Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series and all the characters except the one I created belong to J. K. Rowling. The places I mention in the story with details are not advertised, they are mentioned in order to make the settings and the story more real. I don't make any profit.
Beta: Teriyaki Princes
A/N: An extremely big hug to Jade Presley for their reviews! It literally pushed me out of my writers block! Also, I changed my beta and that was part of the reason why it took me so long to update! Personally I think this chapter isn't so good. I'll leave it to your judgment. Enjoy!
Warning: Attempt of suicide.
Tales In The Mist
Chapter 9
If he were to say that he had had a decent night's sleep that night, Draco would be lying. Granger had taken it upon herself to make sure that he wouldn't go back and 'kidnap' his mother, as she had put it.
He had been a right mess the previous night. Torn between what was right and what he wanted and the desire to go set a trap, anything, to catch those bastards. But, despite his protests, he wouldn't leave Granger. She had been so understanding and the way she traced patterns on his back and how delightfully full her breasts were when he buried his face in them.
Salazar, he had it bad!
They had stayed in that position, half hugging and half cuddling, until he moved and pulled her on the bed.
She comforted him. She was messing with his head. There were days that she wished she had gone alone on that half-assed trip and he would hiss at her that the door was still wide open for her to go. And there were days like yesterday.
Were they almost kissed.
He really didn't like being played and Granger acted as if she was bipolar or something. You either like or act civil to someone or you dislike, even hate them. Granger was like a riddle. No, no, like a jigsaw with a hell of lot of pieces in the same colour. He didn't know what to do. His pride was at stake. Well, he could easily say, in case he ever kissed her, that it was only because of impulse.
Nothing more, nothing less.
That thought, though, made dread pool in his gut. He wanted her to like him the way he liked her.
No.
No.
He didn't like her! She was a fleeting dream from his days back at Hogwarts. He could never have her. Yes, that was it! She was an erotic dream that he wanted to taste. Like a dream that you get so close to climaxing and in the end you wake up before your dream self manages to. And he hated when that happened to him.
He wanted Granger just because she was his infatuation, back then.
A forbidden fruit he knew not to taste.
But still, that didn't seem like what he was looking for to explain his thoughts, his actions.
Feeling movement, he opened his eyes and watched as Granger slowly woke up. It was something he thought of as normal, yet it made his chest swell with an unknown feeling. Her cheeks tinted pink, her lips slightly parted, closing as her mind started working and the way her eyelids fluttered. The sounds she made as she woke were the purest thing he had ever heard. Soft purring combine with a small moan.
The moment may have lasted no more than a minute, but to him it was more. It was like time had stopped and he could see every little detail of her and about her. Everything. It was the first time he noticed someone like that. With utter adoration.
He had it bad, yes, but he was willing to have his heart broken.
Broken. Because that's what she would do. Granger would never look at him the way he looked at her and that pained him. He felt so much for this woman and she didn't. Maybe she considered him to be her friend. But she, she was his light.
She changed his views on everything he had been taught, believed and saw. She was the manifestation of everything he wasn't. She was kind, soft, beautiful. Whole.
He was broken. She could easily have everything her heart desired but she never asked. If she asked him for the world he would give it to her. Ridiculous but true. If only he could get a look or smile holding anything; adoration, surprise, pride, happiness, helplessness, anything that he felt for her then it would be worth even giving his life for.
Had this trip changed something in him? Definitely. But at least he knew what he wanted and what he (maybe) felt about that witch.
"Draco?" Echoed her soft voice, pulling him out of his reverie. She was on her side staring at him with those big amber pools that looked like honey. Fucking hell he was getting soft and cheesy and all that bloody shit he wasn't. He wasn't!
"Yeah?" He asked trying to calm down and stop those fucking voices screaming to take advantage of her vulnerability.
That was ludicrous. Granger was anything but vulnerable.
"What are you thinking about?" She asked softly smiling at him. Was she really comfortable looking at him like that? Like he was her world. Like he was the only one who could see her this calm.
Like they weren't Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.
