Oblivion

Disclaimer: I do not own them.

Oblivion

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“This is just a game,” he said for the third time that night, hungrily ripping off her clothes as she practically tore his off, their garments lying in sad little heaps all over Draco’s room, which he had charmed quiet and locked.

“Mmm,” she groaned, unable to say anything more coherent or intelligent as his tongue trailed a burning line down her neck, hungrily seeking her newly exposed breasts.

He rubbed his hands over the hardened nipples, causing her to gasp in pleasure.

He lowered his mouth over one while pinching and rolling the other expertly between his fingers.

His mouth bit, nipped, and suckled her tit while she moaned uncontrollably, squirming like a fish fresh out of the sea, her hips bucking against his.

“Bitch. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you,” he reassured her choppily over and over again through brutal kisses that bruised her lips, even as he entered her for what seemed like the millionth time.

The thrill never became dull.

She gasped against him, their bodies entwining intimately close, her hands somehow finding a way into his hair as he began pumping in and out, a thousand electric waves rushing across Hermione’s body, joined at the mouth, hardly able to breathe, overcome with passion, rocking against him as those words rang in her ears…

She was close, their breathing was ragged, the rhythm of his thrusting became frantic and full of need, emotions swirling around like a cyclone of lust.

“Fucking mudblood bitch,” he moaned as he came into her.

She said nothing coherent, just cried out with pleasure.

Lying beside him in the indescribably wonderful afterglow, she closed her eyes tightly. It was dark. She hoped he wouldn’t see, as a single, unexplained tear slipped out from under her eyelid.

It had always been just a game.

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Hermione couldn’t put a finger on why exactly they’d started. This crazy, lustful, animalistic sex that they couldn’t seem to get enough of.

Maybe it was because of the craziness of the ongoing war, and how it seemed to be eating away at them daily. Maybe it was because they both just needed a way to vent their frustrations. Maybe it was because Hermione found him utterly captivating, because he brought her to climax like Harry never could. Maybe it was because Hermione felt such extreme guilty pleasure in those brief moments when they found the time that she felt like flying and suicide all at the same time.

Maybe it was simply because she needed him.

Whatever the reason, they’d always find the time to lock themselves up in a room and fuck each other senseless.

And every single time, he would grunt words of hatred into her ears.

Words that engraved themselves in her heart later, for timid inspection later on. But she never bothered to fully inspect them, fearing what she would find out about herself if she did take the time to examine the words and the feelings they caused to well up in her.

Feelings she would deny endlessly over and over again as the few days when they didn’t meet dragged along.

And then he’d fuck her senseless again, and embed more words of hatred into her heart while giving her so much pleasure and relief that the mere memory turned her into a sex-crazed addict.

Mudblood. Bitch. Whore. Slut. Fucking wench.

I hate you.

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I don’t know why we do this.

I just know that it feels good.

I don’t want you to know anything. About how I…

Feel. I don’t want you to know anything about how I feel about you.

And so I make sure you think I still hate you. And I tell you things that

Things that

Things that I don’t quite mean all the time.

You belong to Potter.

I can smell him on you sometimes. It drives me crazy.

And yet you always come back to me and I always take you and you try so hard to deny it.

To deny you need me. You need me for fulfillment.

You lust for me.

Me?

I don’t lust for you.

I hate you. You stupid mudblood whore.

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This time it’s my mouth around his member.

He’s gasping and groaning something about mudblood and slut.

I shut my eyes and my ears tightly.

Running the length of his hot, throbbing, stiff member with my tongue, I observe how each of my motions seems to bring him that much closer to exploding with pleasure. His head is tipped back now, eyes closed in pleasure, for once not calling me anything.

Whatever cloud he’s on, he’s far surpassed the ninth.

And I’m soaring through the sky, too, somehow indescribably turned on by the member in my mouth, going partly down my throat, being grazed gently by my teeth, its tip being swirled around by my tongue…

It’s almost time and he flips me over so that now he’s on top of me.

Two fingers thrust into my soaking wet sex, and I almost scream out in ecstasy. He pumps those fingers in and out, in and out, adding a third.

My walls are sucking his fingers in now, desperately seeking release from all this wonderful, painful, built up pleasure.

He jerks his fingers out just before I hit my climax, and I almost scream with frustration.

He makes up for it though, as he sticks his throbbing penis into the only place it truly belongs.

We’re bucking against each other, not even bothering to set a steady rhythm.

