Addicted to You

XXV

Memory chooses to preserve. But what is a memory, but a stray nerve, that lights up and then out, as I think of you, and then cut that thought down. That's what your memory is to me- like salt water in the sea. I want to quench my thirst and I plunge head first, only to struggle and come up for air. In my memory, thankfully, you're never there.

My memory tries hard to preserve, and thus I claim defeat. It seeps in with your smiling face, looking at me from your driver's seat. So, I allow myself to remember, because I want to be angry. it was you not me, whose hand was on the steering wheel. 

It was you who started with the weak comedy, spinning and racing, trying to get me to kneel. It was you not me, who ran the red light. It was you...

I find my memory going blank, just for a second, as I try to remember a time, older than then, you and me talking, like nothing could ever come undone.

A crash so loud, my ears suddenly ring. I muffle a shout, as things break apart from within. But I still force myself to remember the rest. How it was you, the cause of the pain in my chest. How it was you, the cause of all my suffering.

I had been warned, all your joys will turn to ashes in your mouth, you will be left with nothing, and as nothing now here I lay...

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Their discourses were witness to the night seeping stealthily into the arms of the morning. And with morning came a new day and a forcible check on reality.

Hermione's eyes fluttered open as she awoke first, to the quiet exhalations of an asleep Snape right next to her. A blush crept up her skin as she recalled the happenings of last night but before she could think of what to make of their situation, Snape stirred and opened his eyes as well. Their gazes met and immediately stole away. No need to say that their positions were awkward- neither could deny that they lay naked with each other, nor could they draw away without fear of hurting the other's feelings.

It wasn't clear to them what the other wanted. They couldn't pretend that they didn't know the other one was awake, but they lay silent, their minds reeling with unspoken words. They could feel an aura of doubt and tenseness permeating the air, yet each was reluctant to utter a word, so as to steer the conversation to a certain direction. Did they even know which way they wanted it to go? Were they simply prolonging the moment, so that they could remain frozen in time like this, when all was well, when they didn't have to hide, when they just could be in each other's arms? You could cut the tension between them with a knife.

Hermione observed his face and thought, perhaps he was embarrassed that he took his guards down with her and now didn't know what to do. He feared that she would be too emotional about this and was awkward as a result of that. So she shrunk herself back. Probably he just wanted it to be a one-night thing, he wasn't one to get emotionally attached with anyone. They had sex and he didn't want anything more- it was purely corporeal. They were both mature adults and they should treat it as just a physical act. She wasn't up to the mark for him and he didn't consider her to be his own. She wasn't wearing her ring now, but she couldn't deny it's existence. She had responsibilities and she was still engaged to someone else. When she thought of that, she had already committed infidelity, but there was still a chance to redeem herself if she put a stop to this now. If she got the notion that he wanted her too, then perhaps she could've reconsidered it. But seeing as it is...no, she would do what was right.

Snape on the other hand, stared at her and tried to guess what was going on in her mind. He longed to perform legilimency on her but that would be hypocritical of him. If she really wanted to, she could do it too. Anyway, he thought he knew what she could be thinking. She must be embarrassed about last night, chastising herself for submitting to such a man as him. She had succumbed to her desires but it was just for the night- and she didn't want it to be anything more. It was a fashion of her generation to have sex with no strings attached and she would obviously think him mature enough to understand that. She might have been attracted to him, she had her fill but he was only good enough for a one-night stand. She had let herself go just for a night, she had got a taste of the forbidden, but now she must return. When it came to life, she would obviously go with the one that suited her better. And perhaps that was for the best. She deserved better than him. After all, what was he but an ex-convict and a capricious stoner with a history of substance abuse? If she wanted more for herself then who was he to hold her back? And he wasn't anything if not acquiescent; he should have no problem in shutting off his feelings, if she chose to go.