Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns anything you recognize. I'm not making any money.
Warning: This story contains descriptions of self harm (cutting).

This poem was inspired by an old “Verse Two Line One” challenge by snarkyroxy at the SH boards. Details at the bottom.


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Out of the Water




I come home.
Yes, it is home now, with you here.
My cold and stony lair. My dim narrow windows. But your scent: the difference.
I breathe it in, deeply. And close my eyes. Bliss.
But then my eyelids open sharply. Where are you?
I call, and I hear nothing. And so then I know.

Again.

My head swirls with dread and I wish with all my fractured, broken soul that I am wrong.
I rush to where I know you are. Unless...let me be wrong.
But I am not. There you are. You're in the bathroom
Carving holiday designs into yourself.
The absurdity...
My Hermione.
My girl, linen and curls. And a bloody blade that's torn your legs and your arms
into patchworks of skin.

And if I could open my mouth,
my scream, my agony –
It would torment the eaves
of the highest tower
of this fucking castle.
It would empty the forest
of all its wretched, snivelling creatures.
They would flee from my sound.
But I am choked.

I kneel beside you.
Your dripping form, half naked,
crippled and folded against the wall.
I thread my fingers through your hair,
muster a feeble whisper,
murmur your name.
I tell you I am here. The man who loves you.
The man you saved from himself. I am here.
I clutch your face in my hands
and look at you, for some response. I search you.

I know they would say you are alive.
They could take your pulse; you're breathing.
But I don't see you. You are gone. Again.
There is nothing behind those chocolate eyes.
They are so far away,
it is like I can hear
the Atlantic
echo back
from wherever you are.
I will fix you, Hermione. I must.

I pull you onto my lap, cradle your head against my thundering heart.
With one arm I hold you, desperately.
The other holds my wand,
it slowly traces these stupid scratches, gashes.
I will them to heal in that bizarre way they do
when you've done them yourself.
To blister, please
with those wings in your spine
that will carry you out of this place – just one last time.

Whenever I am doing this
I always dream
you could forget you once had sweethearts,
boys who made you laugh.
And oh, what a bargain you were
for my evil old partners.
Three for two: it was a sale.
They didn't even have to touch you.
As if, saved from the gallows,
you were condemned to the rack.

Those two, they've drawn you away with them.
I fight that I am not taken in with you.
That I stay, feet firmly planted,
the only hope
to pull you out of this hellish quicksand.
Once and for all.
I swear:
This is the last time.
I swear it, vehemently, snarling.
I close the last of these wretched slashes.
They will never be opened again.

Now it is time. I wade into your mind, there is water all around.
I see you, floating,
absently gazing at the murky grey sky. I grasp your hand; it's cold.
The water is cold. Oily and septic.
But I won't let go. This is the last time.
I look around. There. There's a harbour, lost, within the reeds,
but these currents pull us further out...
I will the water calm and swim.
We reach the dock, your eyes still barren.
I pull you up and out,
your toes leave the stagnant pool,

And you look at me.

We're back on that cold dark stone.
But that's just it. We are back.
You are here again.
You're looking at me
Those deep chocolate eyes now filled
with sorrow and apology and weariness
but most of all with life,
with love.
The stuff that feeds me.
oh Hermione,
I will keep you here.
I will keep you away from that sickly, ugly brine, I must.
This is the last time.









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A/N:
This is my first attempt at writing fan fiction, so I'd love to hear your reactions. Thanks to beta Aerin Alanna for checking this story over.

I am years past the deadline for the challenge, and I didn't follow it exactly, but I'd still like to thank snarkyroxy for giving me the idea. Challenge is here: Verse Two Line, One Challenge. I decided to keep the lyrics hidden so they don't interrupt the story, but here's the list if anyone's looking to pick them out:

you're in the bathroom carving holiday designs into yourself – “Three Peaches” - Neutral Milk Hotel
my girl, linen and curls – “Summersong” - The Decemberists
and if I could open my mouth – “Marching Bands of Manhattan” - Death Cab for Cutie
I can hear the Atlantic echo back – “Coney Island” - Death Cab for Cutie
blister please with those wings in your spine – “Two Headed Boy Pt. Two” - Neutral Milk Hotel
forget you once had sweethearts – “You'll Not Hear the Drowning” (third part of “The Island”) - The Decemberists
as if saved from the gallows – “Movie Script Ending” - Death Cab for Cutie
there's a harbor lost within the reeds – “Come and See” (first part of “The Island”) - The Decemberists
these currents pull us – “Sons and Daughters” - The Decemberists