By Dawn
Just A Penniless Writer
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and elements from the Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Plea: One-shot. Very short. Dry run in desperate need of an edit or two. My first pathetic attempt at something a bit more graphic. Can you tell I'm vehemently against R/Hr? Regardless, I will laugh and laugh hard if you fault me for writing a R/Hr break-up fic. Because of the nature of ficlet, I'm rating it M for sure, but it is not explicit. Don't expect explicit material or anything beyond 'R-ish' level from me, ever. This is probably the raciest thing I'll ever write. Which is damn sad. A slightly, very slightly more explicit version is available at my LJ. But not by much. I'm just being really careful because I've seen fics pulled for less.
Enjoy if you can.
The sounds were not familiar. The times before had never been like this. None of the frustration, none of the deliverance, none of the desperation. They fucked, truly fucked, for the first time.
Fucked because it couldn't be called making love when they'd already admitted any love they'd felt for each other had diminished into this painful fatigue. Fucked because there would be no fumbling words of enchantment or devotion when they finished, only moments that would be awkward if they weren't so damn sad. Fucked because it would all be over by dawn.
No, as he increased his pace to beat the dying night, he thought not of softness, but of possibility beyond this clustered room full of proof of their folly. A life built on supposition, on rumor, on the steady insistence of friends -- gone by the time the sun greeted the horizon. A life they'd spent years convincing themselves was perfect dissolved into the lethargy it truly was.
I'm tired, she'd said, and he'd agreed with her.
I'll never be the woman you want me to be, she'd whispered, and he had not denied it.
And I'll never make you the man I want you to be, she'd admitted, and he thought that fact had been established a rather long time ago.
Of course, he told her none of this, preferring to request a last night before they ended the years they had strung together from a foundation of childish bickering and great tragedy.
When she was done, she cried, acknowledging to herself for the first time that she had never been brought this high before, knowing it was less because of him and more because she knew it was the last time it would be with him. She cried because she'd wasted years on an idea she'd had as a child and had clung to despite her unhappiness. She cried because she'd never thought she could be so stupid until now and couldn't be happier. She cried with regret and release.
He sobbed as he finished, wishing the sun would just rise now so they could be done with it. The explaining would come later, when they were prepared. But for now, he just felt sticky and tired and not at all how fucking a woman was supposed to feel.
The first of her bags had already been packed so when he rolled off her, it was only a matter of rinsing off and changing clothes before she was standing at the door, prepared to leave him with a memory of a last night that was sure to prevent him from running to her in the following weeks when he became desperate to give it one last chance. She'd given him that, and he smiled his appreciation as she Apparated away, leaving him to the dawning light of the new day.
By dawn, a new life had begun for both of them.