Breaking Storm
Disclaimer: don't own characters, just the plot.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I was over at Snitchseeker a couple of nights ago, and discovered something on their boards. It was who people thought would get together in the sixth book. I was met with great disappointment at how few Draco/Hermione fans were there on that board. But I was glad, because at one post, it said that people are so quick to say 'no' to Draco and Hermione, that JK might just put them together because people don't expect it (after I read that post, it sparked a little flame of hope in me. To me, it was pretty much a dead end, because I never thought that Draco and Hermione would get together in the books. Although, I wished and wished then prayed and prayed.) I'm guessing from all the posts I've read, that JK likes to throw people off track sometimes in the HP books, and then do something completely unpredictable. I applaud that Brilliant woman. Although, I'll give her one heck of a standing ovation if she puts Draco and Hermione together.
So to the person who wrote that great post about Hermione and Draco, this is for you, and all of you who have strong faith in the couple!
I hope you are all enjoying this story so far. This is the chapter where there's a bit of oddness that's starting to happen, and mild violence. But Draco comes to save the day!
-tearsofher
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Chapter Nine: The Storm
Hermione entered the Library, and said the spell for the lights. As the lights flashed on, she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to get used to the immediate effect, then opened them back up again. She sighed as she felt her heart fall. She looked around the empty library, the walls still sparkling faintly and lightly golden. But that spark that had flicked on inside of her when she had first seen the library seemed to be fading. And she knew why. She let out another heavy sigh, as she sat down and opened her book. The library was too quiet, too cold. She almost felt like turning back, but she didn't.
He wasn't here. He hadn't been here for the past two weeks. Everyday, she would come and the lights would still be off, and her hopes of him being here to greet her, were crushed. And every time the lights came on...her heart would become awfully deflated when she caught sight of the empty place. She missed him.
She still came here everyday, looking up from her book to look back at the bookcase, hoping he would be there, smirking at her. But he never was. She would wait and wait, not being able to concentrate on her book because it was as if she was expecting him to come in any second now. He never came. And each day when he didn't, her heart that felt as if it had been blown up full of air from hoping for his presence to be near her again, would be pricked with that jagged and sharp edge of reality and realization. It felt dry, limp, withered and weak. Useless.
She saw him in class; at Potions, in Care of Magical Creatures, during their meals in the Great Hall. She would always meet his gaze, and sometimes he would nod at her, but so rarely that it broke her heart. His eyes were dark and they were still the silver pools that entranced her intensely, but something had happened. He was hiding something. Something that caused him to look away each time their gazes locked for more than a moment. Something that made his eyes seem darker and much more cloudy, with a mist that she could not penetrate through. And every time she tried, he turned away. And she could hear and feel her heart getting smashed into a thousand pieces. It was cruel. He was cruel. He would act nice to her, lead her to this library...then ignore her. As if.... As if nothing had ever happened. But maybe nothing did happen. Maybe that twinkle in his eyes every time he smiled at her was just her imagination. Maybe that moment, when their faces were so close and her nerves were screaming, her heart beating so loudly that it deafened everything else, was just.... It was nothing. It meant nothing. It wasn't a moment. They had never had a moment at all. She had just gotten carried away with her imagination. She rubbed her eyes, trying to focus but the small tears in her eyes were blurring every word.
She had told herself this. That he was just using her. That this, all of this, the ignoring and acting as if nothing had happened, was expected. He was Draco Malfoy. He had changed, she believed. Only he needed her to prove it. Once again, she was blind, blinded by his laughter and that honesty in his eyes when they were close, blinded by his smile that he had greeted her with those days before. She should've believed it. She had known.... But she didn't think it would happen. She just didn't want to believe it. Once again, she was alone. She thought she had had someone, but it was just a ghost. Fake. No one real. No one to hang on to, no one to lean on. She was all alone again. But this time, it hurt much more. The pain made her lungs heavy and feel so small that she couldn't get enough air in and out, her hands trembling, brittle and weak. She felt so dumb. So stupid.
She closed her book, slamming it shut, and wiping her eyes hurriedly. She didn't want to cry. Maybe she was weak, but she was not going to cry about it. The pain wasn't real. She wasn't crying about Draco Malfoy. No. It wasn't real. She hadn't lost anything, anything at all. She sighed, feeling hot air release from her lips, her skin burning from her tears and mouth feeling bittersweet and salty. She started breathing hard, to prevent herself from sobbing, and started thinking of how he had been before. His words still rang in her mind; "Mudblood." She shut her eyes, focusing, mentally telling herself that she knew this was going to happen. It wasn't something to cry over. To be angry about, yes, but not something to spill her tears for. He was Draco Malfoy. He was gone. Just forget it. Everything. Those past weeks, in here, forget all about it. It meant nothing.
Her breathing began to shallow in a while, trying to recollect herself as she stared at her sticky, wet hands. She tried to erase him from her mind, thinking about Harry, Ron and her studies. But she found that she could not breathe, and the tears started slipping out again.
