Darkness

Written with my Michael, who helps turns fuckers into fuckees, haha!
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The restricted section of the Hogwarts Library was deathly silent, even for a place such as a library. Here, layers of dust blanketed over old and hidden arcane secret kept under lock and key...some for very good reason. It was here, in these old musty halls, that the sound of a turning page every few minutes could be heard. A dark figure stood here among the ancient shelves, reading a large and heavy book silently.

Bright green eyes wandered almost lazily down the lines of written parchment, while pale, slender fingertips casually would turn a page every minute or so. Dark messy locks of hair spilled into those eyes with a tilt of his head, breathing slow and steady. Harry Potter; emotionally cold, ruthless, and yet superficially charming all at once. The entire school was still mourning the death of Dumbledore, but he was among the few that didn't seem to be upset in the slightest by that little event. No, he was more concerned with the contents of these books. Hidden within the pages of these tomes lay the secrets he needed to usurp Voldemort. The resurrection of the Dark Lord that Harry witnessed in his fourth year had been a declaration of his enmity towards the reincarnated wizard. After all, there wasn't enough room for two Dark Lords, was there?

That shrunken wretch was somewhere out in hiding, while he was warm and safe within these castle walls, all the tomes of Hogwarts at his very fingertips. The idea of Horcruxes held their seduction to him, of course, and for a while Harry had considered indulging in them. However, after he'd seen what they did to Voldemort, Harry decided that it would be far too vulgar. No, there was something else, something more powerful he was searching for. A dark and horrible power just waited to be discovered in these books, and he was very quickly recognizing a pattern among the pages. It would only be a matter of time now.

Hermione, one of those still morning Dumbledore's death, was still watching out for the safety of the students in the school, especially as Head Girl. She was always nervous when she patrolled the halls at night, but it was something that needed to be done, especially with Harry Potter walking around, with the most powerful dark wizard familiar sons and daughters at his beck and call. She sighed as she approached the library, noticing the door open by a hair’s-breadth of space. A minuscule bit, but enough to arouse her suspicions. Pince locked up tighter then a 14th century chastity belt at night. Slipping her hand into the pocket of her robe, she'd silence the heavy doors before moving inside, sweeping through quiet as a mouse down the aisles. Okay, no one here... and then she stared off into the Restricted Section, a shadow flickering from the corner of a back row. Someone was here. Hm. Time to investigate a little more thoroughly... despite how nervous she was, never knowing who she'd meet in that dark corner.

As Hermione went down the musty, stale hallways of the restricted section, she'd see that dark figure leaning casually up against the wooden shelves behind him. A small candle was with him, lighting the book that he had open and in his arms. The wind Hermione brought with her in movement caused the flame to flicker violently, and he immediately looked up to see her. Yeah, it was Harry Potter. He often didn't wear the usual black robes that other students had to uniform themselves into, at least..when he could avoid it. Tonight, a heavy black coat was draped around his shoulders, along with that black fishnet shirt beneath. His body could be seen faintly beneath the thatched lines of nylon, almost as if he were sculpted from marble.

Shadows played around him as he shifted a little and set the book down, a coy little smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. Harry also wore heavy black slacks and uniform black leather boots, two separate belts fastened around his waist, one through the loops and the other at a rakish angle. A skull was carved into the steel of one buckle, and a serpent into the other. Setting the book down casually, as if he hadn't just been caught stealing secrets from Hogwarts, Harry then turned to look at her again. "Apparently I'm not the only one who couldn't find sleep..." he said, his voice sounding like chocolate poured over silk in the silence of this place.

"Apparently you're the only one school rules do not apply to. I'm doing my rounds and you're out of bed... as I suspect you usually are. I feel like if I reported you, you wouldn't care... but I'm going to do it anyway. Unless of course, you just... go to bed? But I assume a powerful wizard as yourself is too good to try and be nice." Hermione didn't seem to be in at all a pleasant mood. Arms were crossed over her chest and her wand had been slipped back into her pocket. How could he go around like that? It was like he wasn't even dressed! She'd swallow back a sigh. He looked good. Dammit, he probably knew it, too. Damn it all to hell. She hated him. If only because of that. On nights like this when she couldn't sleep, she'd think of him. Usually because him in her thoughts exhausted her after only a few minutes. And not because she was reliving how terrible he was to... everyone. No, the bad girl in her desperately wanted him. It upset her to no end, especially when Ron was always trying to get her to take a step in some direction of a relationship with him.