Before we know it, we’re off, floating away through the stratosphere, and landing somewhere among the stars.

“Whore…” he mutters softly into my hair.

I feel myself shrivel up and die, all the while berating myself.

Why should I care?

Why…should I care?

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They were hardly through the doorway before he’d thrown her on the bed, casting quick silencing and locking charms all over the place as they frenziedly undressed.

It had been almost a week, and Hermione felt dizzy with need.

They didn’t even bother with the touching and feeling.

Draco entered right away, fucking her hard the way that they liked best.

The words bubbled out of him as usual.

“Slut…mudblood…hate…”

But he found a hand clamped over his mouth.

His moment of surprise did not stop his movements, and they carried on in silence, other then their frenzied breathing and moaning.

The words welled up out of her mouth before she could stop them. The name.

“Draco…Draco…Draco…DRACOO!”

He came quickly, releasing a huge amount of his sperm into her, as Hermione’s head was thrown back in ecstasy and a fierce, guilty joy. All images of Harry were ejaculated from her mind, and all she could see now was the flushed, wondering face of Draco as he collapsed on top of her, their sweaty bodies making intimate contact.

He looked at her for a long time.

“Hermione.”

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Sex after that was a lot more enjoyable.

Something had changed. There was passion in the kisses, not just flaming lust.

There was a roaring need, a desperate clutching at one another.

Besides, who knew what could happen next?

Who knew who would have to die next, who would be horribly maimed and injured next?

It was war.

And they treasured every single moment that they could escape from it together.

Entwined in each other’s arms.

Breathing and seeing and screaming and being passion.

In fact, it was Christmas Eve now, and they both sat on Draco’s bed, exchanging gifts.

Harry was away on some mission or another. He never seemed to be there for all the important holidays (which were when the Death Eaters were most vulnerable), but was sincerely sorry for the fact.

Hermione handed Draco her gift first.

It was a wonderfully soft knit scarf, which smelled very much like Hermione.

The very scent was rather arousing, and Draco had to force himself to keep his certain body part from obviously hardening.

Thanking her, he handed her his present, and watched the joy light up her face.

It was a silver locket, with a dragon and a lily carved beautifully and intricately on the front. Inside of the locket was a tiny Cylinesse flower, a flower extremely rare and very highly priced, because its flowers never faded or died.

Draco helped Hermione place it around her neck.

As they gazed silently into each others eyes, automatically, their hands rose to each other’s cheeks, and they drew each other in for a passionate kiss.

And one thing turned into another.

Lying panting on top of her after an incredibly intense orgasm, Draco glanced at the clock which read 1:01.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

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It was never supposed to happen this way.

No one was ever supposed to find out.

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“Harry!” Hermione cried out, throwing clothes on haphazardly as quickly as she could as she ran out after him, trying to catch the raven-haired man who was stomping down the stairs and out the door of Grimmauld Place.

She finally caught up to him, right outside of the house, and turned him around to face her.

There was such a look of extreme pain in his eyes that Hermione felt momentarily taken aback with fear.

He had seen them at it.

Somehow, foolishly, they’d forgotten to lock the door that one time. The very day that Harry had returned victoriously from a secret assassination mission, and had successfully defeated the Dark Lord, once and for all.

He had stood at the door way, disbelief and pain flooding his eyes as he watched.

He was silent. He knew that it was decidedly not a case of rape at all. He knew that she was enjoying every moment of it, her eyes closed in ecstasy while screaming his name over and over again, while he moaned hers back.

He had seen the passion.

The passion that he had never seen, those few times he had been with Hermione. Never had she climaxed before with such wild joy, never before had he seen those stars light up in her eyes.

His heart had broken.

“Hermione…” came the heart breaking half-sob, which seemed to rise from his shattered heart and broken soul.

“Harry, please! Please, Harry, please, I’m so sorry!” Hermione said, a fierce kind of emotion welling up inside her. She knew she had loved him all along, and now felt the pain of their severed connection full-force.

“How could you,” he said quietly, not even screaming.

Hermione would completely have preferred screaming, ranting, and raving, but he just stood there and asked the quiet so calmly, it sounded like a statement. His empty eyes, once so brilliantly green, now seemed to have sputtered out.

“I—I’m so sorry…” Hermione said, knowing she could say nothing more.

“You told me you loved me. Why didn’t you just tell me there was something else?” Harry asked calmly once again, refusing to draw his eyes away from Hermione’s.

