Saturday, February 6, 2010

A Little Piece of Sincerity Chapter Fourteen

A Little Piece of Sincerity

By: Provocative Envy


OOO

Hermione had berated herself too many times for falling prey to Draco Malfoy and his illicitly dishonest, unspoken promises. She was too tired of making excuses for him, allowing his lies to maladroitly permeate her senses while her sanity spiraled out of her control and straight into his.

She was tired of feeling torn whenever she criticized him, tired of being driven away from her derision by simple acts of humanity. He kept letting her believe him, letting her think the best and then proving her wrong.

He was so much craftier than she’d ever imagined. So much more adept at wily behavior and cunning schemes of revenge. He’d pegged her weakness with almost disturbing precision; he was exploiting it with the kind of single-minded dexterity that she hadn’t dreamed anyone but herself capable of.

He was taking pleasure in her pain, turning her into someone she didn’t like, turning her into the type of person that hid behind her friends, too scared to face her greatest fear: infinite knowledge of her character.

With that almost imperceptible shake of his head, he’d summed up his power over her in a wonderfully neat little package: a gesture, a word, a look, and she was gone.

It was ironic that in a world full of magic, the place where she should technically come out victorious, given her vast knowledge of charms and curses, he would triumph. In the supreme confidence she’d lorded over him for six whole years, she’d never thought of herself as vulnerable. She’d never considered the idea that he might be in possession of something that could eventually spell her downfall.

He’d broken her heart, and she’d never had any intention of giving it to him.

She’d always assumed that she’d have to be in love for something that ridiculously excruciating to happen. She’d always assumed that she’d be able to dictate who held her fragile embodiment of romanticism in their hand.

But somewhere along the line, at some long-past moment she couldn’t pinpoint, she’d let it slip out of her grasp, and straight into Malfoy’s. And he’d realized it and taken advantage of it, like some kind of nightmare come to life.

It wasn’t him she was afraid of; no, she was terrified of what he could do to her. She could insult him all she wanted, could engage him in long-winded arguments that served no purpose other than to illustrate her hatred.

As long as he didn’t guess that she wished, more than anything, that he hadn’t lied to her. That he’d been telling the truth and she could go back to alternately fantasizing about him changing and him dying a horribly violent death.

As filled as she’d been with confusion and doubt and a thousand and one other unidentifiable emotions, it was only in the aftermath of their dramatic encounters that she understood what she’d been so oblivious to for as long as she could remember: the wistful ecstasy that encompassed her blind faith in him was almost worth the agony of his dissension.

But only almost.

OOO

Draco lifted a trembling hand to his temple and considered the emptiness that had engulfed him since his run-in with Granger and her friends. He kept picturing the lanky, unworthy arm of Weasley draped so carelessly across her back, his long fingers gripping the curve of her waist.

Nothing had ever so forcibly struck him as wrong.

He couldn’t name the gnawing sensation that was growing in his stomach, couldn’t distinguish with any certainty what it was that had consumed him and was causing him more heartache than anything else ever had.

He’d recognized the bereft bleakness that had enveloped him after his father’s whereabouts had been declared unknown. He’d recognized the disillusionment that had encased his soul after having his senseless apology thrown back at him.

But he didn’t recognize whatever it was that was tearing him up so much more efficiently than fear ever had.

Granger was so deliciously imperfect, for all her condescension and pretentiousness. He was enthralled by her ability to hide her flaws, to only show her brilliance and her kindness and her morality; he’d seen past her façade of accomplishments, but only because he’d been looking so hard.

He’d wanted so badly for so long to just hurt her, no matter the consequence. He’d wanted so badly to see her cry, to see her break, to make sure that everyone else knew she was a fraud; he’d wanted to destroy the serenity of her self-assuredness, to have her be viewed as the cowardly victim for once.

But then he’d done it, he’d somehow gotten hold of her, and he’d hated himself more than her. He’d finally managed to crush her spirit, ruin her, and he’d said he was sorry.

What had started out as a fake show of contrition and ethical buoyancy had turned real; he wasn’t pretending anymore, he wasn’t showing off his “newfound benevolence” for her sake. He didn’t want to see her degraded and broken, corrupted with the hypocrisy that had been his sense of self for as long as he could remember.

She was his little piece of sincerity, and he needed her. It didn’t matter that she was the only one to inspire him, it didn’t matter that he was still the jaded and generally unpleasant bully.

He needed her, and she had to know.

OOO

“Granger!” he called out, jogging after her retreating form as she ascended the steps to the Astronomy Tower.

As soon as he reached her, she whipped her head around, piercing him with a glare and not speaking.

“Granger, I need to talk to you,” he said breathlessly, thoroughly winded from his exertion.

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you,” she replied with some petulance, inwardly shaking at his nearness.

Any second, she’d be in her sweet nirvana, allowing herself the satisfaction of thinking he could be different.

Any second, and she’d be in his grasp once more.

Only she knew that if she didn’t get away, if she didn’t escape him and his silent duplicity, she would be lost.

“Please, Granger. Please,” he whispered desperately, his heightened awareness picking up her resignation.

“What do you want?” she inquired tonelessly, refusing to meet his probing gray eyes.

She’d once thought that she could see everything he was feeling, everything he was thinking, in those facets of perspicuity.

It was just one more thing he could prove her wrong about.

“I want…no, that’s not the right word,” he muttered to himself.

“Just say it, Malfoy. You want to see my heart break all over again, because let’s be honest: that’s all you’ve ever wanted, isn’t it?” she demanded harshly.

“No! That’s what I thought I wanted up until about ten minutes ago,” he responded, imploring her to understand.

“Right,” she snorted, ducking behind him to leave the room.

“Granger, please don’t leave,” he said softly, begging her. “I…”

“You what, Malfoy?” she asked, her back to him and her eyelids snapped shut. “You what?”

I need you,” he answered helplessly, taking note of the stiffness of her shoulders.

Hermione couldn’t let herself move, couldn’t let herself think. If she did, she’d realize that he was fulfilling that impossible dream she’d been fostering ever since he’d instigated his deceit. If she did, she’d let herself realize what that meant and fly into his arms, finally being able to know what it felt like to be held by them.

If she did, she’d set herself up for the kind of misery people only read about, but few had the misfortune to actually experience.

So she remained motionless, willing herself not to speak.

“Granger?” he said cautiously, taking a step forward and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t touch me,” she choked out.

“Granger, I--”

“Stop lying already! It’s practically sadistic what you’re doing, d’you realize that? All you do is…all you want is…it just hurts so much…”

She was crying then, tears falling so inelegantly and so sporadically she almost didn’t notice. She couldn’t feel the bittersweet moisture trickling down her cheeks, couldn’t feel anything but his arms as he swept her up in an embrace that was more despondent that tender.

She sobbed into his chest, refusing to remember that it was Malfoy who was comforting her, Malfoy who had hurt her to begin with.

But then again, hadn’t it always been him?

OOO

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