Elysium because her wonderful stories got me addicted to Blaise/Hermione.
Mraudbdyy for her suggestions and encouragement.
Hallelujah - Leonard Cohen
Her lips were soft, delicate against his own rougher ones. He placed his hands gently around her waist, pulling her closer to him, as he continued to kiss her. Her body was drawn up against his, he could feel her warmth radiating against his skin. Neither one of her hands rested on his body, but he did not notice as his mind was a whirl of emotions – passion, tenderness, and an over-whelming feeling of protectiveness. He felt incredibly protective of her, he wanted nothing more than to steal her away, remove her from the horrors of the world. She was too fragile, too sensitive for the reign of terror which existed. He saw how it tormented her, saw the brave facade she put up, but underneath he knew that she was tormented. It tortured him to see her, in all her fine refinement, forced to live in this world. He knew that he could change it, knew that he could bring her to a world of happiness and joy, one in which she could live freely, without having the bear the burden of the suffering that existed here. He could bring her to a perfect world, a utopia. All she had to do was agree.
Gently, he eased away from the kiss, and gazed softly down at her pale, exquisite features. “Let me take you away,” he whispered softly. “Let me take you away from this life.”
I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
Her hand snaked up, slapping hard against his cheek. He winced, flinching away from the stinging pain. She struggled against his arms, wrenching free of his grip. Hastily she stepped away from him, leaving him standing alone, shocked by her reaction.
Rain was pouring down on them and mist rose up from the warm ground, concealing the grass beneath their feet. He stared at her; her wet, bedraggled hair, the damp cotton shirt that clung to her skin, and the tight balling of her fists. And as he stared at her, he noted the furious expression etched across her face - the intense dislike, and the wary caution with which she regarded him. As he’d been occupied with kissing her, he’d been blind to her reaction, too involved in the feelings of the moment to notice, but now, he realized, with a pain that hit him like a punch to the stomach, that it had been her expression all along. She had not shared his feelings, and he had not noticed, as entranced by the moment as he was. And now that he knew, he looked at her, his eyes soft and full of sorrow, desperately clinging onto the faint hope that her expression did not reflect her thoughts.
She spoke, her voice heated and angry. “Leave me alone. I don’t want you and I don’t want that life you suggested.”
Her words struck deep into his heart, stinging far more then the slap across the cheek. Tears formed in his eyes, mixing with the rain that streamed down his face. His hair was soaked; it clung limply to his forehead, as he lowered his head to the stare at the damp ground.
“I’m going,” she continued, her words coming with no trace of regret. Her words hit him hard; they seemed to echo in his head, repeating over and over again and he dropped to his knees, landing softly on the damp mud, as his mind reeled from the pain.
“Please don’t leave,” he whispered softly, but when he raised his head, all he saw was her back, walking quickly away from him. The sight anguished him and he dropped his eyes back to the ground, staring at it despondently as he felt the grief tearing into his soul. And as he knelt on the mud, amidst the rising mist and falling rain, he cried out.
It goes like this...the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall
The major lift,
The baffled King composing Hallelujah
He came to her door at midnight. What had drawn him there, he did not know. Nor did he know why he chose to linger on her porch, even as the doubts formed inside him, swirling around in his head, urging him to turn away and leave the house behind, just as she had left him behind. Initially, he could not work up the courage to knock on her door; he was still bitter and his heart still ached from their last meeting. Even now, he could not escape the torment of emotions, each caused by her. Nightly, he would wake from dreams of her with his heart pounding and his body covered in a sheen of cold sweat. His vision was filled with images of her; her modest curves, dainty features and her charming smiles. He could not let of her, could not release her and could certainly not forget her.
The painful sting of her their last meeting momentarily forgotten, he raised his fist and knocked once, lightly on the door. He knew that she was home, could tell by the light softly filtering through the sheer curtains hung over the window. As he waited on the porch, the doubts rose again in him, and he almost fled back into the night. He could remember the heart wrenching emotion of sorrow, and pictured her back as it walked angrily away from him. The heartbreak that day had nearly killed him; why was he setting himself up for it again?
He had started to turn away, falling prey to his doubts, as the door opened and light spilled out onto the porch, illuminating her.
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you.
He swallowed, turning back to face her unmistakable beauty. The warm light issued up from behind her, giving her a radiant glow as it streamed past her before dispersing into the dark night. She looked so beautiful, so soft, so delicate and so warm, illuminated by the light as she was. He felt his heart sore as he stared at her; his mind leapt with joy as his eyes took in the elegant details she possessed that he had always loved in her. The fine mouth, the intelligent eyes, and the smooth, flawless skin.
Seized by the sudden desire to kiss her, he strode forward, only to be stopped by her raised hand. Flinching although he had not been physically hit, he took a step back. He looked at her sadly, his eyes dark and confused.
She frowned, regarding him with a cold look, before saying, “we need to talk.”
He nodded softly, making no further attempt to approach her.
“I know what it is that you want,” she began, and for a moment, his heart soared with hope, “but I can’t give it to you,” she continued, sending his hopes plummeting down into darkness. “I’m sorry,” she added, although her apology existed only in her words and not her expression, “but this wasn’t meant to be.”
The door closed softly, leaving him standing alone in the moonlight. Bowing his head, he thrust his hands deep into the pocket of his coat, before turning morosely away from the door. “I’m sorry too,” he muttered as he trudged away from the house, “sorry that I ever gave a damn about you.”
