A/N I don't really know what this is, maybe a beginning or just a lame attempt at spitting out something worth writing, so, yeah...not really sure where it's going but I'd like to think it'll just flow or something.
Musical Inspiration: Pills by The Perishers, I suggest it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, not even a book, not even a page.
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You're not quite sure how things got to be like this.
You aren't exactly sure when it turned into something and where the lines were crossed and where they blurred and you're not even sure if you aware of such lines. But now you are definitely are and now it's too late because things have already gone too far and you don't know how it happened.
You try and think, just think. You run it over in your mind, over and over, again and again. You try and remember anything and everything and you find yourself cursing the tiny little details that have escaped you because they could be it. They could be the answer or the reason or whatever it is you're looking for. They could explain this mess to you.
But all you are left with is questions. Questions you want to scream and shout out at the world in hopes of even the tiniest of answers, even just a whisper. Just something. Just something to tell you that you aren't the only one who is so god damn confused, you aren't the only that thinks that this matters and that you aren't the only one who cares.
Yeah, that's your problem really. You care too much. Ron told you once, He said
"Hermione, you know what your problem is, You care too much" You remember that at the time you took offence to such an observation, giving him some long winded lecture about how if maybe we all just cared a little more that the world would be a happier place, but now you think he was right.
You care too much and the real problem is that no one else does.
To be fair, they could. Couldn't they? If you had even just a sliver of the courage you are supposed to have tons of you might be able to tell someone and maybe it would matter and maybe they would care and maybe it might start to make a bit of sense if someone else knew too.
But you can't tell anyone, so you can't find out. You can't. That's the one thing you know; that no one else can.
So why do you care? Why? Why? Why? See, all you've got are questions and all she's got are answers.
"Hermione? Are you there? Ron's looking for you…something about a potions introduction." Her voice is slightly vague but it still makes your heart jump and flutter dangerously, but you don't say anything, you just stay still and you don't move because you don't want her to know you're there. You hear her rummaging around looking for something and you remain deathly silent.
And as her footsteps fade away you realize - That's the reason. That's why it matters that you care…because she doesn't. Because she doesn't.
***
You shouldn't hide out on your bed like this. You shouldn't, but you do. It's strange because you don't know who you're hiding from. You don't know how long it's been, and you don't know where anyone else is. The rational side of you reasons that It probably hasn't been that long and that you aren't the only person left in the world, but it feels like ages because you've been sitting here trying to figure just exactly how things got to be like this. Your mind that's supposed to be so logical and is supposed to know everything is just being annoyingly repetitive and whenever you try and distract yourself you remember, you remember everything and you don't know how to feel.
You actually hate not knowing. It's the worst. You like things clear and obvious, you like things to be explained and you like things to be in books or told to you in completely certainty. You like knowing because you hate not knowing. You don't like it when things don't make sense and none of this does. Not at all.
You thought you'd be okay, you thought that you might be able to stop it, if you ever thought it was going even the littlest bit too far but you didn't and you haven't and now it's really bad and this has never happened to you before and you don't know what to do.
You just was to scream in frustration, you want to yell at her! you want her to know! You want it to mean something to her.
Gahhhh! This is getting you nowhere, it never does. You always end up like this, when you overanalyze things. You just go in circles and end up in the same place but you always overanalyze things because it's just who are. But this time you have nothing to analyze, you have nothing to grasp onto, you have nothing to find the greater meaning of and you have nothing to learn or understand. You have nothing.
You have nothing.
But you keep looking, you always do and in the middle of it all you get lost and you start drowning in the confusion and the feeling and you can't let yourself, but you do.
It makes you angry...and confused...and frustrated...and confused...and it's just all one big confusing mess that no one is allowed to know about because you wouldn't even really be able to explain it because it makes no sense and you don't want to feel this way.
"Hermione? Are you in here?" Her voice is impatient and demanding and it's so her that it makes you ache. She always interrupts your internal monologues and that's probably a good thing because you have a feeling you are on the brink of insanity and letting yourself dwell on it really isn't healthy.
"Yes, I'm here" You manage a whisper. Just a whisper. You're just a whisper.
She pulls open the curtains surrounding your bed with a hard yank and you sit up with a yelp. Now you see that it's just barely late afternoon and the lazy rays from the rapidly setting sun stream through the window and it makes her glow.
"Why, exactly?" She's smirking, her eyebrows are raised and she's crossed her arms and that annoying little ache in your chest just won't go away.
"...Huh?" Sometimes the air gets sucked from the room when she's around and you choke and splutter because you forget how to breathe.
"Why are here? By yourself?" She says is slowly like you don't speak proper english and it's probably a good thing because when she looks at you like that, you can't.
She takes a step towards the bed and you can't help it but you edge a little closer, like a moth to a flame.
"Uhhh…Sleeping…Yeah, I was just …sleeping" It's lame and you see a hint of a scoff but she lets it slide because she doesn't really want to know why you're being such a recluse because she doesn't really care. She picks up one of the text books of the side of your bed and idly flips through it and you stare, you try not to but you do.
