I tried to love you I thought I could
I tried to own you I thought I would
I want to peel the skin from your face
Before the real you lays to waste
You told me I'm the only one
Sweet little angel you should have run
Lying, crying, dying to leave
Innocence creates my hell
Cheating myself still you know more
It would be so easy with a whore
Try to understand me little girl
My twisted passion to be your world
Lost inside my sick head
I live for you but I'm not alive
Take my hand before I kill
I still love you, but, I still burn
alice in chains, [love, hate, love]
CHAPTER SIX: The Descent into Madness
She was dying in color. Blues, greens, oranges and yellows, lavenders and golds- She found herself overwhelmed by the mere sensation of the colors that danced around her. She could smell flowers, fragrances only found in her grandmother's garden in early spring. She could hear laughter, something she had been denied for nearly- she had lost count how long it had been.
"You can't leave."
She saw red. She saw Harry. She saw red and Harry. Harry stood before her. His eyes were dark and filled with angry shadows, she found herself trembling under the intensity of his gaze.
"You can't leave," he repeated, grabbing her by the wrists and pulling her up.
Suddenly, she was alive. The colors began to fade from bright to mute, greens to grays. She felt alive and in pain- alive and drowning in a desperate sadness. She jumped, Harry's hand hovering over her heart and sending chills of dread down her spine.
"Why are you doing this?" She whispered brokenly.
His hand drew back and cupped her chin in his palm. Her brows creased and she stumbled backwards at the cool, sticky sensation clung to her skin. Her hand subconsciously rose and gently touched her chin, her heart pounding viciously against her chest.
"Harry… Wh-"
Her eyes widened and her lips parted in a silent scream as Harry thrust his own hand into his chest and ripped out his heart. She struggled against the bile rising in her throat as she watched the still beating heart lie in the palm of his hand. Blood gently rolled off his fingertip and fell to the ground like raindrops.
"This belongs to you."
He held out his hand with his heart as if he were making a sacrifice to a god. Her lips trembled.
"Let me go," she pleaded weakly.
"This belongs to you," he repeated. He placed the heart in front of her and reached out to trace her face with his blood-coated fingertips. She fought a nauseating shiver of- oh, god- she couldn't even bring herself to-
"I-"
His hand hovered over her heart, his fingers brushing dangerously against her. His lips were a mere fraction away.
"And this," he murmured. "This is mine."
And she saw red.
She awoke with a jolt, the library chair she had been sitting in jerking backwards with a shrill screech. Forcing herself to control her erratic breathing, she tentatively placed a trembling hand above her heart and silently begged the vicious pounding to stop.
This is mine.
It had been weeks since the she shared a real conversation with Harry. It wasn't like they were avoiding each other. The feat was an entirely impossible accomplishment, but she could feel him withdrawing emotionally. She struggled daily with being terribly frightened- and as much as she hated herself for it- grateful. Then there was the start of these nightmares…
This is mine.
She trembled and buried her head in her hands, the sound of parchment crinkling under her elbows. She barely noticed that her inkpot had spilled onto her planner, the black ink seeping into the book like blood from a fatal wound.
This is mine.
It seemed as if they were invisibly linked together by some force refusing to let them separate out of twisted amusement. She had fallen into an avoidable routine with Harry. They sat next to each other at meal, across from a silent and observant Neville and a newly separated Dean Thomas and Ginny. Both claiming it was safer to be friends.
Perhaps it was safer to be friends. It was certainly easier that what was going on between Harry and her. That was beside the point, it seemed that Harry and her were doomed for complication in this mess of a relationship.
At meals, for example, something ridiculously inane like passing the mashed potatoes would obviously require eye contact or even a simple brush of the shoulders. The problem with the simplicity of this tireless routine was the effect. When his fingers brushed hers or when he would accidentally bump his shoulder against her own, there would be a dangerous rush of emotions. She was well aware that their relationship was dangerously treading the proverbial line, but she couldn't help but fear the overwhelming consequences.
Being insightful didn't help make things any easier.
