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Dissolved Girl by MajiKat
Chapter 1 : Dissolved Girl
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 116


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A/N: I apologise for the wait on other fics, but I had to get this out. I wrote it a long time ago, a result of listening to Massive Attack on constant rotation in my car!

This fic is dedicated to the ever-amazing SkinAndBones, for being an awesome mate, a loyal reader and reviewer and an inspiration. I really hope you like it hunny *hugs*

Dissolved Girl lyrics (in italics) by Vowles, Del naja, Marshall, Sara Jay, and Schwartz of Massive Attack fame! Characters by JK Rowling. Plot, as it is, by me!




Dissolved Girl


A broken moment of weakness. A touch undone. His gentle fingers against my face, caressing and delicate. A glance. His eyes tracing my cheeks, filling me with traitorous heat, questioning and curious. A spark. Kindled, brought to life by his hands. A flame screaming into existence. A memory erased. A picture painted in black and white. A postcard from another world. A secret kept shadowed. A life kept hidden ...



I stared at my face in the mirror, watching the tears slough their way down my cold cheeks. My innocence was lost. I had given it up willingly, letting it slip between my fingers like watered silk, and there was no way to ever get it back. No way to change what had happened, to turn the past in on itself and reclaim the light that once shone in my reflection. My life spun before my eyes, a blurred kaleidoscope of broken dreams and beautiful pain.

Shame, such a shame
I think I kind of lost myself again


Each time he touches me I slowly fall a little deeper. From the moment it began, from that first intoxicating kiss, I have been only his. Every time he kisses me part of me dissolves into him. I am losing this battle, trapped in a cage of my own obsession, of my own desire for release. A tidal wave of beautiful regret floods my insides when he is near, drowning me; smothering me.

My eyes look to him across crowded rooms, unable to control my will.

His eyes always meet mine, as if he has been waiting for my signal. It’s always easy to slip away.

No one suspects a thing.

Day, yesterday
Really should be leaving but I stay


In the darkened halls, we are alone. He grasps my arm, pulling me to him swiftly, my body falling limp and on fire in his arms. His lips find mine, our bodies flowing together. His kisses fall, plummeting to my mouth, smashing against my parched lips. Saturating. Suffocating. Replenishing me. I cannot breathe without his kiss. A stream of oxygenated sin is alive in my veins, flowing through me, twisting me, changing me until I can no longer recognize the girl I once was.

We tumble together, our limbs entwined. I can never understand how we make it to his room so quickly, or how swiftly our clothes pile on the floor. My back is pressed against the mattress, the caressing softness of the bedspread sliding across my skin, taunting me with its crisp, clean purity. His fingers bury in my hair, digging against my prickling scalp. His lips, sweet, wet and moist, touch my throat, infusing me with the power of his desire. I turn to water under his hands. His eyes melt into mine, poisonous mercury darting under my skin, burning, shifting, and changing me. The heat of our passion, our lust, and our hate, is torching my heart.

Every touch of his sizzling fingers is branding me his.

His body lays stretched beside me, sweat glistening in pearly drops along the length of his spine. His muscles flex as he rolls over, and hastily I shrug on my robes and turn away from him, disgust at my actions rising with familiar taste in my mouth. I feel the mattress dip as he sits up, a sigh escaping his lips. His hand touches my shoulder gently, and I twist my body away. The tenderness he shows me in the glow of sated passion never lasts, and I don’t want it touching me. I don’t want it to seep beneath my skin and mingle with the tiny smoldering coal of hope that rests in my soul.

As I dress hurriedly, I bury the flame in my heart that burns for him. I can never let it show. I can never let him see what this means to me. I can never let him see how much I long for him. I leave without a word, half my clothes still strewn on his floor. I don’t want to touch them again, hold them in my hands and be reminded of what I continue to do.

Masochistic dreams ensnare my senses, rendering me invisible to everyone but him. Only he knows the true craving that burns in my blood. Only he knows how much I need the release he brings with his love, the storm of lust that overrides my failing to be the girl everyone thinks they can see.

