Ashes from the Flame

A Sequel to Burning Time

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never mine.

Rating: PG-13 for value references to sexual situations

Summary: Sequel to Burning Time (Story # 2087406). I walk slowly because I'm waiting for you to stop me. I pray to hear your voice, calling me, halting me. I need you to realize that you need me. I need to feel needed by you.

----Note----

Thank you all for the excellent reviews for Burning Time. Because of the encouragement you have given me, I began working on a sequel immediately after publishing the first story. It did take a while to finish however, due to a busy schedule and lack of inspiration. I was afraid that the 2nd part would not measure up to the first. So, I took my time and hopefully the result is the qualitity you would expect.

The sequel takes off right where the first story ended in the library. I kept the rating to PG-13 because the references to sex are very value. I'm more a "fade to black' kind of person. I hope you enjoy this sequel. And, as always, I would love to hear what you think, so please review.

Please First read the Prequel, Burning Time (Story # 2087406), if you have not done so already.

If I could choose my own murder weapon,

I would die by your kiss.

Ashes from the Flame

I leave the library silently, with your eyes on my back. Your gaze alone ignites my flesh. It's the burning heat that lingers within my memory. It's what I remember the clearest when I think of you. That should have been my sign.

You say nothing when I absent myself from your side, and I'm uncertain whether this brings me pain or relief. You're making things easy, for once. And, I realize it's not what I want.

I walk slowly because I'm waiting for you to stop me. I pray to hear your voice, calling me, halting me. I need you to realize that you need me. I need to feel needed by you. But you say nothing, and I the tears run cold down my cheeks.

The sobs don't escape me until I leave your sight. I had contained them so well.

You don't deserve to see me cry. You don't deserve to see the damage inflicted, because you gain from my weakness; you gain as I lose, and this time, I can't afford to lose anymore.

My hair conceals the tears as I walk through the grand doors and into the empty corridor. Never before had I been thankful for my unmanageable curls. But as soon as I leave your sight, I collapse against the wall and choke on my pain.

After all these years, you have returned to me. I've waited for this day, I'll admit. I've envisioned you cradling me in your arms as you finally return my sentiments. It's a childish fairy tale, I know, but what else do I have? You've never bothered to contact me since graduation, and I've never tried to seek you out. I wouldn't have even known where to begin.

My sobs quiet when I realize you really aren't coming after me. I had waited for you, and you have disappointed me again. I'm too old for fairy tales now. Goodbye my sweet prince.

There's no relief from the damage that was inflicted today. There are no survivors, and there is nothing to be salvaged. Our fire had destroyed it all. I cry for Ron the most. He is the only innocent victim. He had loved me, and I have destroyed him.

But I'm sure that matters not to you. I'm sure you find amusement in his grief. You never could let old grudges die.

It's almost ironic how a man so cold could spread such heat.

My eyes are dry now, and my face composed. It feels wrong to cry, because I realize I deserve this pain. I had been selfish in wanting you. I had been selfish in accepting Ron's proposal. But he had promised me everything, and for once, it felt nice just to be needed.

I want you to know that I don't blame you. Because I see now; you didn't ruin me, I ruined myself.

--------

I manage to return to my flat before dark, desperate for the comforts of home. I had waited in that corridor a whole twenty minutes. You never came. I shouldn't have expected you to.

The apartment is dark and empty. I was supposed to move in with Ron after the wedding. But now I find myself alone with no relief in sight.

My whole body feels weary as I stumble into my bedroom. I stare down at my clean linen sheets; an immaculate white. The bed's too big for one person. The observation brings fresh tears.

I wipe them away hastily, even though there's no one around to see. I remind myself that I was once strong. Strength, another thing you robbed me of.

I realize I can't sleep in this bed; this massive bed meant for two. Ron used to stay over many nights.

I gather a pillow and lay my beaten form on the couch instead.

There are new visions to add to my recollections tonight. It's not your seventeen year old face I see in my thoughts anymore. I see you as you are today; magnificent, passionate, cold, possessive. Qualities I had overlooked come into sharp focus.