She hadn't felt anything like this before.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Draco was lying down on his bed, his back flat against the silk sheets. His eyes were closed, the lights off and the darkness invading everywhere where the light could not even reach. But in his mind, something persisted and stood out from the darkness. It was something he had not erased since that day at the library, despite his efforts.
It was those same deep, brown eyes that had haunted him for so long that he felt empty without seeing them inside his mind. He felt something buckle down, as if chained, inside of him. His throat felt restricted, his mouth dry but at the same time sour and sweet. He swallowed hard, staring up at the bare ceiling.
He was avoiding her. He was almost sure that she knew that too. The reasons weren't clear to her, he knew, but it wasn't any clearer to him. He was avoiding her. He just was. He asked himself why, but something, reasons, rise and stack at an alarmingly fast rate, although it was if they were blurred and blotched. He could never understand what the reasons were. But he looked hard, he tried hard to try to read those feelings, but he never could.
It had been two weeks since he had seen her smile. It had been fourteen days since her smile had been directed towards him. It had been eight hundred forty hours since he had seen her eyes light up and sparkle. It had been too long, far too long since he had been near her. He almost felt cold, bitter and painfully numb. Her presence near him always brought warmth, a sort of warmth he could not feel from anything else, or get anywhere else. It was sacred, glowing, powerful, deep and intense. Nothing he had ever felt before. He couldn't get enough of it; it was addictive. It filled his soul, drop by drop, full to the lip. It was something he closed his eyes and tried to remember, to try to feel it spread through him again, but it wasn't something you could create, or imagine. It was something she held, something that only she could bring upon him. There was no substitute; there could never be. His skin felt cold, stinging from the chilly air, although the weather in his room had always been the same. He needed to feel that warmth again. Her warmth. He needed to fill his soul again with the brightness of her smiling brown eyes. He needed to go back. He needed to talk to her, to hear her voice again. In his ears, every night, her laugh and voice that was marred into his memory was getting fainter and soon grew into a small whisper. He needed to go to her.
He closed his eyes, his hands grasping handfuls of the smooth silk in his hands. He couldn't go back. What would he say? What could he say? Her brown eyes would look as sad as before; dark and dim. Void of happiness and the brightness that had once taken place. He felt his throat go dry as he tried to picture her in his mind. Her eyes.... Her face....
Betrayal was etched all over it. Betrayal, sadness and disappointment. Anger. But anger did not tower over the others. Anger was just in the background, holding them firmly together, making sure they stood upright. Her sad eyes broke his heart. He didn't know if he could handle her looking at him like that. He would feel weak, frozen, but the urge to wrap his arms around her and hold her tightly, so tightly as if he would never let go, would become so strong that he could not refuse it. He knew. He would tell her how he didn't mean to hurt her or ignore her, and how he wished he could tell her why but he himself didn't even know. He would apologize, just the feel of her in his arms enough to uplift his soul again. He would do anything. And it scared him. He had never felt this way before.
He saw her in class. He felt her eyes on him, and sometimes he could no longer hold his gaze down, and look up. Her eyes were sad, eager but hopeful; trying to search through him, ask why. But he would just turn away, as painful as it was.
He just didn't know what to do. He had never felt this. He had never felt as if he would do absolutely anything for a person. Never. And he was terrified. Terrified out of his wits. And that's when it hit him, like a crack of lightning whipping across the dark sky.
Draco suddenly opened his eyes.
That was why he was avoiding her. Because he was afraid. Because she was making him feel this way. Because he had never felt something as strong and intense as this before, and he just had no idea what to do about it. He didn't want to feel this way.... He didn't. Not for her.
But there was nothing he could do.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Hermione quieted down, tears on her sleeve and hands. She let out a long, ragged breath, as she reached for her book again and tried to continue reading. She wished that she would get lost in it enough to forget about him. And this place. Because thinking of this place immediately brought thoughts of him. And now, little by little, she felt bubbles of anger start to boil inside of her.
After a couple of minutes, Draco vanished from her mind. But the quietness seemed to amplify every single thing. She turned the page, sighing, grateful that she was finally so engrossed in the book. Somehow, she considered it to be her savior. Anything that distracted her from thinking of Draco was something to be considered highly.
Just then, Hermione's eyes stopped in the middle of the page, her gaze frozen. She heard whispers, and a cold breeze as if someone had opened a window. She felt a chill creep up her spine, as she looked up from her book. More whispers.
There was no one there.
She peered through the shelves, looked behind her. No one. Peeves couldn't possibly be in here; she was sure to check over her shoulder every time she made her way here. She tightened her grip on the book, as she nervously cast down her gaze and continued to read.
Just then, she heard it again. Whispers, the bitter breeze that passed through her skin. She dropped her book, fear spreading through her. The whispers continued, echoing and ringing through her mind. She got up from her seat, and walked over to the shelves.
