Pretend
She stood in the clearing, and shivered. From the cold of the night, or from the dark anticipation which ran its finger down her spine, she wasn't sure. She waited, and nearly laughed out loud as a memory from what seemed like a past life occured to her.
How life changes in a year.
How changed her life was. How changed she was.
Hermione Jane Granger had always been sure of who she was, and what she believed in. She was a muggle-born, brightest witch of her age, and proof that magic didn't have to be inherited through generations of bloodlines for it to be damn powerful. She was also a good witch.
And yet here I am.
A twig snapped nearby, but she didn't move a muscle. She forced her body to remain still. Her only movement was to close her eyes and breathe in slowly. That's what he wants, she told herself, to panic you. He always enjoyed her fear. It had become a game for him, to see if he could surprise her. The more scared she was, the better the victory for him. But she refused to give away her emotions. No more.
A noise to her left, then again to her right. She opened her eyes and looked ahead stoically. And as if in response, every nerve in her body seemed to stand on end, screaming at her to turn around, and face him, as she heard a low chuckle behind her. He'd gotten bored quicker than she thought he would.
"You take the fun out of everything, Mione." Like silk entwined with velvet, his voice. And that name. Not My-oh-nee, which was what her friends had always affectionately termed her. My Own. Another way to mark her as his. She gripped her wand.
Hearing the crunching of leaves and debris under his footsteps, she braced herself, but couldn't help the gasp that escaped her as she was pulled back into his arms. Try as she might, she could never deny her instinctual reaction to him, or ignore it. She could feel their connection, practically buzzing from their close proximity. She couldn't speak. What would she say? It was overwhelming, how familiar and comforting she found his embrace. These hands that had figuritively speaking, bathed in blood, and yet they were so gentle as they stroked her cheek. The lips which spoke such cruel words, so soft when pressed against her forehead.
"I've missed you."
On a reflex, she leaned back, relaxing in his embrace. She was nearly floored with the emotions that raged within her as her every sense was bombarded with everything that was just Tom. She knew he was lying. Of course he was. That's what he did.
But just in this moment, as he held her, she wanted to pretend.
Pretend they weren't enemies.
Pretend that she hadn't betrayed her best friends for him.
Pretend that he hadn't been using her.
Pretend that she hadn't been born special. Different from everyone.
Moments passed. Nothing was said. No sound was made.
In the dead of the night, in the Forbidden Forest, the Forbidden lovers, just pretended.
This is most likely the beginning of a new story. I would just like some feedback before I decide whether or not to continue. I did begin writing Who You Are, then realized the plot was very much like what had already been written so many times before, so my muse just abandoned me on that one. I do apologize to those who reviewed and asked me to continue.
But please review or send me a PM, just let me know if my style of writing is okay, or if this is something that should be continued.
Thank you! x