AN: Here is a dark songfic that I had started on a long time ago and now because of writer's block on my Darkest Power's story, I'm finishing this. Plus, if I don't say so myself, this had turned out pretty good so far however dark and tragic it may be. I hope you like it, and that you'll read my story called Mate.

Song: Cold as You by Taylor Swift

So Cold

You have a way of coming easily to me.
And when you take, you take the very best of me.

He walked to her. She knew what was going to happen, but she would never stop him. He put his hand behind the back of her head and brought her lips up to meet his. As always, the kiss was superb, but there was just something lacking. Something that all of the sexual expertise could never replace.

Walking backwards, at his complete will, she softly landed on the bed. The green, silk sheets so smooth under the bare skin of her legs. Through the kiss he was swiftly working with the buttons on her shirt. She busied her hands with undoing the belt of his trousers. His skillful mouth moved down to her neck and after finally releasing her top from the cotton restraint, his lips, tongue, and teeth grazed and teased her breasts.

Already removing her underwear, he kissed back up to her mouth. He didn't bother taking off her skirt, it wasn't in the way of his needs. He thrust into her. She couldn't say that it all didn't feel glorious, he brought her to orgasm every time. His ministrations started off at a quick pace, then were strengthened and he slowed a bit, wanting her to get her fill. His finger came between them to rub the nub of nerves and his teeth lightly marked her neck. She arched her back with pleasure. His thrusts gained speed. He whispered all manners of things in her ear, adding to her ecstasy. The deeper he pushed into her, the more she threatened to scream his name. She was holding off because, sadly, these intimate gestures were the only things she lived for.

So I start a fight 'cause I need to feel somethin'
And you do what you want 'cause I'm not what you wanted.

Shuddering, sweating, and calling out his name, she felt the world leave her temporarily and she was in a place of euphoria that never lasted long enough. As she came back down, she felt his release that lacked the passion she wanted to hear from him. Lying beside her as long as it took to recover from his sexual high, she curled up next to him. This was her favorite time, even though it only lasted a few moments. She basked in the way his skin felt against hers. She didn't know how he couldn't feel this electricity that seemed to spark up where ever they touched.

Standing, he sought out his boxers and pants. "Can't you just stay with me today?" Hermione asked exasperatedly.

He sighed. "Don't start." He said simply, stepping into his underwear.

She sat up in the bed. "Draco, how can you continue to live like this?"

A glare turned her way. "I said don't start Hermione. We go through this every time. It's beginning to not even be worth the trouble."

"Worth the trouble?!" she stood. "Oh, I'm sorry you're out so much. I realize I just gave up my family and all of my friends for you, but you gave up… what was it? Oh yeah, you have to share your house with a Mudblood. Quite horrid, bedding her must be terrible as well, but you seem to manage."

Angered, he stomped his legs through his jeans. "What do you want from me?!"

She stared into his silvery, cold eyes. She softened a little. "You know what I-"

"Something I can give!" the blonde interrupted her.

She turned away. He was turning to leave when she mumbled, "You could if you would drop your damn pride like I did so long ago." She knew he heard it, but she also knew that there would be no response.


Just walk away, no use defending words that you will never say.
And now that I'm sittin' here thinkin' it through,

I've never been anywhere cold as you.

She went to the window watching him walking down the walk. It was always the same. Sex was what he needed, but love wasn't part of the picture. Oh how she'd love to hate him for it. She had every reason to absolutely loathe him. He brought her to live in his lavish abode, a terribly empty shell of a home. He gave her every material possession she could possibly want, but not what she truly desired. He spoiled and worshipped her body, but not her mind or her heart.

Leaving wasn't an option. Sure, he wasn't forcing her to stay, she could come and go as she pleased, but there was nowhere to go. Her friends' all said she was mad for her decision, and she was, she knew it. There was always a part of her that held to the promise of being something more to him. She could please him. She could challenge him mentally. She was pretty, right? So what did it matter that she was a Mudblood?

His father was dead, his mother driven mad. They couldn't give a damn, so why did he? She used to get angry when she thought about, but now… now, it just didn't really matter. Nothing would change his mind. He thought that this was the one thing he had left of his life that he could control and that he could use it to keep his family's honor intact. No Malfoy had ever married out of a Pureblood line, so Draco Malfoy would simply never marry. So stubborn that he would rather have the line end with him, than let himself be happy with a muggleborn.

You put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray.
And I stood there lovin' you and wished them all away.

You come away with a great little story of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you.

She knew today was the day when she awoke. You can only punish someone for so long until they break. Her soul was shattered, and it spread wherever he traveled. This particular morning he had left her in their cold bed, without so much as a goodbye. It wasn't like this in the beginning, they were almost like a couple then, just no 'I love you's. But the strain of forcing himself not to love her was making him more callous by the day. Hermione saw more and more Lucius in him every day and she couldn't take it. That wasn't the man she loved. Not the man that she had traded everything for.

Hot tears slid down her cool cheeks. She didn't bother to dress as she walked to the library- her favorite place in the whole house. He had stocked it with every book he could get a hold of. Her fingers slid over the spines, a touch that used to elicit joy for her. Her eyes glanced over the titles, some were in a dead language because he thought she'd like to learn, some were centuries old and she had no clue how he had gotten a hold of them, others were brand new with tons of creases from being read and reread. How could he put so much time into making her so happy in one aspect and yet completely ignore their wishes, desires, dreams, needs?

She took down a book. It was one he had gotten for an 'anniversary' but he'd sworn that he hadn't remembered- they didn't have an anniversary because they weren't 'together', she was just here to satiate his fucking needs. Her watery eyes glared at the book that she knew had been pricey. She threw it directly towards the glass chandelier above her. It rocked and shards flew everywhere. They pelted her naked back like razors. She hardly winced, just selected another book that he had gotten for her birthday. Not a gift of course, just something he had finished reading-but the cover had never been opened. She hurled it at a smaller book case; it teetered, a few books falling loose, but didn't fall. Her anger flaring she stalked towards it, glass crunching under her feet, and jerked it forward.

A chair was her next projectile; she launched it out the window. More books found their way on the other side of the room and through another window. A globe rolled out into the hall. She turned over a table littered with papers. She threw herself against the tallest standing shelf which fell forward, spewing books and breaking the opposite shelves, cascading books pelted her.

But I cried, cried for you.
And I know you wouldn't have told nobody if I died, died for you.

Died for you.

She picked up her favorite book. One she had read so many times. He had insisted on buying her a new copy because this one was nearly in tatters, but she had refused. Collapsing in the center of the room, she clutched it desperately in her arms. Her eyes took in the destruction, then looked down at her own blood smeared into the carpet. She felt every scratch, every cut, bruise, laceration, every place where the glass had pierced her body.

"Finally." She said. Finally feeling. She had been beginning to think that she couldn't feel anything but sexual embraces. But here it was. Pain. Agony. Satisfaction. It was something she was in control of.

"Finally." She said. She stared at the text, not seeing it but what could've, should've been. She looked towards the sky, seeing her target. With all her strength, all her unrequited love, every word that had been left unsaid, everything she had left, she sent Hogwarts: A History sailing into the chandelier. It didn't teeter this time, just came loose and it came crashing straight down.

Oh, what a shame.
What a rainy ending given to a perfect day.