"Hello?" she said aloud, her voice quiet but quivering from fear. "Is anyone there? Peeves, is that you?" No answer. The whispers continued. She felt goose bumps rise on her skin, a thin substance rising from her stomach to her throat. She swallowed hard, as she continued to walk around. She walked along the edge of the middle shelves, but no one was there. So she started walking around the circular room, her eyes sharp for anything peculiar. But suddenly, she realized that the whispers had gotten louder, the air colder and almost piercing through her. Fear stacked and mounded, but she did not turn to walk back to her seat.
As she walked, the whispers got stronger and louder, until it was if they were talking right into her ear. She could not figure out what the words were, for it was fast, and maybe even in a different language. Just then, she was suddenly aware that something seemed to be pushing her from behind, but as she looked back, there was nothing to be seen. She could not stop walking.
The whispers thundered in her ears, her mind almost numb from fear and the sudden loudness. Just then, she halted. She tried to keep walking, but her feet felt as if they were rooted to the ground. She could not move. The air felt icy, the whispers getting louder and louder, as realization dawned on her. She had stopped in front of the forbidden bookcase.
She tried to turn away, and start towards her seat, but something held her in place. Something strong, cold...and evil. But as that thought struck her, something began to fill her. As if a lullaby had started to flow through her mind, and everything seemed hazy. Her arms and legs felt light, her vision getting blurry in a dreamlike way. She hadn't realized she was reaching out to the bookcase.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Draco was walking down the corridor at a fast rate. His footsteps echoed off the walls, the shiny floor shining beneath the lit torches against the wall. He sped up into a jog towards the library.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Hermione grabbed an edge of the book, still in a trance. She pulled it out, until she held it in her hands, a silver serpent on the cover, as she traced it with her finger. It had deep red eyes that sparkled like rubies, a long body that wrapped the back and cover of the book. It was midnight black, and it was too heavy for a book that was just fairly thick. The whispers filled her, rushing inside her as if they were invading her soul. Her skin tingled and felt as if it had been stretched far too much that it stung wearing it. Her fingers and hands burned, and suddenly, the serpent seemed to come alive before her own eyes.
Its eyes sparkled evilly, its body slithering, its tongue flicking out and hissing. She ran her fingers on the dark cover of the book, entranced by the serpent and the melodic whispers in her head. She reached her hand over and slid her finger against the edge of the cover, then finally slipping it in and opening the book.
Hermione snapped out of her trance from the impact of the effect. Suddenly, the wind became harsh and felt as if it was ripping her skin off of her, roaring as if a hurricane had formed inside her ears. Her lungs were restricted, and she could not take a breath in. Her heart was beating faster and faster, harder and harder, pounding so rapidly that it was painful. She felt as if something was slicing through her, ripping through her memories and tearing her apart from inside out. In her mind, flashes and pictures flickered rapidly. She saw her mother's car, headlights bright in the dark night. It was freezing, and it was raining hard. She could feel the piercing cold, the icy rain pelt against her skin. She could see her mother, squinting through the heavy rain, her hands on the wheel. Just then, a car came, sliding and spinning from in front of her, and she felt everything inside her freeze into solid ice. She still felt the rain, tasted the rain. She saw the mess, heard the roaring crash, her mother's and the other car in ruins. She saw their bodies, and she felt her knees give way. She screamed, her mother's dead body, soaking wet and stuck inside the torn car. Her eyes were closed, red fluid seeping through her shirt...
Hermione could feel something fill her mouth. But it wasn't rain. She could no longer taste the rain. It was warm, and tasted of metal, corrosive and sweet.
It was blood.
And before she knew it, she was on the floor, the book still in her hands. Her world began to spin, the images, the sounds, the pictures, the pain, the tears, the rain, the blood.. It was mixing, and her heart felt as if it had been sliced and she was bleeding to death, from inside out. Something was dripping down inside of her. Something acidic and burning, something that made her feel weaker with each drop. Her ears ached as if they were going to explode, her skin wet and so painfully numb. Images flickered inside her mind again.
It was a woman. A woman fully clothed in black, her hair the blackest black she had ever seen. Just then, she was right in front of Hermione. She was holding out her hand, her hand was deathly white and slim. Her fingers were long, but there was a black snake slithering around her fingers, hissing. It looked just like the serpent on the book. Hermione was getting weaker and weaker every second, her skin feeling so tight that she felt like someone was clawing at her skin, scraping it off her bones and flesh, skinning her alive. Suddenly, she saw the woman's face. She staggered back, as the woman walked towards her. Dark blood was dripping from her mouth, her eyes completely white and blank. She was crying...
Tears of blood.
Hermione tried screaming, but she felt as if a pair of deathly cold hands were gripping her neck tightly, strangling her, her lungs threatening to explode from lack of air. The woman stopped, and suddenly her visions flashed again. What she saw made her fall to her knees, her heart stopping suddenly.
