Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other related trademarks, characters, or ideas.
Ruined
He doesn't bother to let her finish undressing. She still has her quidditch gloves on and her broom in hand when he ambushes her. He wants her at this moment, he is accustomed to having everything he wants. He may have to fight dirty, blackmail, and lie, but he gets what he wants.
It has to be dark in the room. She doesn't want to see him, she wants to pretend that they are making love, that he loves her. They are rival quidditch captains and that roughness extends to this part of their relationship. It extends to every part of their relationship.
She knows he is a Death Eater. That's why it must always be dark, so she can pretend he is whole. He never removes his left gauntlet. She runs her hand over the spot where she guesses his Dark Mark lies. She cries a little, he notices, but says nothing. No words would change the brokenness.
He tries not to imagine her standing across the battlefield from her. He can face her on the quidditch pitch, where only pride is lost. To defeat her on the battlefield would mean death. To them both.
He knows he cares for her. Maybe its not the passionate love every girl dreams of, but it is passion. She is the only pure, unsullied thing in his life. This is why he needs her.
She doesn't pretend one day he will have a change of heart and abandon his heritage. He is a Slytherin, pureblood, Death Eater. The words have lost all connotation. How can she associate all the evils in her world with the man she loves. She can not look at him and see him as evil. She is blind.
There was a time when he was blind and ignorant too. He forgets this. Somehow, she can never think of him as chaste in any way. Yet, she will not think of their relationship as wrong.
That's when she begins to think of the world in shades of gray and not just black and white.
The next time they meet, he doesn't allow her to undress and she doesn't try to. He ambushes her in the locker room once her team mates have left. He begins to undress her slowly, but she stops him. He goes to remove her gloves and once more she stops him. He persists and the gloves come off. His eyes immediately fly to her left forearm.
"Angelina!" he exclaims at the sight of the mark on her arm. A skull with a snake protruding from its mouth. "Why would you? How could you?"
"You didn't expect me to sit by and watch, did you?" she demands. After all, they had been opponents for years. They were rivals in everything. But, not this time. She would stand by him.
"But Angelina, this isn't a game," he tells her quietly. She knows it is not a game, but she sees him as the prize.
"I needed to be able to protect you somehow," she confesses quietly. She worries for him, even when he's likely to hurt her.
"You did this for me?" he demands angrily. He's upset he's driven her to this. He's horrified at what she's become.
"Yes."
"Why?" he asks totally dumbfounded. This was her moment to tell him.
"Because I love you," she says flatly. "How could I possibly expect you to change for me?"
"Why would I have to change for you? Because I'm not a Gryffindor?" he questions angrily, his voice rising. "Because I'm not Dumbledore's pet? Because I'm not some mud blood trash?"
"No," she replies quietly, "Because you're one of them. And I want to be with you."
"I can't promise you anything," he said without any emotion in his voice. "But, I do love you."
She looks at him sadly and nods. Those were the words she had waited for, but they had lost their meaning. "Why are you so angry with me? This is how I chose to live my life."
"You were the only pure, innocent thing in my life, Angelina," he tells her. "You're ruined now."
The blow stings. His words are hurtful. "You've ruined me, David. Everything I ever was has been lost. How could I ever return to my ways?"
He looks at her, then removes his gauntlet, there is nothing. No mark mars his skin and she gapes openly. "I didn't want you to become attached," he explains. "I couldn't promise you anything."
Angelina looks at him and laughs. He thinks she has gone barking mad. She moves towards the sink and sticks her arm beneath the faucet. Her mark washes away. She is once more clean and whole.
"Should have been a Slytherin," he mumbles. He bestows a kiss upon her forehead.
"We're not rivals anymore, Montague," she tells him sternly, "You and I want the same thing."
"Which is?" he asks puzzled.
"Each other."