A soft voice, penetrating. There's the clicking of the lock in the background, and a cool rush of air as the door swings open. Now she's standing beside your bed, and you feel her shadow press against your back. You wonder if you should have bothered climbing under the covers at all.
"Hermione."
There it is, that insistent flutter. You clear your throat, but the tickle in the back doesn't go away. You realize that she's moving again, coming around to the other side of the bed, and you squeeze your eyes shut. You are too tired to do this.
"I don't want to talk to you," you say. She makes no sound at all, and you inhale against your pillow deeply as you realize that, despite the fear prickling against the back of your throat, you've missed her.
"I had second thoughts."
"Oh?"
You try to sound disinterested, but her warm fingers touch the nape of your neck. A sigh escapes you, and the fingers tangle in your hair.
"Narcissa, please. You're hurting me."
The fingers go away, but you roll over regretfully and grab them, holding the tapering stems like a bouquet.
"Not like that. Never like that."
You don't know what you mean. You just know that when she's around, it's a little less cold. Even holding onto her, the ice of Malfoy Manor permeates your skin, but she protects you briefly from the worst of it.
"Why do you lie?"
"I'm sorting through things. That's all."
Narcissa nudges, and you obediently make room for her. Warm limbs the color of birchwood slip against your own, and you indulge in the scent of lilac that wafts from her hair. Narcissa always smells like sweet flowers.
"Hermione, I don't want to leave this place. It's my home."
You say nothing to that. An indignant swarm is buzzing inside of you, and you cast your angry gaze against hers. Blue eyes gleam at you like morning dew. You understand why Lucius couldn't deny Narcissa the most outrageous of requests, even if that meant letting her keep you.
"I know that you hate it here," she continues. "I hate it here. I just…it is too late for me to start again. There is nothing I can do about this."
"We could go to America," you insist, but Narcissa has already heard this argument.
"No, Hermione." Her voice is firm, and you remember that she was once a mother. Longing for your own, you choke back tears and bury your face in the crook of her neck. Narcissa kisses your hair, and you shudder through sobs as your hand grip the front of her satin night gown.
"I can't live like this," you whimper, and she tilts your chin up.
"You've managed so far."
Her lips taste faintly of raspberries, and your tears add a salty tang as her tongue pushes into your mouth. You suck on it, and she moans. It is not a moan you have heard before. You feel an ache begin to grow in the back of your throat again.
"Please let me go."
You ask her every night, but this time is different. Her lip trembles, and you remember that she is beautiful.
"I'm sorry."
You see into her soul, and there's a dark spot that starts to spread, like red wine on a white tablecloth.
"Why?"
The stain will be permanent, and you can feel your heart crack as it sets in forever.
"I can't lose you too."
AN: No idea where this came from, but reviews are welcome. 3