Atonement

A/N: They aren't mine. Honestly, I haven't thought about them in months and tonight, my computer beckoned. I found this in a file folder - who knows when I wrote it - but here it is. It's probably unbearably short for some of you, but that's how I tend to like it. Short bursts of emotion…

ATONEMENT

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There's still a little bit of your taste, in my mouth

There's still a little bit of you laced, with my doubt

It's still a little hard to say, what's going on

There's still a little bit of your ghost, your weakness

There's still a little bit of your face, I haven't kissed

You step a little bit closer each day, and I can't say, what's going on…

Cannonball by Damien Rice

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She only speaks in whispers.

Fragments.

We used to dance.

I remember the sway.

Days have moved.

Moments.

She is the whisper.

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“Bastard.”

Her voice was quiet. Determined.

“Hermione,” He pounded on the door, “let me in.”

“No!” He heard her sob, “NO!” She wasn't talking to him.

Rain splashed his glasses and washed in rivers down the back of his shirt. Moonlight pounded somewhere in his eyes. “You can't do this forever.”

“Why bloody not? You've done it for three years now.”

Silence.

In his mind, he could see her, feel her. He knew she'd walked away from the door then. A testament to strength. Or her attempt at it. But he also knew she'd only made it five paces before she'd turned around and come back, forehead resting against the grain, quiet with tears.

“God, Hermione, just let me look at you.”

“You don't deserve to look at me,” came the muffled reply, “Or anyone else who loves you.”

“Dammit!” he raged, fist hitting the wood, cracking the skin, the sting lost somewhere in the tears and rain. “Open the door!”

Hours passed in the silence of seconds.

He heard the small tinker of metal and clinched his fists when she opened the door, only as far as the chain would allow.

“There, have a look. Now, GO. AWAY.”

“No.”

She gave in and she hated herself for it. Resolve and intentions uncoiled. She was cracked and open - raw - like a fault line. “I can't do this… I can't…”

His eyes flashed, annoyed. The chain snapped and he pushed the door open, remembering the sound of her gasp and the look of his face in her wide, dark eyes.

“Forget I was a wizard?”

“Don't.” She sobbed, stepping back, hugging herself for protection.

From him.

From the heat of them standing together in the dark.

From the wanting.

They tumbled over books left in piles on the floor.

Her back slammed into the wall, protests muted by his mouth over hers. Hands frantic, knees weak. Wanting, needing, not close enough.

Searching for three years of retribution.

This was his atonement.

Her eyes slipped closed, tears squeezing from the corners as he kissed her neck. She groped for breath before his lips found hers again.

Rain and tears mingled with a soul's sigh.

The door stood open and showers flooded in.

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