Harry listened to her quietly, brilliant green eyes watching her from behind locks of dark hair. Setting the candle down on the nearby table he'd been using to stack several books of interest, Harry took a few steps toward her, taking care to never break eye contact with her. Once she fell silent, he smiled, and lifted one pale finger to his lips. "Shh...if they find us here, we'll both be in trouble," he whispered, grinning faintly, before those eyes glanced behind her...as if expecting some professor to come storming down the hallway at any moment. Harry then turned to look back at her, all the while, slowly advancing towards her. "So if they do..and they see us here together.." he whispered slowly, his voice the only sound in this quiet, dark place. "..Just grab a hold of me..if they think we're making out, the punishment will be far less severe," he explained, another one of those fiendish little smiles playing around his lips, as he stopped just a breath away from her. Harry was watching her reaction carefully, judging if it was all right to continue forward. He allowed a hand to drift forward just as he finished speaking, to gently brush his thumb along her arm, before withdrawing his touch. Those intense, calm eyes of his shifted back towards her face.

Those dark of hers went wide, not only at his words, but the space that slowly disappeared between them. After a moment she pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Are you kidding? Potter, you'll have better luck with a Hufflepuff! I wouldn't be this close to you if I had to." She'd huff herself and push a few thick curls behind her ears. "Besides, whether or not you'd like to believe it, I do have some power around this school. I won't get in trouble, you will, and no grabbing will be involved." She'd take a step away from him, just to prove her point. With a little breath she'd turn her back to him, starting out of the row. "Come on now... lets go. Before we do get in trouble."

Harry withdrew when she immediately rebuked his advances, but only slightly, smirking a little as she began to lecture him. All the while, he watched her with those eyes, before letting a rich chuckle escape him. It sounded eerie, in this utterly quiet place, especially in the dark. "Oh come on, Granger...you're not even the slightest bit curious?" he asked, stepping back a little, lingering around the pile of books that he'd been reading. Harry watched Hermione for a few more moments, before looking back behind her, shrugging. "It's all right. There's no one here but you, and me, after all...," he said, his voice trailing off, with a bit of a smile coming over him again.

Hermione bit her lower lip. What was he getting at? Surely he wasn't talking about the one thing her imagination focused on the most when she had a moment alone... or a moment where she was unnoticed. Gods! He was irritable! "Of course I'm curious! But I know better! Nothing good would come of sticking my nose... or... anything else... somewhere it doesn't belong! Not that you know anything about that." At first she'd merely glanced at him over her shoulder, before she'd faced him fully, saying all those things to his face. What had gotten into her? When had she been so mouthy? Oh, that's right. Always. He was really getting to her head... unfortunately, she wished that wasn't the only thing he was getting to.

Harry smiled knowingly over at her, the tail of his coat swirling around his boots as he stepped back, the silver chain suspended from his right hip glittering in the candlelight. He extended one hand to stroke the smooth bindings of the books stacked on that small table before him. There were a few silver rings on his fingers, snakes as well, glittering in the light of the nearby candle. Harry's eyes were focused on the books, looking melancholy for a moment, before shifting his gaze back to Hermione. "No, I don't suppose I would. It's just that...I'm looking for something, that's all," he said with a faint trace of a smile. "Aren't you looking for something, too?" he asked, arching a dark brow at her inquisitively, fingertips drumming with a casual interest over the worn face of the books.

"Even if I am..." She wanted to say, I doubt I'd find it with you, but she didn't. It would have been too easy. Too... predictable. She pressed her lips together, lifting a hand to cover her eyes, "I doubt you'd let me find it." Her voice was practically a whisper at that. Had she said that aloud? Apparently. Her cheeks burned a deep shade of red and she made sure to keep her eyes down. Again, it would have been all too easy to turn away, or leave, but he wouldn't come after her, he wouldn't touch her shoulder with some sort of sympathy. So why wait to resolve the issue when he could just give her that smug grin now instead of waiting to see it later on, after the shame had time to sink in?

Harry watched her for a few long moments, before approaching her again, the soft sound of his footsteps the only noise in the quiet cloister of books surrounding them. "It's all right, Hermione.." he said, although there was a strange note of triumph in his voice, vicious and yet hungry. "There's no one around here, judging you..expecting, waiting, watching.." he whispered, his voice dropping just a notch, as he stepped closer and closer to her. Soon he was a breath away, and she would be able to almost feel how close he was without ever actually touching. And then, Harry did touch her, his hand pushing forward to slide his palm along the side of her stomach. Those fingertips of his brushed her bare skin beneath the shirt she was wearing, his thumb tugging at the top hem of her pants. All the while those green eyes looked down at her, calmly, patiently.

