Lover I Don't Have to Love
Rating: PG13 – R Not very descriptive sex scenes, but still there nonetheless.
Pairing: Draco / Hermione
Setting: After the war
Angsty? Oh hell yes.
Summary: Draco and Hermione find each other as their only solace to losing Harry in the war.
Sketchy Cannabis -- Finished: 4/19/06
Disclaimers: The song, "Lover I don't have to Love" by Bright Eyes, is, in fact, not mine. I don't lay claims on it whatsoever.
The same goes to the Harry Potter characters. Those are not mine either, though, I sorely wish they were.
Now, onward and forward, my friends.
I picked you out of a crowd and talked to you.
The party made me nervous. Ever since the final war had come to a close, healing had slowly begun. We'd lost so many, both sides. And I, the double-life boy (man?), suffered stab wounds from either sides. We'd lost Potter and Weasley. The party was quiet now, in the beginning. Things are always so quiet in the beginning. It'd get louder, I knew. Alcohol tended to do that, even to wizards.
The Weasley twins were entertaining. Cedric's parents were conversing in quiet whispers. Cho Chang and her girlfriends were chatting; Ginny was one of them now. My mother strayed to the bar. My memories danced between those who were left. So few, I knew. There was always someone missing...
Potter. How I missed him. No one knew, of course. I wouldn't let him speak a word of 'us.' And we weren't really an item. At least I didn't think so. I think I loved him. If he were here now... at least there would be some sugar mixed with the salt that rubbed my wounds.
Granger, sitting pretty and sulking, but so practiced no one saw. I could see through her facade. I was a master of expressions as well. She couldn't fool me. I moved closer to her, weaving my way through the crowd. They parted for me in a fluttery way. Granger, dressed to the nines. I knew she missed Potter. How could she not? They'd been engaged at one point. But he'd broke it off. Was I a rebound? Perhaps, but I didn't care. Never cared enough to care. So possessive.
Granger, in her best black dress. It was modest, but still made her appealing. The wide neckline showing off her shoulders; the low slit up the side of her leg. Pretty. I didn't know how to describe her properly. She wasn't stunning, though I knew she had the potential to be. She had been when she was with Potter. She was all smiles... so happy. Now though..? She looked at me like a doe caught in the headlights as I approached.
I said, "I like your shoes."
You said, "Thanks, can I follow you?"
"Nice shoes." Was that sarcasm? I'm not sure. I don't think she noticed. Probably for the best. She looked so fragile at the moment. I wouldn't want to break her.
"Thanks." She was so quiet. I could take a hint. I nodded to her before slipping out the door, making my way as silent as a shadow. A shadow. Is it possible to feel that dark? Sometimes I wonder.
"Can I follow you?" I jumped. I hadn't heard her behind me. I could smell her now, y'know? She smelt good, flowery. Like those purple flowers mother had always so adored. Lilies, lilacs, something 'L' sounding. Oh how that smell brought back memories.
I looked over her, my calm returning. Those soft honey eyes and ringlet locks -- she had me without knowing it. There was never any question. I nodded. I gave in.
So it's up the stairs and out of view --
And out of here, no prying eyes,
I poured some wine,
I asked your name, you asked the time.
Malfoy, the bad boy, the blonde hair blue-eyed man with shadows in his eyes. We all have our secrets. I didn't want to know his and I didn't want him to know mine. That's not what I was looking for. Not from Malfoy, no. I pulled the bottle of wine from behind my back, smiling faintly and almost sheepishly at him. I shook it lightly from side to side at him, my eyebrows raised.
He smiled in return. I think I can die happy now, knowing I got a smile. It wasn't smug, it wasn't a smirk. It was a cautious smile -- for me.
I poured some wine into the one glass I had brought with me. He took it, his fingers brushing mine. He was so cold! He drank the wine I'd poured slowly, dignified. Everything about him was dignified. The way his cool storm grey eyes peered over the rim of the glass at me with such intensity. The way he walked, talked. How I wished I knew what he was thinking, behind those storms.
He poured me a glass and I drank it slower than he had. He watched me the whole time, almost studying me. Is that what you're doing, Malfoy?
Soon the wine was gone. He'd drank most of it, and I didn't mind.
Oh, those eyes...
Now it's two o'clock --
the club is closed and we're up the block.
Your hands on me; I'm pressing hard against your jeans
Your tongue in my mouth, trying to keep the words from coming out
You didn't care to know who else may have been before.
The bottle and glass broke with a shattering crack. It didn't phase me; I'd been the one to drop them. I'd pushed her against the wall. She'd exhaled loudly -- I doubt she'd expected it. She jumped at the noise, seeming to melt up against me. She was pushing against me harshly, needing me. I was pushing back just as forcefully. Tonight, I needed her; God how I needed someone. Someone who knew what I'd been through. What I'd done. What I felt. She knew the pain of missing someone like Potter. She knew, and God how I wanted that understanding, that mutual misery. And she didn't want to hear about my others. Because she knew.
