Cries Too Hard

Cries too Hard

She laughs too easily and cries too hard...

Tears run down my cheeks when I'm sure no one is listening. They taste like salt and makeup when they wend their way into the corners of my lips, and burn like acid when I taste them. But I keep doing it, don't I? That's my problem. My problem, hah. I'm attracted by things that burn. Things that eat their way into my soul, tearing it apart like so much tissue paper. Harry is the same as my tears. He burns me, and it's hatred and loving at the same time. He treats me like...nothing, and I try, I try to get him to see me. But he never does. He comes and comes and leaves. It's like that every night. Come, come, leave. And it could go on forever if I let it...but I don't think I want to.

Shouldn't drink alone, the colours run...

I know that Remus knows. He lives beneath us, and the walls and floors in the building are like cardboard. He must hear it. No. He does hear it. I see it in his eyes. When we meet in the hall, and exchange pleasantries. I know that he knows, he knows that I know that he knows, and I know that he knows that I know that he knows. So he invites me in for a cup of tea. And we sit at his table, around a pot of peppermint, or chamomile, or raspberry. We sit. And barely a word is said. But we understand each other he and I. Both trapped in a life that was never meant for us. So I stare into the teacup, and it's real tea, you know, not bags. And it's made perfectly...cream and sugar, just enough of both. Never too much. So I stare at that tea, and the colour is perfect...and to me it reflects a life that I can never have. Just enough cream and sugar. And I look into Remus' eyes, and it seems to me that he knows what I'm thinking, and that he's telling me that he could make my life perfect. And in those hazel eyes, my brown ones find the resolve to move on, get rid of Harry, and get two spoonfuls of sugar.

Nothing's Pure, the paint runs to the floor...

It happens that night...with all the screaming and shouting imaginable. And I know that Remus is down beneath us listening, and cringing, and shedding tears for us both. Harry leaves, in a slamming of the door, and a yelling of obscenities. I sit, on the lounge, strangely calm. For once, I feel like I've done something for myself, not for Harry or Ron, or anyone else. For me, Hermione, and suddenly I feel stronger...And I start to think of the hazel eyes that meet mine so much...with promises of love and tenderness, and understanding. I fall asleep thinking of those eyes, and the fact that I'm free.

She was born to feel it all, to see it all...

The morning comes and suddenly I feel like the world has been lifted from my shoulders. I walk downstairs...and Remus is there, looking at me with those eyes. And I know that he knows, and he knows that I know that he knows, and I know that he knows that I know that he knows. And there's a silence...not a comfortable one. He clears his throat, and gives me a small smile. "Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?"
"You know I don't drink coffee Remus."
"And you know that I don't have any Hermione" he says with a grin.
The world isn't so bad you know...when it's full of perfect tea...and hazel eyes.