It was Draco. The woman was before him, her hands around his neck, strangling him. Hermione cried out, tears streaming down her cheeks. She tried to get to him, but she couldn't. The more she moved, the more he got further and further away. The woman's pale white hands were wrapped so tightly around his neck, she could hear him wheezing for breath, as he struggled for breath. His hands were trying to get her hands off, but she held on tighter and tighter, and soon his arm lay limp at his side. She needed to save him. But suddenly, the woman was no longer there. It flickered again, and she saw his body on the floor, his eyes shut and his face pale. She cried out loudly and hoarsely, as she rushed to him. She held him to her chest, crying and saying his name- his real name.
"Draco," she cried, her tears dripping on his pallid face, "Draco, wake up. Wake up, wake up." He lay motionless, and she cradled him, crying and sobbing uncontrollably. He was cold, as she touched his face. His arms were limp, no sign of life in his body.
"Wake up," she cried, holding him tightly. "Wake up, wake up. You can't leave me here. Wake up, please, Draco! Wake up! Wake up!" She started shouting, yelling, her heart breaking and her voice getting hoarse with each word. Her lungs ached, but she still cried out. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be dead.
Just then the woman appeared once again, her hand still held out. Hermione could still see her through her tears.
"What did you do?" Hermione yelled to the woman, still cradling Draco's head against her chest. "What did you do?" The woman didn't speak. She just held out her hand.
"Say something! Say something! What did you do to him? Why did you- " her yells and screams were muffled, and suddenly everything seemed to be spinning again. The winds came back, and she screamed as she felt something rip through her. She felt something soak through her shirt, but she still held on to Draco. The wind roared, and she held him tighter, her grip firm and hard. The icy wind pushed her, and it spun, circling her. The woman disappeared, and when she looked down at her hands, Draco was no longer there. She cried out, sobbing, as she also noticed blood soaking through the middle of her shirt. She felt the wind's speed get intense and more powerful, as she staggered up, swaggering on her weak knees. The wind bellowed loudly around her, as she felt so weak that she was almost going to give in and get swept into the current. The visions and images flashed rapidly, but brought an icy pain to her heart, as she clutched her chest, screaming; Draco laying on the ground, dead, the woman strangling him, her mother, dead and blood covering her from head to toe... She was being torn apart, getting ripped to shreds. She was caught in the storm. She fell to her knees once again, breathing hard and sobbing, trembling. Just then she heard a voice, and something held her by the shoulders tightly.
"Hermione!" he yelled, clutching her by the shoulders, fear rising up so rapidly in him. "Hermione! Can you hear me? What's happening? What's wrong?" Draco yelled. Hermione tried to push him away, recognizing his voice, but not knowing if it was truly him. Just then Draco noticed a book lay open on the floor. He felt something shatter in him, as he rushed to the book, on his knees. He grabbed the edge, and struggled to close it. It felt surprisingly heavy as he strained to shut it. He lifted it up, and pushed it down, closing the book.
Suddenly, Hermione felt it stop. The winds disappeared, the pain, the whispers, the numbing, icy musk on her skin. She fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Her skin burned, her mind spun and her ears were deaf. Her heart was beating so fiercely it was painful, as she struggled to breathe. Draco rushed over to her, his eyes filled with worry and concern. He swallowed hard, as if he felt his heart was hanging onto one single thread painfully.
"Hermione," he said, surprised at how casual his voice sounded saying her real name, something he had never done before. "Hermione?" Hermione didn't hear him, as she continued to cry, holding herself so tightly that her nails were digging into her flesh. He inched closer to her, and said her name again, but again she did not hear. Draco saw how violently her body was shaking, and how hard her nails were going into her skin. She was covered with sweat and tears, her skin so pallid that it seemed as if she was dead. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She struggled against him, sobbing, as he felt her tears on his skin. She tried to push him away, but he held her tightly, closing her eyes.
"Hermione, Hermione," he said to her, "you're safe, I'm here. It's only me. Stop struggling, you're safe now." Hermione's attempts to push him away weakened, as his embrace tightened. She cried onto his chest, not fully comprehending that it was him, that he was holding her, but she settled and relaxed. Draco held her closely to him, as close as he could bring her, her tears soaking through the front of his robes. Her sobs did not stop, but he was patient, and held her close until she quieted down.
His arms constricted around her, afraid of letting go. He knew she was hurt, and he was scared that he if let go of her, she would get hurt again. He had just seen her tortured before his own eyes. He swallowed hard, his throat dry and his heart beating hard against her own.
He closed his eyes tightly, attempting to hold her even closer and tighter, but he knew it was no longer possible. He was already holding her as close as he could, holding her as firmly as he could. Soon, he could only hear her whimpers, the wetness of his robes soaking through his shirt.
"Hermione," he whispered, "you're safe now. I'm here... I'm here."
