Slow Dance on the Inside
(2/6)
x
I'll wait until you listen
I won't say a word
you're silent but strong
and you're noticing nothing again
x
And she can't help feeling the guilt like lead in the pit of her stomach when she comes home and his face lights up at the sight of her (because he doesn't know where she's been who she was with what she did). She forces a smile when she looks at him, hating herself for keeping such a dirty secret; hating herself for doing the one thing that would hurt him so deeply it would kill him inside..
(but she isn't willing to let it go because she needed to hold on to that piece of her heart to feel the way she did when she wrapped her legs around his waist)
He kisses her and inhales the scent of her hair; he holds her, content with just having his arms around her and being in her presence (because he really loves her). He tells her he loves her, and he tells her again why he married her (every time I look at you I remember why I made you my wife he says). He tells her that dinner is waiting and they eat in silence.
(she drinks glass after glass of wine until her cheeks are flushed trying to forget his face for just this moment)
"Hermione," he says softly, "I want to show you how much I love you."
So she lets him.
(she has to because she can't let him know that there is somewhere else she would rather be someone else she would rather be with because she loves needs him so much)
The bedroom is cool and his lips arm warm. Her arms twine around his neck and she closes her eyes, her mouth slightly open as he kisses her neck. The feel of his hands on her breasts, of his mouth around her nipple is electric.
(but all she sees is Harry HarryHarryHarry)
She can feel him press against her, eager to make love to his wife who he thinks spends too much time at work (but he doesn't know he doesn't know). She tries to remember where she is when he peels off her clothes, as they pile on the floor; tries to remember this is her husband (this is Ron) as her arousal grows and his fingers touch her in places that make her legs weak.
(yesohyesplease)
She tries so hard not to think of him (HarryHarryHarry) as her husband's body is over her, as she feels him everywhere touching, tasting, and kissing (Ron this is Ron but HarryHarryHarry). She opens her eyes, looks at his face (red hair not black Ron not Harry), but she can't look him in the eyes.
(she can't look because she can't stand the love she sees because she knows she doesn't love him the way she loves Harry always loved Harry)
She squeezes her eyes shut tightly (can't look), feeling him inside her, moving, and moving, and moving, feeling his breath against her cheek, against her ear, whispering.
"I love you," he pants, "I love you."
He means it and she knows it.
"I love you, too," she whispers.
She doesn't mean it and he doesn't know it.
And she pulls her nails down his back, arching beneath him because it feels good (so good but he's not Harry and it's not the same). He groans and she's filled with warmth, his warmth (not Harry's), and her eyes are still shut so tight.
(she can only see his face always him because there is only room in her head heart for one and it's him only him always only him)
He touches her softly, brushing her hair gently off of her forehead (Ron this is Ron). He kisses her forehead so softly (his lips don't feel like Harry's) and lays down beside her, holding her close. She wants to go but she can't, because she couldn't explain and she couldn't hurt him like that (only in secret because it wouldn't hurt if he didn't know).
And he loves her (he really loves her because it's her and he always has always will).
But she doesn't love him and he doesn't know.
(he'll never know because she can't break his heart only pretend this moment is perfect pretend she doesn't love Harry the way she never loved him because she just can't break his heart only her own)