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne
She cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
He’d been walking for hours, his feet carrying him along an unknown, wandering path, deep through the empty, lonely dark streets of the city. The rain was falling again, cold and fast. He was drenched, the rain seeping easily through his black jacket to soak his skin. His hair was plastered against his head and he could feel the rain trickling down his forehead, splashing across his nose. There might have been tears mingled in with rain; he did not know. Nor did he care. A piercing cold wind accompanied the rain, it stabbed through his sodden coat, yet he ignored that as well.
Nothing mattered anymore, not to him. Before he had been wrought with emotion but now he felt nothing. He had simply gone numb, his mind blank, his body senseless to all feeling. His foot fell into a puddle, the cold water plunged into his shoe, drenching his foot, but he did not notice. Caring required energy, right now, he barely had enough energy to walk. Yet he pressed on, knowing no destination, having no end in sight, simply because it was all that remained for him to do.
He welcomed the numbness for grief, sorrow and confusion had ripped at him, leaving him torn and hurting. Numbness left him with nothing, just an empty expanse of emotions. No longer was he tortured, now he was a cold, dark shadow of nothing. At the moment, he felt invincible. Nothing could hurt him, no emotion could ravish him.
His footsteps carried him right through the park, but he did not notice.
Baby I have been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
No one was out on the streets, driven away by the late hour and the torrential downpour. Left alone, he had only his thoughts to accompany him.
He was finished with love. It had brought him only pain, suffering and anguish. Leading him on, it had built him up, causing him happiness and joy. And then, he’d been tossed down, thrown aside and left for the dogs. Ascent and decent; rise and fall. Love and heartbreak; joy and grief. Neither could exist without the other, but while one was kind, the other was cruel, and in the end, cruelty would always reign superior. Such was the way of the world, he knew, for he had seen it, heard it, felt it and suffered it.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Once, he’d been foolish enough to think that love was powerful, that as long as he felt the power of love, nothing could harm him. Now he laughed coldly, scoffing at his foolishness. Love wasn’t powerful, nor did it provide any form of protection.
He frowned and his thoughts returned to her. He’d been an idiot for falling in love with her, for even entertaining the notion that there could be anything between them. Her feelings had been so obvious, so visibly displayed, yet he had never seen them. He had been blinded by her intelligence, her beauty and her charm, and it had proved to be his undoing. She had never loved him, not even felt a pull of attraction towards him, but he had still fallen head over heels for her, ignorant of her own feelings. His ignorance had placed him in this situation, his ignorance and the cruelty of love.
There was a time you let me know
What's real and going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
He hated her. Hated her for everything. Anger pulsed through his veins; it fuelled him, giving him a warmth and an energy, casting away the numbness that had plagued him for hours. The whore had rejected him, turning him away when all he wanted to do was to protect her. She had hurt him, mentally and physically, and had torn him apart with her cold, unsympathetic words. He could never repay her the pain and suffering she had caused him; he could not even come close to topping the mental anguish she had created.
She had twisted him, destroying his former self to create this cold, vengeful monster. He saw his reflection in the mirror, the haggard eyes, pale skin and defeated slouch. Beneath that, hung the shadowy remnants of his former self, remnants to far gone to be repaired. She had destroyed him, her and love, and now he was out for revenge.
Turning around, he began to retrace the path to her home.
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dark was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
He did not stop to knock on her door, instead shoving it aside with his shoulder and forcefully entering the small house. Stalking through the house, he found her in the kitchen, seated at the table, ruffling through today’s copy of the ‘Daily Prophet.’ She did not notice him until he approached her, laying a hard, tight grip on her upper arm. Only then did she turn to face them, flinching away as she saw the wild, furious expression on his face.
“Remember me?” he asked angrily, pleased to note the fear reflected in her dark, brown eyes. Chocolate eyes, he remembered thinking once.
“Of course I remember you,” she said, trembling, “we talked last night.”
“We talked?” he repeated incredulously, before laughing cold and mockingly. “No,” he continued, shaking his head, “you talked. I listened. And then you threw me out.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” she replied, and although her voice shook because of fear, he still could not detect a single hint of regret or remorse in her tone. He’d been right; the bitch had never loved him.
“Good,” he spat, “because when I kill you, I want you to remember me and I want you to know why you died.”
Drawing a knife, he pressed it against her throat.
Maybe there's a God above
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
Her face paled, her chin quavering as she felt the cold steel resting against her flesh. Although his body was shaking, his hand was quite still, and the point of the knife never wobbled.
“You wouldn’t,” she whispered, her eyes wide, sweat pouring off her face.
“I would,” he countered, tightening his grip on her arm.
She cried out in fear; the sound tugged at his heart, shaking his resolve. For the briefest of moments, his anger disappeared and he saw not the whore whom he hated, but the woman whom he had loved. He did not see the trembling, pitiful, fear affected woman, but rather the healthy, cheerful, intelligent beauty that he had, no, rather still, loved.
He hesitated, his hand slowly moving the knife an inch away from her neck, before steeling himself and returning it to its former position. She was watching him silently now, tears running down her cheeks and mingling with the sweat. He swallowed, his eyes locking onto hers; both pairs brown, one set sensitive and afraid, the other set angry and conflicted. Chocolate eyes, he thought again, this time with a sadness that pained him. Now, his hand was shaking, the knife trembling with it, constantly brushing against her flesh, although never piercing it.
Softly, he whispered, “I love you,” and made his decision.
And it's not a cry you can hear at night
It’s not somebody who's seen the light
It’s a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
The knife dropped from his hand, clattering harmlessly to the floor.