Disclaimer: don't own characters, just the plot.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I was over at Snitchseeker a couple of nights ago, and discovered something on their boards. It was who people thought would get together in the sixth book. I was met with great disappointment at how few Draco/Hermione fans were there on that board. But I was glad, because at one post, it said that people are so quick to say 'no' to Draco and Hermione, that JK might just put them together because people don't expect it (after I read that post, it sparked a little flame of hope in me. To me, it was pretty much a dead end, because I never thought that Draco and Hermione would get together in the books. Although, I wished and wished then prayed and prayed.) I'm guessing from all the posts I've read, that JK likes to throw people off track sometimes in the HP books, and then do something completely unpredictable. I applaud that Brilliant woman. Although, I'll give her one heck of a standing ovation if she puts Draco and Hermione together.
So to the person who wrote that great post about Hermione and Draco, this is for you, and all of you who have strong faith in the couple!
I hope you are all enjoying this story so far. This is the chapter where there's a bit of oddness that's starting to happen, and mild violence. But Draco comes to save the day!
-tearsofher
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Chapter Nine: The Storm
Hermione entered the Library, and said the spell for the lights. As the lights flashed on, she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to get used to the immediate effect, then opened them back up again. She sighed as she felt her heart fall. She looked around the empty library, the walls still sparkling faintly and lightly golden. But that spark that had flicked on inside of her when she had first seen the library seemed to be fading. And she knew why. She let out another heavy sigh, as she sat down and opened her book. The library was too quiet, too cold. She almost felt like turning back, but she didn't.
He wasn't here. He hadn't been here for the past two weeks. Everyday, she would come and the lights would still be off, and her hopes of him being here to greet her, were crushed. And every time the lights came on...her heart would become awfully deflated when she caught sight of the empty place. She missed him.
She still came here everyday, looking up from her book to look back at the bookcase, hoping he would be there, smirking at her. But he never was. She would wait and wait, not being able to concentrate on her book because it was as if she was expecting him to come in any second now. He never came. And each day when he didn't, her heart that felt as if it had been blown up full of air from hoping for his presence to be near her again, would be pricked with that jagged and sharp edge of reality and realization. It felt dry, limp, withered and weak. Useless.
She saw him in class; at Potions, in Care of Magical Creatures, during their meals in the Great Hall. She would always meet his gaze, and sometimes he would nod at her, but so rarely that it broke her heart. His eyes were dark and they were still the silver pools that entranced her intensely, but something had happened. He was hiding something. Something that caused him to look away each time their gazes locked for more than a moment. Something that made his eyes seem darker and much more cloudy, with a mist that she could not penetrate through. And every time she tried, he turned away. And she could hear and feel her heart getting smashed into a thousand pieces. It was cruel. He was cruel. He would act nice to her, lead her to this library...then ignore her. As if.... As if nothing had ever happened. But maybe nothing did happen. Maybe that twinkle in his eyes every time he smiled at her was just her imagination. Maybe that moment, when their faces were so close and her nerves were screaming, her heart beating so loudly that it deafened everything else, was just.... It was nothing. It meant nothing. It wasn't a moment. They had never had a moment at all. She had just gotten carried away with her imagination. She rubbed her eyes, trying to focus but the small tears in her eyes were blurring every word.
She had told herself this. That he was just using her. That this, all of this, the ignoring and acting as if nothing had happened, was expected. He was Draco Malfoy. He had changed, she believed. Only he needed her to prove it. Once again, she was blind, blinded by his laughter and that honesty in his eyes when they were close, blinded by his smile that he had greeted her with those days before. She should've believed it. She had known.... But she didn't think it would happen. She just didn't want to believe it. Once again, she was alone. She thought she had had someone, but it was just a ghost. Fake. No one real. No one to hang on to, no one to lean on. She was all alone again. But this time, it hurt much more. The pain made her lungs heavy and feel so small that she couldn't get enough air in and out, her hands trembling, brittle and weak. She felt so dumb. So stupid.
She closed her book, slamming it shut, and wiping her eyes hurriedly. She didn't want to cry. Maybe she was weak, but she was not going to cry about it. The pain wasn't real. She wasn't crying about Draco Malfoy. No. It wasn't real. She hadn't lost anything, anything at all. She sighed, feeling hot air release from her lips, her skin burning from her tears and mouth feeling bittersweet and salty. She started breathing hard, to prevent herself from sobbing, and started thinking of how he had been before. His words still rang in her mind; "Mudblood." She shut her eyes, focusing, mentally telling herself that she knew this was going to happen. It wasn't something to cry over. To be angry about, yes, but not something to spill her tears for. He was Draco Malfoy. He was gone. Just forget it. Everything. Those past weeks, in here, forget all about it. It meant nothing.
Her breathing began to shallow in a while, trying to recollect herself as she stared at her sticky, wet hands. She tried to erase him from her mind, thinking about Harry, Ron and her studies. But she found that she could not breathe, and the tears started slipping out again.
