prompt #3 : bittersweet kiss (it's just goodbye)
Title: It's Just Goodbye
Author: savepureness
Rating: G
Word Count: 252
Notes: Written for Valentine's Day 2010 - Prompt #3: Bittersweet Kiss. AU. Hogwarts years. Draco Malfoy is to be transferred to Durmstrang against his will.
"I beg your pardon?"
Betimes Hermione's voice can be sweet; if she's really, really trying. Not today. Not now - now it doesn't carry far, it stays dangerously low, and I'd rather she'd scream at me. She doesn't, not even when I can't find words to answer her.
"Granger, look -"
"Don't. Don't Granger me. I'm not your Granger."
She is. At least I thought she was, until today. I struggle to remember what day it is, but apprehension overwhelms me, and rational thoughts die.
"I'll write", I say miserably. "Weekly."
It's the least I can do. My father's word, I can't disobey. As long as he still has a word, as long as it still matters, I have to listen. My mother would be hurt if I did otherwise.
"I hope you fall in one of those crevices and freeze", she spells slowly. Her head is turned, her face hidden by a generous curtain of hair - I can still picture tears stinging her eyes.
"Dead people don't write letters."
"Make sure you don't become one."
I grab her hand urgently; far down the corridor, I can hear my father's steps. It can't be anyone else, his stride is unmistakable. Hermione turns reluctantly, and my fingers dig deeply in her shoulders. I keep her close, very close, briefly.
We finally kiss. I can taste pumpkin juice on her tongue, and it makes me smile inside. I can taste salt on her lips, and it reminds me that Durmstrang is a far, lonely place.
Author: savepureness
Rating: G
Word Count: 252
Notes: Written for Valentine's Day 2010 - Prompt #3: Bittersweet Kiss. AU. Hogwarts years. Draco Malfoy is to be transferred to Durmstrang against his will.
"I beg your pardon?"
Betimes Hermione's voice can be sweet; if she's really, really trying. Not today. Not now - now it doesn't carry far, it stays dangerously low, and I'd rather she'd scream at me. She doesn't, not even when I can't find words to answer her.
"Granger, look -"
"Don't. Don't Granger me. I'm not your Granger."
She is. At least I thought she was, until today. I struggle to remember what day it is, but apprehension overwhelms me, and rational thoughts die.
"I'll write", I say miserably. "Weekly."
It's the least I can do. My father's word, I can't disobey. As long as he still has a word, as long as it still matters, I have to listen. My mother would be hurt if I did otherwise.
"I hope you fall in one of those crevices and freeze", she spells slowly. Her head is turned, her face hidden by a generous curtain of hair - I can still picture tears stinging her eyes.
"Dead people don't write letters."
"Make sure you don't become one."
I grab her hand urgently; far down the corridor, I can hear my father's steps. It can't be anyone else, his stride is unmistakable. Hermione turns reluctantly, and my fingers dig deeply in her shoulders. I keep her close, very close, briefly.
We finally kiss. I can taste pumpkin juice on her tongue, and it makes me smile inside. I can taste salt on her lips, and it reminds me that Durmstrang is a far, lonely place.