Breaking Storm
Disclaimer: don't own characters, just the plot.
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This story may be a bit more angst and sad than my other stories.. But it may evolve into something else along the way. But of course it is still romance. I wouldn't be writing this if it wasn't.
Thank you to LeslieGlady, natyslacks, ekleenex, Sweet Bloom, Juliet's rose, Anyam, dracolegolaslvr87, and all my reviewers that have been so faithful. Thank you very much. It makes me so happy to read what you have to say, and to know that you took the time to let me know what you thought.
Again, I appreciate it very very much. I hope you enjoy this chapter.
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Chapter Four: Unnecessary Words
Hermione entered Potions, shortly after Draco. She looked down at her feet as she walked, avoiding everyone's eyes for she knew they had seen her run out of the Great Hall with tears in her eyes. She took a seat by Harry and Ron, though she knew they would pester her about what had happened. She refused to look at them as Professor Snape started writing down instructions and ingredients on the board. She took out her quill and parchment, wordlessly, and started to copy down, just as they were told to do every morning.
When Potions was over, she packed up her stuff, and headed out the classroom. But not before glancing over at Draco, as she saw him run his hand through his silvery blonde hair. He looked up and caught her, making heat rise in her cheeks. She turned away, flustered, as she tried to stop the rapid beats of her heart as she raised her book bag to her shoulder and slid it on. With a sigh, she walked out.
Outside in the corridor, Harry and Ron were waiting for her as they started walking to their next class. She saw that they both sent her concerned looks as they walked beside her. She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed deeply. She knew they were going to ask. And to be honest, the last thing she wanted to do right now was talk about it. She just wanted to forget about it.
"Hermione.. Are you okay?" Harry asked, quietly as students brushed against her and gave her strange looks. She just looked ahead, her gaze insisting to travel down to the floor.
"I'm fine, Harry," she said simply, trying to achieve that cheery and casual voice she had had years before, when things had been different. When things had been better. But she lowered her eyes in disappointment when her voice did not manage to hide her feelings. Her voice held much strain, as if she was trying hard not to cry again. She avoided Harry's gaze as she felt it on her.
"Hermione.. In the Great Hall, during breakfast. You're not.. Please don't lie to us." She looked straight ahead, kids in dark robes passing by, heading towards her. Laughter filled her ears, conversations.. It all reminded her of when she had been that way. Carefree and.. Happy. Happy.
It had been so long since she had felt that. Happiness. It almost felt strange, the word chiming in her ears. It felt new and odd, but drained and pale. It felt almost alien to her now. She didn't think she could ever know happiness like before. Deep inside, she could feel a slight tear that was making its way down, until her heart was completely ripped apart. She felt as if she was going to choke out tears once again, her hands trembling with warmth. Her eyes stung, her throat and mouth dry. She didn't answer him, as she could feel almost everything fade around her.
"Hermione?" Harry asked, worry flickering inside his emerald eyes. "Hermione?" Ron sent him a nervous look, darting back to Hermione when she wouldn't budge or take notice of Harry's calls. Hermione walked straight ahead, her gaze unwavering. Her limbs felt numb, her feet tired but buzzing with anesthesia. Suddenly, she felt someone grab her from behind, as she stumbled back and that hazy, foggy cloud vanished. The noises, laughter and voices rushed back to her ears, as she blinked, trying to clear her mind. She turned, and Harry was there. He had a handful of her robe, as he stared at her, his deep green eyes dark but dull. She could see worry, but didn't take any more time to figure out what else, as she looked down at her feet.
"Sorry," she mumbled softly. Harry let go of her, his gaze still on her.
"Don't be," he said to her, quietly. "Just tell us what's wrong." Hermione looked up at him with pleading eyes, before her stare darted to their next class.
"It's my mother," she said quietly. Harry nodded, solemnly and silent, before they both headed towards the class. Harry didn't ask for the rest of the day, and she knew why. She knew he didn't think she would like it if he did, and it also brought back some unpleasant feelings for him. He had never gotten to know his mother. He had never had the chance, and when he had, it was taken away from him, just like that. She didn't want to talk to him about it when it just made him feel worse about his own life.. She would keep it to herself, if it made him feel uncomfortable and sad. Although all these months.. Just keeping it to herself, it was getting tiring and strained.
She felt like she was cracking. Every single fiber in her body. It was just too much. It was overflowing, too tightly packed inside of her. She just didn't know what to do.
She just wished she could find someone.
Someone who would understand, someone who would listen.
Someone who wouldn't make her feel bad for finally letting out how she felt.
