The street was long, dark, and damp, as usual. I didn't even know why I bothered anymore. I didn't sleep anymore, so I decided to scurry around the town – but an empty town. This is not entertaining at all, my subconscious tells me. It's been days now, since I've slept. I dislike the idea completely. My sanity cries out every night as the lack of sleep begins to get to me.
I staggered to the wall, covering my eyes with my clammy palm. I groan to myself. This is beginning to be too much. I slide down the wall, laying my legs out flat on the ground. I don't even care that my skirt is probably hopelessly stained at the moment. Wild violins began to play in my head, a sound track to insanity. They're followed by an orchestra of hopelessness. I pictured myself on a beach, running from a dark creature of the night. I tripped over the sand and my scream was over powered by the current of the waves. I open my eyes and came back to reality – as far as that goes that is.
My eyes stared at the other side of the street. There was a store, or at least that's what I think it was. "Dark Blots," was its name. The store gave off such and ominous aura. But this aura intrigued me and it awakened a fierce curiosity that demanded to be fed and satisfied. I came to my feet, tantalization rejected completely. A brief wave of drowsiness hit me, but I forced it back. I walked over to the store. The door, oddly, was unlocked, and this only called to my inquisitiveness.
I opened the door even further than before and stuck my head in. Squeezing inside of the building, my eyes feasted upon the contents of the front room. I saw shrunken heads, severed hands, dark looking books, scrolls, and other sorts of puzzling items. They aren't every day items. I wanted to just throw myself into the pile of mysteriousness and cure the teasing curiosity, but my better sense forbade it. I furthered myself into the depths of the eerie room. It only became darker. No light, whatsoever. This reminded me of my sanity, which basically was no longer existent.
I saw terrible things when I was asleep and even more petrifying things when I was awake. Faces of everyday people I used to happily come into contact with were deformed, and voices deepened, a demonic presence enveloping them. Eyes became darker, and skin became paler. My color-sight became altered, sometimes I think I could see through others' eyes, but I'm not quite sure, yet. When I was asleep, I would be sent into a darkness full of monsters and demons that would have scared me dead if I was a child. But I did feel like a child. I felt like the boogie man was hiding in my closet or a demon was hiding under my bed. Insomnia can do terrible things to a sane woman. Though, I can no longer call myself sane, now can I?
I turned the corner, passing a small bookcase. I heard voices in the distance. I wasn't sure if they were in my head or if they truly existed. The voices sounded off in unison, as if chanting something of some sort. I ascended down the small hallway, in between a longer stair case and the wall. My head tilted and my brow furrowed as I was confounded. The same words were repeated over and over. But the words were unknown to me. I couldn't make them out, as if...they were from a foreign language. There was a light at the end. A doorway sat there, the door ajar, and an orange light peeked from the crack. My vision altered itself in that moment. I felt as if my eyes had zoomed onto the door, like an owl searching for it's pray at night. An instance of tunnel vision took its toll on my eyes and I became dizzy. But my legs didn't stop.
I kept going, but the tunnel vision made me feel as if the door was father than before. Then, suddenly, abruptly, I was slammed against the wall, my head colliding with the hard wood. I tried to open my eyes, but the force in which I hit the hard surface of the wall was great, and I felt sick, and tired. Desperately tired, like I could have fallen into a deep slumber for all eternity. "What are you doing here?" such a deep and alarmed voice demanded. The voice was familiar. I breathed in a musky smell of aftershave and fire whiskey. I opened my eyes to see two icy orbs staring down at me, a frown of displeasure upon his face. I recognized him through the dark surprisingly. I could see the sculpting of his face, and way his lips formed in a scowl as they always did. His platinum blond hair was currently in a rugged fashion, as if he had been running his hands through it recently.
"Hermione, what are you doing here?" he repeated.
I shook my head, and at the same time snapping myself out of my daze. This would be the point to answer, wouldn't it? I think I was too tired to comprehend. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping if I tried hard enough, my vision wouldn't blacken out like it had been trying to the last couple of seconds. Yes, this would be the time to answer. "I don't know." I replied so apathetically.
"You haven't been sleeping," he said in disapproval, more to himself than to me. He bent down, scooping me up in his arms like he used to do so frequently and so easily. I couldn't argue with him. I welcomed his close presence to me so openly. I missed it.
After that point, I wasn't sure what was going on. I knew he was carrying me, but I wasn't sure where. My eyes weren't open and I wasn't exactly conscious. I was in the state of REM at that moment, so I wasn't really sensible. I was rather loopy, actually. I tried to keep myself awake, to keep my mind from slipping into nonsense like it does when I finally fall asleep. This usually happens when I'm trying to focus on my thoughts. But the dream state over powered my sense, and it pulled me in even deeper into drowsiness. Thus, I fell into that darkness of demons and monsters. Insanity.
