Title: Lies
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling's. Always and forever. We're just playing.
A/N: This is in no way connected to Webs, our much longer joint-creation. We did this one a while ago and the originals were posted on our respective livejournals. Kaze originally wrote the first part and Goldy couldn't help but write a companion.
For danielerin who originally issued the challenge to Kaze and didn't seem to mind when Goldy infringed on it.
Her mind lives in a quiet room
A narrow room, and tall
With pretty lamps to quench the gloom
And mottoes on the wall.
There all the things are waxen neat
And set in decorous lines
And there are posies, round and sweet
And little, straightened vines.
Her mind lives tidily, apart
From cold and noise and pain
And bolts the door against her heart
Out wailing in the rain.
"Interior", Dorothy Parker
"I'm dying," the words escaped her lips faster that she intended them to, the atmosphere plummeting from tense to bleak.
"Dying," Harry repeated.
Hermione turned her head away from him. She couldn't bear to look at him now. She couldn't bring herself to offer any sort of comfort to him, when she had no idea what to think or feel. She wanted desperately to be strong and tell him that she'll be fine, but there was a numbness that had begun to settle inside her.
She should have kept it a secret.
She was too much of a coward to lie.
"Yes," she replied, the aching in her shoulder becoming more and more aware. "They don't know what kind of curse I was hit by. Dumbledore even brought in specialists from St. Mungo's. They can't even settle on a timeline."
She feels so dirty and useless at this moment. She can see his face in the reflection of the window. His eyes are wide and his brow furrowed. She didn't want to tell him this with the echoes of the war and scars of Sirius' death on his heart. But she feels she owes him honesty, especially with the importance he holds in her heart.
"No…"
Tears formed in her eyes as the aching sob finally escaped his throat. Another one followed shortly after as if he was a wounded animal.
"No, no, no, NO!"
She trembled violently. The anguish in his voice was ripping her to pieces.
"You're lying," he hissed. "You're lying to me. Why are you lying to me?"
Her lips quivered and she forced herself to sit up. Honesty, her cold promise to herself echoes in her voice. Honesty would make him strong. She could never lie to him. She reached behind her neck and began to untie the straps to her hospital gown, her shoulder protesting the movement.
"Don't this," he half-pleaded, half-growled.
"You need to see," she responded hoarsely.
Hermione pushed her gown so that it exposed her bare shoulders and she closed her eyes. She felt as if she was exposing a monstrosity- it was in a way, her vicious downfall and destruction- She felt naked before him.
Shaking, she waited for him to do something.
"It's just a scar," he whispered, his fingers trailing on the edges of her gown. "Tell me it's just a scar like mine. Please just tell me."
"I can't," she whimpered. "I can't lie to you."
The scar is narrow and long, red and raw, and too painful to even acknowledge the true extent of its meaning as his fingers danced slowly across her skin.
"Please," he begged. He brushed a kiss on her shoulder blade. "Please… just this once."
She swallowed and turned to meet his gaze finally, her hair falling softly against her bare skin. The direct fierceness of his eyes is insanely painful, but she knew she had to stop hiding from him.
"I can't," she whispered.
Another kiss landed in the crook of her neck.
"Lie to me," his voice was a dark whisper.
She can feel him, the ever-changing man and the little boy, but she has to be honest for the both of them. She has to be honest for the future. He needed to learn how to live.
But for now, she does.
She could never refuse him after all.
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