Note: This is in Hermione's point of view, but the song is in a guy's point of view… Ignore that, please… The song is, "I remember," by Stabbing Westward…
I remember
Do you ever wonder where
We would be in we'd have tried
A little harder?
Hermione moved away from the window, her fingertips trailing across the gossamer lace. Turning around slowly, she caught the light slip from the last nook in the room as the sun slowly melted into the horizon. She stumbled to the bed, half blinded by darkness. Kneeling beside the bed, she gripped the covers, burying her head in the soft cotton.
It was every night, around this hour. Just as the sun slips from view, and lovers retreat to each others arms to push away the cold of the night, when Hermione broke down. She continually told herself that it had been months. That it was over. Over…
But still, she thought as she snuck under the warm confines of her downy covers. What would have happened if I held on…?
Instantly, Hermione chided herself for such frivolous thoughts. What would have happened was simple. He would have left her, of course. At least she kept some dignity as it was. Leaving him was the only thing she could have done.
Holding on would have been asinine.
It seems like yesterday
That we were making plans
For the future
It hadn't been long ago when they were talking about the future and joking about the past, while sitting curled up in front of a cozy fire. In the middle of December, Hermione had felt warm and content lying in his arms even as snow beat against the window.
Sighing, Hermione shook her head to clear it of the unwanted vision.
But it's been so long
Since I have more of the dreams
Those dreams we left abandoned
It had been to long since she thought of that memory. It hurt… opened the wound that he had torn through her soul with jagged claws of the unwanted truth.
But, she was not lacking memories. Oh, a different one every night. All so happy, that's all she had ever been with him. He, on the other hand, must not have been…
And I'm haunted by your face
Every night she faced a different image, all waging the same war. To break her…
And each night the images remained with her, taunting her, teasing, testing…
And the memory of your kisses
Sweet kisses
She could vividly remember everything. Every single tantalizing fact, image, sound.
The way he moved, the arrogant way he talked, how he shuddered in the cold night air. How he looked soaked, relaxed, sleeping…
Oh, but most of all, the kisses. What wonderful kisses.
Do you remember?
Violently, she shut of the lamp. How she hoped he was tormented too. She hoped he stayed up with bout of insomnia, thought about her during the day, distracting him from what was important.
God, how she hoped he suffered!
I still remember so much
I remember never feeling so alive
And no matter how much she cursed his name, she still couldn't remember a time when she had been happier.
Ugh, she sighed as she collapsed onto the pillows. Why wouldn't he leave her alone?!
She toyed with the thought of taking a sleeping potion.
Do you remember?
I still can't forget your touch
Rolling over, she closed her eyes, forcing him out of her mind. As she thought of merry lambs, and rainbows, strawberries and happy babies she fell asleep.
Draco left her alone for the rest of the night.
Hermione was awoken the next morning by sunlight streaming through the window, sprawling across her face. She sat up, looking down at her white pillow. Faint remnants of tears stained the white fabric.
She faintly wondered why she had been crying in her sleep…perhaps her self-conscious felt the need to release some anguish.
We swore that we would never end
We knew that our love transcended space and time
She slipped out of bed, pulling on a white bathrobe. She scuttled down the hall, her slippers flapping on the wooden floor.
Hermione turned on the coffee pot, before settling down onto a bar stool. She was lost in thought when the coffee pot beeped, startling her out of her reverie. She rose to her feet, padding across the linoleum floor, to grab a mug for her coffee. Upon filling it, she returned to her stool.
As memories slip away
The ghost of what we were
Is fading
Hermione rose to her feet as the door bell rang, padding across the lacquered, wooden floor. She opened it, her breath caught at the sight of the person who haunted her thoughts.
"What are you doing here?"
Draco sighed, "I stopped by to pick up a few things I left. Can I come in?"
Hermione nodded mutely, moving out of the way to allow him through. She followed him, collapsing on the couch.
He looked so calm, collected. Like their parting hadn't even fazed him. She cursed him. How could he do this to her?
Draco began to collect what little belongings he had left there. A few books, some clothes articles…
It was like a blow. This was his way of closure. Collecting his thing from her house was his way of telling himself that he was over her.
But there is no more pain
Which is funny because that night
I was dying
I was dying
Of course, he had been over her anyway. He was the one who was sleeping with a girl in Hermione's own apartment. Expecting her not to be home for another day. Surprised him, didn't she?
It still angered her to think of that. But, she thought with triumph, that there was no sadness in that memory.
Now I don't even recognize
The girl I swore that someday
I would marry
She watched him disappear down the hall way, and return a few seconds later carrying a duffle bag. It was his. She watched his pale hands as the unzipped it, loading everything inside.
She had fallen in love with those hands. She had fallen in love with him.
She had promised her self that would day they would marry.
Draco wasn't one for commitments.
But I can't forget her face
And I can't forget her kisses
Sweet kisses
Unconsciously she brought her hand up to her lips as she watched him swing the bag over his shoulder, and then look up at her. "Well, that's everything. I guess I'll leave."
"Okay." She stood, following him to the door. She watched him exit, turning around and waving.
"I'll see you around," with that he walked away… and most likely out of her life.
Hermione shut the door, sliding down it to collapse on the floor. Burying her head in her hands, she beginning to cry.
God, he had acted like he didn't care…
His dispassion…
It hurt…
Do you remember?
God, I remember so much
I remember so much…
Note: Well, that's it. I wrote this to kind of over come writer's block and I don't know if I like it.
ANYWAY! The fifth Harry P. book is out! Finally! I've already started to read it!
Please drop a review, I would appreciate hearing what you have to say about it.