Hateful Kisses, Loving Bruises

Hateful Kisses, Loving Bruises

I hated her. Hated her so much my heart pounded with fury at the mere sight of her. Hated her so much I wanted to rip out her beautiful hair and slit the thin blue veins in her delicate wrists. And still, as she stood there tentatively in the door of my dorm room, dressed in a silky white nightgown, her pale white skin glowing in the soft moonlight that flowed in through the windows, I wanted her. I needed her.
I walked toward her and she looked at me with a mixture of love and fright in her eyes. I hated how I could always read what she felt through her eyes. I shut the door softly behind her and locked it, even though I knew no one would come up here. It was Christmas Eve and most everyone in Hogwarts was at home with their families. Taking a step back, I gazed at her lovely face for a few moments.

Her lips were slightly parted and I could tell she was breathing fast. A slight flush had turned her normally porcelain coloured cheeks a delicate pink, and her eyes, her lovely brown eyes that I hated so much, were framed with thick lashes that fluttered nervously as I stepped in closer to her. I gently took her face in my hands, then leaned in and gently, softly, barely kissed her lips.

She sighed and I looked up at her eyes. They closed the second they met mine. Anger surged through me, a sudden rush of hatred, as if someone had poured boiling water over my head. I pushed her against the wall and grabbed her wrists, feeling as though I could snap the delicate bones if I wanted to. And I wanted to. I pushed her arms above her head and pinned her there, then forced my lips onto hers, the pain of our lips crashing together giving me a surge of passion.

As I continued my assault on her beautiful mouth, our hands entwined and I slowly brought her arms back down near shoulder level. Then, letting go of then altogether, I began to explore her body, moving from her neck to her lower back, and even further down, and back up to her breasts. She surprised me by suddenly wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling us closer.

Our kisses were softer now, my tongue and hers writhing together in passion, my hands resting firmly on her waist, pulling her closer, if possible. I loved her. I hated her. We broke apart for air and she leaned her head against my chest. My heart was beating and we were both breathing hard.

I pulled her to my bed and lay down, pulling her on top of me. We began to kiss again, this time slowly and almost .... lovingly? She tangled her hands in my hair and I carelessly dangled my arms around her back, my hands splayed on the silky fabric of her nightgown. I needed to feel her skin.

Slowly, I began inching the skimpy clothing up her body. It had just reached her waist when she seemed to realize what I was doing. She untangled her hands from my hair and reached down, gently pulling my hands away, trying instead to entwine our fingers. I let her for a minute, but then sat up, breaking the kiss. She looked at me questioningly, but I ignored her and pulled off my Muggle T-shirt. Her eyes roamed over my naked chest and I smirked at how her cheeks suddenly became red.

I pulled her back down and turned so I was on top of her. There, I liked this better. I liked having the power. I felt a pang of sadness at the mistrust in her eyes. That pang subsided into guilt, then changed to anger, my most dominant feeling. How dare she not trust me. I tried again to remove the damned nightgown, but it was to no avail. She stopped my hands with hers.

I jerked them away, then grabbed the neckline of her nightgown and tried to pull it up. She twisted and the flimsy fabric tore. I ripped it completely off of her in one violent jerk and stared at her body for a moment, then crushed her against me, my hands finally on the bare flesh of her back. She moaned and kissed my neck and I felt out of control.

I began kissing her all over, in every place my lips could reach. Then I realized it wasn't enough. I wanted to make her bleed. I grabbed roughly onto her shoulders and dug my fingernails into her flesh. Ignoring her painful whimpers, I slowly scraped all the way down her back, then crushed my lips against hers for another brutal, painful kiss.

We broke apart and I stared into her beautiful, horrible eyes, searching. Searching for evidence that she was feeling the same feelings of hatred and love that I was feeling. Searching for a confirmation that my needs could finally be filled tonight. What I found was shocking and caused my eyes to well up with tears. She was looking at me, and the only thing I could see in her eyes was love.

I was suddenly sobbing into her chest, crying tears of rage and pain and loneliness that had been pent up inside of me for years. She held me and held me, kissing my forehead and whispering words of comfort that no one had ever expressed to me before. I knew right then, in those moments, that I was in love. Not just love love, but deep, painful, hard-to-breath love, so pure that it broke my heart all over again anytime I though about it. And suddenly all of the hate, all of the anger I felt towards her left me and I was silent.

An hour later, laying in her arms, naked flesh to naked flesh, I whispered softly, "I love you."

Without hesitation she replied, "I love you, too."

Then, sitting up, I looked once again into her eyes. "Hermione, will you marry me?"

She looked shocked, then happy, and then, tears sliding down her face, answered, "Yes. Yes, I will marry you, Draco Malfoy."

I laid back down into the arms of an angel, of my angel, and drifted off to the most peaceful sleep I had ever been in.