Different Paths
By Cedar1
A/N not updated this in ages. First off thanx to those who reviewed last time me19 and Adri, they really made my day.
This story has got slightly more adult content so am bumping the rating from PG-13 to R, hope this is alrite?
Disclaimer: U know the drill. Rowling for Characters and Evanescence for lyrics and inspiration.
Beta who is a star Jewel!
Bring me to Life
I find myself staring at the black lines that are tattooed into the flesh of his forearm. The poisonous ink curves into the intricate design of the Dark Mark. It is amazing how something so small, so painfully delicate, could dictate so many people's lives and at the same time ruin so many.
It's hard to explain why I'm here, lying in a Death Eater's bed, my body still recovering from the waves of pure ecstasy that he had subjected to it only hours ago and my heart still racing in my chest. It's especially hard when you know it was because of his kind that I've lost two of the most important people in my life.
My fingers begin to trace the mark, following the loops and the twists that form the snake and skull. How do you have so much power?
His eyes suddenly flick open, staring straight into mine. He knows what I am thinking, what I need.
How can you see into my eyes like open doors
Leading you down into my core
Maybe I'm lying here in this bed because he's the only one who can make me feel.
00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000Start Flash back
I smiled back, completing the polite gesture with a nod of thanks in their direction. I was so used to it now that their pitying comments about my situation were just background noise to the routine that was my life. A year had passed since the end of the war. Three hundred and fifty-six days had been and gone since their deaths. It had been the anniversary today. I had gone on earlier, before the official ceremony began, prior to the arrival of the remaining Weasleys and our friends from Hogwarts. I had placed the models of quidditch players weaved from elderwood onto their graves amongst the lilies and orchids that were continually being replenished by those paying their respects. Holding my skirt behind me, I sat down on the grassy bank, my legs folding into a cross legged position. This was the only way we could all be together now, like old times, apart from the fact that I was the only one alive...
Well, living.
Alive meant something completely different.
It was something I no longer was.
Two hours passed with me like that. The grass was starting to bring a reddening rash onto my bare legs and I could feel the wetness of the ground beneath seeping through the thin black material of my skirt. I had thought that today of all days that I would cry. That those tears of painful grief would roll down my face and onto the graves of my friends. Yet nothing came, despite the fact that I had been staring at the intricate lettering spelling out 'Harry Potter' and 'Ronald Weasley' engraved onto the stone slabs until my eyes stung. I got up, defeated.
Two hours, and I hadn't shed a single tear. They reasoned that shock was the explanation for my dry face when I had seen their bodies, stiff and cold, on the dusty earth of the battlefield. Then it was 'an inner turmoil so great that tears could not even fight their way to the surface' at their funeral. Now I just rationalised that it was because I too had died when they had. That my soul had slipped from my body together with my friends that day. That all I was now was an empty, cold shell.
Where I've become so numb without a soul
Emotions describe words I can't seem to express anymore. All those traits that I had become so known for: stubbornness, a quick temper, compassion, generosity, warmth – hidden away somewhere, lying dormant, unused, cold.
My spirit sleeping somewhere cold
I had somehow wandered down Diagon Alley, my legs just seeming to walk on their own accord, taking me past happily families, loved-up couples and groups of friends laughing raucously. A twinge of jealously sparked in my mind, before dying the next minute. My mind in a haze I hadn't been looking where I had been going, and I whacked into something hard and unfortunately human. I apologized without looking up and was all for just leaving it at that but the person wouldn't move out of my way.
I just wanted to be alone. It was then that I heard it, his voice, taunting, drawling.
"Haven't seen you for a long time, Granger."
What could have been a polite question sounded anything but coming from his mouth.
"Been mourning the loss of your boyfriends?"
So childish and at the same time so untrue because didn't mourning mean crying.
"Does it hurt? Do you cry yourself to sleep at night?"
His words weren't having the affect that he had hoped, and I could hear the displeasure in his voice. He wanted anger, but all I felt was guilt, cold guilt.
"Can't you hear what I'm saying? What the fuck is wrong with you? Well, you know what they deserved it, and if I had my way you would be with them too."