Her brows knit together. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. How was this happening? Her eyes fluttered behind her palm, and she slowly lowered it, not lifting her eyes just yet. "But I'm still here. I'm still expecting, still judging. Gods, why can't I shut up?" Everything just kept rolling through her head, and her skin prickled where his hand met it. "What are you doing, anyway?" She asked, suddenly finding the courage to meet his eyes, those beautiful green eyes. Pools of emerald she could get lost in. Oh. This was bad. This was really bad.

Harry watched her quietly, grinning a little as she continued to talk, and then as she looked up at him to ask what he was doing. If she really didn't like it, she would've pulled away. She didn't; that only confirmed what Harry already knew, or at least strongly suspected. The grin vanished soon after she asked him that question, provoking a mild shrug from him. "Whatever we want to," he replied, his hand sliding back around to her front. Those slender fingers of his tugged on the button of her jeans, as he leaned in closer to her. His mouth hovered just a whisper away from her own, until she could feel his own warm breath, before he inhaled slowly through his nostrils. Breathing her in. "Come here.." he whispered to her, before suddenly pressing his lips forward into her own, his eyes sliding shut.

Hermione's eyes widened as his fingers slid along her waist, pulling her closer. She was getting hot... quite hot... quite fast. What was he doing to her? She didn't have the chance to say anything, or breathe, before he was speaking again, and had his lips on hers. Oh! Oh... Her heart stopped and that was it. The world was over. She'd stepped outside of her body and this is what was left: the most heavenly sensation she'd ever experienced. She was pathetic, the most pathetic seventeen year old she knew. Sure, she'd kissed. But she had a feeling... a terribly exciting feeling pooling in the pits of her belly... that just kissing wasn't what Harry had in mind.

Lust was a good word to describe those feelings; not love. It was desire, to grab on to something that you want, and use it up, and only let go when you don't want it anymore. Harry wasn't a slow starter; when she didn't immediately pull away from his kiss, he slipped his tongue into her mouth, his hips pushing forward a bit to bump into hers. He'd pushed her into one of the book shelves behind them, a few of the tomes falling down around them, but it didn't seem to bother him at all. That hand of his was exploring her, the sounds of their commingled heavy breathing mixing with the faint metal grinding of her zipper. Those pale, slender fingers of his had pulled the zipper to her jeans down, and immediately pushed his hand inside the flimsy material of her panties, to feel that warm heat between her legs.

She moaned softly into his lips when their tongues touched, eyes fully shut and mouth tapered to his, moving as he wished. And then... then... what was she hearing? Her mouth jerked away from his and she lifted her hands to find his chest, "What... what are you doing?" She breathed, and that was a feat all it's own. Breathing. His hand was on her, on that heat, that fire he'd started. What was he going to do down there? Nothing good. Nothing safe. Nothing her virgin self could handle.

"Shh," Harry said, his voice full of those heavy breaths that he'd been taking right alongside her. Inside, he was celebrating. From now on he could always stab Ron in the heart with this, if he ever wanted to, and the further he took it, the worse it would be for him. Of course, Harry desired Hermione as well. As they got older, he'd been casting her these little knowing glances that had lead up to this moment. Feeling her warm, pouty little cunt lips made a groan escape from him, tilting his head down a little to watch his hand work inside her panties. Already Hermione's jeans were beginning to slip a little down around the curve of her ass. Harry braced himself against her hands, as she instinctively tried to push him away, but he didn't budge. The dark youth simply held her with one hand against the bookshelf, while the other rubbed, and fondled her pussy. The feel of her fine pubic hairs, that warm and soft pliable flesh just moving at his touch. It thrilled him that she was already moist, and quickly becoming wet with his touch. Those brilliant green eyes looked back up at her, wanting to watch her face, see her reaction at his touch. "It feels good, doesn't it?" he whispered to her, a faint grin pulling at one corner of his mouth.

Hermione swallowed hard, why was he always telling her to shh? She just didn't understand... why he was doing this to her. How he managed to do this to her. Sure she'd imagined this in her dreams... but this was real... this was happening in the here and now. She bit her lower lip as she felt his fingers working against her tender mound, it sent shivers down her spine. Heat coiling into her system. "Harry... you shouldn't... you shouldn't do that..." She was shaking lightly at his hand, truly not having felt that before. And it felt.. it felt simply divine.