Class together was the worse. In Advanced Potions, Snape had decided that it was in his good graces to pair students off by houses, saving her from having to listen to Ernie Macmillan's ego trip. She knew she could never delude herself into thinking that Snape never had an ulterior motive because she found herself still having not only to endure her professor's vicious taunts, but working closely with Harry. She watched with a heavy heart as Harry barely flinched under Snape's taunting and struggled not to answer back when Snape made it clear that he wouldn't tolerate any footsie-playing.
Bastard.
It was Advanced Care of Magical Creatures that sealed the deal. Hagrid could sense the tension between Ron and Harry from miles away. Ron was indifferent towards her on good days, thank Merlin Quidditch had started to get into full swing, but she still was on the receiving end of a dark glare every now and then. The tension between Ron and Harry, however, was an entirely different story altogether.
Hermione didn't pretend to understand all of what was going on between the two boys, but she could feel the alarming intensity between the two of them. It scared her really. Although there was a time where she deluded herself with the notion that Harry would never deliberately harm anyone, she had long accepted that the boy and his innocence seemed to be nothing more than a mask. Ron's intentional taunting and the ever-present knowledge of Voldemort's growing strength were not helping the matter at all. There was a brewing darkness inside of Harry Potter. The mask had finally crumbled when Sirius died. Everything else was feeding an even greater catalyst.
Voldemort- no Bellatrix Lestrange- had opened Pandora's box in form of the Boy Savior.
Yet Ron, it seemed, had won the role of the biggest contributor to Harry's growing aggression. She knew Harry avoided Ron like the plague for Ginny's sake and even to a certain extent, her own. Ginny had confessed to her one night in the library that she wrote to Tonks who in turn wrote to Remus to beg Harry to avoid confrontations with Ron altogether. Harry complied, but enduring Ron's taunts could only go so far.
Hermione was worried about him, she had never denied that fact, but she was tired of being pushed away. She knew in her heart that if she had to wait for him to be ready to talk, she would wait even at the cost of her own sanity…
This is mine.
And her heart.
She sighed tiredly. Her eyes wandered to the pile of unfinished Potions homework scattered about the table. She had been hoping to be at least three to four months ahead of the game, but was occupied between thoughts of her situation with her parents and Harry. It was a bloody mental tennis match.
"You dropped this in the common room."
She jumped at the sudden appearance of Harry in front her table. His hand was outstretched, shyly offering her the letter that she had received from her parents in the morning earlier. Hermione swallowed nervously at his hand, gently taking the letter and silently cheering at her control.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"From your parents?" A shy inquiry, but it still made her nervous. She could feel his eyes burning holes into her. And what happened to the Harry that had made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing to do with her?
She finally nodded, clutching the letter as if her life depended on it. "Yeah…"
She avoided his gaze as best as she could, finding herself focusing on his hands. Although the remains of her dream still clung to the dark corners of her mind, the awkwardness between them was intense and she found herself wondering yet again what had brought this change in his demeanor.
"Listen," he spoke, abruptly turning around. "This was a bad idea. I'm going to go back to the Common Room."
He started to walk away, but her lack of emotional control got the best of her and she stood up. "Wait!"
He turned, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets.
"I," she struggled, marveling at her loss of suitable words. "Talk to me?"
It brought her a sense of comfort to know that Harry seemed to be visibly struggling. Whether it was struggling with walking away from her yet again or something else, she couldn't tell.
"How do you do that?"
She was confused. "Do what?"
"How do you completely set aside yourself like that? I- I'm not good at this," he mumbled. This time he didn't turn away to leave her in state of emotional chaos. This time he stayed standing a mere two feet away from her, waiting for an answer.
She swallowed nervously, amazed that her lips managed to curve into a small smile directed towards him. "Neither am I," she confessed.
"Yes, you are," he stated. He pulled out the chair from across from her and sat, picking up one of her quills and rolling it between his fingers. "You're completely selfless when it comes to m- well, talking."
