Author: Masqued.
Title: Sincere Fatalities
Rating: T.
Summary: Upon the brink of a war and the death of a loved one, Hermione's thoughts linger on heated nights that should have remained 'Just Nothing' emotionally. –HGDM-
Disclaimer: I do not, in anyway shape or form, own Harry Potter. I do though own this plot, so if I found that there is thievery afoot, I will know of it, and I will lash the inside of your eye with a wet noodle fifty times.
Warning: This includes spoilers of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and I will not tolerate people screaming at me for spoiling the book for them because they were careless and chose not to read my warning. So, be warned.
Sincere Fatalities
Chapter One: Just Nothing
--
"A man can be happy with any woman as long as he does not love her."
-Oscar Wilde-
(1854-1900)
--
'Just nothing.' Hermione's thoughts prodded her persistently, being acerbic, cynical, and very distracting. 'It was just nothing.' And had been 'just nothing' for the past three years, as Hermione Granger was determined to make herself aware of. Dreary, circling thoughts of something that was claimed nothing captured her every thought as she stole away to one of the dark, secluded towers of Hogwarts castle.
Forcing her thoughts to a different matter at hand, Hermione's tired eyes drifted slowly to the sky, her eyes scanning the vibrant moon, stars, and violet blanket. Tracing the glimmering blocks of moon dust that was clapped together constructing beautiful stars with her finger, she found herself making the design of the face of the perpetrator of her thoughts.
'Just. Nothing.' She bit her tongue as she shook her finger away from tracing and shoved it angrily into the pocket of her robe.
"Damn it, Hermione, get this bastard out of your head." Her voice was cynical, dictating, and demanding. The expression 'Suck it up' seemed to fit her predicament, as she was over-thinking and dwelling far too much for her health. The deep, disturbing, persistent thoughts plagued her to the point that she found herself crying.
'Just nothing, Hermione, it was just nothing.' Hermione's mind hissed reminders of how many other people he'd sling his arms around in public; of how many girls he'd wooed into dating him just so he could drop them; of how many girls he'd stolen the hearts of and tossed out of the way just for the next. Hermione had been secure enough at the time to not let herself be another one of those girls – and instead, be the one thing that was hidden and consistent. Consistent, nearly every night consistent, pending on the matter of the night and the day. Always, there was no changing and no deliberation that formed the two to grow emotionally attached.
Because it was just nothing.
Hermione's memories flickered to days when he would walk into the Great Hall, arms hugging another girl's waist as she straddled along in front of him to their table, his lips seeking the flesh on her neck. The girl would almost always be giddy with laughter, just like all of the bimbo's he found himself dating, and would rest herself flirtatiously at his side, hands moving through his silky, straight hair. But never did he meet her eyes. He would simply stare at his food, or his friends, or the bimbo in his arm, avoiding all physical eye contact that could possibly be blown in her direction. Her steady gaze would either rest on him, or on the matters at hand, which usually involved the defeat of Lord Voldemort, or some mischievous plan that had been broiled and cooked within either Harry or Ron's heads; that's where all of their hideous and ridiculous stories would be found.
A smirk flittered over Hermione's lips. Yes, Harry and Ron, no matter what the circumstance, no matter how grave the situation, could brighten her mood. They were, indeed, her best friends through and through, and often determined the swings of her moods. Such as her fights with either of them would allow her grades to slip casually until it was resolved. While he… he simply made her mind slip. Completely and totally.
'Stop it! Stop it now. It was just nothing.' Her inner voice snapped angrily at the persistence of Hermione's thoughts. Clinging to what was inevitable and impossible, Hermione shrank against the cold wall of the tower, resting her head against an elevation before shutting her eyes and letting out a regretful sigh, recalling a rather irritating memory.
--
"And where do you think you're off to, Granger?" Draco Malfoy's sneering, jesting speech slid into Hermione's ear as the blond gripped her by the waist and pushed her against a nearby wall.
"I was off to my room, Malfoy." She bit before angrily grabbing the back of his head and slamming her mouth to his. Cold hands snaked up her legs and to her waist again, hugging her thin frame to Draco's body. The tall, lean body pushed harder against Hermione's, causing their heated passion to increase with the battling of their tongues. As if to spite themselves, the two Prefects would attack each other continually at night, without the watching eyes of the others in the school.
Once they would finish a heated snogging session, Draco would let out one final moan.
"Just nothing, right Granger?" He'd mutter huskily before planting another harsh kiss on her bruised lips.
"Just – nothing," she'd agree between heavy kisses that melted and molded to soft pecks and unspoken goodbyes as the two separated and walked into different directions.
--
'Just nothing.' Hermione's eyes filled up with tears that she wiped away furiously. Crying, desperation, needing, wanting… these were things she was not allowed to experience – especially if the main reason for them was one Draco Malfoy.
"Dumbledore's gone. Draco's gone. Harry's leaving." Hermione's bitter voice coursed through her own mind as a stone-cold expression molded over her features. "What else is there?" She asked herself. The wind didn't even allow a whispered reply as she turned her attention to the late night sky, expecting anything to interrupt her disturbing thoughts.
Nothing. Just like her and Draco.
Just nothing.
Fighting her hopes and dreams and aspirations of one day, somehow, something evolving between herself and Draco, Hermione rolled up her sleeves and trotted down the stairs. She needed to help comfort the younger, scared students that were wandering the school. Hiking up her robes to make room for her feet, the sixth year Prefect ambled down the stairs and hopefully away from her thoughts.
Though her presence was gone, Hermione's thoughts lingered.
"Just nothing…" Draco Malfoy slammed his head against the tower's cobblestone bricks before soaring through the sky on his broom, determination floating over his features.
"Just nothing." Unison on the matter was the resolve in both Hermione and Draco's voices as they molded themselves to everyone else's needs in the time of need and repair. For war was officially on them, and everything was going to need to stay 'just nothing.'
Draco growled angrily, deep in his thoughts, recalling a more recent memory.
--
After a long snogging session, Hermione rested her head against the wall.
"Malfoy, what does this entire ordeal mean?" She questioned, eyes traveling to Draco's.
"Nothing. Just nothing." His harsh, quick reply caused a pang to sting at his side. Was it just nothing? Was that why he hid her, in the deep, empty halls of Hogwarts? Is that why, despite his desperate and constantly changing relationship status in public, every night he somehow found himself meeting lips with Hermione Granger, one of his original enemies?
"Good," though her words betrayed no emotion, her roaming eyes told a different tale. Sadly, Draco knew the same tale.
"Yes. Good."
Good be the tale of love, bad be its outcome.
--
Fin
--
--
"A man can be happy with any woman as long as he does not love her."
-Oscar Wilde-
(1854-1900)
--
Mild Author's Note: To continue or not to continue. This all depends on reviews. And persuasion, which comes in the form of reviews, e-mails, and even fic requests, which I've gotten myself becoming addicted to. So, do request, e-mail, and review. Or else this ends here.
Ta 3's.
Masqued.