A/N: the lyrics are Iris by Googoo dolls.
Song of the Heart's EmbraceChapter Two
Iris
And I'd give forever to touch you'Cause I know that, you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now
Draco looked at Hermione's serene sleeping form and laughed to himself. She had a look of pure innocence across her face, making Draco feel pathetic. He considered waking her up, but then he wouldn't be able to hold her like this, touch her like this. Come what may, Draco knew that she felt something, something like he did. She was his light. She was the prize at the end of the track; she was the very air he breathed. He was dreading the fact that he may have to face the music and the dark lord in his dreams, so he took the time to hold her, to touch her, to feel her heavenly comfort, for just until she awoke.
And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
'Cause sooner or later it's over
I just don't want to miss you tonight
A dream.
Just a dream.
The kiss was just a dream, she knew that what she was feeling was a dream, and the tall boy there was not kissing her really. Not really.
Not real.
Hermione used to dream that she wasn't real, that her reality was indeed her dream, and her dreams were her real reality.
She knew as soon as the dream finished she would, inside of her, get a horrible feeling of emptiness, a yearning for that boy in her dream again.
A yearning.
A yearning for a face she couldn't remember.
All she knew about that dream was that there was a lingering of regret, pain, and most importantly betrayal, but she still didn't want it to end.
Whoever he was.
Whoever he might be.
He was hers. In the dreams, no one could touch them, they were safe, and he was there to protect her.
She was awake, but she didn't open her eyes.
Feeling.
Feeling him breath.
Imagining.
Imagining she could taste his kiss.
Feeling his body.
Listening to his breathing.
She didn't want this to end either.
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that, they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
Draco declined when Hermione offered to take him shopping. All he could imagine were all those horrible muggles staring at him. It happened even when he was dressed in their attire.
It was because he was haunted.
He was thin.
He was ill.
He even admitted it to himself now, that he was ill. He even admitted to himself that he was afraid that the muggles would cause him to break. Not even, she could understand.
That's what he thought.
He didn't want to face up to the world, he didn't want them to see weak Draco Malfoy, even if they didn't know him.
No.
For now, only Hermione could see that, but sooner or later, she would have to forget.
"Malfoy," Hermione said, poking her head around the door, her face impossible to read, "I'm leaving, I think you should come…"
"Piss off Mudblood," he spat, not daring to look her in the eye.
"Alright, Malfoy, don't expect anything from me anymore. You can stay here, but after that…" she paused, obviously thinking things through thoroughly. "After that you're out."
"Whatever," Malfoy mumbled, closing his eyes tightly.
If he closed his eyes, he couldn't see her.
If he closed his eyes, all he saw was her.
"At least be grateful," she laughed sarcastically.
"I'm a Malfoy," he said.
"What, do I now not know that?" she laughed in disbelief.
"I just want you to know who I am…"
And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah, you'd bleed just to know you're alive
Hermione left out the doors and Draco heard the door click closed. He was in pain.
He knew pain.
He knew how to make pain.
The trip to the bathroom was short and sweet. Finding something wasn't. The bathroom scissors were just right, he knew it. He stood and he stared at himself, cursing under his breath.
He felt pain.
He felt sharp blades trace his skin.
He felt good.
It felt good.
He almost couldn't believe the life that had unravelled before him.
He was strong.
He wasn't strong enough.
Warm, sticky tears stained his dirty face.
No physical pain could make him cry.
No words could make him cry.
No action against him could make him cry.
Only two people could.
One was him.
One was she.
He knew already that he couldn't fight this emotion.
This emotion was strong.
This emotion was powerful.
He knew he couldn't lie to himself about anything any longer, he could always tell the truth lingered.
He brought a hand to his stomach and wiped it across, feeling the glistening blood, swim in a dance across it. He looked at the blood and smirked.
His tongue danced across his hand.
His lips tasted his pain.
His pain was his lips, his tongue, his hand, his stomach.
No it wasn't.
He knew his pain lay inside his empty shell.
In a black organ that pumped the pain, he tasted.
His pain lay inside.
His pain lay in her.
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that, they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am