"Well, yeah,"
she stammered, "Good night!" I sat there, breathing quietly, waiting for
her to descend down the long, spiraling flight of stairs, but she didn't.
She didn't move at all. She was as still as the night and the moon and
the water. She didn't even seem to be breathing. Her face was white. .
. ***
I stood there,
facing him, barely breathing. . . silently longing. . . thinking. . . feeling.
I just. . . well. . . I just stood there. He stared back at
me, the anticipation in his eyes overflowing the small pent he had silently
built for it. My brain told my feet to move, but they refused.
"Am I moving yet?"
I whispered, hoping that my feet were finally listening properly. He stared
at me for a couple of seconds and a shadow of a smile played across his
lips.
"No," he mused.
My mouth formed the word "oh" silently. His smile exploded into laughter.
Lovely pure, almost girlish laughter.
"Be quiet," I
giggled.
"You shut up,"
he stood up, the smile fading from his lips. He seemed to be regaining
control of himself. . . like he was checking himself at all times.
"Shhh. . . shut
up," he said again, getting up and moving towards me.
"I didn't--" I
began.
"I told you to
shut up," he was now standing in front of me. Suddenly, I became scared.
I wanted to run. . . to hide away or something, but I couldn't bring myself
to move.
"I--" I started
again, shrinking back at his gaze.
"SHUT UP," he
yelled. In a whirlwind of footsteps and hair and feathers and marble bodies,
his lips were upon mine, his tongue pushing in between my teeth. My hair
had come out of its messy pony tail and was splayed across my back, his
shoulders, and his hands.
I didn't know
whether to laugh or cry or push him away. He held me up so close to him
that it felt as if my lungs would explode from the lack of oxygen. He kissed
me still, his hands tugging and pulling and traveling through fistfuls
of my hair.
"Draco. . ." I
finally gasped as he pulled away to take a breath. He swooped down on me
again, sealing both my lips and my eyes closed. My hands tried to travel
down to his shoulders so that I could push him away, but they stayed limp,
tangled in his hair.
"Please. . . let
go," I said suddenly, tearing my mouth from his, "I need to get some sleep."
I flicked my hand, forming a wave, and ran down the stairs, tripping and
tumbling down the last five steps. I could hear Draco's quick, careful
footsteps echoing in the night.
"Are you all right?"
he whispered, dropping down to his knees before me, his knee bones clacking
against the ice cold marble.
***
She tore away
from me, pushing me from her. She began to run down the stairs, her hair
flying behind her, the black rubber band ripped, forgotten, and lost among
the veiny marble. I could hear her bare feet clap softly against the steps.
Suddenly. . . shrieking, a body slapping with the marble, the crunch and
groan of her tired, bruised, bones, protruding beneath her thin skin like
freakish cages.
I took off after
her. She lay on her stomach at the bottom of the spiral stair way. I slid
down beside her and whispered, "are you all right?" She murmured a muffled
something. I took her head in my hands and set it on my lap, stroking her
hair softly, delicatley tracing lines around her lips with my fingers.
"Did I scare you
up there?" I said suddenly. Perhaps a little too suddenly. . . her head
snapped up, her eyes searching my face. They gave her completely away.
"Yes," she began,
"No. Maybe. No. . . yes."
"Does this scare
you?" I put my lips to hers, my blonde eye lashes fanning against her skin,
my hands slipping inside her shirt.
"Yes, Draco. Please.
Don't," she whimpered, pushing my away and getting up again, "I'm scared
of you sometimes."
"Why?"
"You kiss me.
. . so hard. . . it hurts. . . you'll find your way inside of me
and you'll find out that if you ever did have some sort of thing about
me it was fake, and you'll slap me, and slit my veins open with knives,"
she said this all very slowly and barely above a whisper. She didn't dare
look up at me.
"I hate you,"
I hissed, pushing back my hair.
"God, Draco. .
. please, don't say that," she pleaded, taking hold of my sleeves, crystalline
tears jumping to her eyes.
"I hate you,"
I repeated, kissing her neck.
"Don't hate me.
. ." she murmured, her voice fading softly, "slit. . . open. . . with knives.
Veins. Bright reddish bluish purple bruises. Blood. . . spilling across
your white torso."
I listened to
her ramble on softly, her voice fading and flickering, her eyes closing
and then fluttering open again like summer butterflies.
"Pale lips. .
. and grayish eyes. . ." she whispered, her fingers going to touch my mouth,
"splayed out across. . . the night sky. . . before a young girl's eyes.
. . "
I felt her forehead
to make sure if she was all right. She felt feverish. Perhaps her head
hit too hard against the floor.
"You're so pretty,"
she whispered, suddenly snapping back into what seemed a world real for
her. She sat up and pressed her lips softly against mine. . . placing her
hands inside my sweatshirt. Her fingers were icy cold against my chest.
"Ssss. . ." she
hissed fervently, "spilling across your torso."
***
I woke up with
a start, looking around. The image of a marble, greek god, body flashed
in my mind. I searched, but all I could see was my hands and myself in
my bed. The other beds in the girls' dormitory were messy and untidy. His
lips still felt sticky and warm against my neck, lips, and fore head.
"Spilling across
your torso," I whispered. Fragments of last night. . .
"Hermione?" someone's
voice. Someone who wasn't supposed to be here. A boy.
"Hmm?" I dared
to answer back. A red head protruded in the door way.
"Ron!" I gasped.
"Are you all right?
You didn't come to classes. It's lunch right now," he said, coming into
view. He climbed into my bed and sat beside me.
"I didn't come
to classes?" I gasped. What about all the homework that was due? I was
so behind. . . my head began to spin. Ron pressed his hand against my forehead.
"You need to go
to the hospital wing. You're hot," he said. This remark made me giggle
a bit. He blushed, swiftly drew his hand away from my fore head, and looked
down.
"Could you please
accompany me to the hospital wing? I'm too tired to go all alone," I got
up. It was like a dream. . like one of those freaky scary naked dreams,
only I wasn't naked. Just half. As the covers slithered off of my body,
I found that all I had on was my bra and my pajama bottoms. The sweatshirt
bearing the Gryffindor symbol lay at the foot of my bed, folded neatly.
Ron blushed even further.
"H-here. . . p-p-put
this on," he stammered, grabbing my sweatshirt and slamming it over my
head. I blushed and pushed my hands through the sleeves.
"You never saw
that," I whispered to him, beginning to get up.
"You're right.
. ." he nodded, "Here. Let me carry you."
I sighed and surrendered
myself to his arms. He picked me up like a small child. My head rolled
against his chest and I fell asleep. But I swear that I could feel that
faintest, softest lips grazing against mine.
~~~~
okay.. how did you guys like this
one?? i'm actually for once quite pleased with it. please please review
a lot and tell me how you like it!! please!! THANKS!!! luv u tons!!! xoxox
;) ps: i'm sorry about not putting any humor in there... i suck at that.
