Post by Artemis Zeal on Apr 5, 2010 0:14:47 GMT -6
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Her footsteps were all she was aware of as she raced out of the Great Hall, tears spilling unabashedly down her cheeks. It hurt to much to think about it . . . but, oh, Merlin, she had to. It was impossible not to.
How could he do this to me? Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
"Granger!"
"Hermione!"
"Miss Granger!"
Voices called out to her, a few hands even reached out to her, feebly, to try and impede her progress. She pushed them all away; if she got away, she was convinced, it would be like rewinding a Muggle tape. None of it would have happened.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. She stopped, clutching a stitch in her side, at the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"What is wrong, my dear?" the regal woman asked, looking worried.
Hermione didn't answer; she couldn't. Answering it would make it real; entering the common room would make it real. Eventually, her friends would join her there. She would be bombarded with questions.
What happened?
Are you alright?
Do you need to talk?
She would have to face it when it was so much easier to ignore. Gasping, she stumbled down a hall to the right of the portrait hole. She just barely made it into an alcove before breaking down.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Her heart beat a violent tattoo against her chest – whether from the exertion or sheer emotion, she couldn't tell. She clutched at her chest, it felt like it was being ripped in two – slowly, tortuously.
And, try as she might, images swam in her head of what had just occurred. Tears spilled even faster down her cheeks and sobs threatened to choke her. Why?
Hermione hummed softly to herself as she descended the staircase to the Great Hall. Today was the day, today everyone would know her secret. Draco and she had decided to tell her friends together yet, no matter what they said, she knew she would stay with him through thick and thin. And she was sure he felt the same way about her – the warmth in his eyes whenever he watched her spoke more than words ever could.
Warmth suffused her at the thought and she pushed open the doors to the Hall with a confidence she didn't often display. Harry, Ron, and Ginny raised their hands in greeting and beckoned her over but she just shook her head and smiled.
Not yet, she envisioned the dialogue between them. I have someone I'd like you to meet.
Harry's eyebrows would raise and Ron would look slightly curious – and perhaps slightly jealous – around his mound of food.
Well, come on, Hermione, who is he? Ginny would tease, peeking over her best friend's shoulder. And then . . . then Draco would appear at her side, and all would be happily-ever-after.
She smiled, her gaze drifting toward the Slytherin table, fully expecting Draco to come sauntering toward her. But . . . she didn't spot her boyfriend immediately; he wasn't at his usual seat across from Blaise . . . or seated between Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy's sulk showed her he was nowhere near the pug-faced girl. . . .
But there! There he was seated at the end of the table, Draco Malfoy, her savior . . . with his arms and lips firmly planted on a short-skirted blond bimbo.
She felt numb, as numb as if Peeves had pelted her with cold water. Draco hadn't even noticed her appearance, was not even attempting to hide. Blaise whistled and sent his pal a thumbs-up.
No, no . . . this can't be. Hermione shook her head back and forth, back and forth, as if that would dispel what was clearly right before her eyes.
But since when was Hermione Granger wrong? Her brown eyes, unable to retract themselves from the snogging couple, filled with tears.
"Hermione?" She wasn't sure who spoke – one of her friends, a professor, maybe – it didn't really mattered. All that mattered was that, at the sound of the name, Draco's head shot upward, gray eyes wide with fear. No guilt, merely fear.
He didn't feel bad about what he'd done at all; he was only scared now that he's gotten caught. Perhaps he was going over the episode from their third year in his mind – when they had been enemies rather than lovers.
Had they been lovers? Had he actually loved her or loved the idea of something forbidden? Maybe he didn't . . . maybe it had all been a lie. And, with that, Hermione turned her back on the entire Hall – friends and enemies alike – and ran.
"Hermione?" A soft, female voice broke through her brooding. Ginny.
The brunette barely glimpsed the shorter redhead before she launched herself at her best friend, almost knocking her over. Ginny gasped, barely catching her before she fell to the floor. Nevertheless, she maintained a comforting air.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I saw what happened. I . . . I even suspected it before now – the whole you and Malfoy thing. I'm sorry, I didn't think he would do that to you. I thought he loved you."
Hermione heard none of her best friend's condolences, save for the last few words. I thought he loved you.
I did, too. He fooled us all just like the filthy ferret he is.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
"H-how could he do th-this to me?" she sobbed, giving voice to the thought that played, a chorus, inside her head. She had been rejected before, true, but those had been mere schoolgirl crushes; she had never invested as much in them as she did in this. . . . She had thought this was the real thing.
But it wasn't. She had been hoodwinked, tricked, deceived, whatever you want to call it. She should have been on the lookout for something like this to happen; he was a Slytherin after all. How could she have ever thought he was a good man when she looked at his lineage. His father was a Death Eater for Merlin's sake!
