Hating You Or Me?
"Go to hell you pompous bastard!" She shrieked attempting to slam the door in his face. He stood firm, watching her with his reserved calm, through silver eyes. She was trembling in fury, her breathing rapid. "Get the hell out of my home and my life!!" She continued trembling as she fought to hold back her tears.
Only he could hurt her.
Only he could cut deep enough to leave a scar.
And he had.
He'd left her with dozens of scars. With reasons to cry in the dark of the night, where no one could hear her. Where no one could see that she was broken with him and without.
It was torture.
But there was only so much she could take. Only so much... pain, and anger and fear and wondering. Wondering how he really saw her- was she just some prize? Was she the prize that proved he had finally bested The Boy Who Lived? Or did he love her?
She sunk to the floor, hating her show of weakness. Hating him for doing it to her, but mostly hating herself for allowing him to. People only hurt you if you let them. And she had let him. She'd allowed him too close against her better judgment, against everything she had ever believed.
The bastard knew it too.
Once the first tear fell she couldn't hold back the others. The dam she had been building, her determination to not cry in front of him, crumbled allowing them to escape, to be seen.
They lied. Love hurt. It hurt so much that sometimes she wondered if it was worth it but then he'd smile at her, or she'd catch him dozing and all her disquiet would dissolve into nothingness.
How she loved and despised him. This cool, aloof man who had claimed not just her heart but her soul. Who told her one minute that he loved her and the next pushed her away like she was vermin. Who could be warm and loving one minute and the next as cold and deadly as an ice storm or a snake.
"Please.." She begged. "Please, just go. Leave me." She looked up at him through her hair. His face was unreadable, but were his lips twisted just a little too much? Was he worried? Scared perhaps, but unwilling to show it? The she caught his eyes and she knew. She knew it was just an illusion that she herself had created.
She sobbed.
It couldn't be helped. Unlike him she couldn't just shut off her emotions and shove them into a corner for a more convenient time. She couldn't pretend that they didn't exist... at least not with him. Harry and Ron were complaining that she was suddenly too distant. That they didn't know her anymore. That she was like an ice princess- cool and beautiful but untouchable, unable to feel pain or happiness. It had made her cry because it had made her realize that someone still loved her. But they didn't know about him and once they did they'd be gone.
Did it matter anymore?
Did anything matter anymore?
Warm arms surrounded her and she felt herself being picked up like she was a child. Instinctively she lent towards the warmth and with silent sobs cried. "Shh!" He whispered holding her tighter, possessively, protectively against himself. "It'll be okay. I promise." She sniffed, fighting to gain control of herself.
She pulled back slightly and looked at him in the eyes and gasped. The emotions... The emotions flickering across their stormy depths both warmed and terrified her. "Draco..." She breathed.
"Shh, my love." He responded placing her on her bed and stroking her hair. Watching her with a half smile, his usual smirk gone as if it had never been. She smiled at him, looking for all the world like a lost child. He drew his wand and pointed it at her.
She looked at him uncertainly. "D-Draco?" She began.
"I'm sorry." He murmured startling her. "I'm sorry for hurting you, for crushing your wings, for not letting you fly free. You should be free. I shouldn't have tried to tame you. It only tore us apart, my love." Her eyes widened.
"D-Draco? What?"
"I'm letting you go. Fly free my love."
"But I don't want to." She replied her eyes troubled. "I want to stay with you. I love you." She insisted moving towards him. His eyes darkened to the grey of storm clouds just before it rained.
"I love you too." He responded. "That's why I'm letting you go."
"Letting me go?" She echoed.
"Goodbye Hermionie."
"No!" She yelled, but alas she was too late.
"OBLITERATE!" He said softly, a lone tear falling down his cheek. She slumped on the bed, out cold. He lent down and kissed her goodbye, absently moving her hair from her face. Then he walked out of the room without looking back.
When she awoke hours later it was dark and she couldn't remember anything. All she felt was a deep, terrible loss. With a sigh she stood up and started getting ready for bed wondering what she had dreamed to make herself feel like that.
Disclaimer: I don't own HP that belongs to the wonderful JKR.
AN/ Thank you for reading this so far. Please review- any comments will be loved. This is just a one shot that I wrote in an hour because inspiration struck. It's basically playing on the idea of if you love someone do you love them enough to let them go because if you can't you don't love them at all. But what do you think?