Yours in Mayhem |Dramione

39 to draco

You might be thinking, 'I'd get you, you downright prat. You used the Dark Arts to bring me back from the dead. I'd hex you to the brink.' Well, good because for once I'd like to say that you're wrong. I didn't use Dark Magic and it wasn't me, well, not wholly. It was my intent and I sought them out.

And for the record I didn't bring you back from the dead because I went to a time where you weren't dead.

I turned back time.

I imagine you now, clawing at this piece of paper. Waiting with your wand. Standing up unable to contain yourself because damn it, I'm bad. I'm such a bad boy.

And when you get to me from the other room you're going to have your way with me, won't you? You will do bad things to me.

But you love me, don't you? You love me when I'm good but more when I'm being bad.

Hermione felt the blush on her tearstained cheeks. Unsure if it's from anger or if he's managing to turn her on even in death. It feels like he's just beside her teasing her.

But the realization that he isn't broke her heart. The teardrops blotched the paper and she find herself wiping at it stupidly, not wanting to taint it with magic.

And, Hermione, to me you are love.

I've loved other things, of course. My name, my parents, this and that and so on and so forth but not much has made the same impression as you. It didn't made sense and it surpassed logical thought. Did every boy who felt for a girl tried to suppress his feelings for her all his life just to turn back time and do it all over again?

Maybe.

But I am sure not.

Surely not and I am not saying this to be arrogant.

Because they probably didn't fall for someone like you. Surely, not to you because when it comes to girls there's only you... and others.

I cannot imagine going through all of this for someone else even if I do fall in love again. I will probably fall in love with someone demure and soft spoken like she's always on a downer. She will probably not punch me in the face but make me wish the contact was longer just so she'd touch me. Or argue on hours on end but feel excited because though she hates me and fumes with anger because of me, I know that I'm all she could think about. Me. Me and her.

Or not.

I'd probably die an old, rich, mean bachelor in a bed of slags and money when you say you're done with me. As shite as I look right now and as grim as my Gringotts vault look I still know my way around the coin. But that is a story for another day.

I hope for days and days and so many more days too many that when we wake up next to each other we will have to think for a second for a fresh row to throw to start the morning. I love bickering and butting heads with you. I never thought I'd find someone who challenges me.

Maybe that's why I hated you.

You never made it easy. Merlin, you never did. First, you'd have to be born to Muggle parents. Second, you'd have to be sorted into Gryffindor. Third, you'd have to be chummy with the Prat Patrol. Fourth, you'd have to be this headstrong, catastrophically smart, witty,

I'd rather not go on.

If you saw yourself through my eyes you'd probably not bother anymore. I'm a goner. You'd know it. Maybe you already do. You're a smart girl, you would have figured it out before I even did.