I don't know what happened then or why it was that particular comment that did it. But something lit within me.
Until you find it there and lead it back home
I grabbed him. My hands slammed onto his face with a deciding smack and I pulled him towards me, my anger fuelling the surge of strength I didn't think I had within me. I caught the widening of his grey eyes and inwardly delighted in the state of shock that I had provoked. Well, fuck him. I'll show him. I'll show him I don't need Harry or Ron. I'm strong enough to survive on my own. That there is something left in me. I planted my mouth firmly on his, furiously sucking and biting his lips. At first he did nothing. His arms were limp by his side and his lips remained motionless against my assault. But then suddenly, as if something had clicked in that pretty little head of his, he started kissing back. Tasting the cheap lip-gloss I had haphazardly put on this morning with the tip of his tongue. Hands blessed with long, elegant fingers had some how slipped under my skirt and began playing with the skin of my thighs. Rough fingertips caressing in wonderful circular motions. I moaned despite knowing that this was wrong, that my little plan had escalated into something that was spinning out of my control. I could feel my common sense slipping out of me as his lips had descended onto my neck, teasing the sensitive skin that lay below my jaw. I could see myself running after something in my mind. A length of pure silk flying right in front me, my soul. Each time a breeze took it that little bit further away but some how I managed to grasp it at the corners, holding it tightly between my fingertips. But then when he lifted my legs off the floor and positioned them so they were wrapped round his waist that bit of silk was now entwined fully round my fingers.
Wake me up inside
Wake me up inside
The bricks of the wall that he was forcefully pushing me against dug through my linen shirt and punctured the skin of back. I hissed in an addictive mixture of pain and pleasure for it was at that moment that his fingers were skimming along the edge of my overly sensible knickers, grazing almost lazily from the white cotton to my burning flesh.
The sound of popping buttons vibrated in my head as the crisp air hit the skin of my now exposed stomach. Tender touches to my abdomen, to my breasts, began making my head spin, my body feel light in his arms. It had been so long since I had felt anything like this, been so long since I had felt anything at all. It was this need that drove my fingers to make their hesitant path to the zip of trousers. They were trembling against the material of his pants, and it was then that I realised I couldn't do this. That this was wrong. All wrong. What would they say? What would Harry and Ron say if they saw me with my mourning clothes crumpled and hitched up my thighs while the man we hated was devouring the skin of my neck? I could imagine them staring at me. Disapproval shining through their eyes. Their dead eyes. They were dead. They were dead, and I hadn't even been able to shed a tear. Instead, I was about to fuck Malfoy. I could feel myself retreating back to place I came from. That dark, cold place.
Malfoy must have realised that he was losing me. My fingers had stopped moving and my body felt heavy and limp.
"Hermione."
He had never spoken my Christian name, and my eyes flickered to his face in surprise. I was even more shocked to see the concerned expression on his beautiful face, his brow furrowed and his lips tilted downwards.
"Hermione."
This time my name was accompanied with a gentle stroke of my cheek. His fingers sliding to my lips. The simple action was enough to start ripples of pleasure from the position of his fingertips.
"Say it again," I urged.
"Hermione. Hermione. Hermione."
Each time my name was punctuated with kiss, whether it was to my neck, to my collarbone, to my left breast. I could feel myself being pulled away from the dark.
Call my name and save me from the dark
In return, I encouraged him more and more, even daring to call him 'Draco'. For I wanted him to do this before I had time to think about it, before I could scream out 'No' as logic and reason invaded my mind.
Bid my blood to run before I come undone
As he entered me. Thrusting into me. Filling me something that I had gone so long without.
Save me from the nothing I've become
Feelings.
Feelings of warmth, heat, not cold, not guilt.
I felt happy.
So happy that I was moaning his name again and again.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000End Flash back
As I had walked away from that encounter my legs shaking, his taste still coating my lips I had vowed that I would never do that again. That he had been a one off. But I was weak. I was addicted to the emotions that erupted inside me when I was with him, and I found myself searching him out. I scoured the streets that I knew he tread, looking for the strands of blonde hair whipping through the wind. Waiting for him outside his office, even when the rain had soaked my clothes and froze my skin. In return to my dedication, he never said no. He would always find somewhere where we could go and relinquish ourselves to each other.
