Immoral In Devotion Skies

CHAPTER SIX: Thunderstorms and Murders

Prepare yourself to meet a girl who cannot sleep
Dividing every question 'til the questions are complete
Every twisted tongue she studies everyone
She won't leave any stone unturned the night is oh so young

Delta Goodrem "The Analyst"

Life isn't as hard as it seems. I just find it hard to deal with which makes it seem so. It seems I hope for too much, expect too much - I am too idealistic, and when I'm not, things still let me down. They are just tiny little things - like a trip to the cinema already planned or perhaps a taste of a certain food. They are just small minute little disappointments that you can't have, and they're hard to deal with when all those unimportant displeasures mount up. They equal a lot more than just disappointments then. They're much harder to take in, to deal with and to face. You feel the world is against you, and you think: if I can't even have those tiny things then I most certainly won't have the big things. It's not much too wish for is it? Those little things? My only source of happiness? Then I think: happiness doesn't come from that. It comes from yourself - in the way you handle what is thrown at you. However, that doesn't make the little things come...

*

Wind whipped its way round the sprawling green field outside the Malfoy Mansion. It howled, it whistled, striking with its force of bitter coldness. Lightning struck not too far away; the beauty of its light, glimmering and flashing, splitting the world in half. Thunder followed, echoing a bellowing voice - weeping in pain, screaming in agony, and fighting with frustration. Rain fell in sharp sheets cutting through the dark night sky with a deadly might. Weather pounced, jumped and hid in shadows, waiting for the time to strike its victim, looking for the perfect one. Weather was a murderer.

Hermione stood amidst the murderer: letting Wind whip her, Lightning causing her to cower in fear, Thunder gnawing at her resentment, and Rain slicing her body with a thousand blades. Yet, Hermione much preferred this compared to what she was about to do. She looked at the mansion that stood alone, a field away from her. It really was sinister, dark, dangerous, threatening, tempting, and deadly. However, the light had changed, a new hope had broken through. Outside, it might still be as dark as it used to be, but something was living inside, eating away the darkness. Good glowed like the single light that was shining through a lone window in the mansion. Though it would take a while before the shadows would disappear and luminosity was currently standing alone, radiance would win. It would not fail to accomplish its mission.

Wrapping her cloak around her body, Hermione made her way across the field with thoughts brewing in her mind. She would prove it to Draco Malfoy. She would make him remember. She would make him remember the past, because the past could not repeat itself.

Hermione arrived before the porch of the Malfoy Mansion. She gingerly stepped over the porch. I can't do this. I can't. Doubt flooded Hermione's mind as she stood there on the porch, breathing in and out, swallowing constantly. I'm not ready. However, deep down, Hermione knew she had to confront Malfoy, or Draco, as she should call him since they were now on a first-name basis. Sleeping with him had been a total mistake, and she had to tell him that - not that she thought he would be thinking that there was something between them...it was just too complicated. It was too difficult to be handling so many things at the moment. She had to tell him it was a mistake, had to remind him, to make him remember. The past was an ugly thing. Hermione's memories were painful, beautiful, ugly, full of joy, and full of sadness. They were memories so full of a past that no longer existed, memories that belonged to a world that no longer lived.

Hermione sniffed as a tear rolled down her cheek. Her fingers clenched the cloak that was wrapped round her body, digging her nails into the fabric. She stood there for what seemed to be an eternity. Although the porch shielded her from the rain, the cold wind surrounded her, enveloping her in its bitter frostiness, wailing and screeching. The wind reflected the feelings that were engulfing Hermione from the inside - the sobs that were bursting for release, the anguish tearing her heart apart, and the sorrow eating away her body and mind.

Forcing herself and gathering up all her self-courage, Hermione rammed the dragonhead knocker against the towering door. The door opened, and Hermione was surprised to see that Draco greeted her. She had been expecting one of the house-elves, not the man himself - at least not yet. She thought that she could at least buy a few minutes of time, just to gather up the last of her bravery.

"Well?" Draco enquired. "Do you want to come in?"

Draco had been expecting Hermione sometime or another, so he was not at all surprised to see her standing there. However, she did not look too well: her clothes were soaked through, her hair was a mess, and she was so pale that he thought she would keel over at any moment. He was amazed that he had only seen Hermione the day before yesterday. "How long have you been standing there?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at her sodden clothes.

Hermione did not answer. She stood rooted to the spot, staring down at the floor. Her feet would not move. Her voice would not speak. She felt like she was paralysed. Her fingernails dug deeper into the wet material of her black cloak. Her teeth started to chatter, and she felt the chilliness that was seeping through the material onto her skin and into her body. I'm so cold. Her body suddenly started to shake uncontrollably, and still Hermione clenched her cloak, her arms wrapped around herself. Suddenly, her vision started to spin around her, everything was starting to go black, and her eyes were closing. The last thing she heard was Draco screaming for the house-elves, as her arms slumped to her sides and her knees gave way before she collapsed to the ground, and the wintry air started to feed on her body.

*

Hermione blinked as the world around her came into focus. Where am I? She squinted as a blurry face came into focus. Draco? She reached out a hand, confused.

Draco sighed with relief as he took Hermione's slender hand. He smiled down at her. "It's me. You're all right. You fainted on my doorstep, that's all."

