Chained, are they?

Words of regret and countless apologies stuck to your rough tongue, just as your lip and foot trembles to move beneath the pile of secret confessions and bitter remorse.

How dare they?

How dare they?

That once strong gaze, your now hurtful gaze pierces my skin viciously, only to cruelly display the true me – a cowering thing who sucks and nibbles at the marrow of its own pride. Throw away that pair of green eyes! Leave them to rot and boil over and sweetly crust about!

But no.

You keep a steady stare, with salty tears almost gaining strength over your parched, but beautiful tan skin.

Your features astound and injure me it seems.

Especially your hair! How its black Indian ink colour, seems to keep an invisible tattoo splayed out across my hands.

How many countless times my nervous hands daringly bathed in the many strands, when your uncertainty finally allowed me to touch you, and how many countless times I have tried to wash my hands of your masculine scent, your touch, as I struggled to forget you.

Did you not know of all those days and nights when I have pined for you?

And then a day finally came when you took my lips in a passion, but ran scared. My missing piece, the green-eyed fool standing in front of me, was stupidly in love with me, and has always been, but still, was afraid.

I look away, and suddenly, slow, tapered fingers find their way into my vision.

Why, his hand is now reaching towards me!

I laugh, and cry a sob. "You want me to take your hand?"

I imitate him distastefully, mistakenly touching his outstretched fingers, and pull away, as if I was burned by some seething, unseen fire. Take his hand, when he himself has never taken mine? Batted it away with one mighty crack of a whip?

As if it was nothing.

But, the confidence suddenly leaves me when I want to speak a comment so smart it'll break him.

Hurt him.

I'm a Malfoy! I should be able to do such things!

Be a bastard.

Wreck people's dreams.

Poison people's hearts.

Except, my throat keeps burning with the same sickening savage longing to mouth the very greedy maw that kept coming to me, goading me to touch him, but in the end screamed and kicked and punched me, saying he did not love me, men, for that matter, like that! My still burning throat is parched – not from lack of water, but lack of words and, I choke; I choke on my proud tongue!

I to speak, eat my own words before anybody, especially him, hears them.

But stepping back, a whimper escapes me - a terribly ill look is plastered on his handsome face, as his jaws try to move, try to make a sound.

Words like tired "Why tell me now?" 's, and cries of "You really do?" and whispers of "I love you too," are locked in some gold gilded treasure chest unfathomably deep in my chest and are begging to be released. Oh, to think that you love me is implosive. My heart shrieks and throbs when I think of that impossible reality. A great shiver rushes through my entire body, from head to toe, numbing my spine – What do I do?

Being the fool I am, I muster a meagre word.

"You," I whisper in a broken tone, "…..You."

I repeat the single word again, because what I feel right now is ineffable. I am unable to find words to describe the great happiness, but also, the immense heart-break you have given me through your indecisive actions as no word in the whole world would ever be good enough to have a proper definition of this feeling.

You've hurt me, and although I want to wrap my arms around your muscled neck and press myself onto your hard but soft chest, I just want you to do those things to me, so I truly do know that you do feel for me.

Your affectionate actions and serious words would do so much right now.

If only you moved, and melted from that frozen state you are in right now to kiss me and hug me and murmur "I love you" 's into my ear, than all would be content.

But, I'm thick-headed and should never have thought of what you should do to me because, you walked away.

Several days before.

Today was retarded. Your stupid tacit behaviour you have shown today has made me unsure of whether I should believe what others have told me of your deep and serious love for me.

Ah! Your fingers caressed my cheek – in a casual "Friendship sort of way", you explained later when I questioned the action.

Oh my! Your lips boldly mouthed my fingers intimately– "You, Score, had food on them", you noted with a quick nod. Whispers in every class have told me repeatedly that you secretly crush on me. Yet, when I deepened one of your sudden "goodbye kisses" after Potion's Class today, and placed my hands on the back of your head, you pushed me to the floor violently and yelled in a strangled voice.

"Stop fucking around, Score! You know I don't like you like that."

But I know that when I ran in a shaken state around the corner and collapsed, you ran your long fingers through your thick head of hair and sighed as you fell to the floor, arms limp and face flushed with some unknown emotion.

The next day, we didn't walk to classes together.

It was as if we knew together both not to show up at the library for our ritual study meeting in our little corner near the restricted section – we are almost always never interrupted there.

Or at dinner, to sit down at the far end of the table; me on one side, him on the other.

And even, when we went to sleep.

Usually, Al would creep up into bed with me, and we'd talk about how fucking sleazy some of the Slytherin girls were today after they had a taste of the love potion concocted in Potion's class, or how stupid the new Divination assignment was.

