Disclaimer: Don't own a thing except the story!
Warnings: A little language, not much...some AU and some characters may appear out of character.
Click. Click. Click.
She walked down the long corridor to the next room. The smell of him lingered on her clothes, even though he hadn't been with her for months. She turned the corner, her scarf and long hair swaying with her. Oh, how she missed him. His long arms, his light scent, the feel of his lips on her neck; his favorite spot. She shivered at that thought. She missed him so much.
Click. Click. Click.
She stopped at the portrait of an Emperor. Chinese. He was dressed in heavy black robes. He looked powerful and fierce in the foreground with his advisors standing next to him.
She was listening to her cd player. She had a song going through her head. It was their song. Wherever she went, the song was with her. She tried to get away from it but it would never leave. The only way she could get a little peace was listening to it, and visiting this place.
The light streamed through the beautiful windows and made the room warm and bright. She felt cold inside.
The museum was large and beautiful. It was full of rich cherry wood and mahogany that smelled earthy and the pieces were priceless and exquisite. He always loved visiting museums. This…this was their museum. When they fell in love.
This place reminded her so much of him. The beauty, the elegance, the warmth that had left her…she needed this place. She could only feel close to him when she was here.
She moved to the next piece. Travelers on a Mountain Path it read. It was colorless and overpowering.
They were all wrong for each other. Their relationship had never been a normal or calm one. There was constant fighting and endless nights of talking about whether or not they should be together. It was insane, but he had brought color to her life. He had shown her that life could be filled with passion that didn't include only schoolbooks and work.
They had been together two years after they left Hogwarts. They even planned on marrying.
His father discovered their relationship while in hiding. Lucius stormed to their home and put her under a spell. She was made to watch as he dealt with his son.
She watched as he died. She watched as the bastard he called father took him away from her. Took all the color out of her life. She took the bastard's.
A tear rolled down her expressionless face. She had turned cold and angry. Like he used to be. She remembered the first time they really met.
"Ah, mudblood, I didn't think that you were one for 'high culture.'" He remarked casually when he spotted her.
She was looking at a statue. One of his favorites actually. He took a minute to really notice her. She was small and looked almost vulnerable. The light that was shinning in through windows had caught the dust from this century old building and made the air sparkle and glitter around her.
A feeling came over him, the need to…take care of her. Seeing a strong woman, like her, looking as though she was exposing herself to a hunk of sculpted marble, was a bit unnerving. He blinked at his own thought, as he walked over to her.
She didn't answer him. She only stared at the sculpture. She had learned to just let his words slide off of her as if they were beaded water droplets.
She slowly walked to their sculpture room. Immediately she headed to their sculpture, her daily ritual.
Another tear ran down her face. Marring her natural beauty and graceful features.
She wasn't paying any attention to him! He would change that. No one ignored him. He was going to have a little fun. He walked up behind her and placed his arms around her waist, pressing her close to him, and softly whispered in her ear,
"Beautiful isn't it?"
She stiffened against him but didn't move away. It felt nice to have someone hold her, even him.
The smell of her hair intoxicated him. Bushy though it maybe, unclean it was not.
She sighed. She knew who it was. The sound of his voice gave him away. And even though she couldn't see him, she felt his air of " importance."
"Would you mind removing your arms? You are making me uncomfortable." She said detached. She was becoming cold and lonely.
This only made him smile and pull her closer. He rested his chin on her shoulder. He didn't expect her to smell so light. Her scent was soft. He liked holding her.
"If I did that, I wouldn't have any fun. You haven't pulled away. One might suggest that you like me holding you."
"One might think you liked holding me."
That did it. He let go, but didn't leave. He stood right beside her looking at the figure.
As she walked up to the statue, she stared into the woman's eyes. They were empty. Void. She knew how the young woman felt.
"What is it that fascinates you about this sculpture?" he said.
She had not looked at him since he spoke to her.
"She looks so sad, so helpless. Like she was filled with love that had been taken away. She is beautiful." She said still not looking at him.
"How did you deal with it? Losing someone you love?" She whispered at the lifeless statue. She asked it the same question every day. She stood there hoping that she would feel his arms around her and whispering gently in to her ear.
More tears came.
"Why are you here?" she asked.
"I like coming to this museum to get away." He replied looking around at the beautiful rich wood.
She nodded in understanding. She turned and started to walk away with one last lingering look at the figure. He followed. She finally looked at him with curiosity carved on her face.
"What are you doing?" she finally said.
"What does it look like? I am walking around the museum." Saying it as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"You are following me. Why?"
"Just because I happen to be where you are going, doesn't mean I am following you." He was still trying to have a bit of fun with her.
She rolled her eyes and continued to walk.
She pressed replay on the CD player. She needed to hear it again.
Click. Click. Click.
She went into the Impressionist Exhibit. She walked up to the Renoir.
"What do you think of this one?" she asked.
"The Renoir? I think it a bit too romantic for my tastes, but undeniably a good artist." He replied casually. Almost coolly.
The painting was the Moulin de la Galette.
She looked at the spots of lights that were dancing on the people. She placed herself in the painting. She imagined that she was dancing with some handsome stranger who swept her off her feet.
He noticed her far off look and waved his hand in front of her face. She was staring in to the empty space of nothingness.
"I think it is lovely." She replied.
She again imagined herself in the painting. But this time, it was with him. She stared into his hard eyes and was lost in those two sapphire gems.
"You certainly are a strange one. Always looking into empty air."
She smiled softly. She looked up at her "companion."
"You try gazing at art and not getting lost in it for a bit."
He nodded.
Click. Click. Click.
She came to a Degas.
