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She awakes in the middle of the night screaming, screaming for something that even she herself knows she can’t stop. His image is burned into her body, her heart, her brain. Every time she opens her eyes she sees his perfect image hazily in her line of view, yet it is so flawed because she is the one seeing it. Her smile would form, then relax, then falter as she saw him coming near. He’d soon take her in his arms, pushing her against the wall, a fearful grimace approaching upon her face for the first time since meeting him because of his sudden violence . . . This constant frame spools on an infinite wheel inside her head as she sleeps, bathes, eats. It is all she can think of. This same movie plays within her brain for all of her days, all except when she is with him. While he is with her, his love (though he constantly is disproving it) never falters and the movie changes, distorts into what is happening then and now, and she is forced to relive it for a second, third, and fifteenth horrifying time, even when she is not with him and the ordeal is over. She only ends it at the last part, squeezing her eyes tightly shut and not daring to open them until the dawn comes. Whether or not sleep comes she does not know, but all the girl thinks of is him. It is all that is possible, all that is true.
“I’ll tell them. I’ll them everything you did when you were such a bad little girl.”
His dark wisps of hair swayed in the spring wind as he sauntered up to her at the edge of the small pond that rested in front of his cottage home in New England. A wand accompanies the silk of the garment he is wearing, casual robes, along with the subtle, black lint of the seam that is slowly coming undone hangs out limply from his pocket. His presence in itself is inviting, though once he reaches her she knows that it will be foreboding. She was told, not asked, to meet him here at a quarter past eight o’clock this very night. This was not unusual, as of course he would need a proper hiding place to do his deed while she cried pitifully as it was done, no one hearing her terrible cries and whimpers of fear. She only wishes that someone would save her. She prays, but no one ever answers. Her call to the light is only answered by more darkness.
“You’re late.”
She turns her head in a confused motion, darting her eyes to the tree that stands erect only a few feet away from them. The sky is dark, growing still darker with each passing second. The sun slips behind a grey cloud and she sighs, stifling a chuckle. “I’m late? I was here before you were.”
“I don’t want your sass. I’ll let is slide this time.” The hatred in his voice sustained the comedy she was receiving from it. She almost thrust her head back in sarcastic laughter for how foolish he was sounding. She had beaten him here--- by a full five minutes, and she had been early. “You know why I’ve come here.”
She stared toward the sky, no longer looking at him. “I don’t believe that this relationship can go on much longer.”
There, she had said it. It felt as if a ten-thousand pound weight had been lifted off her chest, and she suddenly found breathing easier. She sucked in great gasps of air, but she soon realized that it was not because of the weight disappearing. It was because of him disappearing.
Though she knew that her life with him would never be sacred, never be truly right in its existence, she longed to meet with him. He could be nice, but only when things were going his way. That was hardly ever, unfortunately for the girl. He was a very handsome man, highly respected amongst his superiors, but once he changed out of the costume and mask he donned every day at work he turned into a supremely different being. Their relationship was challenged for it daily, though he didn’t even seem to notice. He continued living his life to the fullest, beating up his girlfriend with the utmost strength and endeavor and as if it had never been done before. As if she deserved it.
But the truth was that she did. It was either this or prison. He had told her this, informed her of it every single day for the past twelve years. They had not been together for that long, but once your entire family, all except for yourself, dies of a sickness unknown to normal people, the Muggleborns--- a curse that leaves no trace, no blood, no ideas for the police to go off on, suspicions are raised, and they are raised tall and quickly. Abigail Coventry latched onto him for help, for solace when she sought it, which now was every single second of her life. Ever since she was a ten year old she had left her family to be with him, but she had had no choice. Many a hardship had been thrust their way, and he had been there for her, he really had--- but once his work and other people got in the way of living his life to the richest means he could manage, his personality and good name became unclear.
“You know what will happen if I leave you. No, my dear,” he said softly, his eyes lazily and lusciously pecking over her curves and bare legs for the skirt she now wore, “this relationship is only beginning.”
Remaining Sacred by Ron x Hermione
Chapter Notes: It feels so good to finally be getting back to writing again! I really am hoping that you all enjoy this story! I rather liked writing it. This is for the Autumn Challenge on the beta boards.