Show Me Love

Show Me Love

She stood motionless in the night. Her black robes hung loosely around her delicate frame and she shivered in the cold. Her usually thick mahogany hair fell limply around her taut face, her eyes dim and sour. She moved her right arm from beneath her sleeve and pointed a thin, red wand into the air. A tiny light flashed at the end and soon a large speeding bus appeared from a distance and lurched to a stop before her.

The metal doors crunched open loudly in the darkness and she took a step back to avoid being hit. The tired-looking driver smiled down at her from his seat. She nodded back at the flash of his yellow teeth. She quickly climbed onto the bus steps, moved down the aisle and settled back into a seat at the far end of the bus.

The drive was calm and the outside landscape whisked by unseen. She rested rigidly in the cushioned seat, her hands clasped in her lap and her eyes staring into the nothingness ahead of her. The bus made a sharp turn, squeaked loudly and lurched to an unsteady stop. The bus doors opened and a dark, cloaked figure moved into view.

A hood rested over the figure’s head and the lithe frame said nothing for sex. The figure moved down the aisle with ease, hands moving towards the hood. It was brought down slowly, as if there was no such thing as time. Where the hood had rested before, now showed ashen blonde tresses. Beneath the silky blonde locks a man’s stone cut face was revealed.

The blonde man walked down the aisle slowly as the bus lurched back into motion. He stopped before her seat and lowered himself beside her. They sat in silence together. There was no exchange of pleasantries and she turned to stare at the man wearily.

“How is your wife?” she asked slowly.

“Boring,” he replied, not turning to face her.

“And your son?” she inquired further.

“Spoilt,” he answered emotionlessly.

She nodded her head and turned forward. He glanced at her stiff form from the corner of his silver eyes. Her own chocolate coloured eyes were darker with despair. Her skin, which he remembered being a pretty shade of pink had lost all it’s colouring. There were hard lines around her mouth and red rimmed her unusually dull eyes.

“How’s your fiancee?” he wondered half heartedly.

“Married,” she said softly.

His head jerked to the side and he reached out for her left hand. He turned her palm over and traced her ring finger, which was bare and softer than silk.

“I see no ring,” he commented. She sighed and pulled her hand back into her lap and out of his grasp.

“I never said to me,” she whispered painstakingly. Her head shook unconsciously and she rubbed her right finger absentmindedly. “He met a French girl, she makes him happier than I ever could. Besides, she’s beautiful and she can have children,” she added stiffly. Her hands stopped playing with her ring finger and drifted to splay across her stomach.

He sighed and reached for her now shaking hands. He lifted them into his own and held them to his chest in manner that was completely uncharacteristic but almost fit.

“I’m sorry,” he said tonelessly. She laughed bitterly and pulled her hands back.

“No, you’re not. You hated him,” she accused. He sighed, but did not argue.

“When did you become so cold?” he asked harshly. She gave him an icy stare.

“That’s rich, coming from you,” she muttered and the two fell into a shared silence. She rested her head back against her seat and closed her eyes. He turned in his seat and watched her for a long moment.

Her eyes fluttered slightly beneath her eye lids and her nostrils flared with each breath. Her lips lay parted and from behind them he caught the rosy pink of her tongue and the pearly white of her teeth. He slowly lifted his hands upward and traced the outline of her face.

“You are so beautiful,” he said quietly. She snapped her eyes open and stared back into his face.

“I don’t require sweet talk or foreplay, you know. You can stay with me tonight without it,” as she spoke, he dropped his hand from her face and tried not to show her his anger.

“I wasn’t planning on giving you false lies tonight,” he said through clenched teeth. She gave him a pointed stare.

“Really? And what were you planning to give me?” she asked. Her words dripped with contempt and sarcasm.

“My honest opinion,” he started. “And in that, I think you deserve to be told you’re beautiful, because you are.”

She nodded her head as casually as she could manage. A thin hand reached up and brushed a lock of hair carefully from her face. He stared intently into her eyes and at her lips.

“I suppose I should say thank you then,” she mumbled. He inwardly cringed at the broken way she spoke. His hand dropped away from her face again and they remained silent the rest of the ride. It was neither a comfort nor a burden. When the bus lurched to her stop, they both moved down the aisle, her before him, mechanically.