Hermione said nothing, casting her gaze upon her opened books. She felt terribly exposed and nervous about having this conversation, here and now in the library.
"I meant what I said before," he continued, lowering his gaze down to his hands. "Except the words didn't come out right. I want you to be able to talk to me- I trust- I-"
She was going to lose this moment with Harry, she realized. If she didn't push way her own selfish worries, they'd never talk.
"Do you want to go somewhere else?" She interrupted. "I have a feeling that Madame Pince is going to close up soon."
He looked startled, but managed, "Sure."
She nodded, pulling out her wand and quickly muttering a cleaning spell to gather up her mess of homework. She sighed quietly, glancing at the letter sticking out of her bag. She'd have to write a response later.
The two of them left the library in a less than companionable silence. She was still unsure of his intentions and was stuck in a dangerous limbo of whether or not it was okay to trust him. They wandered down the scarcely occupied hallway towards the Astronomy tower, passing the occasional snogging couples as the finally reached the winding staircase that led up to the tower.
"If I didn't know any better Hermione, you only suggested leaving the library because of your secret desire to snog me."
She stifled a laugh. It was then that she began to really realize how truly ridiculous the situation had become. This was Harry, her best friend. This was the very same Harry that had shared countless adventures with her. From time turners to sneaking past curfew, this was the very same Harry she would-
Hermione shook her head. She needed to stop thinking like that.
"Harry," she began, a tiny smile blossoming onto her lips. It was the first smile in months that was actually genuine. And it hurt. Harry's awkward teasing gently broke her from her musings. "You've found me out. I've been secretly nursing this desire since the tender age of ten when little girls still think boys are made up of greasy grasshopper guts."
"Greasy grasshopper guts?"
She laughed at the look of mixed amusement and disgust on his face. For a moment, it felt like they were okay. Really okay. "Well, no not really. But I did have a rather twisted good time of making Lavender Brown believing the notion. Twit."
He shook his head. "I can't believe she feel for… Ron was right. You're a brilliant one, but scary."
Her smile disappeared. Ron. She didn't want to think about Ron and his continuous attempts of forcing guilt onto her already turbulent emotional mind-frame. She didn't want to think of the shadowed glares and the taunting whispers that she had no doubt in her mind were directed at Harry and her.
"Sorry," he mumbled. At least, Harry seemed to understand.
"It's all right," she murmured with a shrug. "We'd eventually have to talk about Ron."
She watched as his shoulders tensed and his defensive mask slipped back into place. Hermione struggled with her rising anger. So there was something else. She felt like crying.
"What's there to talk about?" He returned, turning away slightly.
"Oh, I don't know," she snapped back sarcastically. "There's a little incident that took place at Grimmauld Place that comes to mind. You know, the one where the two of you wanted to kill each other. And now, now I can't help but feel like you're hiding something from me. A major something."
Just once, she added silently. I'd actually like you to be honest with me. I don't want to keep asking myself about what happened to us.
Harry sighed. "It's not the first time it happened."
"I know," she replied tiredly. She couldn't allow herself to forget that fact.
He looked surprised and took a step back from her. "You know about that fight?"
She shrugged, a lame attempt at passing the notion off as nothing. In reality, the emotional roller coaster was wearing her thin. "Ginny," she began quietly. "Ginny mentioned something about a first time. I wasn't going to-"
Hermione felt his disappointment and swallowed nervously. She found herself unable to finish under the new intensity of his presence.
"But you were curious."
"I'm not going to lie to you." His withdrawing was beginning to scare her.
"But you have before," he said sighing. "You're a terrible liar, you know, and you really can't hide things very well."
Oh no you don't, she thought angrily. She stepped closer and reached for his shoulder, her hand resting lightly.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence. Is that why you don't trust me?"
"But I do," he interjected. "I trust you more than anyone else, Hermione."
She froze, her hands dangling helplessly at her side. "Hollow words," she whispered, feeling the ever-hated desperation rising within her. She just didn't know what to do anymore.
"Hollow words."