Someone who would know everything, with just one look. Then words wouldn't be necessary at all. No, words wouldn't be necessary at all.
Just then, a boy flashed in her mind.
A boy with platinum blonde hair. And the most piercing silver eyes she had ever seen.
Draco Malfoy.
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Draco had seen what had happened. He had seen what Harry Potter had to do. He'd seen the look on her face, the sadness and hurt in her eyes. He had seen the way she had tried to cover it up in her deep brown gaze.. It could've fooled anyone. And it would've. But not him. He could see right through her; he saw the way she was pained by the fact that her best friend was asking her that question. And the way her answer made her eyes almost tear up again. He had seen everything. Everything.
It almost scared him that he could read her so well. And the unsuspected want to be able to read her much clearly and better, terrified him. It made him slightly angry again.
He just didn't know what had gotten into him. When he looked at her, when their gaze had met in Potions, and in the library.. He had felt like he was sinking, caving into the ground pleasantly. A deep, intense, rising warmth had spread through his stomach, a tingling wave surged through his veins. He had never felt that way before, and he didn't think it was possible. But if it wasn't the way his heart felt as if it was to leap out to her, or the way his skin had become burning hot, it had to be the way he had gotten lost inside her eyes. Almost.
Her eyes were deep, pained and hurt but he could see the potential and how it once had been filled with happiness and joy. But he could also see how her world had fallen and crashed down on her.. The darkness and fog inside them was all too strange to see in her eyes, but he recognized it all just the same. But something had jolted him back to reality, as he had just been beginning to feel as if he was sinking into the bottomless warmth of her brown eyes.. He remembered feeling as if everything around him had faded and vanished, the way they drew him in and made him feel as if he was locked. And controlled by such a strong lullaby or trance that even he could not break out of.
He had crashed back before he could realize that he had never really want to break out of it at all.
And when he had realized and taken in their surroundings, he noticed that his reality felt cold. Colder then when he had been in her reverie, and he could almost feel that bitter shiver trace up his spine.. He didn't want to admit he missed the warmth she brought to him, or the warmth he found inside her eyes. Although deep inside he already knew.
He had never known it. He had never felt it, or read about it, nor had been told about it. He hadn't known. Until now. That strange, pleasant and dreamlike drowning feeling.. It left him wanting more of it, missing it. Or rather, missing her. He wouldn't have ever guessed that it was going to be her to make him feel this way for the first time. Never in his life.
But of course a lot of things had happened that he never could've guessed, or even bring himself to guess. He was changing, everything was changing. Everything seemed so much different from when he was younger. Now he welcomed the bitter and winter chill that plagued and frosted the windows of Hogwarts in their cold seasons. He had strayed from Quidditch.. And barely thought of it anymore.
He was no longer afraid of his father. Nor anything else that he could possibly face, as he tried to ignore that nagging feeling inside that he was wrong.
He didn't care that Harry Potter was better, as everyone said. Yes, he hated him. But it didn't matter, not as much as before. He had much more important things to do than think about how to make the scar faced boy miserable. It had been fun, sure. But he had grown up. And growing up meant changing, in more ways than one.
Somehow, in a sense, he was awfully glad he had grown up. Not because now he had much more freedom and sense of things, but because it broke him free of every stupid little thing he had done long before. Someway, it almost felt like starting over. Or, just letting everything fade into faintly visible scars that no one else could see but himself. It was better than being trapped in the same glass box for his whole life.
He smirked slightly, walking down the empty corridor to his Prefect dorm. It was dark and quiet; everyone had gone up to their dorms and common rooms for the day. The dim torches hung, and provided little light, but he didn't mind. Darkness was never something he was ever afraid of.
His mind had traveled back to Hermione again, as his eyes glimmered, despite the shade and looming shadows. He felt his heart almost skip a beat, as he thought of the way she had looked at him, in Potions. He had thought he had seen something there, something gleaming in her dark chocolate eyes. But before he could read it, she had turned away and started to walk out.
Curiosity was still thriving inside of him, as he realized she had never looked at him like that before. In her gaze she held some kind of mysterious secrecy that he couldn't help but wonder about. He wished to know how she felt about him, but he shook that thought away as he turned the corner.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he wouldn't be able to get any sleep tonight once again. He would be too busy thinking about her.. And what she could possibly be hiding from him. Just thinking about everything about her.
The way she seemed to look into his soul, the way her eyes burned and melted everything inside of him. The way she had smelled, that made him almost want to close his eyes and walk closer and hold her. The way she had made him feel so light-headed, dizzy and faint all at the same time.