They were left standing in a dead neighborhood when the bus pulled away. The streets carried very little light down the walk and they both blended into the background in their midnight robes. They began to walk, completely in unison and yet, in their own respects. When they had stopped, they were standing before a large, unappealing building. It was a misty, cracking brown and steel rods lined the windows. The building door was covered with a rusty black screen and it creaked when it was opened. The only thing that looked relatively lively about the building was a patch of red rose bushes off to the side that were charmed into full bloom all day long.

They moved up the dark stairway without word and the only sound was the ticking of a flickering light bulb above the stairs and their footsteps. They arrived at her flat door. She opened it firmly and they pushed their way into the dimly lit room. She lifted her wand in front of her and murmured ‘Lumos.’ The room sprang to life and light.

“It’s bare,” he remarked.

“Everything belonged to him,” she answered.

“Everything?” he looked around the room and stopped on her.

“Everything but what he wanted,” she replied.

“What was that?” he asked knowingly.

“Me. Do you want a cup of tea?”

She moved into the kitchen and he followed dutifully behind her. She lifted her wand up to two small tea cups and whispered the spell under her breath.

“Are you lonely here without him?” he asked as he sat.

“You don’t really care,” she said and handed him a steamy cup of tea.

“Answer the damn question,” he said in an irritated voice.

“Only in the morning,” she said truthfully. He nodded.

“How long will you be staying?” she asked as she sat across from him.

“Until morning,” he replied. She smiled dryly and nodded.

“You’re not getting breakfast,” she informed him.

“I didn’t want it. I know how horrible your cooking is,” he smirked.

“I couldn’t find the right book,” she replied back. He laughed silently.

“Are you done with your tea?” she asked minutes later. He set his cup onto the table and stood. He walked from his seat and moved over to stand next to her. He took her hand into his own and claimed her lips softly as she rose. Her arms wound around his neck and his hands splayed out across her back. She moaned softly and he released her mouth to trail hot kisses to her neck.

“Bedroom,” she whispered. They arrived in the room moments later, his robes, shirt, shoes and socks removed in the process. She’d lost her robes, shoes and socks as well. He reached for her arm and touched his hand to her cheek. She smiled genuinely and reached down to the buttons of his pants. His hands stilled hers.

“No,” he whispered. “I only want to sleep tonight.”

She nodded dejectedly and stepped back from him. He reached out for her once more and held her face in his hands. He dipped his head down and licked her lips. She moaned.

“I could have married you,” he sighed into her mouth.

“You were a coward,” she breathed back.

“It hasn’t changed,” he said as he dropped back from her mouth.

“I know,” she replied.

“Come on,” he climbed onto her bed and pulled the burgundy duvet down to reveal forest green sheets. “Get in,” he ordered a second later.

She sat down on the mattress for a moment and then lifted her shirt over her head. He gripped her back and pulled her waist towards his chest. His lean arms wrapped completely around her.

“You’re cold,” he commented.

“In so many ways,” she replied sadly.

“I want to make you warm,” he confessed.

“I want you to, as well,” she sighed.

“I could kill him,” he only half joked.

“He deserves happiness,” she whispered.

“So do you,” he replied.

“I’ll never be happy,” she professed.

“I’ll leave her,” he said softly against her neck.

“No, you won’t,” she whispered barely above a cry.

“I mean it,” he said firmly, wrapping her deeper into his chest.

“I’m not going to do that to your family. She’s your wife, she gave you a son. You’ll get no sons from me,” she turned in his arms and looped her arms around his neck. He leaned his forehead against hers and her dark hair brushed against his skin almost painfully.

“I don’t care,” he admitted.

“I don’t want to talk about this now, please. How long do you want to stay?” she asked as she dropped a light kiss to his nose.

“Forever,” he breathed.

“When will you leave?” she asked, pulling back slightly to stare into his face seriously.

“In the morning,” he sighed, leaning down onto the mattress, pulling her body with his. She rubbed her face into his neck and moulded her body to his.

“Okay,” she mumbled. He nodded back soundlessly.

“Goodnight, Draco,” she quietly whispered into his chest.

“Goodnight, Hermione.” I love you, he added silently. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on her hips. He felt a light kiss on his shoulder and then a delicate tear dropped onto his chest. One followed another and he pulled her body even further into his with a sigh.

“Stay until noon,” he heard the almost silent plead.

“Yes, yes,” he answered.

“Thank you,” she said and the tears came to a stop almost immediately after. Her breathing shallowed out and he looked down to see her chest rising in a steady rhythm. He closed his eyes and held her close. Tonight, they slept.