Hermione turned around and prepared herself to make the trek back to the common room. Flinch was usually around the Hufflepuff side during this time of night.
"Damn it, Hermione!"
Her eyes widened as she felt his hand envelope her wrist. He pulled around with a sharp tug.
"Will you just listen to me? Do you think that this is easy?"
She snatched her wrist out of his grasp with a furious glare. "Well then, what do you want from me Harry? It's not like I presume to know every bloody thing about you. Do you want me to yell at you? Or perhaps, you're looking for a pity party? Or do you secretly want me to push you away so that you can say you talked to me? Do share because frankly, I'm dying to know."
She was trembling violently now. Her lips quivered and her eyes were clouding with tears. "I told you that I want listen. I told that I want to help. But I can't, I won't if we keep doing this silly little dance."
Hermione suddenly found herself pressed against the cold, hard wall of the Astronomy Tower with her hands pinned above her head and Harry's lips a breath away. At this moment, she was forced into a clear understanding of how dangerously unstable the both of them were. The emotional turbulence was so raw, so brutally severe that this simple invasion of space would choke the both of them.
"I need you, Hermione," he hissed. "Merlin knows Dumbledore will stop at nothing to remind me that fact. But this scares me. It scares me how desperately I need you. And what's worse is that I'm willing to hurt other people. I'm willing to do things that I shouldn't be willing to do."
She said nothing, but watched in a perverse satisfaction as he began to show signs of the same turmoil she was haunted by.
"Do you understand now?" His fingers slipped under her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. "Do you see how dangerous this is for the both of us?"
His head lowered and his lips pressed against the crook of her neck. Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice was screaming at her to get out of this violation of space, but her body had other ideas. Her mind's disgust was quickly sated as a breathy moan escaped her lips. She knew she was at her wit's end. A wall was falling and neither them were ready.
She couldn't control herself.
And to her rational horror, she found that she didn't want to.
"We need to stop," Harry whispered, his fingers tangling in her hair.
"Uh-huh." Her mind was on overload. The nearness was driving her mad and her rationality acknowledged a losing battle as he pressed his lips against her neck again. She couldn't describe the intensity of emotions that rose within her as his body pressed into hers. There was an unspeakable fire that burned between them. The chaos of emotions fed the fire with leisure and she found herself wondering if there would be a point where they would both explode.
"Harry…"
She watched with a hooded gaze, as his eyes seemed to darken. She felt sick at her desperation of wanting him to touch her- His indecisiveness was irritating to her for some reason. She found herself struggling with the overwhelming incentive of wanting to kiss him.
This is mine.
She could no longer ignore the fact that there was something between them. No matter how dangerous, how undeniably frightening it was- Things had to change.
"Kiss me," she whispered, somewhere between a plea and an order. She barely even realized when the words escaped her lips. The rational part of her mind drowned in the fever of the moment.
"It'll change everything," came his breathless reply.
They were treading dangerous waters.
"Is that the point?" She whispered, the madness of their bordering intimacy swallowing her whole.
This is mine.
And so he kissed her.
TBC
A/N:
*glances up from preparing riot-gear*
Err, hi?
*sighs* I once again am finding myself apologizing for the long wait for the chapter, hopefully seven won't suffer the same intense rewrite that six did. Can't make any promises though, I am a perfectionist. Blame it on genetics.
Anyhow, before anybody says anything. I *know* there are some issue that need to be explained/resolved/further complicated… Joking about the last one. Well, not really. Things are going to get a lot darker (and I mean *darker*) from here on now and the rating's going to jump considerably, so consider yourself forewarned.
As always, thank you for the lovely reviews. I can't stress enough how much I truly appreciate every single one. I try and answer as many as I can, so please don't feel like I don't appreciate you if I don't answer. It's probably because of all my literary theory homework and my extremely boring 8:45am math class.
Can you believe that I'm an English major and I'm still required to take math?
I can't. It sucks.
Oh well. Please continue with your generous reviews.
And from here on now… Welcome to the Jungle folks.
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