Then, I was told by James that when he went to check on his little brother Al because he was "acting strange today", he found him to be alone, just sitting there, and saying that he was "waiting for somebody".

He didn't mention who, but of course, James knew Al was waiting for me.

And when I didn't come to dinner, Rosie asked me why I didn't come down afterwards, as she said Albus was just sitting there by himself, not eating.

What the others told me made me to believe that he was actually there with me at night. I remember feeling a slight caress on my check, but I was half asleep, and maybe, well, maybe, I'm just making things up.

The next day, Al came up to me and told me he was just "having a bad day yesterday" a hollow laugh erupting from his mouth, and that he was also "sorry if you thought I was pissed at you" after he patted me on the back, and left without me to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Obviously, his changed behaviour is due to that kiss. What a stupid prat for thinking that I'd believe that. Then again, it is hard getting mad at the same man who is both your best friend and love.

As I sat down in Transfiguration class after lunch and began pulling out parchment and a freckled white quill, I felt a sharp poke in the back accompanied by a second one with much force.

Oh, it was Rosie.

"Albus told me you two are getting together in the library to study for that Herbology test at lunch – as usual." She emphasized the last word, and winked; I flushed and stood there quiet as a mouse as she smiled and skipped away, but not before mentioning softly,

"Y'know, Albus hates it that you're not coming to your customary get-togethers. I don't know what's up, but just go."

She clearly knew what was going on between us. Rosie Weasley always knew what went on between me and her close cousin.

Having a seat in the ancient desk, my brain started to think and think and think and think....about him. Twisting and maze-like thoughts left me to contemplate things I've thought of before. And anyways, why the hell would Al want to unexpectedly meet now? He did not look as if he wanted to meet every time I waved and said hello today.

Then again, it has only been me who had been avoiding him.

Misery welled up in me in little pools and my conscience spat at me in fury.

It's your fault Al feels as if he has done something wrong.

You were the one who snogged him, and the only reason he pushed you away was because he does not feel any affection of that sort to you.

Because you jumped him, like a tiger on its innocent prey.

You have avoid him

You've hurt him.

YOUR FAULT! It whispered in a sing-songish tone of voice.

But oh!

That kiss.

How inflamed I had felt when he kissed me! Plenty of times he has given me "friendly" smacks here and there this year, but as his mouth fell onto mine, it was somehow......different than usual. Al had angled his head and almost groaned – I could feel a sigh erupt quietly from him in my mouth.

And when I was on the floor, startled from his rough shove, his green eyes looked confused, lips red, coal black hair ruffled, and cheeks burning with childish embarrassment, I felt an incredible loneliness fall upon my shoulders.

My mind seemed to blank out, if only for a second when I turned my back to run around the corner and collapse, using the stone wall as support to keep me sitting upright. I was turned back to life once I heard his minute sigh, and a noise that made me guess he fell to the stone-tiled floor. Why, I love him dammit, but, he does not have the heart to swallow that fact.

A sudden sharp rap of a wand on a faded ancient desk made me jump.

"Mr. Malfoy, would you mind telling us what you currently are dreaming of? Surely it has something to do with transfiguring a rat into a coil of wire and not Divination?" Professor McGonagall emphasized the last two words before sternly telling me to start writing the note on the board down as I heard one Ravenclaw sniff and say to her friend (whom supposedly likes me), "I honestly don't see what you like in him!" I attempted to stifle my chuckle, because I surely would get a detention if that were to be heard by McGonagall.

Then, at lunch, I ended up walking into the library like a complete idiot. Trying hard to walk confidently into the large musty room (as a Malfoy should, my father repeatedly reminds me) I strutted in with my chest out proudly and chin pointed high in the air to display that I am not nervous of my (long awaited) meeting with him.

Not even in the least amount.

Not one bit.

Nothing.

As I was about to stand next to Al who was vainly stretching for an impossibly high piece of literature, I fell over his stack of books that happened to be on the floor. Next thing I knew, we were on the dusty oak-planked floor. Al's cold hands that caught me were the first things my mind focused on.

His hands made me want to shiver!

Holding me, his left hand flat onto my side, and the other pressed to my abdomen, my lower abdomen - those tan digits acting as a miniscule shield between me lying on top on him, stomach to stomach. My crotch was placed on top of his, and I couldn't help but whimper.

A "You okay?" was whispered into my ear, hot breath clouding my thoughts and a faint movement of him shifting his hips caught my airless lungs from catching breath.

