What's wrong?"
"Things. People. Thoughts."
Now it was Draco's turn to laugh. "Like WHAT? You're so abstract."
Hermione smiled emptily, staring off into space. "That's rich, coming from you." She stopped, took a drag. "I don't know how to explain it."
"How do you feel about me." The question caught her totally off guard, and she answered honestly.
"Confused, angry, impatient. Sad." She grew quiet. "Hopeful."
"Wow, didn't know I invoked such an emotional rollercoaster," Draco drawled, sounding vaguely amused. "Is there anything I can do?"
Hermione scoffed. "Is there anything you WOULD do?"
His answer surprised her. "Yes."
"Like what?" She countered.
"I don't know," He admitted. "Ask me."
Hermione closed her eyes and willed away the question she wanted the answer to the most, instead opting for an escape. "Fuck, I don't even know what I want. To be wanted?"
He was quiet, then, "Like, as a girlfriend?"
Hermione smiled sadly. "That's being optimistic." She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and savoring the buzz. "I have a question."
"Okay, shoot me!" Draco answered cheerfully. "Err, I mean, yeah."
"Sometimes I wish I could..." Hermione muttered. "Well. What is it that you want..wanted from me?" She bit her lip, not sure she wanted to hear the way he would answer.
When he did, he sounded hesitant. "For a while I wanted to date you, and then it just faded. It went from dating to being fuck buddies, then friends. Now I don't want anything to do with you."
Hermione shut her eyes tightly as the words tore through her.
"So if you want nothing to do with me, why talk to me? What's the exception?" She tried to keep her voice steady, blinking back tears.
"I'm trying to find out if my mind wants anything to do with you. You've noticed I'm very...touchy feely." He said the words with distaste.
"Yeah, I've noticed," Hermione muttered darkly.
"It's the way I do things," He explained. "Like...It's how I recognize people, how I get on a common ground with them. It's...hard to explain." She could imagine his face, screwed up in concentration.
"No, I understand." She said quietly. "I'm the opposite, though. I watch people. I hate being touched."
"I LOVE being touched!" Draco sounded shocked. "It gives me so much more than looks or anything of that sort." He paused. "Why do you hate it?"
Hermione grew quiet. "I'm afraid. I'm afraid I'll get too attached, and they'll leave."
"Oh..." Draco said softly. "That's...sad."
Hermione angrily wiped away tears that had managed to escape from the corners of her eyes. "I got attached anyway," She whispered. "And they always left."
Draco didn't know how to respond. "I'm sorry." He said finally.
Hermione sat quietly for a few moments, hugging her knee to her chest still, and cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder. She lit another cigarette.
"That's why I hate being touched." She repeated. "Because it reminds me that once someone wanted me, and now they don't."
She heard Draco wince. "You make it sound so bad."
She laughed, a hollow sound. "It is." She inhaled, trying to get as much of a high as she could. "I feel like a bird that gets stuck inside, " She began quietly, "that panics because it can't find a way out, and flutters around hopelessly, beating itself against walls until it just...dies." She trailed off. "I just need to stop."
She could almost see Draco smiling sadly.
"Somehow, little bird, I don't think that's going to happen."
Thank you for reading. Reviews are always welcome.