'You', he imagined telling her. 'You. How you turned my world around and how I can't get you out of my mind. How you have fucked with my soul and it needs to be near yours. To become one with yours. How that red string of fate that connects us is so bright to me, and as ridiculous as it sounds, I know we are soulmates. Ridiculous, isn't it? I don't believe in this crap but that old man proved me wrong and now I have to deal with falling deeper in love with you every day.'
He hadn't realised it until now. And it was scaring him. Weren't his feelings progressing too fast? How had that happened? Why was he feeling like this?
She must had noticed the conflict taking place in his mind and cupped his cheek in her soft,warm hand. Draco's eyes immediately fell to hers. He was scared. Scared that she would see him come undone. That she would realise everything that he feared to say and how he felt for her.
She opened her mouth to say something but closed it.
Before he even realised it, her lips were on his.
His eyes immediately closed and after a moment of hesitation he kissed her back.
The rain hadn't stopped since last night but as if the Gods agreed with their joining, thunder sliced the dark sky in two. The kiss was soft and slow, getting more and more passionate with every stroke of their lips, with every small bite and suck.
Draco licked her lower lip and softly nibbled on it. If she was hell then he wanted to burn in her fires.
Pulling away, he stared in her eyes trying to see what had gotten into her. He couldn't kiss her more or he wouldn't be able to control himself. That kiss was a teaser. It fucked with his brain in every possible way leaving only small openings for thoughts. Did she want more? Should he kiss her again? Should he take things to the next step?
"Why did you kiss me?" He choked out breaking the silence.
"Why did you kiss me back?" She replied furrowing her brow.
"Granger." He growled impatiently.
"It felt like the right thing to do." She said catching him off guard.
"Do you know what else would feel right but you would misunderstand?" He hissed, but he was hard. He couldn't stop himself and even when he thought of things that would definitely get him down, he couldn't.
"How would I misunderstand?" She asked pushing him on his back and straddling him.
That was it. Once she was on top, he held her waist and rolled her on her back getting on top. The kiss was hungry now. It was like he was underwater and her lips were oxygen. It felt so damn perfect and he wanted all of it. His hands were all around her testing the waters. She was warm to the touch. Her breasts fit perfectly in his palms, both their hips grinding into each others in a synchronized pattern.
Breaking their kiss, he pulled her shirt off her and started kissing her jaw. Normally, he wouldn't soothe his girl with kisses. He never took his time. Not even when he fucked Astoria before it got all awkward.
Her neck was next. He nibbled softly on the soft flesh in the crook of her neck where one could feel the pulse and then on her chest. Then he froze.
He couldn't do it. Despite how painfully hard he was, he couldn't. He couldn't just fuck her. To her it was a shag. The need to get closer with the other party after being on the run with them for a month. Was it already a month? Yes. A month and a couple of days.
Without looking at her, he rolled off her and shot up from the bed. Grabbing his cloak he made for the tent's opening.
"Wait Malfoy!" Granger called after him, but he couldn't stop now.
Going out in the rain, he made a run for it. He needed to be away from her, despite the weather. It was freezing and raining but he couldn't look her in her beautiful eyes. She wanted the convenient and he wasn't it. He wasn't a guy that she could shag without attachment. He could be, if he thought about it. He would just fuck her and never, ever, express how he felt.
But he couldn't do it.
He may lie to himself about many things but he couldn't order himself to lie about his feelings and he hated himself for it.
He couldn't see where he was heading. Everything was blurred. Was it the rain or his tears he couldn't tell. Stopping near some rocks, he sat on one and buried his face in his hands. Why was he crying? Why did his heart hurt? Why was she affecting him so much?
Wiping his tears away furiously he tried to steel himself. He couldn't do that. He couldn't cry now. For her. Because of what he would always he in her eyes. Throwing his head towards the sky he relished in the feel of each raindrop soaking into him.
If he weren't who he is, would she give him a chance?
Would she like him?
Would she want to be something more to him?
Throwing his shirt off he stared at his scars. He didn't have many, but each one held a meaning. One from Potter, one from falling off his broom when he was young, and then the faded Dark Mark on his forearm. He felt disgusted as he stared at the ugly thing he had had branded into him, and the tears came back. He was pathetic. He had ruined his life. It was either that or death. He could have died. Now he was stigmatized for life.