My face was resting on his clean shirt that poked out from his unbuttoned robe, and his smell entranced me. It was so very masculine, with hints of old books and toasted almonds to balance it out very well. When I finally gained the bravery to look up from his shirt, I found Al's upper body to be curled around me, his face meeting mine as if in a death stare. His green orbs were goading me to take those delicious lips I've tasted more than a few times, and his hands were still on me, very intimate in their accidental position and making me hunger even more for him.

"Thanks." I said, cheeks ablaze as I made a hopeless attempt to get up because suddenly, his legs wrapped around me. His head flipped back, baring his neck, and he lay there holding me, amidst all of the books.

I froze, not knowing what to do, because he had never done this.

Then again, he was spontaneous, and kept a lot of his thoughts to himself, so sometimes, I could not predict what he would do next. I secretly wanted him to keep me like this, but of course, something had to go wrong. Things always do when something is about to get into my favour.

"Can we just, stay like this for a little, Score?" Al sighed, in a...content way? He sighed a lot, and because of that, could tell whether he was happy, sad, frustrated - anything.

I did not answer in words, but oh so slowly, laid my head back onto his firm chest, one millimetre at a time, just in case he decided to violently throw me aside, like before for example.

Al slid his hand away from my lower abdomen, and strung it through my blonde hair, combing it through continually. For the love of Merlin, it felt so good. His right hand this time, left my side, and slipped onto my back, inching nervously low, and lower, stopping at the waistband of my pants. I gasped from that action, and my nails started to dig into his shoulders, an automatic reflex. His pinkie slid into my pants and tugged roughly as if he wanted them off.

I'm secretly wishing for him to stop right now, but still, want him here to rest on.

"It's called a ladder you know." I mused, trying hard to break the chill air that was silence.

Al's lips moved to form a slight smile, although he did not speak.

But, I think I fell asleep, because when my eyes opened again, Al and his musky scent were gone, apart from his thin red wool sweater that covered me.

Putting on his sweater, I brushed off all the dust that has managed to gather on the side that I slept on, and when my eyes left the floor, they spot a wrinkled little note.

Sorry.

That familiar messily written scrawl is enough to let me know that he truly is sorry for what he's done yesterday.

I happened to forget that I was wearing Al's sweater, maybe due to the reason that we share our clothes frequently with each other.

Even thought I frequently am sporting a shirt that belongs to him, I find that it is still an incredibly sexy thought to think!

Al, slipping onto his bare muscled chest a grey cashmere tank top belonging to my scrawny body. Slim fitting and outlining his manly figure, but awkward and unflattering on me, Still, knowing that he wore what I'm wearing underneath my robe now was touching and licking his body while he was flying on broomsticks with me a few days ago makes me hot.

Without a thought, I walked to Al's class in order to meet him, hiding from the teachers that assumed I was sick – as mechanical as possible it had seemed. When we had gotten to our dormitories, we had begun to converse. He told me not to worry about my classes that I slept through – "I'm sorry, but Score's been feeling ill, so I have just wanted to tell you that he will not be attending the rest of his classes today". Al was "creeped out" at my sudden and odd behaviour, he remarked as he slung me into a friendly choke-hold. I assured him that I was not upset at him or anybody, but was currently in an active mode of sorting out my thoughts. I said this in a very nonchalant manner while sticking my nose in the air haughtily as if his comment smelled pungent and wrong to me as we took a seat on each other's beds.

Al cackled at me, removing his arm from my neck and allowed me to stand up tall once more.

"Stop acting so high and mighty,"

He spoke, concentrating too hard on flicking a piece of lint from his mess of black hair, while suddenly flickering his eyes towards me and adding,

"You….Thief!"

Lunging from his bed onto mine, he straddled me, making the bed's aged springs cry out under the new pressure being applied mercilessly.

Oh, that's right; I still have his sweater on.

He picked at the sweater, and slowly lifted it off, higher and higher, it dragging my undershirt up as well to expose my pale stomach when he could have removed the buttons from the small holes, one by one, but did not for some odd reason.

"This thief'll grow up to be a fine bottomer one day." Al grinned as he patted the sides of my hips once it was off.

Growling, I flipped a yelping Al, and now on top of him, I, in a musing voice, triumphantly stated,

"Who ever said I'd ever bottom?"

With my hands, I managed to shackle him down, and press my hips harder against his.

I knew he secretly enjoyed this.

"Wha-" His speech was suddenly cut off when I bent over to lick his lower lip, and when his guard faltered for only a second, I overtook his mouth with mine, tongue and all.

I know he will run away again, but I cannot help this action and my feelings for this Potter.

I lust for him, and that lust has been aching for the last few weeks, kicking me in the groin to jump him, and pulling my hair, whispering naughty things that I should do to him.

Moaning, his neck arched, my head moving with his. Hands were in my undershirt, wrinkling the newly cleaned fabric as they pinched me uneasily.

