Her hands were cold and still. They rested beneath her bosom- a bosom that was unmoving and exposed. A dark sheet was lifted up, to cover the sweet form of her nakedness, and her eyes that were forever closed. It was lifted, but not set down. I paused, and looked down upon the sleeping beauty. Her lips were slightly parted, stained with the nectar from the seeds of the pomegranate. 600 seeds, to be exact. For that was what the potion called for, 600 seeds or one entire pomegranate. That was the cost of a slice of heaven.

And how did heaven taste? Like golden honey, sweet and pure. The innocence stirred a fire that thudded through my veins. Begging me for another bite, and another. My fingers twitched, and ached as I clasped the sheet tightly. I was hesitant to put such beauty to rest. It was hard for me, I'll readily admit, to even pluck such a divine specimen. But it was unavoidable. I knew, all those months ago, that no matter what happened, I had to have her. To call her mine, to leave my mark upon her so as no other could touch her. And that is what I did.

It was a Tuesday, that I remember clearly. For I have counted each Tuesday since then- counting down until the decision would be made. 52 Tuesdays have passed by, slowly. Almost in full agony have I waited in the shadows. Waiting for the day when I would be able to claim her completely, to make the final step. The step that would ensure no other would even be allowed to glimpse the beauty and exquisiteness that was Hermione Granger.

But that is all beside the point, I am trying to tell you about that day, but my mind is running wild with thoughts of her. Her smooth, pale skin shivering beneath me. Her eyes alight with the fire that matched her passion as a student, when I told her of my plans. The smell of her blood as I first entered her. Her gooseflesh as I came up behind her and shifted her hair. The moment she finally started to warm to me. All of it, beautiful. All of it, mine.

That day she was walking out of a Muggle bookstore that I have forgotten the name of. It surprised me greatly to see her in America. I had thought when I went to America that I would never have to deal with my past life. Never have to see all of the accusing eyes, and hear the angry curses. When I left the land I loved to start anew, I never thought I would see her again.

She seemed as lost and confused as I, upon seeing a familiar face. Familiar, but not welcome. I saw her empty hand shift towards her left pocket, and knew that she stored her wand there. But she was not foolish enough to draw it in such an open, and Muggle place. I raised an eyebrow, and nodded my head at her. She squinted her eyes, and then dipped her head in return.

In that moment, I saw something that I had never really paused to notice before. It was insignificant, or would have been to anyone else, but it captivated me nonetheless. Dimples. Or dimple, I should say. When she lifted the right side of her mouth, a small dimple formed in her cheek. It was startling, really. I had never thought of her as a human being. Only a bush with teeth and an overly large brain. But as I watched her walk away, I knew. I knew that I would have her. Have my own slice of heaven.

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Eloquence