Say, say my name
I need a little love to ease the pain


We never speak. No words. No declarations of love or intent, and I gave up hope of hearing them long ago. We do not have a name for what we do, for what we are to one another, for what we mean to one another. I have never heard my name leave his lips. I have never heard him sigh my name in ecstasy. As I roll over in my own bed, cold and strangely empty, I wonder whether he will ever say my name as we lay together. I wonder if I want him to. This way, it means nothing. It is impersonal. It is about release and satisfaction, and nothing more.

If only I could love him. If only I could hide my fears. If only he could love me back, diminish the hurt he causes whenever the intensity in his eyes slashes its way into my heart. If only I could find the strength to remove the barb he has set deep under my flesh.

I don’t want to see his eyes. I don’t want to see the storm that lies there, evoked by the senseless passion we constantly recreate, a painting of carnality coated in pain. I turn away from him at breakfast, placing my back between us, my hair falling in tangled waves over my shoulders, just the way he likes it. A smug smile lights my face as I sip my coffee. I can almost feel his eyes on my body. I can almost see his tongue slide across his lips.

But I cannot look at him, not today. It is too soon. The morning after is too painful, his face reminding me again of my weakness.

I don’t want to see my face reflected in his spirit: broken, shamed and tainted.

I need a little love to ease the pain
It's easy to remember when it came


He first kissed me without warning, leaning over me and forcing me to lift my face, my mouth opening to spit scathing words at him for interrupting my study. He kissed me gently to begin with, giving me time to adjust, and in a moment of confusion, I kissed him back, my lips moving slowly against his as I dragged myself to my feet, my arms flying around his neck. He chuckled deep in his throat, startling me and bringing me to my senses. With his taste still on my lips, I pushed him away, mortified.

“Have you lost your mind?” I panted at him, my eyes wide with shock, at both him and myself. He shook his head, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, lips I now knew to be as smooth as silk. “Then why did you do that?” I asked weakly, feeling my knees begin to shake as the memory of his kiss travelled over me.

“Why not?” he answered softly, staring into my eyes. I shook my head, dazed.

“You hate me,” I spluttered. “Do you always go around kissing people you don’t like?”

“What’s like got to do with it,” he stated, lifting his shoulders in a casual shrug, his action making my blood boil. I took a deep breath, clenching my fists and glowering at him.

“Malfoy, you …”

“Before you get all moral, Granger, think about it for a moment. Why did you kiss me back?” he asked, taking a small step towards me.

“I … I didn’t,” I stammered, the blood rushing to my head at his nearness. My eyes flew unwillingly to his lips again, my mouth growing dry as he reached out and wrapped his long fingers around my wrist, drawing our bodies close together again.

“You did, and you liked it,” he stated softly, sliding his hand under my chin and lifting my face up to his, bringing his lips close to mine once more.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” I asked, my voice a weak whisper as his silver eyes walked my mouth, hungry and devouring. He smiled, letting go of my wrist and wrapping his arm around my waist.

“Release,” he replied simply, lowering his head until our lips were almost touching again. “And I know you want it too.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I answered, feeling my lips drift closer to his, drawn by something I could not control. He snickered, sweeping his mouth across mine slowly and deliberately, eliciting a low, traitorous moan from my throat.

“Yes, you do. You would never have let me touch you otherwise. You think I don’t know what it’s like to have to pretend all the time? To always be what you are expected to be? Don’t you wish you could be something different? Something other than what you are? A goody-two-shoes know-it-all? Come on, Granger. Let it out.”

Slowly, his words sank into my head, and I nodded, enfolded in memories, recollections of the girl I had to strive so hard to be. Of the perfection I had created for myself that was becoming harder to maintain with each day that passed. I looked at his face, his eyes patient and filled with a small spark of fear, as if he knew what he was going to help unleash. He was right.

Inside, I was screaming, and it seemed no one could hear me but him. I swallowed, lifting myself onto my toes, bringing our mouths together, and sparking myself into life.

