AN: This is a small piece I wrote late one night – an inspiration fic, if you will. The people who have read it so far have liked it quite a bit; I hope you will too… Please, read and review…
Can you hear me ?
Wanderer
She wandered through the dark, deserted corridors on a regular basis. Gliding soundlessly, eerily, mistaken at first for a wraith.
He had noticed her secret months ago when he had been on a similar journey. So, it came as no surprise that he understood all too well what she did walking the endless hallways. The dead of night was for the both of them a time of sacred thought, a moment – if you will – when neither had to think of schoolwork or be pestered by friends. A likely reprieve from an otherwise scorching nightmare.
Revelling in the dark glory of her pain, he found it hard to hate her now. She was no longer his superior, which made his heart soar. Second-besting him now was nigh unfeasible, especially with his years of knowledge. He'd mastered the art of self-marring ages ago. Nevertheless, her newly acquired craving for death was not lost on his amicable perception of her. He knew, after all, what she went through having submitted to it countless times.
Normally shadowing her, expertly covering his presence he would follow her until she went into a classroom or bathroom. Tonight, however, something occurred that made him stop, hidden in the shadows as she stood in the deserted astronomy tower. The moon cast slivers of dancing light upon her skin and hair. He waited patiently and watched as she severed tender skin.
Minutes passed…
"I know you're there, Draco." A soft whisper resounded all through air. "No sense in hiding any longer."
Unpleasantly astounded he strutted forward, keeping the same impassive, conceited manner everyone associated with Draco Malfoy. He was slipping, she'd noticed him. "What are you doing, Granger?" he asked brutally.
Hermione turned to him, a serene smile playing across her lips, a hollowed look in her unfathomable eyes. "You know very well what I'm doing. Therefore a see no point in clarifying my actions. The question, though, that you should have asked me would most likely be: how long have I known?"
Draco's eyes widened. The way she'd uttered the query, her silent approach, the smile turned smirk, each cockier then the last and dead on indicators that she'd been aware of his company since day one. His resolve melted and Draco Malfoy became the injured young man he truly was. "Since the beginning?"
"Yes, since the beginning. Care to join?"
He needn't a second invitation as he took the knife and wounded skilfully. Strangely they entwined their hands, mixing their torrential streams and drenching their robes.
She stared at him haloed by the starry lustre of the sky. He resembled winter in many ways. Pale like snow covered grounds. An ever cold demeanour that worsened as time went on. Lonely like a solitary winter night. What most resembled the ephemeral season; however, were his eyes: cold and steely as she pressed her lips to his in a surprising kiss. Hermione Granger had waited too long for such a moment.
Recovering from the so called bombshell didn't take an eternity. In fact, it didn't happen at all – he'd anticipated the embrace somehow. His joy was short lived, though. He knew what was to come and that he had no say in her impending faith.
"Thank you," she breathed, "for delivering me." And the knife plunged forth, ripping through her heart and spilling crimson rivers of hope. Ultimately, he knew, she has once again bested him.
The End