Harry wasn't listening to her; not really, anyway. Yes, he shouldn't do that. But had that ever stopped him before? Not in the least. It felt so wrong that it was good. Everything about it, from Hermione's whimpers, to her protests, to the way the thin material from her panties hugged Harry's hand while he rubbed and fondled her warm cunt. The dark youth's heart was hammering in his chest..and then he suddenly withdrew his hand. Leaving her like that, moist and soaking through the thin material of her panties. Warm and aching. Harry lifted his fingertips to his mouth, and then tasted her, wanted to suck every bit onto his tongue. The heavy smell of Hermione's arousal was all over his hand, and it intoxicated him, made that hot throbbing at the base of his spine worse. Harry leaned forward, and kissed her passionately, licking her mouth with that hunger. The next few seconds moved quickly; Harry unbuckling his belts, pulling that warm heavy cock out; the way he grabbed her by the wrist, and put her hand on him. How his hands were pushing down her panties to bunch up next to her jeans, which had by now slipped down below the curve of her ass. The heavy smell of sex and musk surrounded them. All of this passed like a blur, but when he got done pulling her panties down, his intention was clear; Harry was going to fuck her.

The kiss sent her swooping into a void she wasn't really sure existed. A chilling breeze brushed between her thighs and she moaned against his mouth, bit his lower lip, mostly in surprise, when she felt something fill her hand. Something warm. And thick. And bigger then what she'd ever felt before. Okay. No. "No. I don't know what you're planning now, but no. No to it all." She sad stiffly, hand on his cock quivering. With fear. Arousal. Need. Shame. That heat continued to flood the nitch between her legs and as vulgar as it sounded in her head... she didn't want him to plug it. Not now. And maybe? Not ever.

Harry was breathing heavily, dark locks of hair falling into his eyes again as he tilted his head down to look at their exposed bodies. The black he was wearing sharply contrasted with his pale flesh; but he had a gorgeous, slender young body, curves of his exposed waist and groin sloping down to the sight of that heavy, swollen cock in Hermione's hesitant grip. Her panties were pulled down as well, the puffy pink lips of her pussy exposed, along with that adorable little patch of hazel pubic hair. Harry didn't respond to her protests; he heard them, of course, but he wanted her...and he knew that she wanted him. He was going to take her, back in the stacks of these old books. Bracing her up against the shelves of the books again, Harry reached down to his quickly swelling cock, while his other hand slipped over her mouth...the weight of his body bracing her against those shelves. "Try not to make too much noise," he whispered hurriedly to her, looking down at their sex, while rubbing the engorged head of his cock over her slippery pussy lips. Finally he wanted to feel it; pushing just a little bit underneath her crotch, he thrust forward, his hand moving away to hold her still while he pushed up against her quivering body. "Unghm...." Harry grunted, gritting his teeth, as that liquid heat swallowed him.

She shook her head continually... this is how it was going to happen? It seemed so. When his hand came over her mouth she unsuccessfully bit back a deep, quivering groan, her insides split apart, at least that's how it felt. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, but not nearly as tight as the grip of her around him. She didn’t know what to do... she was going to be terrible at this... Oh. This isn't how she'd imagined things happening. With anyone. With him. But it hurt almost as much as it was fulfilling. Literally, of course. She managed to choke back a sob, turning her head away from him as she squirmed, attempting to adjust to him inside of her.

It was a good thing that he'd slipped a hand over her mouth to muffle those whimpers, cries, and moans...else the entire library might be filled with the noise of that mating couple. Harry panted heavily, slowly pushing up inside her. God she was tight, his cock plowing forward, until he was locked deep up inside her. It felt so fucking good. One hand of his reached down to the curve of her ass, gripping one of her cheeks and pulling her further down onto him, just as his hips thrust upward urgently. Sure, Harry had felt a wall there before, her cherry. But he'd pushed right past that; and her body almost seemed to be rewarding him with fresh heat that hadn't ever been felt before. Panting, Harry grunted, and withdrew a little, before pushing again up inside her. All the while, he held her mouth closed with one hand, the other gripping her ass and forcing her down onto his cock. "Unghmm..unhng...fuck.." Harry whispered, looking down to watch all of it unfold, listen to her whimpers and crying.