'Cause it feels like I've been
I've been here before


It’s always the same. Constant and unchanging. A meeting in the dead of the night, a stolen moment from my reality. One more lie to tell my friends. One more step in his direction. His eyes. His mouth. His face haunting my dreams, my reality, and my nightmares. His everything slowly becoming my everything.

“I hate you,” I whisper as he kisses his way down my skin. His laugh vibrates against my collarbone, sending a shiver running along my spine. The room is dark and cold, the only heat rising from the space between our bodies.

“I know,” he whispers back, his fingers at my shirt.

I close my eyes, my head falling back. “I really do hate you.”

“I never asked you not too. Release, Granger. That’s all. Stop talking and just feel.”

Repetition. His sheets tangled on my legs, soaked in the heat of our passion, coated with the stains of my sin. His arms snaked around my body, the softness of him burning tracks into my tender skin. This twisted love holding me down. Holding me together before I fall apart at his feet.

“We don’t need this.”

He laughs. “We do.”

You are not my savior
But I still don't go


He is my delicious sin, feeding the part of me that nobody knows about. The part that I did not know about until his lips brought me to life. Like wickedness starved for too long, we fall into one another, spurred forward by lust and hunger, by the need for deliverance. No matter how many times I tell myself this is wrong, I cannot stay away from him.

I cannot stop myself admiring the way he moves through a crowd. I cannot stop myself from smiling slightly at the twisted combination of desire and detestation in his eyes when he sees me. I cannot stop myself from pouring my frustration at my life into him. I cannot help but remember his words to me; the words that began it all.

The words that reminded me there was more to who I was than what people could see.

When did he become the one to take my confession? When did he become my Priest? When did his body become my temple, the altar of my self-serving sacrifice? When did I hand him the hammer and let him drive home the nails of crucifixion?

I turn away from him, but never far enough. Never fast enough to hide the sweltering flame that’s alive in my eyes. Never fast enough so that I miss the possessive need in his.

Feels like something
That I've done before


Heat.

Regret.

Heat.

Regret.

A sizzling pit of carnality always kept waiting in the shadows, following me through the day as his eyes follow me through the night.

Love? Lust? Need? Want? What does it matter anymore? The boundaries are blurred. There is no distinction in his bed, in this paradise of silver and green, forever drawing me in, trapping me between the two worlds I move in. Between my reality and my dark fantasy.

“I hate you,” he whispers, his fingers tangled in my hair.

A sad smile lights my face as I look at him. “I know.”

A cycle. Never ending. Always turning. Always the same. Repetition. Him. A cycle. Unending. Unfinished. Unwound.

I could fake it
But I still want more


My hands trembling, dancing over his sculpted, marble flesh, tracing the line of his body, touching the inferno of his heart. My lips on his skin, and his hiss in my ear. His mouth. His arms. Strength and perfection. Made to hold me, but used to break me. My spirit dissolves into him. Like osmosis, I let myself absorb him totally.

Fade, made to fade
Passion's overrated anyway


There is no turning back. Memories fade, color leeches, and my life passes by. My soul has been stripped bare, shattered, decimated, and destroyed. I have become translucent, a shadow of what I once was, and longing for something I knew I could never have. I knew what I craved, and I knew I was not going to get it from him. I wasn’t even sure if Draco Malfoy knew how to love someone, and I wasn’t even sure if what I felt for him was love, because it couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be.

Sometimes, I just wanted to talk to him, to pour my heart into his ears, to show him who I really was underneath the lies and deception. To show him that we are both more than just vessels for our twisted passion and our pain.

Sometimes, I wish I could step away from him, scared that the more I continue to see him, the harder it is going to be to let him go, as I knew I eventually would have to.

The light behind his silver eyes is a flame in the depths of his imperfect soul. Drawing me in. Pulling me screaming into the first rays of the dawn. A broken butterfly, a condemned moth. I cage my truth. Fold it down and hold it down within the prison of my heart. I can’t let it out.

I hold it in.

I hold onto him.

I let my pain disappear from view as I shake back my hair and put on my mask.

Dirty fingers lift a tarnished halo, held in place by the fabrication of being.