Hermione scrunched up her eyes, blinked and opened them again. "What was I doing on your doorstep?"

Draco laughed, his laughter tinkling and bouncing off the walls. "I was wondering that myself. Unfortunately, you didn't get round to explaining the reason for your presence. Though I can guess why," he added darkly.

Hermione's eyebrows contorted in confusion as she registered Draco's words. Then it dawned on her - that night two days ago and the reason why she was here. "I didn't sleep at all last night. Though I haven't been sleeping well anyway, what with all my work at the Ministry."

"That's probably why you fainted," Draco stated.

"Perhaps." Hermione sucked in her breath as she paused to think of a way to phrase her words. "About that night -"

"You think it was wrong, don't you?" Draco's voice cut in, releasing her hand. "You believe it shouldn't have happened."

"Well -"

"Why, Hermione, why?"

"Draco!" Hermione said sharply. "If you'll let me get in a word edgewise then I'll explain."

Draco muttered, "Sorry."

"I'm surprised that you don't think it was a mistake, after everything in Hogwarts."

"People change," he stated.

"Yes, I know. You've said." Hermione paused. "Anyway, we've been through a lot, and that night was supposed to have been just company - perhaps the start to a new friendship - but it shouldn't have escalated into sex. It was wrong - we were drunk."

"We weren't that much," Draco reasoned.

"How old are you? Fifteen? It was enough to make us do things we never would have done in the first place!" Hermione said severely.

Draco did not speak but merely grumbled.

Hermione stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"I don't want to fight about this, Hermione. But have you ever thought that it happened because it was supposed to?"

"What?" Hermione exclaimed.

"That maybe last night happened because it was supposed to. We've all changed and we're two different people now, and I have to say I enjoy your company. So, what reason is there to say that we can't start a relationship?"

Hermione stared at him horror, unable to grasp what he was saying.

Draco smirked at her incapableness to speak. "You like me, Hermione, and you know it."

"What?" Hermione screeched. "I saw you for the first time in three years a few days ago, and now you're proclaiming that I like you? You're forgetting that those feelings come from my behalf."

"We haven't seen one another in three years? So what? One thing is clear: you like me but you're either not admitting it or you haven't fully realised it yet. As corny as it sounds, we shared a moment before everything happened that night."

Hermione spluttered, "I - I - well - no, but -"

Draco grinned. "See, you're proving my point."

"No! I don't like you, Draco, not in that way..." she trailed off as he gave her a look. Hermione turned her face away as tears started to fill her eyes. Her voice came out scratchy and raspy. "Things aren't that simple. We can't do this."

"Do what?"

"This! We can't do it. Not again. I'm not going to repeat my past mistakes all over again. Life is disappointing enough as it is. There is barely any hope left, I can't go through this too. What's the point? It's only going to lead us to tragedy and sorrow. I can't do that. It hurts too much." Hermione stood up, wobbling slightly as a wave of nausea swept through her for a second. Then she turned and walked towards the other side of the grand room, towards the large window broadcasting the night sky, watching the rain run down the panes.

Draco pursed his lips. "Look at me, Hermione. Don't you turn away from me!"

"I can't. I can't look at you," Hermione choked.

Gritting his teeth with frustration, Draco stormed towards Hermione, grabbing her arm and turning her to face him. "Damn it, Hermione! Why won't you look at me?"

"I told you - I can't," she said, looking down at the floor through her tears, watching them fall drop by drop.

"Why? Why can't you look at me? Why can't we be together? Damn it! Why do you always cry?" Draco cried.

Hermione wrenched her arm from Draco's grasp and stared at him with fury in her eyes. "Why do you think, you stupid bastard? The War, damn it, the stupid bloody War! I don't ask to be unhappy. I don't ask for the sorrow I am going through! Do you think I want this? Do you truly believe I like wallowing in my own self-pity, you selfish son of a bitch?"

"Then get over it! Everyone else has!" Draco said harshly.

Hermione's eyes widened at his comment. "You selfish, stupid, insensitive bastard!" she yelled at him. "Fine! I'm a wallowing, self-pitying, overemotional jerk! So what?" she spat. Then through her anger, she slapped Draco hard across the cheek, much harder than she had slapped him in their third year at Hogwarts. This time there was even more hatred, more anger, and more frustration than it had been the time before. "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you!" Hermione shrieked.

Grimacing as Hermione's hands continued to pound his chest, Draco grabbed her wrists, hurting her slightly so she stopped beating him. Once Hermione stopped, her hands fell to her sides and she sobbed, her shoulders shaking. Draco stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, trying to comfort the small, fragile, vulnerable, broken girl in his arms.

"I'm sorry," Hermione sniffed.

"Shh. Everything's going to be okay. Everything's going to be fine," Draco consoled.

"No, it's not," Hermione mumbled into Draco's shoulder.

"It is. You'll see," he whispered in reply.

Hermione's face popped up from his shoulder, and she stared at Draco. "No, it's not, Draco," she whispered. "We can't be together, and we shouldn't. Not again - not after everything that's happened."

"So what are you trying to propose?" Draco replied.

"Friends. Let's just be friends."

Draco sighed. "That's the thing, Hermione. We've never been friends. We either hated or liked each other..."