Perhaps if I hadn't had kissed him that first day I wouldn't be lying in his bed right now. I wouldn't have remembered what it was like to feel pleasure, to feel the tingles down my spine, to feel the burning anticipation of being the object of someone else's lust, and it wouldn't have mattered. I would have gone on with my life the same way I had done over the past year.
But I can't now.
Now that I know what I'm without
Staring into his slate eyes I can see what he's going to say. I never used to. In the past they were merely slabs of stone or maybe I was never really that interested to see what was beyond his exterior. Yet now I can see the slithers of emotions that slide between the cracks, the thoughts that filter through to the surface of grey pools.
He's going to say he has to go. That today would have to be the last time. That she would be dressed and waiting for him in expensive white silk, a bouquet of freshly cut flowers already prepared resting on her side table.
He hadn't lied to me, hadn't kept silent about his marriage. I thought I would be able to deal with it when the time came, and that I would no longer need him.
I was lying to myself.
He begins to rise, the sheets sliding off the smooth marble that was his body. I find my eyes closing as I hear a thump – his feet landing on the plush carpet.
I can't stop my hand flying through the air and then landing on his shoulder. He tenses up. I can feel the muscles bunching under my fingertips. Tears begin leaking from my eyes as I realise he isn't going to turn around, instead he starts to lift himself off the bed, taking my arm with him. Then it happened again. Strength exploded within me and I found the power to push him back down.
You can't just leave me
He finally looks round. His mouth is tilted in a frown and his eyes glimmer with threads of anger. He likes being in control, except for that first time, he's always been the dominant one. Well not today. It's his fault I crave him in the first place I reasoned, so he'd have to suffer the consequences of my behaviour.
In truth I just want one more kiss.
One simple kiss.
One last chance to feel alive.
Breathe into me and make me real
I lean towards him, while he remains motionless. It makes me think he won't do it. Centimetres turn into millimetres and still he has yet to move a single muscle. The sparks of life that he had generated within me were being reduced to wisps of smoke as each second passed.
Then he crashed his lips upon mine while his hands aggressively pulled on the straps of my nightgown. And those sparks that had died moments ago burst into life.
Bring me to life
We fall back onto the bed, hands eagerly reaching out for each other. Touching. Exploring. His lips are on my skin, trailing over each and every cell of my body. I can feel a storm of pleasure stirring within me and as he covers my mouth with his it whips my thoughts into jumbled whirlwind. I can't think, I can only respond.
Wake me up inside
Wake me up inside
I arch into the kiss, deepening it. My hands are planted on the back of his head, fingers wrapped round silken strands, pushing him further into me. Dark spots are appearing in the back of my head as the oxygen within my lungs starts to run out. The thought then hits me, hard and unwanted. This will be the last time. The last time I'll experience emotions so strong that breathing no longer matters to me. I immediately release him from my hold, our lips part with a resounding smack. The darkness that had been a part of me for so long in the past starts to creep upon me once more. I was to return to being an empty shell again.
"Hermione."
He's calling me.
"Hermione."
A low voice pulling me away from my inner grief.
Call my name and save me from the dark
The way his tongue curls round my name, and the gentle touch of his lips on my cheeks are enough to bring me back, and I start kissing him in return. But the kisses are not enough to stop the tears that are sliding from my eyes. It's funny I can't cry for Harry and Ron, but I can for Draco. The thought makes me cry more, and I force my body over him, so he is now the one under me. He doesn't like it; his hands have stopped travelling along me. I kiss him harshly before he can't verbally object, pushing my tongue into his mouth. At the same time I grab his motionless hands and start to move them for him. He likes this even less. I know because his lips become slack and unresponsive. Tears are coming down faster and faster now, and I can only manage to chock a mumbled "Please" in his direction.
Bid my blood to run before I come undone
There's a moment of silence, his face a picture of contemplation, before he reaches out for me.