The figures were dancing gracefully. Their movements, fluid, like water.
When she danced with him, they moved freely, slowly. He led so well, his feet graceful, smooth, and sensuous.
"Why are you following me? You hate me." She said. She was more curious than annoyed. He wasn't his usual snotty self since the war.
"Yes I do, but I am bored. You seemed to be better company than air. Not by much though."
She chuckled.
"Oh how sad it must be. You must be really desperate." She rolled her eyes with sarcastic flair.
"Well, don't think too much of it mudblood." He said in his usual tone of mockery and contempt.
She sighed. She didn't really care anymore, but he was acting a little better today. She thought that since he had helped them during the war, he would have been different. Oh well.
Since the end of the war, her life had become empty. Harry hadn't spoken to her like he used to. Ron had been tortured to insanity. She loved him and hated this world for taking her best friend and lover away.
She walked to the next painting.
Click. Click. Click.
She had no idea where she was going. She let her feet guide her.
She came into a medieval armor room. The armor was elaborately decorated with Celtic knot work and weaving. She wanted to reach out and feel the etching on the cold metal.
He lagged behind for a minute. He had seen that she didn't care what he called her anymore. She just didn't care about anything. It made him sick to think that someone who was the epitome of optimism wouldn't care to at least look at her hated rival with disgust.
He soon followed after her.
There was no hope left in her. There was barely the will to live.
When he got up with her, he reached out his arm lightly gripped hers. She stopped
"What's wrong with you today Granger? You haven't told me to piss off, or shouted at me, or even really talked to me."
"Hmm…" was her reply looking straight ahead. She was too busy trying to think of where to go next.
"Greek sculpture." She said to herself and turned her feet in the direction of the stairs.
She was doing it again! She was ignoring him. This was getting on his nerves. Being horrible hadn't really done anything to upset her. Maybe...
He put his arm around her waist, as if they were a couple.
She looked at him with a vexed expression on her face.
"Again, do you mind?"
"At last! She looks at me! I'll have to do this more often as it seems it's the only way you'll pay any attention to me."
"Do you have a need to gain my attention?" she hadn't pulled away. She remembered Ron holding her.
"Only that I am following a brick wall. Why are you so quiet lately?" he was honestly curious. Why was she like this? He tried his best to be cold.
"You really don't know do you? Of course not, you wouldn't really have cared."
She pressed repeat again. She kept telling herself just one more time.
"Tell me."
"I've lost Ron; Harry too for the most part. My only friends." She wasn't going to cry. Not now. She didn't.
"Do you know what it's like? Losing someone you loved?" she asked softly.
He thought of his mother. He thought of Pansy. Though he didn't really love her, she was always there when he needed someone. Yes, he knew.
That irritable need to take care of her flooded over him again. Being on the bloody good side had made him go soft. He wanted to hug her, to smell her soft, light scent.
She saw the look of confusion chiseled on his elegant face. She smiled softly.
"Thank you." She said.
"For what?"
"For being here; when no one else is." She moved her eyes to her feet. Her only sign of embarrassment was looking at her feet.
He was so taken aback by her statement that he blinked and stared at her in a moment. Was he really there for her? Did she really feel like she had no one to talk to?
"You're welcome." He answered. She smiled a little more, never pulling away from him.
Click. Click. Click
She stopped at a statue of Aphrodite. And pulled out a sketchpad and pencil. She drew every line and every curve with perfection. He had taught her.
"What is that?" she asked.
"This is a sketchbook. I like to draw when I come here."
She watched as he made hurried yet meticulous strokes with a well-worn pencil.
"I didn't know you could draw. Especially that well."
"Why don't you try it?"
When she had finished, she walked up to the next figure.
It was a new addition to the museum's collection, one she hadn't seen. She stared at the beautiful form a man. She pulled out the pencil and book. They were both his.
This statue had so much power. His eyes were longing and yet hopeful. It gave her a feeling that she thought she had lost a long time ago. She drew it slowly to get the curls of his hair, the defined chest, arms, and legs. He was gorgeous.
Long after she had finished drawing, she was still there, looking deeply into its eyes.
A small little piece of renewed hope was restored to her simply by looking in the eyes of this Greek "god."
She sat down on the floor and gazed at it. She was slouching a little with her hands in her lap. Pleading for a bit of peace.
It reminded her so much of him. The confident air, the slight smirk, eyes that you could lose yourself in…some small part of her was telling her to move on, that she had found some peace at last.
She got up off the floor. Thinking of him, she looked at the statue and said,
"I love you."
She turned the music off and went back down stairs to the sweet cold wind.
"Thank you Malfoy. I really don't have any other words to say how much today meant to me."
He had finally given in to his temptation. He leaned in and kissed her.
A/N: Alright the end of my second story. I hope you liked it. I am a little concerned about Hermione and Draco being out of character. To explain, Draco had helped Harry and the good guys during the war. So, he is no longer a huge pain, he's only a little pain. Hermione lost her friends so she is unhappy and doesn't care about much anymore. When she is walking through the museum, it's set a few months after Draco's death. She had been with him for about two to three years after they left Hogwarts. I hope that clears things up! I didn't put a song in because first, I thought it would be a little confusing to have a back story and a song going on at the same time. Also, I wanted you to "mentally insert" song that is special to you, into the story. The song I had in mind as I was wrinting this is called, Heartbeats by Jose Gonzales and is on the album Veneer. I stringly reccommendthat you go to and listen to the clip of it, it is gorgeous. Please opine! I love to hear from you guys. This is my second posting of this story because no one had even read it last time and I couldn't find it on the site so here goes again...