the reluctant bride | dramione

e i g h t

When you feel my heat, look into my eyes.
It's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide.
-Imagine Dragons, Demons

.....................................................

Draco swung his legs from under the covers, and shivered as the cold air hit his body. He scowled, at both his freezing feet, and his mood.

He hated her.

That was it. He hated her so so much.

Just as he'd thought he started liking her, she had gone and blew it. Well it didn't matter to him. She  didn't matter to him.

Standing from his bed, he proceeded to the shower, letting the cold water indulge his senses.

The water poured down, it dripped by Draco's side, as his mind faded into dullness and everything was a foggy illusion. The sensation of the steamy water calmed him; it took Draco's mind of things. All the things he honestly didn't care about.  But yet again, there he was, worrying about every single part of Granger.

It's the water. His mind swirled, and it's like he was standing under an everlasting waterfall. Ever so beautiful, but it could never last, he knew that now.

He stepped out and looked at himself in the mirror. He saw the young boy that stared up in wonder as a brunette got sorted into Gryffindor. He remember how his chances were over the moment he slipped that unforsaken word out his mouth. He remembered the boy who winced as her fist collided with his face and he vowed to one her up in everything. He remembered the boy that stood and stared as the beautiful girl cried on the steps. He remembered the boy how gripped her sleeve as he gave her into Umbridge, his breath trickling down her neck. He remembered the boy that felt as though he wanted to kill someone when he saw her on the steps, being guarded by her best friend. And then he saw the boy, the boy who'd finally thought he found something worth living for when he heard he was marrying Hermione.

And then he saw red.

And, as the pieces of glass fell from the smashed mirror, Draco's hands covered in blood, he didn't regret it.

HE sat on the floor and looked into one of the pieces of mirror, where a shattered boy sat crying, over a lost love.

Bang.

The door swung open and Draco jumped up in fright.  The shard of glass sliced his cheek and as blood seeped from under his left eye, he turned his cold glare towards her. He moved from where he was standing, the crimson liquid now dripping to the floor. He wobbled, but regained his balance as he saw Hermione reach out her hands to him.

"What do you want?"

It came out like a whisper, almost taunting the quietest mouse, challenging it to do any better.

Hermione made a sound, that sounded very much like help, but it wasn't there. She wasn't there. IN her mind, she was somewhere else, anywhere but him.

 "Granger, I don't know what more you want me to give you? What's your problem?" his voice was stronger now, but still had crackles here and there, like an old broken record.

"Is it the house? Is it too big?"

WHen he got no reply her pursued his questioning.

"Is it the husband/wife thing? You didn't want to get married so early?"

No reply.

The next came as a whisper and that was when Draco finally cracked.

"Is it me?"

But Draco already knew the answer.

Pushing past her and scoffing, Draco left the house, vowing never to return again.

OKayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

so.

ya know.

this was kinda short but oh well!!!!!!!!!!!!!!