AN: According to a certain reviewer, she had been waiting months for an installment for Fata. My god. That was enough to send me typing away like crazy. So here it is, the long-awaited (dare I say?) thirteenth chapter!
Disclaimer: No, no, no and NO!
Dedicated to: fuschia. If it wasn't for her, I prolly never would have started up on Fata again. Whee!
Chapter Thirteen: Self-Pity
Touch me, it's so easy to leave me
All I have is a memory
Of my days in the sun
- Cats
"It's quiet now, isn't it?"
"Of course it is. The screaming hasn't started yet."
"Ah, yes. Will you be joining the screaming then, when it starts?"
"It starts at sunset. And... no. Absolutely not."
"Why not? Screaming could be good for you."
"No, not exactly. In this dunghole of a place, screaming is required to be accompanied by convulsions and throwing of one's self around one's ... er, quarters."
"Why not? What's so wrong with that?"
"I don't have plans on ripping my clothing any further, you can see that it's already far too... unaesthetic for comfort, or practicality... or style, for that matter."
Draco trailed off from the conversation, repeating a certain word. "Unaesthetic. Hermione used to say that often, if things got messy around our house."
"Hermione? Who is this Hermione?"
Draco was silent. Yes... who was this Hermione? He stared down at his hands, trying to remember another pair of smaller, more delicate hands... that used to curve slowly around his, entwining her fingers with his...
"Hermione? The only woman I had ever loved."
~*~
"You're the only woman I have ever loved."
he whispered in her ear as pink as a coral shell as they lay shoulder to bare shoulder in his bed. Hermione breathed in shakily.
"And you're the only man I have ever loved, Harry."
~*~
"Is she a good woman? This Hermione?"
"Oh yes. Good. Beautiful. Smart. Everything I wanted in a woman."
"Is she loving? Does she care?"
"Absolutely."
"Are you married?"
"Yes. On May 4, 2008. It was the happiest day of my life."
"Hmm."
"She's perfect. I love her."
"One last question... is she loyal?"
Draco fell silent. Hermione? Of course she was loyal. She loved him too, didn't she?
"Yes. She's loyal. She's as loyal as can be. She will love me until the end of time itself."
~*~
"I will love you until the end of time itself, Harry."
Harry smiled, cat-like and sweet and cloying as maple syrup. "I like the way it sounds. Maybe you could say it again?"
Hermione looked at him. "I will love you until the end of time."
"And again?"
"I will love you until the end of time."
Harry pulled her close, their faces only inches apart. Hermione closed her eyes as he kissed her. "Again?"
"I will love you until the end of time itself."
~*~
"Will she wait for you?"
"I thought that was your last question."
"Will she wait for you?"
"Enough questions for tonight. Listen, the screaming has begun."
"Will she wait for you?"
"I... wait? Of course she will wait for me. She could wait forever."
"Yes. The screaming has begun."
"I will join them now."
"Yes. Why don't you?"
~*~
Hermione sat bolt upright in bed, cold sweat sticking the sheets to her skin. Beside her, Harry stirred slightly.
"My god, woman, it's two in the morning. This had better be good." Harry growled. Hermione glanced at him, handsome in the moonlight pouring in through the window like liquid silver. A deep breath.
She shook her head slightly, trying to dispel the dreams, the sound of one man's long, lonely scream through the darkness in her head. Another shaky breath. I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine.
"Hermione?"
She bent her head, the echo of the sweet nothings she had whispered to Harry that night ringing in her ears. One heartbeat, the touch of his hand on her shoulder... and she knew they were nothing but sweet lies.
"The only man I've ever loved..."
"... until the end of time..."
"... forever..."
Hermione raised her head and looked at Harry.
"It was nothing, love. Let's go back to bed."
~*~
"Do you think of her?"
"Every single day. She's what keeps me going."
"Really?"
"Yes. I know that one day, I'll be able to get myself out of this dunghole, change into clothes that are hopefully not so last-millenia, and see her again. That would be the best out of those three."
"You miss her."
"Like hell."
"Does she miss you?"
"Yes."
"You sound so sure of yourself."
"I am."
"You are?"
"Yes. I am. So sure."
"That's a good thing."
"Why?"
"It will probably be the only thing that will get you out of here alive."
Silence, as Draco pondered on that. The screaming was starting up again, he could hear it getting louder and louder as the dementors drew closer and closer.
"A dementor's coming."
"Not one. Two."
"Three."
"Yes. Three."
And Draco closed his eyes as the cold swept over him like a wave of sickening fear.
~*~
*crash!*
"What in bloody hell was that, woman?" Harry walked into the kitchen, and was greeted by the sight of Hermione standing pitifully over the porcelain teakettle, which was now lying in pieces on the floor. Harry glanced at the shattered jade-and-ivory masterpiece, and his eyes grew cold.
"What happened?" he asked slowly. Hermione bent and started picking up the pieces with cold fingers. "It... it just slipped out of my hand." Harry frowned. "Things don't 'just slip out one's hand'..." he said coldly, and walked out of the kitchen.
Hermione continued picking up the pieces. Draco's favorite teakettle. She didn't say anything more about it to Harry. Nothing about the cold flash of fear that had gripped her. Nothing about the paralysis that swept through her body. Nothing about the dark, dark shape that looked strangely like a dementor...