Creaking. The sounds of mattress spring colliding together and spring apart. That and bright sun rays beaming through the open window is what woke her up. Her eyes stayed shut though and she didn't dare open them. Not even when she heard the soft slap of skin against wood echo around her. The room was supposed to be empty; it always was. Squeezing her lids tight she listened as the room grew loud with noise. Someone stood; they turned slightly and groaned telling they'd taken a moment to look her way. It wasn't exactly a happy groan nor was it a disgusted one but she was having trouble deciding if that was good thing or not.

Suddenly she felt a hand hovering over her right shoulder. Finger brushed against her skin causing a warming sensation to awaken every nerve in her body. A shock ran through her veins, surging through her blood making it hot, making it boil. She clamped her lips together afraid to give away her position. It wasn't that she was afraid but then again…maybe it was. The touch was gone before it happened even though her skin remained scorched from it.

More walking, more noise. Clothes could be heard as they were picked up from the floor only to be thrown on the bed. They were taking their time, perhaps hoping she would turn around and ask for them to stay, to come back. It wasn't going to happen so after a while the hope was given up on while resigned sigh emanated from them. Another glace was cast her way, this time full of contempt, before the clothing was snatched from her side. Hesitation, resentment, confusion, and lust all hung in the air. She could taste them, feel them in the sheets and they all left a bitter-sweet tang in her mouth that was so potent she could have choked on it.

The walking turned into stomping, the room charged with a familiar sense of hostility, of hatred and loathing. The last thing she heard was a large scoff before her door slammed shut. She probably would have been able to hear the gruff roar of frustration too if she hadn't blocked it out with her pillow. How tears stung her eyes. They crumbled her resolve, filled her will regret and her own self-loathing. Questions ran through her mind, they invade every bit of her brain. All she could do was lie there, small sobs escaping every so often.

She hated how she suddenly felt. She hated feeling so weak and confused. She hated that he always made her feel so doubtful yet optimistically hopeful at the same time. It didn't help her in the long run all it did was damn her to days and nights of answerable questions. This wasn't her; it wasn't supposed to be anyway. She was a Gryffindor for fucks sake. She possessed bravery and courage. Strength and nobility; that was what she'd always told herself, what she'd always believed. Everything had made sense before, it all aligned perfectly and if it didn't then she made it. Until he came around with his arrogance, cruelty and malice everything always made sense. Damn him for changing her, damn him for showing her that her ideas, his ideas, the whole fucking worlds ideas were all wrong.

Dumbledore, he'd said, was right. Love was the most powerful form of magic. It could change anyway that would let it in. It had changed her and it changed him.

His sweet words had charmed her, made her forget all the bad. Made her repress any bad memories, and dark, twisted feelings they had ever possessed. He made her feel whole when she was sure no one else could. He'd given her a reason to always fight but took something in return. At the time she'd been happy to give it to him to be able please him in any way she could. Now she grunted in frustration and rage. There had never been a promise to stay with her. Never a promise to be by her side afterwards but she should have made him say it. He wouldn't have had to keep it but he would have said it in the end.

Sitting up, her bed stained with tears, she searched for her clothing. Sluggishly she tugged them on as she found them before placing herself in from of the mirror. Staring at herself she gasped at what she saw. No longer was she the same girl that had stood there only a day ago. She'd changed even more, changed in a big way that only her eyes could see.

Not true. Next time they see each other he would see it too.

She ran her house down her body, stopping at her abdomen to smooth out a stubborn crease in her shirt. Sighing she looked down and fiddled with it making a note to herself to bleach it again. Many years had discolored it slightly causing the stark white fabric to turn an ivory shade. The color reminded her of him, of his hair. Silvery white and ivory set off brilliantly by his eye color.

Looking up slowly, giving up on her attempt, she caught her own eyes in the reflection. No longer were the brimmed with salty tears, streaked with stress and sadness. Instead they were as sparkling as her smile as she recounted the colors of his features. Yes, she was doubtful that it would ever happen again. Angry at herself for becoming one of his conquests and bitter as hell that she let what had taken place between them happen.

Smoothing her shirt down once more Hermione pursed her lips deciding that she enjoyed the color ivory.

It suited her quite well.

. . .

I really wanted to get back in the swings of things and give everyone something new to read
while I work on my other story. This is totally unedited, written at 3 am so just bare with me
if the grammar sucks or anything like that. I hope you enjoy this! Please review and share your
thoughts with me!

. . .

Sade'