I could taste his favourite drink, orange juice, he reminded me a year ago.

I could read in his bright emerald eyes what book he favoured the most ("Shut up Score, so what if I fancy reading the Thesaurus?") and with his hands all over my body as if he was trying to memorize me as a blind man would, I could feel his hushed need for me.

Gasping for air, our lips parted, his eyes gazing steadily away, and finally, just finally meeting mine.

Desire lurked in his wistful eyes, the inked colour slowly slinking away into hiding yet again.

It seemed as if Al took that act as a joke, and chucked a chuckle void of emotion that hitched at the end nervously.

"Stop it." Al whispered in a background tone, his head turning to lay on his cheeks sprayed ruby with abashment, with his lower lip being chewed on anxiously.

His arms slid from underneath my chest and laid limp at his sides, a nail picking at my fingers that were splayed on either side of him in order to keep myself from falling onto him.

A pant escaped his mouth - AL's throat sounding parched.

A tendon in his neck jumped.

A finger brushed my wrist, forcing me to buckle slightly from its wrath, and a coarse croak escaped his lips, those doors to heaven, those insanely sweet things.

"Do I love you?" He spoke quietly while avoiding my gaze.

"Do you?" I gently grabbed the sides of his head, and shifted it so his eyes finally met mine. A smile was threatening to play my lips while he placed his hands onto mine. I clearly believed he did, but I was not sure whether he knew the answer himself.

"Do I?" His look became slightly perplexed, brows furrowed, as though the "Yes" was meandering around in his brain, looking for a place out, unable to find any entrance.

"No excuses." I said in a steady undertone. Those stupid reasons you have created all of those years and days have impaired me so much, little by little. You can never guess as to how large the gap in my heart really is. It is an inhumanly large void in the universe, even bigger in comparison to the earth, and so large that the hole threatens to engulf my very existence.

Roughly, he cried, "No more!"

Green eyes encrusted with black lashes met mine.

"I promise." A meek tone heard in his broken voice, I shuddered, shivering, as my mouth was overtaken by his, my face tugged down towards his by tan hands.

Keening, my hands this time entangled themselves in his shirt, wrenching him closer, so I could get nearer to the mouth that belonged to my absent lover, my nether regions aching to be touched and handled.

"I-I!" I could not finish the sentence, pleasure building, and with him sucking on my lower lip, breathing was not on my list of current needs.

Hair stuck to his manly features as he detached himself from my lips, burying his face into my chest. Making it so I sat on him, he involuntarily thrusted upwards, face contorted into a look of pure ecstasy. My body bowed, for my cock was hungry for his. I grinded myself against his abdomen, feeling a hard pressure on my bum that was his manhood while heavy sounds erupting from both his and my throats made me even more hard.

He whispered indiscernible things into my ear - our clothes were off, and he was touching me in places of secrecy, places that only he could caress and feel.

'I love you's were pressed to my smooth cheek, and his perk manhood started to break open my entrance. My hands scrabbled for some hold, finally settling in his mop of hair, my thumbs stroking his temples and grazing his eyebrows.

He was so hot inside of me, so hot, so very hot, and it felt as though finally, my heart was never missing shards in the first place.

It felt right.

Faster and faster, the tempo increased, sounds of ecstasy chanted over and over again as the limit was reached. He mouthed my chin, mewling as I tightened around his length.

"Al!"

The coup de grâce* struck when he slid his digits over the contours of my face, neck, and, oh, my collarbone, moaning as he dove into my mouth, as if he was some poor dehydrated dog finally getting the first drink of water since many days ago. Tepid liquid filled up my hole, and he shuddered, bending forward to pepper my lips with hushed 'Shh's and body with touches of light fingertips.

"I love you." He said in a sursurrant tone. "I do." I heard hints of uncertainy and fear in his voice, as his lips moved against my thin neck.

I breathed thickly, falling forwards to blanket his body with mine on the silk sheets of his bed. I held his hand in mine, and gripped it tightly.

I tried to think that all would be well forever, but why would I be when in my whole life, I have never gotten what I truly wanted, especially a confident confession from the likes of you to tell me that you truly are in love with me.

Maybe, everything you murmered to me about your love were just lovely nothings said to amuse yourself in a game of catch the mouse.

Lovely nothings said to take a hold of my heart, and shatter it with just one twitch of a finger.

*coup de grâce: the "death blow"

Yes! I do know that Professor McGonagall did indeed retire once Al and Score began Hogwarts. I just felt that I needed to make her a teacher for this specific fanfic as Transfiguration is boring without that sharp woman. ;)

I currently am writing the next and last chapter for this story. I hoped you enjoyed it!