Her hands found two shelves, gripping them tightly for support as he pulled her down onto him, leaving her shaking still with each thrust. It was too much, too much. She was panting against his hand, an undecipherable expression on her face. Pain, or pleasure? Was she going to cry, or moan in delight? She wasn't even sure, but her eyes were watering and her insides were convulsing. She didn't even know what was happening to her... her body was working in ways that she didn't even know existed. And it was all Harry's doing. No wonder he was sorted into Slytherin.

It didn't take long for things to pick up. Once Harry had plugged his cock into her, it only took a few pushes, until he was ready to really start fucking her. Moving his hand from her mouth, the dark youth reached down to grip both cheeks of her ass, helping to hold her steady on those wobbly legs, while he continued to plow himself up into her hot center. Hermione was wet and ready for him; it felt exquisite, that tight, hot flesh ripple over him every time Harry invaded her. His heart hammered in his chest; and a lewd sound filled the restricted section of the library...it was a rhythmic wet slapping, as he pushed into her, again and again. Using her body to send hot pulses of pleasure through him. Desperate to feel every inch of her, he lifted a hand up along her stomach, his palm sliding over her warm bare flesh as his fingertips slipped beneath the heavy nightshirt she wore. He gripped the swell of one of her breasts beneath, having pushed his fingers past her bra. Harry was breathing like a race horse, eyes fluttering shut with the feeling of pure ecstasy. "Fuck..fuck...fuck.." he chanted in a whisper, with every push up inside her cunt. Those girlish whimpers only turned him on more; the way she braced herself for the ride by gripping the bookshelves. She was trapped up against it, with that boy pounding into her, their jeans quickly working down around their ankles.

Once that hand pulled away she'd reserved herself to short, light pants. Voice lost in her throat, she couldn't even moan. Couldn't speak. Couldn't think. This felt so good. Had she really thought that? The pain had waned and all she could feel was him steadily pushing in and pulling out, feeling her, and leaving her empty once more. How she had managed to get this far with the most evil boy in school was far beyond her... but it felt so right, she could only confirm to herself that everything he'd said that evening was true. Quite beyond true. She hated that.

The way Hermione just got incredibly still, and let him fuck her, only spurred him on more. She wanted this; she just wasn't bold enough to reach out and take it. It was lucky then, perhaps, that he was. Harry listened to her breath, the way she let out a whimper every time he sank all the way inside her again, before slowly pulling out. A few times his cock had popped out entirely, to which he'd stop, and reach down to hook himself back up into her. A fine trickle of blood mixed with fluids of their sex dripped down their union, Harry gritting his teeth, while he held on to Hermione and slammed into her. And then; there it was. That swollen balloon of heat that suddenly billowed up at the base of his spine and seared through the length of his cock. Suddenly Harry became uneven and frantic in the way he fucked her, pushing his body firmly up against her own, almost as if he were afraid she might go somewhere. As he pinned Hermione helplessly to the books behind her, Harry sank his cock one last time into her body, before melting. He could feel his entire body jerking, spitting thick streams of warm cum inside her. Hermione would most likely be able to feel it too, held down and forced to remain still while he finished inside her. She'd be able to feel his hot breath on her collarbone, that moaning, the way he kept spitting more of it inside her.

Her toes curled inside her shoes and she tightened her grip on the shelf. Tightened her body against the onslaught of his thrusts. The onslaught of his seed. She clenched her eyes shut, swallowed every inch of what she'd been feeling. No climax. No pinnacle of the sensations he'd been feeding her. It was fine though. It was expected. She quivered. Pressed her back to the spine of those books, and wondered what would happen now. What would this all lead to? The same as it had been the past six years? Save for this one night?

Was Harry being a little selfish? Perhaps, yes, he was. But this wasn't exactly the perfect environment to dig in his heels and make her cum; besides, all he was focused on at the moment was his own pleasure. Harry remained inside Hermione like that for a while, his cock only softening just enough to remain long and thick as the rigidness of the shaft died away. Finally, he pulled out of her. Harry had left her pussy red, swollen, dripping wet and full of his cum. And then he looked down at her and smiled just a little, reaching down to pull Hermione's panties back up around her. "You taste good, you know that?" Harry whispered to her, eyes not far from her own, watching her quietly. A minute later, he was pulling his pants back up, and buckling his belts back together again. Running a hand almost casually through his hair, he leaned back against the other bookshelf across the way, shoving his hands into the pockets of that long black coat he was wearing. Harry watched her; as she might pull up her jeans again, just cherishing her in that moment, in his own wicked sort of way. "Now you can go to bed with that warm, sticky feeling," he said, smirking faintly, as if it were a brilliant joke. "Think of me, mm?" he said, stepping forward to press another kiss to her mouth.