I know I'm bad. I know I'm a disgrace. Crying for a Death Eater and not my best friends. I know this makes me a 'nothing,' an insignificant piece of shit. But when he pulls me on top of him I temporarily forget that.
Save me from the nothing I've become
He's getting ready now; washing his face, passing his fingers through his hair, tying the robe at the waist. I watch him move around the room, his steps pounding in my head. One last check in the mirror. I catch his eye in the reflective glass. My eyes plead with him to stay. He looks away. I bend my head in shame.
Why am I like this?
I know. I know it's those feelings he makes me feel that I yearn. So what's to say I can't get them from somewhere else? Some other warm body.
Who am I kidding?
The things I feel are only because they're coming from him. It's his touch. His kisses. I'm cold without them.
Frozen inside without your touch without your love
It's because I love him. The thought comes into my head sharp and clear.
I love him.
He's the only one still alive that I love so dearly, so painfully.
Darling only you are the life among the dead
But it's all too late. He's out of the door, out of my life.
00000000000000000000000
He closed the door behind him. Shutting her out of his life, and yet he had still not moved away from the room. His feet were cemented onto the floor, stuck down by a moment of sudden realisation.
It had been months since this had all started but he had been blind to the reasons behind it, until now.
All this time I couldn't see
He had always thought he had been doing this to get his own twisted kicks. Fucking the mudblood. He had known that she had changed – walking around like a living corpse, and in his sick mind he thought that made it even more fun. Playing with her when she was at her most fragile, a perfect revenge for all the snide comments and painful hexes that had been directed at him during his school days. He had wanted to make her fall in love with him, so that when he finally left her – which he would – he would cause the greatest pain.
He thought that in the end he would be marrying the person he loved, Blaise, but he wasn't. The woman he loved was the woman next to him only a few hours ago. The person that had taken up most of his time in the past few months.
His head had been so clouded with plans that it had obscured and shadowed the most obvious thing.
Kept in the dark but you were there in front of me
Draco shook his head in self- belief. When had he become so unobservant? He had always thought he could read anyone but now it seemed he could not even read himself.
I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems
Got to open my eyes to everything
It would be hard. He would have to inform everyone that the wedding was off. Blaise would no doubt attempt to throw something in his direction, maybe not the ring, it was too expensive and she loved the enormous diamond too much to consider returning it to him. Though that would not be the hardest thing. It would be the fact that he would have to explain why he was doing what he was. The gasps of horror and looks of disgust on his peers that would surely appear when he did so was enough for Draco to rethink he decision.
He would eventually forget about her.
He could marry Blaise; make his mother happy and perhaps his dead father too.
Live a life with a woman he did not love.
Raise children he probably would never fully care for.
Lead an empty life.
Without a thought without a voice without a soul
Draco shook he head once more, at the same time scolding himself for his cowardice. He looked down the hallway, an elderly house elf was starting to make his way up to him, in his arms rested an immaculate black robe, perfect for any groom. Draco only had to take a few steps and his path would be chosen. He left foot was rising off the ground when a voice suddenly screamed in his head, don't be such a pathetic weakling. Don't kill us just because you're so weak. You know you don't have to do it. You know you can do something else.
Don't let me die here there must be something more
For once Draco listened to his heart instead of his head and turned round to open his bedroom door. She was curled up on his bed. Her head resting on her bare legs, which in turn were wrapped within her arms. She lifted her head. She smiled at him, a toothy grin and he smiled back.
Within two strides she was in his arms and he was kissing her, relishing the feelings she unleashed within him.
Bring me to life
He loved her. He had always loved her. What he had thought was an act of vengeance was simply a veil hiding his true feelings. He had pitied her at first. Her vacant expression. Her dead eyes. Kissing her had been the only way to bring back the girl he used to remember, a girl full of life. But along the way, he had been sucked into the feelings she generated within him.
She needed him in the same way he needed her. Without each other they were nothing. Together they were alive.
A/N Review Please! It happens all a bit too quickly in the end doesn't it?
Cheers
Luv Cedar1