You're not quite sure how to act when she gets like this; When she pretends that everything is absoultely completely normal and you too are just normal civil friends who do normal civil friend stuff and have never ever ever ever crossed the lines or even blurred them and everything is just so wonderfully normal and great!
"Well, come downstairs. Ron's essay isn't going to write itself" She throws the book down and normally you'd say something about treating books with the respect they deserve but it's her so you just nod, well not really, more of a twitch of the neck but she grins because she knows exactly what she does to you and then with one last glance, she's gone.
You let out a breath that you didn't know you were holding and you flop down onto the bed.
It's hard when you feel like this, when your so utterly confused about everything, Its too hard to even function because you don't want to add anything more that you need to figure out because you've got enough on your plate right about now and you haven't even left the room.
"Hermione!" You hear her chirpy call float up the stairs and you groan and finally manage to convince your legs to move. You're met with the wave of heat from the ever-lasting fire as you reach the common room and your eyes scan the room looking for-
"Finally!" Ron rushes up to you and thrusts an ink stained roll of parchment in your hands and a quill and then throws himself back down next to Harry as though his part is done and everything is fine now because you know everything.
"Ron, I'm not doing this" You use your teacher voice on him as you sit down too and Harry lets out a snigger and sends Ron a "I told you so" look.
"Hermione, just the introduction, come on! Please?" Ron looks at you like a little kid and he uses his whiny childish voice that is supposed to be irresistably persuasive.
"Come on Hermione, We have quiditch tommorrow so we can't have him stressing out about potions " You shoot Harry a look because he is never very helpful in these situations.
"Well , Ronald should of thought of that before he left it till the last minute" You look at the parchment and you see he hasn't even attempted to try.
"But Mione! Its against Slytherin!" They are both looking at you like they can not believe you didn't know that and you can't help the smile tugging at your lips because some things never change.
"Fine, Fine…Just the introduction" You let out another sigh, and Ron and Harry grin gleefully at each other and Ron keeps telling you how brillant you are until-
"Ahhhh, so she finally decides to come out of hiding" You stiffen at the sound because she's walking over to you like that and she's got that look. Yes, that look.
"I'm not...I mean, I wasn't hiding" You trail off in a breathe of words and you can never help but stutter and stumble because it's just what she does to you.
She doesn't say anything, just smirks that smirk and licks those lips for a second and then stands abruptly and leaves the common room, the portrait hole door swinging behind her.
"What's with her?" Ron asks and Harry merely shrugs but you watch after her for a few minutes and every confusing thought and conflicting emotion gets churned up in the pit of your stomach and she makes your chest ache and you don't want to feel like this.
"I …I have…I have to get...something" You quickly stand up and the parchment falls to floor taking the quill and ink pot with it and ink spills all over your skirt and normally this would be a huge problem but all you can think about is her and so you just leave and you follow her, you always follow her.
"Hermione? Wait, what's going on? Where are you going?...My essay!"
Ron and Harry's calls are lost on your ears because they don't matter because you've seen her and she's leaning up against the wall with her arms crossed and the way you can't help but feel doesn't make any sense.
"What took you so long?" She pushes herself off the wall and she lets out a giggle at your ink stained skirt but you ignore it because she's walking over to you and it sends shivers up you spine and it sends shivers everywhere and she stops inches in front of you. Your eyes follow her as best the can but they flutter closed when you feel her hot breathe on your face as she lets out a breath with another smirk because she knows exactly what she does to you.
Slowly, too slowly, her arms crawl to your hips and your hands get lost in long red silky hair and she pulls you too close. Your lips meet and it makes you dizzy and fuzzy and all the questions and uncertainties are pushed so far to the back of your hazy, cloudy mind that you don't think you'll ever see them again, not if she keeps this up.
It's crashing and burning, it's hard and it's fast, too fast. It's moans and gasps, hot tongues and searing lips, and in these moments of shadowed indulgence you just forget and you leave it all behind and you grab her and try to make it last.
It's her and it's you and it's about as perfect as you've ever felt so you throw your whole self ( heart) into these moments and the problem is you get nothing back. Nothing.
She takes you. She takes you and uses you and you take her right back and it doesn't make sense and you hate that it feels so right and you hate that it feels so good.
You just hate that you can't figure her out.
***
It's cold now. She's gone and It's gone and your lying on your bed trying to make sense of it (again). You've just come full cirlce and now you are back to where you started and there's only one thing that you've figured out from any of this.
You hate her. All of her. The smirks and the looks and the way she brushes against you just because she can. You hate how bloody schitzophrenic she can be and you hate how you never know which her you are going to get. You hate the way she moans into your mouth and how her skin is so soft and silky and You hate the way she burns you, just with her eyes and how says your name and you hate how you can't stay away and you hate that you're so fucking addicted to everything she is.
You hear a rustle and the patter of light footsteps. You feel a weight on your bed and a warm body slips in next to you and it's always her. She wraps her arms around your waist and snuggles her head into your chest like it's the most natural thing in the world and the most obvious thing to be doing and your arms hold her close and you breathe it in because you live for these moments and you know that all you'll ever do is hate how you don't hate her.
Not even a little bit. Not even at all
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A/N Don't take your thoughts with you, Leave them for the world. QM11