“I. I do. I do love you!” Hermione cried out, tears flowing in rivers down her cheeks.

He regarded her ever so calmly.

“Then how could you.”

Hermione choked, sobbing brokenly, openly.

“I’m so sorry Harry…”

“Avada Kedavra.”

Hermione looked up in fear and surprise, her eyes brimming with wetness, expecting to see that fatal beam of green light swooshing towards her full force.

But instead, she simply saw him falling to the ground, as gracefully as the young spring leaf that fell off before it ever got to truly live, gently dancing down to a wet, cold ground.

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I am broken and empty.

Nobody knows what went on between you and me.

They all wonder with pain and agony why he would choose to take his own life.

But you know and I know.

It is because of me.

I suppose I was the only thing he was living for.

The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Kill-Voldemort.

That is your label now.

I was your purpose for continuing to live, now that the almighty weight of saving the world had finally been lifted from your bending back.

But I destroyed it.

I destroyed me.

By succumbing.

So selfish.

I was so selfish.

And now, you are gone.

And it is all my fault.

I admit now that I love Draco, too.

But it was a different kind of love than the one with which I loved you, Harry.

Draco gave me passion and excitement and he was irresistible in so many ways.

But you, Harry. If there were such a thing as a soul mate, I know you would have been mine.

You were the one I could imagine growing old with, and having children with.

How selfish of me.

I wanted you both.

I could not choose.

And now.

Now you are gone.

And it is all my fault.

This is the ocean over which they sprinkled your ashes.

“Harry!”

Do you hear me calling?

“Harry!”

Answer me, please!

“Harry…”

Before I know what I am doing, I’m filling my pockets with stones.

Slowly I walk into the icy cold water.

“You m-must be s-so c-c-cold, Harry,” I whisper with a slight laugh in my voice.

I’m up to my waist in frigid water now, and all around me I can only see cold grey water.

Grey water that reminds me of somebody’s eyes.

Guilt stabs me deeply in the heart and I walk out further, the waves now lifting me gently each time they pass me by.

“Draco…” I whisper to the water, because I am guilty of killing not just one, but two men.

I broke his heart, too.

When I told him that we could not do this anymore.

When I told him that I hated him.

To get away from me.

And he said, so coldly, “Mudblood whore.”

“I’m sorry…”

You did not kill yourself.

Does this make you stronger than Harry?

Or do you simply have more to live for?

I ponder about the two of you, the water now up to my lower lip.

I cannot feel my body.

It’s cold.

I am growing numb and everything is slowly growing hazy.

I cannot feel my body.

I cannot feel the pain, the love, the guilt.

Just numbness.

It was all my fault.

But it’s all over now.

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Three Years Later…

“Honey, listen to this story. It’s amazing!” cried the red-haired lady, sitting across the table from him.

Draco grunted, sipping at his coffee as he watched his wife shake out the newspaper and prepare to read the story to him.

She would never be as good.

But he had fallen in love with her. In a different way than…before….

But love all the same.

And she had been the one to help him get back on his feet after that horrible day, three years ago…

Draco shook himself and forced his attentions back to his red-haired wife.

“…miraculously, she was still barely alive, although she suffered a severe case of hypothermia and amnesia. The fisherman who rescued her in his fish net stated, ‘I thought I caught me a beautiful mermaid, but twas a lass. I was frightened I’d caught me a dead body, but she started coughing and shaking, and I took her over to the convent right away.’

“Indeed, fisherman Larry White’s quick action probably saved the young girl’s life. The nearest building with a certified doctor was in the convent right by the sea. Mr. White quickly brought the girl over to Joyful Convent, and she was saved from certain death.

“Nobody has been able to identify the girl. She remembers nothing about who she is, or where she came from. As nobody has identified her for three years, she still remains happily at Joyful Convent, where she helps take care of little children.

“Sister Lily, as they call her, is much beloved.

“‘We named her after the locket around her neck, because it was engraved with a beautiful lily and dragon design, and in which there was nothing but a lovely fake flower,’ fondly said Sister Abby…”

Ginny stopped reading and looked up at Draco who had gasped and become ghostly pale.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” she asked him, urgently scanning his face to try and figure out what caused him to look as though the ghost of St. Nick had just walked through him.

“Let’s go for a drive…” he said very quietly.

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There’s no way, Draco kept on telling himself, even as he followed his map to the convent which was about an hour away.

