Cacher 6/6 [collaboration with goldy_dollar]
Title: Cacher
Pairing/Characters: hermione, harry/hermione
Words: 704
Spoilers: 1-6
Rating: DC and PA. Duh.
Summary: She should've known.
A/N: Yeah, well. Everybody knows that there are no fuzzy bunnies and sparkly confetti on my journal. So with that being said, this is what happens when I write the last part.
Later. This is how she’ll remember it.
It’ll be an empty memory. One that’ll appear when she won’t want it too. One that she’ll do everything she can to forget- erase- but will be unsuccessful. Because in some twisted fashion, he’s given her a part of himself and she can hold on to that.
But she can’t escape the repercussions.
The consequences between them were never easy. They burned. They hated. They tore away walls. Reopened wounds. And twisted that knife in their- her- heart.
So later. Alone. Cold. Bitter. And she’ll understanding. She’ll remember. She’ll remember and start to cry.
[softly oh softly he’ll kiss her and she’ll want to cry because for some reason she thinks she’s say goodbye all over again but she doesn’t and she can’t because he’s here and she’s here and it seem to outweigh the sensations of grief that are threatening to break through the desperation of him in her and she can’t stop moving because she knows if she stops he won’t be there]
The room is cold. The sheets are tangled around her bare legs. She’ll squint and she can make out her clothes- neatly folded on a chair by his dresser. Her hands are bare. She had taken her ring off in the heights of passion. She didn’t belong to anyone.
[not even him]
Her ring will be here she left. On his coffee. From a fit of desperate anger. A fuck you and an I hate you.
[he kisses her and touches her and his hands are on her breasts cupping squeezing and at some point she thinks she’s crying or whimpering or moaning but now in the moment she’s lost all certainty in classifying her reactions to him but she hasn’t been able to for a long time because even though they are still them they’re not because he’s only hurt her once this time]
She pushes herself up into a sitting position, tucking her chin over her knees and rocking as if she were a small child. She knew this would happen. She knew. She knew. She knew.
[it’s too late i can’t come back you need to go on we’re losing the war you deserve to be happy you need to go you need to come with me please i please need you]
Later. Much later, she’ll remember how slow his hands moved on her. Skin to skin, he touched her as if she were a fading memory. An impossibility. Something that would end.
Later. Much later. With tears. Anger. Screaming. Sobbing. She’ll pull at her own hair while she remembers how he moved against her. How they fit. How right and how alone she felt even though she had felt like she was finally in one piece.
And how she knew, but refused to say.
With that, her nails will dig into her palms. And she’ll start to bleed.
She could’ve said:
“I want to leave with you. I don’t want to go back. There’s nothing for me.”
But she’d remember Blaise. She’d remember other promise. Promise that she could keep. She’d remember the security- security she could gain back. She would remember lines and shapes and things that made sense.
She should’ve said with her eyes wide open:
“I know you’re leaving.”
To which, a response might be:
[he’ll lace his fingers with hers and her legs will wrap around his waist and she’d try and pull him closer because they’ve forgotten them and this is their last act of desperation him her and this dance]
Nothing.
“Come back with me, Harry.”
“I can’t.”
Can’t. [won’t]
Can’t. [won’t]
Can’t. [won’t]
Can’t. [won’t]
Can’t.
“I can’t,” she says, voice breaking. “I can’t.”
“I-” he swallows. “I know.”
She should’ve known.
She needs to say-
But it doesn’t matter anymore.
And the apartment is too cold.
[i love you he’ll chant i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you and she’ll want to cry but oh my god that’s it is the end of them and of this and she should have said home and far away is not for me and i’d follow you anywhere because i can’t be without you.]
final.
Pairing/Characters: hermione, harry/hermione
Words: 704
Spoilers: 1-6
Rating: DC and PA. Duh.
Summary: She should've known.
A/N: Yeah, well. Everybody knows that there are no fuzzy bunnies and sparkly confetti on my journal. So with that being said, this is what happens when I write the last part.
Later. This is how she’ll remember it.
It’ll be an empty memory. One that’ll appear when she won’t want it too. One that she’ll do everything she can to forget- erase- but will be unsuccessful. Because in some twisted fashion, he’s given her a part of himself and she can hold on to that.
But she can’t escape the repercussions.
The consequences between them were never easy. They burned. They hated. They tore away walls. Reopened wounds. And twisted that knife in their- her- heart.
So later. Alone. Cold. Bitter. And she’ll understanding. She’ll remember. She’ll remember and start to cry.
[softly oh softly he’ll kiss her and she’ll want to cry because for some reason she thinks she’s say goodbye all over again but she doesn’t and she can’t because he’s here and she’s here and it seem to outweigh the sensations of grief that are threatening to break through the desperation of him in her and she can’t stop moving because she knows if she stops he won’t be there]
The room is cold. The sheets are tangled around her bare legs. She’ll squint and she can make out her clothes- neatly folded on a chair by his dresser. Her hands are bare. She had taken her ring off in the heights of passion. She didn’t belong to anyone.
[not even him]
Her ring will be here she left. On his coffee. From a fit of desperate anger. A fuck you and an I hate you.
[he kisses her and touches her and his hands are on her breasts cupping squeezing and at some point she thinks she’s crying or whimpering or moaning but now in the moment she’s lost all certainty in classifying her reactions to him but she hasn’t been able to for a long time because even though they are still them they’re not because he’s only hurt her once this time]
She pushes herself up into a sitting position, tucking her chin over her knees and rocking as if she were a small child. She knew this would happen. She knew. She knew. She knew.
[it’s too late i can’t come back you need to go on we’re losing the war you deserve to be happy you need to go you need to come with me please i please need you]
Later. Much later, she’ll remember how slow his hands moved on her. Skin to skin, he touched her as if she were a fading memory. An impossibility. Something that would end.
Later. Much later. With tears. Anger. Screaming. Sobbing. She’ll pull at her own hair while she remembers how he moved against her. How they fit. How right and how alone she felt even though she had felt like she was finally in one piece.
And how she knew, but refused to say.
With that, her nails will dig into her palms. And she’ll start to bleed.
She could’ve said:
“I want to leave with you. I don’t want to go back. There’s nothing for me.”
But she’d remember Blaise. She’d remember other promise. Promise that she could keep. She’d remember the security- security she could gain back. She would remember lines and shapes and things that made sense.
She should’ve said with her eyes wide open:
“I know you’re leaving.”
To which, a response might be:
[he’ll lace his fingers with hers and her legs will wrap around his waist and she’d try and pull him closer because they’ve forgotten them and this is their last act of desperation him her and this dance]
Nothing.
“Come back with me, Harry.”
“I can’t.”
Can’t. [won’t]
Can’t. [won’t]
Can’t. [won’t]
Can’t. [won’t]
Can’t.
“I can’t,” she says, voice breaking. “I can’t.”
“I-” he swallows. “I know.”
She should’ve known.
She needs to say-
But it doesn’t matter anymore.
And the apartment is too cold.
[i love you he’ll chant i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you and she’ll want to cry but oh my god that’s it is the end of them and of this and she should have said home and far away is not for me and i’d follow you anywhere because i can’t be without you.]
final.