I was a foolish child when I loved you. I suppose I'm a foolish woman for loving you still. But there is a difference now, you see. There must be. Because, this time, I was the one who walked away.

When we never contacted each other after graduation, I convinced myself that we had simply missed our chance. But I realize now, we never had a chance. We're too different, you and I. Had we continued our relationship, I'm quite certain we would have made each other miserable.

I can't help but wonder though, if it would have been a blissful misery.

I can't find sleep tonight. I can't escape into beautiful unconsciousness; not when I know you're out there, thinking of me, thinking of us. It's a ridiculous notion really. You've probably already forgotten my words, my goodbye. It's your strength; diverting pain.

There's a knock at my door at two in the morning. It startles me despite my insomnia. I wonder if it's Ron, come to discuss my betrayal or throw his ring at my feet. I really do love him, you know, regardless of your scorn. It's impossible not to after so many years of friendship. But you don't recognize that kind of love, because you don't feel that kind of love. Perhaps that's why jealousy erupted from you so readily. You saw a rival in a friend. You saw an adversary in an ally.

I approach the door cautiously, afraid of what I might find on the other side. Looking through the peephole, I find myself staring straight into your torturous grey eyes. They're the same eyes that haunt me in my sleep. And, they're the same eyes that made me believe long ago that there was something underneath your cruel exterior.

You had deceived me, without even trying.

I hesitate to open the door. My goodbye was disregarded by you. Nothing I've ever said has ever mattered to you. You hear only what you want to hear.

"I know you're there, Hermione," you say, your voice muffled by the barrier between us. I bless the barrier that protects me.

I could hide, like a coward. I could return to my couch that is only big enough for one. It would be the easy thing to do. Or, perhaps I have it all wrong. Perhaps turning away would be the hard thing to do.

You knock on the door once more, and this time I open it. I couldn't escape you if I tried. I know this because I have tried so many times. I lose something more each time I fail.

You brush past me into the apartment as soon as you are able. You don't bother to wait for an invitation. Impatience; another flaw.

I watch from the doorway as you settle yourself on my couch. Though I'd never admit it out loud, I am terrified to move.

You stare at the floor instead of at me, and I am relieved. I can't take your intense gaze. Not now, not after today.

You sigh and run a hand through your hair. There's no sorrow in your face and there's no regret. You don't experience such things.

Instead, there is only frustration; frustration at me, frustration at the fact that for once, things aren't exactly as you would like them to be.

"What are you doing, Hermione?"

I'm unsure what you are asking. The tone of your voice frightens me.

"I know this is not what you want," you scoff, "you can't walk away from me."

You're right. You're always right. But I can't let you know that.

I laugh instead, critically, as if disbelieving of your words.

Mind games; that's all we share.

You look up, startled by my reaction. I suppose you expected me to be weak, and I am. But you'll never know, because the fire's burnt out now, and I'm rebuilding my walls. They'll be stronger this time.

Swiftly, you leave the couch, and you're before me faster than I can regain my breath. I turn my head away. It's my only defense.

You grasp my forearms and shake me slightly, demanding my attention. There is no pleading this time. There is no tenderness. There is only you as you are; selfish, cold, passionate.

I realize that that is the boy I loved as a child, when I didn't know any better. I fell in love with misery, and thought he loved me back.

Still, I refuse to meet your eyes, and this angers you. You grasp my chin and press your lips to mine roughly. It's harsh and burning. But it's not the same burn, and I don't think it ever will be again.

You're cold, so cold. Ice burns too, just like fire.

I become consumed by you once more and lose my reason as your arms encircle me possessively. You push me backwards against the wall and I wonder how I ever lived without your torture.

Your lips dominate mine and I allow it. Your hands raise chills on my skin. Your kisses leave a moist tail down my neck, across my collarbone, over my shoulder. I used to have control of my own actions. I used to know right from wrong. What have you done to me?

Your eyes return to mine and I am penetrated by your gaze. I know you see my fear. I fear for my lack of control. I fear for how you will destroy me once more.