She hadn't felt anything like this before.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Draco was lying down on his bed, his back flat against the silk sheets. His eyes were closed, the lights off and the darkness invading everywhere where the light could not even reach. But in his mind, something persisted and stood out from the darkness. It was something he had not erased since that day at the library, despite his efforts.
It was those same deep, brown eyes that had haunted him for so long that he felt empty without seeing them inside his mind. He felt something buckle down, as if chained, inside of him. His throat felt restricted, his mouth dry but at the same time sour and sweet. He swallowed hard, staring up at the bare ceiling.
He was avoiding her. He was almost sure that she knew that too. The reasons weren't clear to her, he knew, but it wasn't any clearer to him. He was avoiding her. He just was. He asked himself why, but something, reasons, rise and stack at an alarmingly fast rate, although it was if they were blurred and blotched. He could never understand what the reasons were. But he looked hard, he tried hard to try to read those feelings, but he never could.
It had been two weeks since he had seen her smile. It had been fourteen days since her smile had been directed towards him. It had been eight hundred forty hours since he had seen her eyes light up and sparkle. It had been too long, far too long since he had been near her. He almost felt cold, bitter and painfully numb. Her presence near him always brought warmth, a sort of warmth he could not feel from anything else, or get anywhere else. It was sacred, glowing, powerful, deep and intense. Nothing he had ever felt before. He couldn't get enough of it; it was addictive. It filled his soul, drop by drop, full to the lip. It was something he closed his eyes and tried to remember, to try to feel it spread through him again, but it wasn't something you could create, or imagine. It was something she held, something that only she could bring upon him. There was no substitute; there could never be. His skin felt cold, stinging from the chilly air, although the weather in his room had always been the same. He needed to feel that warmth again. Her warmth. He needed to fill his soul again with the brightness of her smiling brown eyes. He needed to go back. He needed to talk to her, to hear her voice again. In his ears, every night, her laugh and voice that was marred into his memory was getting fainter and soon grew into a small whisper. He needed to go to her.
He closed his eyes, his hands grasping handfuls of the smooth silk in his hands. He couldn't go back. What would he say? What could he say? Her brown eyes would look as sad as before; dark and dim. Void of happiness and the brightness that had once taken place. He felt his throat go dry as he tried to picture her in his mind. Her eyes.... Her face....
Betrayal was etched all over it. Betrayal, sadness and disappointment. Anger. But anger did not tower over the others. Anger was just in the background, holding them firmly together, making sure they stood upright. Her sad eyes broke his heart. He didn't know if he could handle her looking at him like that. He would feel weak, frozen, but the urge to wrap his arms around her and hold her tightly, so tightly as if he would never let go, would become so strong that he could not refuse it. He knew. He would tell her how he didn't mean to hurt her or ignore her, and how he wished he could tell her why but he himself didn't even know. He would apologize, just the feel of her in his arms enough to uplift his soul again. He would do anything. And it scared him. He had never felt this way before.
He saw her in class. He felt her eyes on him, and sometimes he could no longer hold his gaze down, and look up. Her eyes were sad, eager but hopeful; trying to search through him, ask why. But he would just turn away, as painful as it was.
He just didn't know what to do. He had never felt this. He had never felt as if he would do absolutely anything for a person. Never. And he was terrified. Terrified out of his wits. And that's when it hit him, like a crack of lightning whipping across the dark sky.
Draco suddenly opened his eyes.
That was why he was avoiding her. Because he was afraid. Because she was making him feel this way. Because he had never felt something as strong and intense as this before, and he just had no idea what to do about it. He didn't want to feel this way.... He didn't. Not for her.
But there was nothing he could do.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Hermione quieted down, tears on her sleeve and hands. She let out a long, ragged breath, as she reached for her book again and tried to continue reading. She wished that she would get lost in it enough to forget about him. And this place. Because thinking of this place immediately brought thoughts of him. And now, little by little, she felt bubbles of anger start to boil inside of her.
After a couple of minutes, Draco vanished from her mind. But the quietness seemed to amplify every single thing. She turned the page, sighing, grateful that she was finally so engrossed in the book. Somehow, she considered it to be her savior. Anything that distracted her from thinking of Draco was something to be considered highly.
Just then, Hermione's eyes stopped in the middle of the page, her gaze frozen. She heard whispers, and a cold breeze as if someone had opened a window. She felt a chill creep up her spine, as she looked up from her book. More whispers.
There was no one there.
She peered through the shelves, looked behind her. No one. Peeves couldn't possibly be in here; she was sure to check over her shoulder every time she made her way here. She tightened her grip on the book, as she nervously cast down her gaze and continued to read.
Just then, she heard it again. Whispers, the bitter breeze that passed through her skin. She dropped her book, fear spreading through her. The whispers continued, echoing and ringing through her mind. She got up from her seat, and walked over to the shelves.
