AN: Here's the story behind this chapter: I wrote it, I got very close to posting it, I deleted it, I didn't feel like rewriting it at the moment, OotP came out, so, before writing another chapter, I had to finish it for plot reasons (my idea of him telling her he was a spy was thwarted), and, now, I am rewriting it. At last—I'm sorry if anyone was waiting.
Before anyone informs me that the quote is not grammatically correct, I'm pretty sure there was no punctuation in its original form. I know that scene by heart and have no doubt that those are the words. They are, of course, from William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, a book which I own three copies of, my favorite of which is, delightfully, thin enough to be taken almost anywhere.
~*~
A long shadow stretched away from me, distorting. The sky blackened, ink swirled thickly through it, and the shadows blended with the brightness. This premature night was cut with a sharp, bolt-like knife and the glass whispered in its frame. No student shared my aloneness, no student rushed blindly toward a hope of love as the torches slowly lit, once again illuminating the hallway.
My feet flexed, pushing me forward. I wished I could stand at the farthest edge of my shadow, if it would only deliver me faster. I knew the way and let my mind wander the castle, the darkened sky, its own confines.
My hand grazed the knob and, deceptively calmly, I turned it. He was there.
He was there.
He was there.
His black hair curtained his face as his head hovered above a label peeling from a thin vial. Softly, carefully, his hand placed it inside a box.
"Hello." Dishonestly serene. He turned to face me. A smile illuminated his face.
"Hermione." His robes bellowed behind him and two hands found their way upon my waist, pulling me close. My arms looped his neck and rested upon his broad shoulders.
Fear, longing, hesitation. Two people, deep in the dungeon pulled closer together, terrified by their own love for the other.
I came to his aid, pushing aside his misgivings. A jolt of electricity traveled my body, so dangerously but purposefully close to his, as he, in turn, saved me.
His mouth, soft, left mine and he breathed the cold air of the dungeon. Quietly, he let it lay a warm kiss upon the brow of the girl whose heart he held, afraid of damaging it, while the girl did not mind if he shattered it, caring only that he had touched it.
I rested my chin upon the black robe that hid his shoulder. Bags and boxes invaded my vision, uninvited, dementors slowly sliding towards me. I stood there with my soul, knowing I would soon lose it.
"Where are you going?" Two strong arms pulled me closer and his jawbone slid gently across the crown of my head. He murmured something and the door closed. His hands drew mine from around his neck and I let myself be lead to a chair. He perched upon a second, no longer touching me but with the deep raven pools shining from his face.
"The Order needs me again. It's even more urgent than we had imagined…" No better excuse could explain his flight to fight. The fates toyed with my emotions, once stealing hope, then gifting despair. Death awaited all Order members, stemming from one ignorant of love. Two trembling hands interlaced their fingers with his. Voice faltering, I struggled, returning to the beginning, afraid to meet his eyes.
"I love you. The world is collapsing around us but, for you and I, it has already collapsed. I expected death but I found life, I found you. I died, waiting for your love, or, at least, to be allowed to love you, so many times that I forgot about life. Dying was so easy, tears so quick. Now that I have seen the light, darkness frightens me, death is no longer inviting. Each night, I dreamt of you and, now, to leave you for pointless sleep…
"I love you." My mind deluged with thoughts, I saved my breath for I knew the ones I drew with him were numbered.
He bend forward, letting his lips heat mine for a scant, fleeting moment, ardent in its passing but heartbreaking to end. "I love you, too."
"I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins," I quoted from the book that had so long kept me company. A shuddering breath escaped me.
"Juliet," he whispered, afraid not that he would be heard, "your death is not for five scenes…"