He entered his dorm, not bothering to turn on the light, and closed the door behind him.
Click.
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Hermione was sitting up, the restless slumber she pleaded and prayed for still not returning to her. She was rubbing something between her fingers, running and feeling the fabric through the palm of her hands and skin.
Even in the dark she could see the clean, white fabric. Her fingers traced his initials that were embroidered. The cloth felt so soft and silky in her hands, as she continued to hold it. But she wasn't thinking about the handkerchief. She was thinking about the boy who gave it to her. Again.
She thought and was pretty sure he would be the one she would be thinking of for all of her restless and absent nights. It bothered her, but not as much as it used to. She had started noticing how much he had changed, how much he almost never glared at her coldly, or called her a mudblood. That softened some of her pessimistic thoughts about him, but she could still feel a nagging, tugging pull at the end of her heart.
He shouldn't be the one who she thought of every night.
He shouldn't be the one who kept her awake all these nights.
He shouldn't be the one to be making her feel all these weird sensations in her stomach, he shouldn't be the one who made her heart skip a beat.
He shouldn't be the one she longed to see every day.
She knew all this. She knew it. Her mind was screaming it at her, but her heart was insisting not to listen. She was listening, but she wasn't taking it in. Maybe it was because she didn't want to take it in. She didn't want to hear that what she was doing was wrong and disgraceful; she didn't want to hear any of it. If she had any control over herself, or anything for that matter, she wouldn't be thinking of Draco Malfoy. She wouldn't be losing all this sleep. She wouldn't still be crying over her dead mother. It just wouldn't be this way. Anything. But she couldn't control it. She couldn't even come close to controlling a bit of it. She remembered telling herself that everything was going to be just fine, that it was all going to fade away into scars but everything would okay. Everything would be just as how they were before.
She lied. And she remembered how much it hurt to say it to herself, to lie to herself.
She couldn't control fate, or her thoughts, or her tears, or the future.
She couldn't control her heart.
She knew she shouldn't be thinking about Draco Malfoy, or letting him make her feel this way.
She shouldn't be so weak. But that was another thing she couldn't control.
She shouldn't long to stare into his eyes, or let him pierce through her with his pale, silver eyes.
She shouldn't. But she still did.
Disclaimer: don't own characters, just the plot.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
This story may be a bit more angst and sad than my other stories.. But it may evolve into something else along the way. But of course it is still romance. I wouldn't be writing this if it wasn't.
Thank you to LeslieGlady, natyslacks, ekleenex, Sweet Bloom, Juliet's rose, Anyam, dracolegolaslvr87, and all my reviewers that have been so faithful. Thank you very much. It makes me so happy to read what you have to say, and to know that you took the time to let me know what you thought.
Again, I appreciate it very very much. I hope you enjoy this chapter.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Chapter Four: Unnecessary Words
Hermione entered Potions, shortly after Draco. She looked down at her feet as she walked, avoiding everyone's eyes for she knew they had seen her run out of the Great Hall with tears in her eyes. She took a seat by Harry and Ron, though she knew they would pester her about what had happened. She refused to look at them as Professor Snape started writing down instructions and ingredients on the board. She took out her quill and parchment, wordlessly, and started to copy down, just as they were told to do every morning.
When Potions was over, she packed up her stuff, and headed out the classroom. But not before glancing over at Draco, as she saw him run his hand through his silvery blonde hair. He looked up and caught her, making heat rise in her cheeks. She turned away, flustered, as she tried to stop the rapid beats of her heart as she raised her book bag to her shoulder and slid it on. With a sigh, she walked out.
Outside in the corridor, Harry and Ron were waiting for her as they started walking to their next class. She saw that they both sent her concerned looks as they walked beside her. She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed deeply. She knew they were going to ask. And to be honest, the last thing she wanted to do right now was talk about it. She just wanted to forget about it.
"Hermione.. Are you okay?" Harry asked, quietly as students brushed against her and gave her strange looks. She just looked ahead, her gaze insisting to travel down to the floor.
"I'm fine, Harry," she said simply, trying to achieve that cheery and casual voice she had had years before, when things had been different. When things had been better. But she lowered her eyes in disappointment when her voice did not manage to hide her feelings. Her voice held much strain, as if she was trying hard not to cry again. She avoided Harry's gaze as she felt it on her.
"Hermione.. In the Great Hall, during breakfast. You're not.. Please don't lie to us." She looked straight ahead, kids in dark robes passing by, heading towards her. Laughter filled her ears, conversations.. It all reminded her of when she had been that way. Carefree and.. Happy. Happy.