Ginny was chatting away animatedly next to him, and although Draco grunted every now and then, he really wasn’t listening.

It couldn’t be…

All too soon, they were pulling in to the convent.

It was a beautiful place, with wide, sweeping lots of wild grass, and a rather plain but homey looking edifice in the distance, led to by a cobbled path. There were weeds poking up in between the stones.

“Ginny, you should stay in the car for a little,” Draco said, and gave her an “I’m-Serious” look as she sighed and leaned back.

Draco made the trek up the sunny slope to the convent by himself, taking in the beautiful scenery as he walked. He could begin to see the dazzling view of the ocean over the top of the hill on which the covenant was perched, when all of a sudden he heard chattering and laughter.

Turning to the right, he saw a group of children being led up the hill through the grass, led by a skinny young nun, whose face he couldn’t make out from the distance.

He softly walked towards her.

“Now, now, Benny, I told you not to run! It is your very own fault that you skinned your knee,” she chastised gently, while tenderly wiping the boy’s knee clean.

The other children, who had been running around and playing tag, suddenly stopped and gaped at Draco when one child shouted out, “Look, it’s a man!”

The nun looked up in gentle disbelief, and her face turned rather surprised to see Draco standing there.

Surprise was an enormous understatement of the emotion displayed on Draco’s face.

The face was undeniably hers.

The soft lips once had kissed so passionately, the beautiful brown eyes he had taken for granted, the cute button nose that scrunched up when she was particularly deep in thought…

And the locket. Wrapped faithfully around her neck.

Draco felt rather weak in the knees.

Here she was, the girl he truly loved.

The one he had dreamed of and yearned for for so many years, here she stood right before him, a rather pleasant surprised smile on her face.

Draco felt his heart breaking once again, the temporary tape with which he had tried to fix his heart falling apart. She knew nothing.

“How may I help you, sir?” she asked pleasantly, in the voice that was hers. The same voice that had once cried out his name in passion.

He gently touched the scarf at his neck. It was silver and red.

“Do you by…any chance…know of a Sister Lily?” he asked softly, feeling slightly dizzy, hardly able to believe what he was seeing.

“Why, yes, that’s me. Can I help you, sir?” she asked with a rather surprised, confused look on her face.

Draco opened his mouth.

He was going to tell her everything, make her remember who she was. He was going to reclaim the love of his life, and whisk her away from this muggle convent back to where she truly belonged…

Suddenly, Draco realized something was tugging the bottom of his jacket.

He looked down, and saw a little girl staring up at him innocently.

He knelt down so that he was eye level with her.

“Please don’t take our Sister Lily away,” she said softly.

Something inside Draco broke again.

He looked at that little girl for a long time, who was determinedly holding in her tears and looking back at him. He looked up, and made eye contact with Hermione.

He finally stood up.

“I’m sorry to have bothered you…Sister Lily…I must be at the wrong convent, because you are not the woman I was searching for,” he said, the smallest of smiles beginning to light up his face, which looked infinitely younger and less despairing.

“Oh, well, it was no trouble at all, are you sure I cannot help you…”

“No, I’m afraid you cannot. Please take good care of them,” he said, smiling down at the little girl who was jumping up and down in joy. “And you children better take good care of her.”

Slowly, he walked away, never once looking back.

He got into the car, and ignored his wife’s questioning as he turned the key and started up the car.

“We better not be late for our doctor’s appointment,” Ginny sighed, patting her swollen belly with a contented smile on our face.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be there.”

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Oblivion.

A universe lived and died in those few moments as I was face to face with the young girl.

Should I have brought you out of oblivion and back into the world in which you once belonged? Should I have brought back all those memories, both good and bad?

Or should I just have left you as you were, in a state of oblivion.

But one look into your eyes, and I knew the answer to the question.

It was not a question of my happiness anymore, because that I have finally found, at least mildly, in Ginny.

It was a question of yours.

You were truly happy, I saw it in your beautiful brown eyes.

There was no pain there, as I saw so often all the times we were together. There was just happiness, pure, simple joy.

You’ve found your place, I can see that now.

Your happiness…

Your happiness is truly all that matters.

Not mine.

And so I leave you now.

I can finally let you go.

Let you go into Oblivion…

Where perhaps you can finally find true happiness.

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I thought Harry’s death was a bit predictable, but the ending wasn’t so much, was it?
Hope you guys liked it.
Reviews would be super great.

-Love from, Evy.