It had been a lie. All of it had been a lie.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thu.....
How could he do this to me? Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
"Granger!"
"Hermione!"
"Miss Granger!"
Voices called out to her, a few hands even reached out to her, feebly, to try and impede her progress. She pushed them all away; if she got away, she was convinced, it would be like rewinding a Muggle tape. None of it would have happened.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. She stopped, clutching a stitch in her side, at the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"What is wrong, my dear?" the regal woman asked, looking worried.
Hermione didn't answer; she couldn't. Answering it would make it real; entering the common room would make it real. Eventually, her friends would join her there. She would be bombarded with questions.
What happened?
Are you alright?
Do you need to talk?
She would have to face it when it was so much easier to ignore. Gasping, she stumbled down a hall to the right of the portrait hole. She just barely made it into an alcove before breaking down.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Her heart beat a violent tattoo against her chest – whether from the exertion or sheer emotion, she couldn't tell. She clutched at her chest, it felt like it was being ripped in two – slowly, tortuously.
And, try as she might, images swam in her head of what had just occurred. Tears spilled even faster down her cheeks and sobs threatened to choke her. Why?
Hermione hummed softly to herself as she descended the staircase to the Great Hall. Today was the day, today everyone would know her secret. Draco and she had decided to tell her friends together yet, no matter what they said, she knew she would stay with him through thick and thin. And she was sure he felt the same way about her – the warmth in his eyes whenever he watched her spoke more than words ever could.
Warmth suffused her at the thought and she pushed open the doors to the Hall with a confidence she didn't often display. Harry, Ron, and Ginny raised their hands in greeting and beckoned her over but she just shook her head and smiled.
Not yet, she envisioned the dialogue between them. I have someone I'd like you to meet.
Harry's eyebrows would raise and Ron would look slightly curious – and perhaps slightly jealous – around his mound of food.
Well, come on, Hermione, who is he? Ginny would tease, peeking over her best friend's shoulder. And then . . . then Draco would appear at her side, and all would be happily-ever-after.
She smiled, her gaze drifting toward the Slytherin table, fully expecting Draco to come sauntering toward her. But . . . she didn't spot her boyfriend immediately; he wasn't at his usual seat across from Blaise . . . or seated between Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy's sulk showed her he was nowhere near the pug-faced girl. . . .
But there! There he was seated at the end of the table, Draco Malfoy, her savior . . . with his arms and lips firmly planted on a short-skirted blond bimbo.
She felt numb, as numb as if Peeves had pelted her with cold water. Draco hadn't even noticed her appearance, was not even attempting to hide. Blaise whistled and sent his pal a thumbs-up.
No, no . . . this can't be. Hermione shook her head back and forth, back and forth, as if that would dispel what was clearly right before her eyes.
But since when was Hermione Granger wrong? Her brown eyes, unable to retract themselves from the snogging couple, filled with tears.
"Hermione?" She wasn't sure who spoke – one of her friends, a professor, maybe – it didn't really mattered. All that mattered was that, at the sound of the name, Draco's head shot upward, gray eyes wide with fear. No guilt, merely fear.
He didn't feel bad about what he'd done at all; he was only scared now that he's gotten caught. Perhaps he was going over the episode from their third year in his mind – when they had been enemies rather than lovers.
Had they been lovers? Had he actually loved her or loved the idea of something forbidden? Maybe he didn't . . . maybe it had all been a lie. And, with that, Hermione turned her back on the entire Hall – friends and enemies alike – and ran.
"Hermione?" A soft, female voice broke through her brooding. Ginny.
The brunette barely glimpsed the shorter redhead before she launched herself at her best friend, almost knocking her over. Ginny gasped, barely catching her before she fell to the floor. Nevertheless, she maintained a comforting air.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I saw what happened. I . . . I even suspected it before now – the whole you and Malfoy thing. I'm sorry, I didn't think he would do that to you. I thought he loved you."
Hermione heard none of her best friend's condolences, save for the last few words. I thought he loved you.
I did, too. He fooled us all just like the filthy ferret he is.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
"H-how could he do th-this to me?" she sobbed, giving voice to the thought that played, a chorus, inside her head. She had been rejected before, true, but those had been mere schoolgirl crushes; she had never invested as much in them as she did in this. . . . She had thought this was the real thing.
But it wasn't. She had been hoodwinked, tricked, deceived, whatever you want to call it. She should have been on the lookout for something like this to happen; he was a Slytherin after all. How could she have ever thought he was a good man when she looked at his lineage. His father was a Death Eater for Merlin's sake!
It had been a lie. All of it had been a lie.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thu.....