I awoke to the sound of Moonlight Sonata. One of his favorite songs. He was never able to admit it, for it was composed by a muggle. I was in bed, my bed, only in my undershirt and underwear. It didn't bother me too much. He's seen me bare before. I was stiff from such a hard night of sleep. The sun seemed brighter as it shined through the tall, revealed windows; the light reflected off of the high walls back onto me. Crawling out from under the thick, feather comforter, I made my way outside of my bedroom. Aside from Moonlight Sonata I heard the sound of running water.
Then, I continued on. I could see him in the kitchen, his back to me as he faced the sink, his sleeves rolled up. The thought humored me. "The infamous Draco Malfoy, doing chores?" I teased.
"And the pronounced Hermione Granger, awakening from a night of deep slumber: that's certainly out of the ordinary," he retorted, not even turning to look at me.
I didn't reply. He was right.
"So how long have you not been sleeping?" he asked casually.
I avoided the question; "What are you doing here?"
He didn't let it pass. "Answer my question, Hermione."
I sighed. "About a year now."
"A year?" he turned to me, a look of astonishment overtaking his features.
I looked away and nodded briefly. It wasn't like this for an entire year, I thought. It got worse and worse, gradually, to this point, at which it had been a year. But I didn't portray this to Draco.
"Hermione, you need help." For a moment, I actually thought he cared. I laughed inwardly at the absurdity. I turned back to look at him. His eyes were filled with concern.
"No, I don't," I retorted. "I can handle this myself." I knew I couldn't, though. It had gotten out of hand. I didn't like this, not one bit. I hated it. I hated the fact that at this point, I couldn't comprehend reality from fiction. But I don't ask for help. I've always been the one with the answers. I've always given help, and hardly ever received it.
"Oh, and you seem to be doing that so well," he retorted.
"It's none of your business, any how!" I responded, almost in a yell. Almost.
"Of course it's my business!" Again, absurdity.
"Oh, and really? Why is that?"
"Because I -"
But he never finished that sentence. I continued. "We're not together, anymore, Draco. I don't have to do what you say."
"You never did what I said."
"Why are you here Draco?" I've been wondering that since I awoke. I knew he was here, but I didn't know why. I barely remembered last night. I didn't remember anything anymore. I was too forgetful ever since the insomnia started.
"I was going to ask you the same," he replied in a sneer.
"I live here…?" His question had such a dearth of sense that I hadn't a clue how to respond. I live here, you idiot.
"I meant last night, Hermione." He rolled down his sleeves after washing his hands. I couldn't remember last night, so I was at a total loss. I pursed my lips, thinking intently. He walked into the living room, and sat on my sofa. "I've come to warn you."
I turned my head, to look at him, my brows furrowed in confusion. "Warn me? Of what?"
"Anyone else would have killed you on sight, Hermione."
And then it all came back: The store, the odd objects, the book cases, and the voices. "But you didn't."
"Apparently," he said dryly. "Stay away from there."
"Once again," I repeated, "you cannot tell me what I shall and shan't do."
I was facing him fully now. He stood up quickly and in a few long strides was right in front of me. He took hold of me, his tight grip on the sides of my arms. "Listen to me, Hermione, you will not go anywhere near that building. I don't even want you on that street!" he ordered.
I tried to struggle out of his hold, but it wasn't any good. His eyes pierced into me, but I looked at him, straight on. "I will do as I please."
He let go of me, practically throwing me into the table behind me in the process. "You're going to end up dead, Hermione, I swear it!"
"Oh, you're threatening me now?" I raised my voice.
"No, but even if I was what would be the use? You seem to have your own death sentence planned out!"
I didn't see why he cared anymore. My mind filled itself with so many thoughts, words, and memories. I was so confused. After a moment of silence, I said, "I don't see why you care, Draco," but in a very soft voice. I couldn't help it. I didn't have the strength to sound strong and determined to get my way. I only wanted answers. I stared at the carpet. "You left me, Draco. You ended it. So why are you here?" And I met his eyes with my own again.
"Are you that oblivious, Hermione?" he asked me, sounding dumbfounded.
"I suppose I am," I retorted, trying to hold back tears. "I am losing my mind after all."
I think I saw a speck of sympathy in his eyes. "Her-"
"No," I interrupted.
I realized at that moment that I was practically glued to the table. It was my support, keeping me from falling to my knees. His eyes were dark, now, full of a type of determination. He approached me slowly. My heart thudded. I remembered that look. It was the look of a predator preying on its next meal. I didn't move. I couldn't move. I stood still, as a rock, leaning up against the table for support. I closed my eyes and turned my head. His chest touched mine, but I refused to open my eyes to him. His fingers traced my neck lightly, like a feather. He took a firm hold of my face in his hands and I felt his lips on mine. I couldn't deny him. I never was able to. I fell into him, of course, wrapped my arms around his neck.
Eventually, he pulled away, to my dismay. "Hermione, go back to sleep." He stated it in a tiresome tone, as if our kiss had never taken place. My heart screamed.
Looking away, I forced myself out of his hold. "You should leave," I stated. And then made my way into my bedroom. Alone.
That night was no different than any other night. I did not sleep. I didn't so as much close my eyes.