It had been so long since she had felt that. Happiness. It almost felt strange, the word chiming in her ears. It felt new and odd, but drained and pale. It felt almost alien to her now. She didn't think she could ever know happiness like before. Deep inside, she could feel a slight tear that was making its way down, until her heart was completely ripped apart. She felt as if she was going to choke out tears once again, her hands trembling with warmth. Her eyes stung, her throat and mouth dry. She didn't answer him, as she could feel almost everything fade around her.
"Hermione?" Harry asked, worry flickering inside his emerald eyes. "Hermione?" Ron sent him a nervous look, darting back to Hermione when she wouldn't budge or take notice of Harry's calls. Hermione walked straight ahead, her gaze unwavering. Her limbs felt numb, her feet tired but buzzing with anesthesia. Suddenly, she felt someone grab her from behind, as she stumbled back and that hazy, foggy cloud vanished. The noises, laughter and voices rushed back to her ears, as she blinked, trying to clear her mind. She turned, and Harry was there. He had a handful of her robe, as he stared at her, his deep green eyes dark but dull. She could see worry, but didn't take any more time to figure out what else, as she looked down at her feet.
"Sorry," she mumbled softly. Harry let go of her, his gaze still on her.
"Don't be," he said to her, quietly. "Just tell us what's wrong." Hermione looked up at him with pleading eyes, before her stare darted to their next class.
"It's my mother," she said quietly. Harry nodded, solemnly and silent, before they both headed towards the class. Harry didn't ask for the rest of the day, and she knew why. She knew he didn't think she would like it if he did, and it also brought back some unpleasant feelings for him. He had never gotten to know his mother. He had never had the chance, and when he had, it was taken away from him, just like that. She didn't want to talk to him about it when it just made him feel worse about his own life.. She would keep it to herself, if it made him feel uncomfortable and sad. Although all these months.. Just keeping it to herself, it was getting tiring and strained.
She felt like she was cracking. Every single fiber in her body. It was just too much. It was overflowing, too tightly packed inside of her. She just didn't know what to do.
She just wished she could find someone.
Someone who would understand, someone who would listen.
Someone who wouldn't make her feel bad for finally letting out how she felt.
Someone who would know everything, with just one look. Then words wouldn't be necessary at all. No, words wouldn't be necessary at all.
Just then, a boy flashed in her mind.
A boy with platinum blonde hair. And the most piercing silver eyes she had ever seen.
Draco Malfoy.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Draco had seen what had happened. He had seen what Harry Potter had to do. He'd seen the look on her face, the sadness and hurt in her eyes. He had seen the way she had tried to cover it up in her deep brown gaze.. It could've fooled anyone. And it would've. But not him. He could see right through her; he saw the way she was pained by the fact that her best friend was asking her that question. And the way her answer made her eyes almost tear up again. He had seen everything. Everything.
It almost scared him that he could read her so well. And the unsuspected want to be able to read her much clearly and better, terrified him. It made him slightly angry again.
He just didn't know what had gotten into him. When he looked at her, when their gaze had met in Potions, and in the library.. He had felt like he was sinking, caving into the ground pleasantly. A deep, intense, rising warmth had spread through his stomach, a tingling wave surged through his veins. He had never felt that way before, and he didn't think it was possible. But if it wasn't the way his heart felt as if it was to leap out to her, or the way his skin had become burning hot, it had to be the way he had gotten lost inside her eyes. Almost.
Her eyes were deep, pained and hurt but he could see the potential and how it once had been filled with happiness and joy. But he could also see how her world had fallen and crashed down on her.. The darkness and fog inside them was all too strange to see in her eyes, but he recognized it all just the same. But something had jolted him back to reality, as he had just been beginning to feel as if he was sinking into the bottomless warmth of her brown eyes.. He remembered feeling as if everything around him had faded and vanished, the way they drew him in and made him feel as if he was locked. And controlled by such a strong lullaby or trance that even he could not break out of.
He had crashed back before he could realize that he had never really want to break out of it at all.
And when he had realized and taken in their surroundings, he noticed that his reality felt cold. Colder then when he had been in her reverie, and he could almost feel that bitter shiver trace up his spine.. He didn't want to admit he missed the warmth she brought to him, or the warmth he found inside her eyes. Although deep inside he already knew.