"Hello?" she said aloud, her voice quiet but quivering from fear. "Is anyone there? Peeves, is that you?" No answer. The whispers continued. She felt goose bumps rise on her skin, a thin substance rising from her stomach to her throat. She swallowed hard, as she continued to walk around. She walked along the edge of the middle shelves, but no one was there. So she started walking around the circular room, her eyes sharp for anything peculiar. But suddenly, she realized that the whispers had gotten louder, the air colder and almost piercing through her. Fear stacked and mounded, but she did not turn to walk back to her seat.
As she walked, the whispers got stronger and louder, until it was if they were talking right into her ear. She could not figure out what the words were, for it was fast, and maybe even in a different language. Just then, she was suddenly aware that something seemed to be pushing her from behind, but as she looked back, there was nothing to be seen. She could not stop walking.
The whispers thundered in her ears, her mind almost numb from fear and the sudden loudness. Just then, she halted. She tried to keep walking, but her feet felt as if they were rooted to the ground. She could not move. The air felt icy, the whispers getting louder and louder, as realization dawned on her. She had stopped in front of the forbidden bookcase.
She tried to turn away, and start towards her seat, but something held her in place. Something strong, cold...and evil. But as that thought struck her, something began to fill her. As if a lullaby had started to flow through her mind, and everything seemed hazy. Her arms and legs felt light, her vision getting blurry in a dreamlike way. She hadn't realized she was reaching out to the bookcase.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Draco was walking down the corridor at a fast rate. His footsteps echoed off the walls, the shiny floor shining beneath the lit torches against the wall. He sped up into a jog towards the library.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Hermione grabbed an edge of the book, still in a trance. She pulled it out, until she held it in her hands, a silver serpent on the cover, as she traced it with her finger. It had deep red eyes that sparkled like rubies, a long body that wrapped the back and cover of the book. It was midnight black, and it was too heavy for a book that was just fairly thick. The whispers filled her, rushing inside her as if they were invading her soul. Her skin tingled and felt as if it had been stretched far too much that it stung wearing it. Her fingers and hands burned, and suddenly, the serpent seemed to come alive before her own eyes.
Its eyes sparkled evilly, its body slithering, its tongue flicking out and hissing. She ran her fingers on the dark cover of the book, entranced by the serpent and the melodic whispers in her head. She reached her hand over and slid her finger against the edge of the cover, then finally slipping it in and opening the book.
Hermione snapped out of her trance from the impact of the effect. Suddenly, the wind became harsh and felt as if it was ripping her skin off of her, roaring as if a hurricane had formed inside her ears. Her lungs were restricted, and she could not take a breath in. Her heart was beating faster and faster, harder and harder, pounding so rapidly that it was painful. She felt as if something was slicing through her, ripping through her memories and tearing her apart from inside out. In her mind, flashes and pictures flickered rapidly. She saw her mother's car, headlights bright in the dark night. It was freezing, and it was raining hard. She could feel the piercing cold, the icy rain pelt against her skin. She could see her mother, squinting through the heavy rain, her hands on the wheel. Just then, a car came, sliding and spinning from in front of her, and she felt everything inside her freeze into solid ice. She still felt the rain, tasted the rain. She saw the mess, heard the roaring crash, her mother's and the other car in ruins. She saw their bodies, and she felt her knees give way. She screamed, her mother's dead body, soaking wet and stuck inside the torn car. Her eyes were closed, red fluid seeping through her shirt...
Hermione could feel something fill her mouth. But it wasn't rain. She could no longer taste the rain. It was warm, and tasted of metal, corrosive and sweet.
It was blood.
And before she knew it, she was on the floor, the book still in her hands. Her world began to spin, the images, the sounds, the pictures, the pain, the tears, the rain, the blood.. It was mixing, and her heart felt as if it had been sliced and she was bleeding to death, from inside out. Something was dripping down inside of her. Something acidic and burning, something that made her feel weaker with each drop. Her ears ached as if they were going to explode, her skin wet and so painfully numb. Images flickered inside her mind again.
It was a woman. A woman fully clothed in black, her hair the blackest black she had ever seen. Just then, she was right in front of Hermione. She was holding out her hand, her hand was deathly white and slim. Her fingers were long, but there was a black snake slithering around her fingers, hissing. It looked just like the serpent on the book. Hermione was getting weaker and weaker every second, her skin feeling so tight that she felt like someone was clawing at her skin, scraping it off her bones and flesh, skinning her alive. Suddenly, she saw the woman's face. She staggered back, as the woman walked towards her. Dark blood was dripping from her mouth, her eyes completely white and blank. She was crying...
Tears of blood.
Hermione tried screaming, but she felt as if a pair of deathly cold hands were gripping her neck tightly, strangling her, her lungs threatening to explode from lack of air. The woman stopped, and suddenly her visions flashed again. What she saw made her fall to her knees, her heart stopping suddenly.
