:::An Inconvenient Truth: Part I:::
Beyond the bubble of Hermione's bedroom, they were strangers. The sun would rise. Daylight would shine over the loch, over the balcony, through the glass. Silently, dutifully, they would come out of each other's arms, would leave each other for the day. Their lives resumed seemingly as usual, he staying with his group, she staying with hers, neither crossing the proverbial line in the sand. From late morning to cool evening they kept away from one another, only meeting gazes as they passed each other in the hallways or from across the crowded classrooms. The glances they allowed themselves were brief, so fleeting that no one could have noticed. No one could have known that things had changed, no one but them...
But once the sun lowered, so did the walls that protected their secret from the scrutinizing light of day. The silent truth was safe in the night. They could hide together, invisible, cloaked in moonlight and shadow and the glow of distant stars. No prying eyes, no arched brows, no disapproving frowns could come between them. Those long-ago yesterdays when they had hated one another, those uncertain tomorrows that threatened to be recurrences of the past... they didn't matter here, in this room, in this bed. There were no yesterdays or tomorrows. The rules and expectations meant nothing now; there were no laws in this place they had created, this haven where time stood still, where the world outside froze and was none the wiser.
Pink sunrise was swirling in the sky. Hermione watched the glass wall with a tired smile as morning light swathed the stars. Draco's strong arm was around her abdomen, trapping her firmly against him, the front of his body curving around the back of hers. She could feel his breath against her hair, slow and even.
He was awake, she knew, had been awake all night. She had felt his eyes watching her through the darkness, had felt how every once in a while he would tighten his grip around her, as if daring the rising sun to so much as try to take her away.
She brought her hand up to cover his. "You didn't sleep," she whispered after a while. "Is something wrong?"
There was a pause. "No," he said against her hair.
She turned in his arms. Their faces were close, so close that their breaths mingled. "Would you tell me if there was?" she countered softly.
He didn't answer, just looked at her with those penetrating eyes.
After a while, he let his gaze lower, his eyes scanning down to look briefly at her mouth before settling thoughtfully on the diamond at her chest. Its facets gleamed with sunrise, soft crimson and pale orange, and the silver snake's eyes were fire-bright.
He fingered the stone, watching as it slowly rose and fell with her breath.
"It still feels heavy," she told him quietly. "Like iron instead of silver." She brought her hand up, letting it touch his as it delicately touched the diamond. "Like I'm chained..."
Chained to you. She didn't say it.
Instead, she smiled, tired and tender. "But... I don't think I could part with it now," she admitted, her voice soft.
The words had his intense eyes coming back up to meet hers. "That's not what you said before," he reminded her stonily. "You wanted me to take it back."
"I wanted to uncomplicate things," she corrected softly. She took his hand, held it away from the necklace, away from her skin, where his touch couldn't burn her. Her fingers laced with his harder ones, held. "I was so used to life being a certain way," she explained sadly. She shook her head, almost as if she still didn't understand. "All of a sudden, everything was different. I was different."
