Earth

Part 1

Hey jude, don't make it bad.
Take a sad song and make it better.
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.

Hey jude, don't be afraid.
You were made to go out and get her.
The minute you let her under your skin,
Then you begin to make it better.

And anytime you feel the pain, hey jude, refrain,
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders.
For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder.

Hey jude, don't let me down.
You have found her, now go and get her.
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.

So let it out and let it in, hey jude, begin,
You're waiting for someone to perform with.
And don't you know that it's just you, hey jude, you'll do,
The movement you need is on your shoulder

Lyrics from 'Hey Jude' by The Beatles

I sat there silently, my eyes trying to focus on the floor through tears being forced back.

I felt thoroughly worn out; reliving it was torture, remembering it was what came afterwards.

I felt wrung, like a sponge, like no one could ever force more emotion out of me, whether it was ambition, love or even anger.

But at the same time I felt as though a poison had been extracted from me. Something that had crept under my skin, untraceable and incurable was now gone. I shook as I lifted my head to stare at the bed opposite and then turned to look at Hermione.

She had listened so patiently for hours to me talking and reliving it made me realise how much she must be missing Ron right now.

I shifted next to her and put my arms, stiffly at first, around her neck and hugged her.

She froze for a second then returned my hug.

I knew I didn't care who it was I was confiding in, and I knew that feeling was mutual.

But I was the one who killed him...I killed him...I'm becoming my father...and I don't want to anymore...I've had enough.

I pulled away from her because I couldn't tell her what came next. In this story of my life what came next because why would she care that Cameron was dead when Ron was dead?

Why would she sympathise with me because my own father killed the only person I had ever truly loved?

Because I did the same thing, I killed those she loved.

She looked at me and I couldn't bear to look into a pair of brown eyes without thinking of Cameron.

I looked right into his eyes and instead of the usual steely grey; I saw them soften as they had when he had first mentioned Cameron. I was finding it so hard to believe he was a normal human being with feelings. Sympathy welled inside me until I realised that six years of his abuse still made me hate him, abhor his very existence.

He killed Ron, he killed my parents, and I want to hurt him, right now, when he's so vulnerable.

I lashed out with my hand and caught him off guard. His head smacked into the wall and I had felt his nose crack under the force of my blow. I might not be strong but anger gave me a new sense of power, one that flowed mentally from within, exerting itself in physical strength.

He looked right back and me, eyes still holding back suppressed tears; then to my surprise stood up, walked away, and sat on the bed.

I was thoroughly confused, why was Draco Malfoy not retaliating to me of all people?

"I have no excuse for what I did", he said quietly, "but I have reasons".

"Oh yes"? I said angrily standing up and walked over to him, "what reasons? Don't tell me, your Daddy forced you into it? You did it against your will? I don't believe that for one second you fucking scumbag"! I lashed out again but his time he caught my arm in mid air and held it away from his face. It wasn't forceful; it was like he really wanted to explain to me what was going on in that head of his.

"I was evil Hermione, it was all I ever wanted to be. Look at the simple rules of socialisation, what else could I want? But love changed that Hermione, and that's something I don't even need to explain to you. You know. I know you loved Ron, and right now, after spilling my guts about this for the first time I can honestly, truthfully say this; that I'm sorry, for everything I've ever done to you. You're the only one who's listened to me, and even though I forced you here, you listened to me optionally. And for that you have no idea how grateful I am. Thank you Hermione.

He leant towards my face and placed a brief, feather light kiss on my cheek.

I shrank back when he pulled away, but found that I was finding comfort in his personality, his mutual feelings, his life experiences.

I stared into the soft greyness of his eyes and kissed his lips.

I was falling and rising at the same, betrayal and loyalty tore at my body, love and hate purged my soul as I pulled him closer, my kisses becoming deeper. I was empty, I needed comfort, I wasn't falling in love, I loved Ron...I unbuttoned his shirt and caressed his back; he kissed my neck and my face, treachery burning with every passionate movement of his lips...didn't I love Ron anymore? Had I forgotten him so easily? But he was gone...he's gone...I can't bring him back. Why was I remembering him now? Why now? Be cause I remember his kisses and the way he held me, because he was the first person I was with, all romantic memories conjoin at moments of passion.

I felt him remove my shirt and my trousers as I did the same to him; his hands caressed my skin with delirious fervour and I kissed his skin all over, my warm mouth meeting cold flesh, so icy cold.

It was strange, unreal, surreal.

No sooner had we been deemed enemies, we were here, together.

She lay back and pulled me towards her. I put my hands on the sides of the pillow and kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips, her neck...I moved even closer, right on top of her and wrapping her arms around my neck she let me enter her.

Memories of Cameron flooded to my mind, because maybe, I don't know why, all moments of infatuation actually become one. I don't love Hermione, I don't even know why she is letting me do this; I feel her pain, although I was the one caused it, the feelings are mutual.

Maybe she has Stockholm Syndrome. I don't know. All I know now, all I'm sure of at this moment is the way her hands are soothing me, how her body moves in rhythm with my own, how much comfort I'm finding buried in her sympathy, in her body, in her soul...