It was Draco. The woman was before him, her hands around his neck, strangling him. Hermione cried out, tears streaming down her cheeks. She tried to get to him, but she couldn't. The more she moved, the more he got further and further away. The woman's pale white hands were wrapped so tightly around his neck, she could hear him wheezing for breath, as he struggled for breath. His hands were trying to get her hands off, but she held on tighter and tighter, and soon his arm lay limp at his side. She needed to save him. But suddenly, the woman was no longer there. It flickered again, and she saw his body on the floor, his eyes shut and his face pale. She cried out loudly and hoarsely, as she rushed to him. She held him to her chest, crying and saying his name- his real name.
"Draco," she cried, her tears dripping on his pallid face, "Draco, wake up. Wake up, wake up." He lay motionless, and she cradled him, crying and sobbing uncontrollably. He was cold, as she touched his face. His arms were limp, no sign of life in his body.
"Wake up," she cried, holding him tightly. "Wake up, wake up. You can't leave me here. Wake up, please, Draco! Wake up! Wake up!" She started shouting, yelling, her heart breaking and her voice getting hoarse with each word. Her lungs ached, but she still cried out. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be dead.
Just then the woman appeared once again, her hand still held out. Hermione could still see her through her tears.
"What did you do?" Hermione yelled to the woman, still cradling Draco's head against her chest. "What did you do?" The woman didn't speak. She just held out her hand.
"Say something! Say something! What did you do to him? Why did you- " her yells and screams were muffled, and suddenly everything seemed to be spinning again. The winds came back, and she screamed as she felt something rip through her. She felt something soak through her shirt, but she still held on to Draco. The wind roared, and she held him tighter, her grip firm and hard. The icy wind pushed her, and it spun, circling her. The woman disappeared, and when she looked down at her hands, Draco was no longer there. She cried out, sobbing, as she also noticed blood soaking through the middle of her shirt. She felt the wind's speed get intense and more powerful, as she staggered up, swaggering on her weak knees. The wind bellowed loudly around her, as she felt so weak that she was almost going to give in and get swept into the current. The visions and images flashed rapidly, but brought an icy pain to her heart, as she clutched her chest, screaming; Draco laying on the ground, dead, the woman strangling him, her mother, dead and blood covering her from head to toe... She was being torn apart, getting ripped to shreds. She was caught in the storm. She fell to her knees once again, breathing hard and sobbing, trembling. Just then she heard a voice, and something held her by the shoulders tightly.
"Hermione!" he yelled, clutching her by the shoulders, fear rising up so rapidly in him. "Hermione! Can you hear me? What's happening? What's wrong?" Draco yelled. Hermione tried to push him away, recognizing his voice, but not knowing if it was truly him. Just then Draco noticed a book lay open on the floor. He felt something shatter in him, as he rushed to the book, on his knees. He grabbed the edge, and struggled to close it. It felt surprisingly heavy as he strained to shut it. He lifted it up, and pushed it down, closing the book.
Suddenly, Hermione felt it stop. The winds disappeared, the pain, the whispers, the numbing, icy musk on her skin. She fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Her skin burned, her mind spun and her ears were deaf. Her heart was beating so fiercely it was painful, as she struggled to breathe. Draco rushed over to her, his eyes filled with worry and concern. He swallowed hard, as if he felt his heart was hanging onto one single thread painfully.
"Hermione," he said, surprised at how casual his voice sounded saying her real name, something he had never done before. "Hermione?" Hermione didn't hear him, as she continued to cry, holding herself so tightly that her nails were digging into her flesh. He inched closer to her, and said her name again, but again she did not hear. Draco saw how violently her body was shaking, and how hard her nails were going into her skin. She was covered with sweat and tears, her skin so pallid that it seemed as if she was dead. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She struggled against him, sobbing, as he felt her tears on his skin. She tried to push him away, but he held her tightly, closing her eyes.
"Hermione, Hermione," he said to her, "you're safe, I'm here. It's only me. Stop struggling, you're safe now." Hermione's attempts to push him away weakened, as his embrace tightened. She cried onto his chest, not fully comprehending that it was him, that he was holding her, but she settled and relaxed. Draco held her closely to him, as close as he could bring her, her tears soaking through the front of his robes. Her sobs did not stop, but he was patient, and held her close until she quieted down.
His arms constricted around her, afraid of letting go. He knew she was hurt, and he was scared that he if let go of her, she would get hurt again. He had just seen her tortured before his own eyes. He swallowed hard, his throat dry and his heart beating hard against her own.
He closed his eyes tightly, attempting to hold her even closer and tighter, but he knew it was no longer possible. He was already holding her as close as he could, holding her as firmly as he could. Soon, he could only hear her whimpers, the wetness of his robes soaking through his shirt.
"Hermione," he whispered, "you're safe now. I'm here... I'm here."