He had never known it. He had never felt it, or read about it, nor had been told about it. He hadn't known. Until now. That strange, pleasant and dreamlike drowning feeling.. It left him wanting more of it, missing it. Or rather, missing her. He wouldn't have ever guessed that it was going to be her to make him feel this way for the first time. Never in his life.
But of course a lot of things had happened that he never could've guessed, or even bring himself to guess. He was changing, everything was changing. Everything seemed so much different from when he was younger. Now he welcomed the bitter and winter chill that plagued and frosted the windows of Hogwarts in their cold seasons. He had strayed from Quidditch.. And barely thought of it anymore.
He was no longer afraid of his father. Nor anything else that he could possibly face, as he tried to ignore that nagging feeling inside that he was wrong.
He didn't care that Harry Potter was better, as everyone said. Yes, he hated him. But it didn't matter, not as much as before. He had much more important things to do than think about how to make the scar faced boy miserable. It had been fun, sure. But he had grown up. And growing up meant changing, in more ways than one.
Somehow, in a sense, he was awfully glad he had grown up. Not because now he had much more freedom and sense of things, but because it broke him free of every stupid little thing he had done long before. Someway, it almost felt like starting over. Or, just letting everything fade into faintly visible scars that no one else could see but himself. It was better than being trapped in the same glass box for his whole life.
He smirked slightly, walking down the empty corridor to his Prefect dorm. It was dark and quiet; everyone had gone up to their dorms and common rooms for the day. The dim torches hung, and provided little light, but he didn't mind. Darkness was never something he was ever afraid of.
His mind had traveled back to Hermione again, as his eyes glimmered, despite the shade and looming shadows. He felt his heart almost skip a beat, as he thought of the way she had looked at him, in Potions. He had thought he had seen something there, something gleaming in her dark chocolate eyes. But before he could read it, she had turned away and started to walk out.
Curiosity was still thriving inside of him, as he realized she had never looked at him like that before. In her gaze she held some kind of mysterious secrecy that he couldn't help but wonder about. He wished to know how she felt about him, but he shook that thought away as he turned the corner.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he wouldn't be able to get any sleep tonight once again. He would be too busy thinking about her.. And what she could possibly be hiding from him. Just thinking about everything about her.
The way she seemed to look into his soul, the way her eyes burned and melted everything inside of him. The way she had smelled, that made him almost want to close his eyes and walk closer and hold her. The way she had made him feel so light-headed, dizzy and faint all at the same time.
He entered his dorm, not bothering to turn on the light, and closed the door behind him.
Click.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Hermione was sitting up, the restless slumber she pleaded and prayed for still not returning to her. She was rubbing something between her fingers, running and feeling the fabric through the palm of her hands and skin.
Even in the dark she could see the clean, white fabric. Her fingers traced his initials that were embroidered. The cloth felt so soft and silky in her hands, as she continued to hold it. But she wasn't thinking about the handkerchief. She was thinking about the boy who gave it to her. Again.
She thought and was pretty sure he would be the one she would be thinking of for all of her restless and absent nights. It bothered her, but not as much as it used to. She had started noticing how much he had changed, how much he almost never glared at her coldly, or called her a mudblood. That softened some of her pessimistic thoughts about him, but she could still feel a nagging, tugging pull at the end of her heart.
He shouldn't be the one who she thought of every night.
He shouldn't be the one who kept her awake all these nights.
He shouldn't be the one to be making her feel all these weird sensations in her stomach, he shouldn't be the one who made her heart skip a beat.
He shouldn't be the one she longed to see every day.
She knew all this. She knew it. Her mind was screaming it at her, but her heart was insisting not to listen. She was listening, but she wasn't taking it in. Maybe it was because she didn't want to take it in. She didn't want to hear that what she was doing was wrong and disgraceful; she didn't want to hear any of it. If she had any control over herself, or anything for that matter, she wouldn't be thinking of Draco Malfoy. She wouldn't be losing all this sleep. She wouldn't still be crying over her dead mother. It just wouldn't be this way. Anything. But she couldn't control it. She couldn't even come close to controlling a bit of it. She remembered telling herself that everything was going to be just fine, that it was all going to fade away into scars but everything would okay. Everything would be just as how they were before.
She lied. And she remembered how much it hurt to say it to herself, to lie to herself.
She couldn't control fate, or her thoughts, or her tears, or the future.
She couldn't control her heart.
She knew she shouldn't be thinking about Draco Malfoy, or letting him make her feel this way.
She shouldn't be so weak. But that was another thing she couldn't control.
She shouldn't long to stare into his eyes, or let him pierce through her with his pale, silver eyes.
She shouldn't. But she still did.