You must be able to read the meaning behind my eyes, because your mouth forms the same familiar smirk from childhood; the smirk which I loathed and loved.

"You need me, Hermione," you chuckle.

I shake my head no. It's not what I wanted to hear.

You give a snort of disapproval. "Don't fight me," you command.

You tell me that I need you, and I know it's true. But I can't surrender so easily, not unless your white flag is raised also. I know that's too great an expectation though. You're consumed with arrogant pride. It's part of your character. I had admired that once.

"What would you do without me? Weasley's never going to take you back."

Your words prick me; painful and sharp. You're trying to conquer me. You're trying to make me desperate enough to accept my defeat.

"Forget him, Hermione. You never loved him anyway."

I open my mouth to protest and you engulf me. Nothing more can be said when your lips bruise mine. My argument deserts me as your tongue parts my lips. I'm burning from your heat. I'm dying in your flames. Your flesh scotches mine with every caress. It's almost painful.

But you don't care, because you're alight also.

Had I not been possessed, I would have fought your words. I would have told you that I did love Ron. I would have told you that I didn't expect him to take me back. How could he? Not with the extent of my betrayal.

But I can't fight you anymore. Not when you use fire as your weapon.

I had tried to throw water on our flames, but realized I used alcohol instead.

You're pressing against me, trapping me. I can't push you away. I don't want to. But if you could only read my thoughts, if you could only hear the protests of my mind and the doubts in my heart. I wonder if you would care.

You trace my face delicately, and I begin to imagine you feel something. Love, perhaps. I had made the same mistake when we were children. I had believed there to be something when there was nothing.

You're a brilliant actor.

"Hermione," you say my name softly, "I need you."

I feel the words surround me. I feel them envelop me with fire. The flames are not simply scorching my flesh any longer. They're flowing through my veins. They're burning me from the inside out. I die by your touch. I live with your kiss.

My walls are destroyed. The remnants scattered. I doubt they can ever be rebuilt.

You lift me in your arms. My defenses fail as soon as my feet leave the floor. No one can save me now. No one can protect me, not from you.

Hurriedly, you push open my bedroom door. The massive bed becomes occupied; the perfect sheets rumpled.

"I need you," you repeat, before reclaiming my lips.

-----

It is early morning when I awake. Rain batters against the windows, loud and pounding. The room is chill and dim, causing me to shiver. But as my eyes open, I realize it's not the sound of rain or the cold that wakes me, but the absence of your body beside mine.

I felt it even before my eyes opened. I missed your heat. I needed your flames.

I didn't bother to look around the room, because I already knew you were gone. I didn't bother to wonder when you left, or where you went. Instead, I simply retreated back under the covers, hugging the blanket tightly around myself.

I had lost myself to your words, wanting to believe the lies. You had told me what I wanted to hear, and I had taken it in greedily. If this was a mistake, I had made it willingly.

I should have realized that you would leave, because you have not changed. History repeated itself last night, and I watched it happen.

The fire really is dead this time, leaving only the ashes. It swept through the life I had built, and sent it crumpling down. It burned out the love between me and Ron, ending a most powerful friendship. And, it destroyed whatever it was I felt for you. I suppose it was only passion. Imagination had turned it into love. But I have doubts that leave me uncertain.

Perhaps I will never know what we shared. And, perhaps I will never know where you went. But, I realize now that you did leave me with something. You left me wiser, less naïve. You left me experienced with pain and the healing that follows. And, you left me with the realization that not all love stories end in happily ever after.

End.

----Note----

The purpose of this story actually was to cause some tears. I didn't know it would turn out this morbid though. I suppose that's what happens when you write angst in first person.

I guess the inspiration for this came from sorrowful love songs and reexamination of past relationships. I can't say I have ever been in one as tragic as this, but I'm sure there are people out there who have. I was hoping to write something memorable, a fic that would stick with you. I really don't know if I have accomplished this goal, but I'm still rather pleased with how this turned out.

Let me know what you think of this sequel, and of the 2 stories in general. Please review.

-Captive