Mind bound.

A/N.This is a oneshot while I get around to updating Erlking (which has masses and masses of hand-written copy to be typed up)

Right, there are billions of stories on this site, I thought, instead of mimicking the most common style, I would go for something a little abstract- perhaps (dare I say it?) even a little more grown up.Evidently, this isn't clear enough. So, for those who are a wee bit bewildered, this should help :


Hermione's POV.

Here in this cold,dark place there is nothing but you.
Around me, above me, inside me.

You say:
' With every thought and word and waking breath, you lie. '

I say:

' I know. '

And so it begins again. My denial;your scorn. My enthrallment, and your punishment.

You say:
' If I wasn't...
If you didn't...
If we hadn't... '

And then the wheel spins again. Black. Red. Black. Red. And neither of us ever wins.
My slavery. Your sacrifice.
Our weakness.

If I didn't love you so much this thrall would be no big thing. If I didn't love you, I could surrender to you.

You say:
' Do you wish it was me, when you fuck her? My face? My voice? My cock inside you; hating you,hurting you? '

I say:
' You've never hated me. '

You say
' Bitch. '

I touch myself, fuck myself and know you feel it. Across the miles, the lands,the cold, cold waters and the mountains you feel me fuck myself, and I know you wish it was you.
And as my mind loses grip on the concrete and the subconscious plays it's wicked game, a pencil draws the harsh outline of your face on the backs of my eyelids, and my arousal jacks up a notch, my fingers become slick with my own need. I feel your heartbeat quicken, your muscles tighten as your arousal follows the relentless pied piper's tune of mine.
Because we are one.

How could we have known, all those years ago on that smoky battlefield that one tiny deflected curse could change our lives so much?
Our dirty little secret.
I haven't seen your face since the trial, when Harry sent you to prison without a second thought, and your eyes, your black eyes burned into mine and called me a liar, called me weak, and worse, so much worse than that, promised that you'd see me later.
You never left my mind.

The sweet,pretty lovers I have taken over time, tall girls, skinny girls, short,curvy girls. Girls who fall in love with me, at first, then by turns fear and despise me, as they become aware of the pounding need that drives me, and my hatred of it.

But they don't know why. Last night my sweet lover's face crumpled in tears and she fled from me, as your words, your derision spat from my mouth.
She says I need help. She says I'm like two different people.
She has no idea how right she is.

She doesn't know this isn't how I used to be.

Despoiled, defiled by you. Afflicted with your base lusts, so long denied. I go through woman after woman.

I haven't fucked a man in years.
While you rot in that prison, my life is yours ,my body is yours, and while my soul screams for freedom, my flesh creeps with the need for nubile, quivering flesh.

I feel that heat begin, feel the shivers wrack our flesh, and suddenly the imagined is real.

Your cock thrusting inside me, your sweet-painful grip on my hip, your evil, haunting voice whispering my name over and over,you fuck me roughly.

For the first time your hard muscle warms my body, the sweat slicks between us. I feel you swell inside me, feel your hot, damp breath on my neck, those essentially male things I'd almost forgotten existed.
So strange, this blunt,throbbing flesh after years of pallid excuses.
You hold yourself over me, forcing my mouth to yours for a kiss, I hear you think that you had never imagined, never imagined it would be like this.
A gleam in your black eyes, and a hot, rough hand drags down my body, knowing exactly where to tickle, and where to pinch. You thrust much slower now, dragging it out, and now my hips jerk up to meet yours, loving the feel of you violating me, loving the dirty, sweaty scent of you, just loving you, and hating myself for it.
Rhythm falters.

You pick up pace, roughly panting my name, and I feel your awareness of your orgasm before it happens. I feel you come in me, and my own orgasm stutters- then strips me barer than I've ever been.
This feels like dying. Like dying, and living, and finally, my heart is beating after years of coldness.

I see your eyes, your burning eyes so full of rage and pain. You lean down and whisper to me.

You say:
' I hate you '

I say:
' Liar. '