Bleed II

Tell me nothing comes,

lashing out the breaking damn,

still someone loses,

'cause there's no way to turn around,

tell me how you've never felt, delicate or innocent,

do you still have doubts that us having faith makes

any sense?

You play games play tricks,

girls and girls like play cup sticks,

played by fucking lunatics.

Show me love,

show me love,

show me love,

show me love,

show me...

love.

*

The next few days were rather distinct. Hermione tried on the bridesmaid dress Narcissa had provided for her, but it needed reducing in the waist area, for it puffed out in the middle region. It was a shade of lavender and had various textures around it.

"Mother?" a tiny voice said behind her. Hermione turned around, and faced Cissa with a forceful smile.

"Yes?"

"Uncle Ron's arrived."

"Has he? Did you two enjoy the rehearsal dinner?

"Yes, but why were you so busy?"

"I am part of it, Cissa. Did Uncle Ron buy what you're going to wear for the wedding?"

"Yes, mother."

"Go take a bath, Cissa."

"Yes, mother." She curtsied slightly, and went off. Hermione smiled. [ you never wanted her

, you never wanted her never wanted her you wanted him never wanted her].

It's not true, Hermione thought. Not true, I love her, I love her.

[You love her because you have to you have to you don't like her do you don't want her do you , you want her to die, die, die]

"No!" Hermione screamed, and found herself swinging frantically to the mirror, clutching the ends of it. "No," she breathed. "Please..."

"Hermione?" a quiet voice interrupted.

She closed her eyes, and opened them again, not at all surprised to see tears staining her cheeks. She dried them off hastily, and turned around, smiling at Ron with a watery wavering.

"What's ...why ..." he looked strangely at her.

"Oh, I...I've been so overwhelmed, I just...how did Cissa act? Good?" she prompted, turning to another subject.

"Yes. Hermione..." his voice trailed off.

"Yes?"

"Harry's...Harry's birthday's ...today."

"Yes, yes, I know," she muttered, avoiding his eyes.

"I thought...maybe we could go...to pay our respects..."

"He's dead, Ron," she seethed through gritted teeth.

"'Mione..."

"He's dead!" she shrieked more fiercely than ever.

"Hermione! He was your husband."

"Yes, I know."

"Please...do this for...him, please," pleaded Ron.

"Don't. You. Think..." Hermione grinded her teeth vigorously. "I tried to forget that night, Ron? Don't you think that sometimes when I accidentally cut myself or see blood, I can see his blood, I can see it, Ron, I can see it, I see it every time I close my fucking eyes..."

[Tell him about the night tell him what happened tell him tell him tell him he'll kiss your wounds

he'll kiss your wounds]

I WILL NOT!

"You can't forget it Hermione," Ron suddenly spoke out. "You can't. I don't know what the hell is the matter with you these days, because you should be grieving. You think you're the only one that suffers? Harry was my best friend, you know. But you could've...you could've...justified who had done it..., who had murdered him..."

"Ron..." Hermione took a deep breath, knowing she would have to face the consequences, and she knew it was the time. "I...am going to tell you...but...you ..."

"Who was it, Hermione?" Ron urged. "Who was it?"

Hermione bit her lip, and the whisper broke out the name.

"It was Cissa."

[Why, why, why,]

*

"I hear your mother's getting married," she said in a dull tone.

"Yes, she is," Draco agreed.

"Isn't she a bit old?"

He didn't reply, he merely picked up his cup and sipped it.

"Draco?" Katherine leaned forward, clutching her cup tightly, "How's Cole?"

"Oh, after three months you care to recall your own child. What a loving mother you are, Kath," Draco snapped, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Don't be like that! You know I have a job, I have a life, you know..." Katherine trailed off, one finger dwindling around a tendril of a red lock.

"And I don't?"

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Take care of him, Kath."

"But I have a job, Draco! You know how busy I am..." she protested meekly.

"Yes, very busy, you choose modeling Witch Weekly's underwear in the monthly cover over your own flesh and blood."

"Stop it!" Katherine reached forward to slap him, but he caught her hand.

"I am simply stating facts, Kathy. You can't blame me. Well, I must get back to my life," Draco said, emphasizing on the last word, and getting up from the chair.

"Wait!"

He turned around, looking at her. "What?"

She seemed to be recalling something familiar, and then looked up, and said, "Draco, I just think it'd be better...if we marry too."

"What?" This was not what he was expecting.

"I...well, you told me about that girl you impregnated back in school..."

"I did?" he frowned. He didn't remember telling her that...

"And...I think this time, if we married...it would be great. I mean, we...we're not so bad together."

He paused, not knowing exactly what to say. How could he just 'try' marriage? A flashing picture of Hermione formed in his mind. [She's never gonna love you let go let go take what you get].

"I...well, we'll discuss it," he finally murmured.

Her eyes lit up expectantly. "Good!" she agreed. He sighed, turning his back and walking off, regretting it. Who else are you going to get, he thought to himself wryly.

Back at the café, Katherine had taken a piece of parchment and a quill, and began writing furiously on the table.

Dear L.,

Process begun, my Lord.

Best Wishes,

Kath.

*