I want a lover I don't have to love,
I want a girl who's too sad to give a fuck.
I pulled her closer to me, leaning my full weight up against her, my hands flaying across her body, playing, teasing. "Mine." My words were a forced, strained whisper. But I meant it. My hand at her hip, grazing a breast, holding the back of her neck as I kissed her. She was clawing at my back, the sweet sweaty smell of cheap wine, flowers, want, need. Her hands was under my shirt, pinching a nipple without warning. I gasped.
Then my mind went dark --
we both forgot where your car was parked
let's just take the train.
I'll meet up with the band in the morning.
I bit her neck, and it wasn't all that nice. "C'mon." I knew she'd driven here, but I didn't care. My place wasn't far. I had her hand, pulling her along with me. In that second our eyes locked, I felt her fear. She was afraid of me. Of what she'd do with me. But I didn't care. I wanted her. I wanted to own her for just one night. To be able to have her, to have her want me; in that way so few people give in to. I dove in completely.
Unlock the door, pull her in. Slam the door closed, press her against it. She was working my shirt off; I was grinding against her hips. Move to the bedroom -- quick, before reality hits! I knew the eyes I'd look down on, that I'd wake up to... they wouldn't be green, vibrant. They'd be the brown eyes of a scared little girl. Did I care? No. I didn't.
Bad actors with bad habits,
Some sad singers, the just play tragic,
and the phone's ringing, and the van's leaving.
Let's just keep touching, let's just keep, keep singing...
Mine . His husky voice had been so demanding. I hadn't even denied it in my head after that. How could I? I was his. I'd do anything just to wake up beside him. Mine . I kept replaying the way his voice sounded in my head. How it tingled down my spine.
I wanted him rough. I wanted him rough and hard and clumsy so I didn't have to think, so I could be awkward and afraid and he wouldn't care. I wouldn't tell him I didn't know what I was doing -- that the one time me and Harry had tried, we'd been interrupted... and then he was gone. And he'd left me for Malfoy, I knew. I just knew.
I want a lover I don't have to love,
I want a boy who's so drunk he doesn't talk.
I didn't think it'd hurt so much. But he was being awfully rough. Kissing my neck with alcohol breath, my own thoughts fuzzy. He groaned and I clawed at his back more frantically, trying to figure out how to move my hips. My hand touched his hair momentarily before it recoiled. It wasn't coarse and rough like Harry's had been. It was soft, silky. I felt sick, feeling Malfoy on me, in me. But this was what I wanted. This was as close as I'd ever get to being with Harry... second best.
And I... I was his second best.
But you... you write
such pretty words.
But life's no storybook.
Love's an excuse to get hurt,
and to hurt.
Coming was fulfilling physically, yes. It almost always was. Emotionally? I'd known from the minute I'd gotten her naked she was a virgin. And I did it anyways. Something in me felt terrible. Some other parts didn't. I'd taken what Potter was supposed to. What he wanted.
Someone was laughing, I was sure. They'd taken Potter away and left me and Granger to fend for ourselves. How cruel and unusual could it get?
There was no happy ending for me. I knew in the morning, I'd face life again. It'd go on. Granger, sniffling as I cleaned up, gently helping her, pulling the blankets up over us, holding her. Granger, crying. My only connection to Harry, and I abused it. Hurt it, broke it down and claimed it.
Do you like to hurt?
I do, I do.
then hurt me...
then hurt me...
then hurt me...
I was crying and couldn't stop. Malfoy was shaking under me. Me, clinging to his chest. Why was I crying? Because of Harry? My self-destructive behavior? Or perhaps... because I liked it? I liked being wanted, needed.
Malfoy... knew. I could see it when I looked at him through my own tears. He knew he'd taken that from me. He knew I hadn't wanted him. "Me too." He was crying. For Harry? Or himself?
"Draco..." I didn't know what to say. He would never love me, and I'd never love him. Did I really want a lover I couldn't love? "Oh, Draco..." I muttered against his chest. Soft, kissing lightly. He was holding me close, still shaking.
Do I like to hurt? I think we all do. I think we all want to break down and cry.
"Shh... we'll figure this our, Hermione." With that one sentence... life seemed... different. He'd used my first name. He was being gentle, understanding, caring. I whimpered a little more and laid down to cuddle him.
I knew I'd never sleep next to the lover I really wanted to. Draco was the next best thing... a lover I didn't have to love. There was another for me to love, but he was gone.
I need some meaning I can memorize
the kind I have always seems to slip my mind...
Holding Granger, feeling her lay down, hearing her whimper... I couldn't let go. Not to my only connection to Harry.
Oh Harry, how I miss you. I kissed Granger's head, laying down beside her, hoping, praying to see green eyes the next morning, and not tear-filled brown ones.