Say, say my name
I need a little love to ease the pain


Nothing is real, but everything is familiar. His arms around my body, his lips on mine, our skin melting together, burning and turning me his. Pulling me deeper into him and what we have, until I forget myself completely, my identity lying abandoned on the floor beside his bed.

Light hides the dark within.

“Granger,” his deep voice echoes in my ear, his hands on my body, crushed beneath him, reviled and replenished by his lips. My hands are in his hair, my lips on his throat, and my pain in his heart. It is a name, but not the name I want to hear issuing from his lips.

He helps me to forget, to escape the cage I have built myself around myself. His love crushes the breath from my lungs, the life from my body. His kisses leave me weeping and crying out his name.

Empty.

Forgotten. Nobody sees me anymore. No one asks questions. No one suspects. How can they not? How can they not see what I see so clearly when my reflection stares out at me from the mirror, smudged, dirty and streaked with deceit?

I am slowly slipping from view…

I need a little love to ease the pain
It's easy to remember when it came


Does anybody know what I have become? Have they guessed? Has the light in my eyes gone out, replaced with a smoldering passion I dare not reveal to anyone but him?

The shell has cracked.

They question me at dinner, my friends, huddled around me, asking me am I okay? Has something happened and do I need to talk? I smile and shake my head, my lips spewing lame excuses, my brain screaming the truth into their deaf and numb ears. With relieved faces, they turn back to their meal, satisfied that I am the same as I always was. Happy that I am still the girl they think they know.

Underneath my skin an inferno awaits, and as my eyes lock with his across the room, I know it will not be long before I can let it out, pouring myself into him.

His whisper lingers longingly on my skin, his hot breath permeating through my blood, vein and sinew pulsing with the essence of him. We have found a disused room this time, not making it down the hall to his bed, tearing at each other’s clothing, our lips ravishing and devouring. He lets me take control, submissive for once, and surprise catches me. It is never this way, but I decide I like it anyway.

Each time I see him I never know which part of him he will show me. A flash of tenderness, a strike of heartache, anguish tied to desire.

My enigmatic lover. My twisted serpent.

Mine.

'Cause it feels like I've been
I've been here before


“Granger,” his voice floats through the air to my ears where I sit with my back to him, pulling on my clothes. Slowly, I allow myself to turn towards him, taking a deep breath and meeting his eyes, not knowing what I will see. He is not looking at me. His hands play idly with the edge of his robe, draped loosely around his shoulders, the bare, creamy skin of his body illuminated against the dark fabric.

I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. When he doesn’t, a sigh escapes my lips and I continue dressing, feeling angry with myself for looking at him. Now I am curious. Now I want to talk to him, to ask him again why we are doing this. My bottom lip slides between my teeth and I gnaw at it in irritation, before clenching my fists and turning back to him, angry questions in my eyes.

“Stay,” he says before I can unleash my temper. With one word, he has undone me, and I feel my mouth open and close in shock as I glance at him over my shoulder. He lifts his blonde head and meets my gaze, his eyes dark and imploring. “Please?”

Swallowing, I close my eyes for a second, wondering if I imagined the plaintive note to his melodic voice, wondering if I imagined the glistening in his moonlight eyes.

“Why?” I ask him with my eyes still shut. I sense him shift behind me, the heat from his chest seeping through my clothes and into my blood, and I turn my face away. Gently, with fingers made of air, he brushes the hair from the nape of my neck, his lips touching my skin lightly, causing me to shiver.

“Because I want you to,” he whispers against my neck, the vibration of his lips on my skin sending waves of heat shooting through me. I feel myself shake my head automatically. This is not right. This is not the way it happens. This is confusing me.

“I can’t,” I whisper back, forcing myself to twist away from him so I can see his face. His eyes are cast towards the floor, his silky blonde hair falling across his face, hiding him from my sight. Without understanding why I was doing it, I reach over and push the hair from his eyes, the tips of my fingers brushing his cheek. Startled, he looks up, straight into my eyes.

“Why not?”

“Because what happens next, Draco?” I reply, using his name for the first time in my life, watching his eyes widen as the syllables roll from my tongue and into the night around us. He shrugs, understanding what I meant.