Hermione sighed as her feet found the floor. And she was grounded. Back on Earth where things like this didn't matter. Didn't happen. Never happened. She pulled up her jeans and pressed her lips together, blinking slowly. Feeling a wetness on her lashes. Lifting a hand to wipe them. And suddenly he was kissing her, and she pressed her lips back, just for a moment, before tugging her lips to the side, thinking. "What do I taste like?" She had to ask. Warm and sticky... wasn't a feeling she wanted to go to bed with. But the idea of him knowing what she tasted like... and she not? Well. It didn't sit well with her.

Seeing tears forming on her eyelashes struck a chord in his heart, usually cold and emotionless. Harry had left several wide eyed Slytherin girls feeling raw and used, and not thought twice about it. But the way she seemed to just...accept what had happened to her, take it lying down, so to speak...it...bugged him. That's probably what bothered him the most. It would've been better if she exploded and yelled at him, over what had happened. Suddenly there was a look on his face like he wasn't entirely sure anymore, something rarely seen on him. At her question, he just shrugged a little, before licking his lips. "It's..not really something you can describe," he said quietly, before shooting a look over at her. "Why're you crying?" Harry asked almost irritably, as if it was her fault. "Isn't this what you wanted?" the dark youth continued, watching her carefully.

Hermione almost smiled, wiping her face once more as if something was there, even though there wasn't. "It was. Just. Not how I was expecting. Because I never expected it at all." She offered a little shrug. Pushed a hand through her hair and looked to the books that fell. Scooped them up and turned her back to him, to place them back upon the shelves. She breathed out gently, attempting to cool her insides. What did he expect her to do? She was Hermione Granger, master of faces and brilliant bookworm extra ordinaire. If she was given a moment, she could fool anyone.

Remorse clawed at his insides. She wasn't another Slytherin tramp, but he had taken her, and used her like one. Even though Harry had never wanted to live up to anyone’s expectations, except his own, he had taken what was supposed to be special to her and used it. Used it and threw it away...and the infuriating part was that he didn't even know what 'it' was. "What do you expect out of me?" he asked, his voice dripping grief, and anger. "You want me to tell you that I love you?" he asked, stepping forward towards her and reaching out to grip her arm. Spinning her around to face him, he searched her face, for something...anything. He wanted her to hate him. Wanted her to spit in his face and curse his name. Not this...anything but this. This quiet acceptance, this sadness, this disappointment. "That's not me, Granger...I,” he trailed off, narrowing his eyes slightly, looking as if he couldn't even voice what he was feeling. Fuck. How the hell had this happened?!

"I didn't say it either, did I? Why should you? Come on now... I know better. You're Harry Potter. Girls are nothing to you. You pick them up and drop them as you please. Why should I have expected to be any different?" She said with a slow nod, hoping he'd let her go. "Because, like I said, I didn't expect it at all." And that was the truth. Was he going to hurt her? Was she hurting him? Accepting the truth? Was it the truth? She supposed he'd tell her... or not.

Harry felt like he was bleeding to death, but he didn't know where from. Didn't know how to close the wound, or even what had caused it. Regret; grief, all his wicked acts were poured out before him. Maybe a part of him wanted to love her, that bright eyed girl who had always looked at him in that special way when Ron wasn't looking. Why should I have expected to be any different? The words cut deep. He felt nothing but...sadness. Slowly, he let her go, eyes bitterly focused on the books behind her..looking off, but not really seeing anything. "Mm," he said, acknowledging what she had said, as much as it pained him to. "...You taste like beautiful. You are different to me," he said finally, turning his eyes to look at her, almost angry. She had completely thrown him off with this reaction. It ate him up.

She had almost started to walk away. And then she stopped, and those big brown eyes found him again. And she smiled. She'd reach out, touching his cheek, moving back to him, and brushing her lips over his. "Beautiful... And you are different to me." She pulled her hand from him then, a stepped back. "Get out of here before someone comes to check." And then she'd start away, needing to get to bed. Needing to think about this. All he did was make her smile. It didn't seem fair. But it seemed to make sense.