Taking out his wand, he closed his eyes shut fighting the urge to scream as he cut across the Mark. Better to have more scars on it to blur the red scar. His eyes opened to look at his blood.
It was like hers. It was the same deep red. Just like hers, back in the Manor. Fighting his sobs he cut his hand again. Deep gashes oozing blood. He deserved it. He deserved the pain, the scars, his blood to run.
Maybe it would be good if he ended everything right there, too. This torture.
Everyday he watched people make their lives. Others still mourned. Others got married. He was all alone. He had lost everything from one wrong choice. He wanted to be accepted by other people. He wasn't his father. He had strived to build a decent reputation. Strived to make a famous company. He had strived to be equal but failed. And now, all it took was the rejection of the woman that was more important than his blood. To have all the feelings he had bottled up consume him.
One more slash and then another. He was getting light headed. How he wished he had some firewhiskey. He could drown away his sorrows and with the way his blood ran in thick rivulets from his arm he would be dead in minutes.
"Dear Merlin", he heard someone say and his eyes, heavy lidded and sleepy, found her eyes. Those amber pools that haunted him. Why was she with him? Why did she even associate with little shits like him?
She was touching him. Trying to see the damage he inflicted on his arm. The other hand touching him for signs of fever. He wanted to cry.
" Please keep your eyes open. Don't fall asleep on me, please." She begged him.
Why ever was she worrying? The world would be better without him. Everyone would be better without him.
Who was he anyway? A Death eater. A murderer. The one who was the catalyst of the death of bloody Albus Dumbledore.
Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine another life. Somewhere, where Granger could look at him without seeing the part of the world that hated her most. Somewhere, where she loved him back.
He choked on a sob and let it all out. Crying for the way his life turned out. Like back in sixth year. Both times bleeding and crying. Only now he was wrapped in an embrace. The smell of cinnamon and gardenias. He knew that he must have looked like a right fool. Crying and bleeding and needing to be confronted.
He hated how often he broke down. He knew that it had to do with her being with him. Every regret and emotion he suppressed was coming back tenfold. He needed control but he wouldn't have it if he kept having regrets. He needed his sorrows washed away. He needed retribution. Forgiveness and acceptance. Someone to trust him. He hated having to keep the calm façade all the time. Even at home. He needed to let himself relax. He wanted to open up but was scared of rejection. Wanted love but was afraid to fall into it.
And now? That he had fallen? He was falling down an abyss of emotions with no one to catch him.
He couldn't make her love him. He had nothing to offer her. He didn't deserve her. Neither did Weasley, but that was another matter entirely.
Her warmth and the blood he had lost made him sleepy and soon enough he found himself getting pulled into Morpheus' warm embrace.
If Hermione screamed for him to open his eyes or took him back to the tent, he didn't know. He just knew he was somewhere warm. Somewhere where she was happy and in love with him.
Somewhere he felt free.
Soon, though, the nightmares caught up. Voldemort trying to grab him and Bellatrix laughing in the distance while Granger's screams echoed. Then behind him hooded people pointed at him.
'A mistake you are.' They screamed. 'A mistake!'. He was trying. Really trying. It wasn't fair. The scene changed and there was Granger, looking at him with angry accusing eyes.
"You disgust me." She hissed, "You are vile and cruel and you are good for nothing. You're better off dead!" She continued and Draco could feel his heart breaking and a sudden coldness washing over him.
Before he could open his mouth he was woken up. Shooting up, he looked around. He was in the tent. He was dressed warmly, meaning he was dry. Touching his hand , he almost yelled from the pain. It was bandaged and wrapped carefully.
Regret hit him immediately. He regretted giving Granger such a fright and making her witness it, and the same time he regretted not dying.
"You're awake." He heard her say and turned to face her.
"Granger I-" he started but she cut him off.
"You could have talked to me. I'm angry with you, but only because you didn't talk to me about your fears and because you almost died on me! Never do that again." She said in an angry voice but the relief in her eyes softened the blow.
'Don't ever die on me. ' Her eyes begged. 'Don't ever scare me like that. '
"What would I do without you?" He asked partly sarcastically and partly because he meant it.
The smile she gave him satisfied him and he didn't need her answer. She didn't need reply.
He would make her love him.
And if he didn't?
At least he could say that he tried.