You are not my savior
But I still don't go, oh


Stay.

Because I want you to.

Please…

He is the fire that burns, that binds. He is the dark in the depths of me. He is the one I want to linger beside me, his taste and scent on my skin, for as long as I am breathing. He is the one I want to obsess over, drown and swim in. He is the one I would turn my back on the world for. He is the one who brought me back, gave me something that I could not give myself. His twisted love, our twisted passion, saved me from one hell and put me straight into another. He is the one that I should stay away from, run from and spend the rest of my life hiding from.

He is the one I want.

He is the one.

I let him kiss me. I let him cover my body with his own. I let him touch me, shatter me and pull me back together. I let him turn my soul inside out.

I let myself love him.

I feel like something
That I've done before


“Stay,” he asks me again, his hand wrapping gently around my arm. Those long skilled fingers, so pale they look like the finest marble, burn my skin like a brand. His tone is more insistent this time, and he has not even given me the chance to dress.

My eyes close as his thumb moves gently and rhythmically over the flesh on my arm, his hand walking slowly towards my shoulder, brushing across my collarbone. I jump when his fingers close around my throat, and experience a moment of terror when he tips my head back, exposing my neck. He pulls my body back into his, my back connecting with the solidness of his chest, the fingers on my throat splaying to tilt my chin towards him.

Our eyes meet, and he smiles a little, bending his head to kiss me tenderly on the mouth. My body turns instantly to water and I twist in his arms, facing him and sliding my hands into his hair.

His arms glide around my waist and he lifts me into his body, our skin burning where it touches. His kiss is gentle, delicate and filled with sensitive passion, and it scares me.

This is different. He is different, and I’m not sure I’m comfortable with it. I let him kiss me, swept up and waiting to see where this new path will lead.

“Aren’t you getting tired of it?” he asks me when he pulls away and places a kiss on my forehead. I lie still in his arms, not sure how to answer but knowing exactly what he was talking about. “The hiding? The lying? Granger, I don’t want to do this anymore.”

My chest constricts at his words and I sit up, staring at him accusingly, feeling short of breath. His fingers stroke into my hair, brushing the loose, messy strands away from my face. There is a sadness in his eyes that I have never seen before.

“What do you mean?” I ask him softly, terribly afraid of the answer. He is silent for a long while, my trepidation increasing with each second that passes. I give him a little shake. “Malfoy?”

“This isn’t what I want anymore,” he whispers.

“What about your release?” I snap, suddenly angry at the thought of not being able to see him. Like everything else in my life, his presence is a constant, something that I could rely on. I am not willing to let him step away from me.

He takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye.

“I don’t need release.”

“Then what do you need?” I ask, attempting to move out of his arms, but he holds me steady against him.

“You. I need you.”

I could fake it
But I still want more, oh


A million thoughts fly through my head and I push them away before they send me insane. I stare at him, at this man who claims my heart, watching him as he watches me. His eyes trace the lines and contours of my face, waiting with a patience I did not know he had. I start to tremble, my eyes filling with warm, quick tears and I hide my face in his chest, holding the breath in my lungs. His hand moves to my back, gliding along my spine, coming to rest on the back of my head, strong and comforting. In my ears, his heart beats a steady rhythm, his body calm and still.

The dam behind my eyes bursts and I find myself sobbing against the beating of his heart, my chest rising and falling in time with the blood that pumps through his veins. I dissolve under the flow of tears, slowly lifting my head to look into his eyes.

“Why?”

“Because I do,” he replies instantly, his voice insistent and laced in longing. I reach out and trail my fingers down the side of his face, his eyes closing briefly. My fingers brush against his lips and he kisses them, his hand shooting up to grasp mine, bringing our entwined fingers to rest over his heart.

“Say my name, Draco,” I whisper, needing to hear him say it. Needing to know this is real. He swallows and draws a deep, steady breath of air into his lungs, his eyes never leaving mine.

This is my end, and my beginning.

“Hermione.”

I am lost.




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