Definition:
Letter of Confession
Disclaimer- Me no own. That is all.
Rating- PG13 for mild slash (Shonen ai) and adult themes. Please do not read if that offends you. You have been warned.
A/N- Just read it and bare with me. Around 2:30 last night my muses decided to throw a party and this was the result. * Glares *
Neville: Don't look at me! Why would I write a fic like that? It was them. * Thumbs at Xellos and Duo.
Xellos: Ummm… eh hehe
Duo: You still love us right?
Kitten: ^^" and now ladies and germs, enjoy the fic.
Dearheart,
This is a letter of confession. Because I believe you need to know the truth. About a great many things, but mostly about my life and why I do this
Can I ask you something? Do you love me? I believe that you think you do.
Let's start with the definitions. Evil. Twisted. Sick. Insane. What do these words actually mean? People say them so casually, with the slightest provocation, branding those poor beings of whom they speak, and condemning then to a living hell. They've used those words to describe me. Even you used them once, well not all of them really. Evil, twisted, and sick, yes; but not insane, not yet anyway. I have a feeling that it might not be too long.
Surely it would slip from your lips if you knew. Knew that I sometimes cut myself, never deep enough to kill, just to draw blood. And before I heal it. I watch the blood run, almost caressing over my skin. What? No I'm not masochistic, I just think it's pretty. Crimson and sparkling in half-light the way it does it has the feel of an accessory, a bauble of jewelry perhaps. You'd never guess if you saw the substance by itself that it holds the power of life of death. And let's not forget slavery; blood bondage. I've been blood bonded before, and I'll tell you a secret, it doesn't really hurt; or maybe that just my sick side talking.
Actually I think I lied to you earlier, I may be masochistic. I do hold a slight fascination with pain. But not for the reason you might think; not because it feels good, or because it makes me feel alive. I don't think I have a soul left to feel. And not because I'm punishing myself. Again I have no soul, and of coarse I'm evil; so why would I punish myself? No pain fascinates me because there is nothing else quite like it. Pain is a pure feeling. It's not fleeting like joy, or false like love, or even shallow like sorrow. Pain is a selfish feeling. It demands your attention.
I used to wonder if one could die from pure pain, but I know better now. I was innocent then, I think I even believed in love and freedom. In case you were inclined to do the same, I warn you now. They don't exist. There is no love. Oh don't get me wrong, some people can go through they're lives and find the feeling they call love but it's really nothing. Only a fairy story people tell each other so they can get on with their meaningless little lives. Now lust on the other hand is very real. I should know I've had plenty of experience with it.
The first I think was my father. I was very afraid of him then, now I know he's just a pitiful coward, hiding behind his master like a hunted deer. But that first night I knew none of that and I was terrified. He came to me in the dark and whispered things that make me shudder today for the memory of them. And it was like that often. Only one ray of light shone in the future, my inevitable acceptance into Hogwarts.
I think even then I was still naïve, I didn't believe that things could possibly be the same there, not right under the Headmaster's nose. I found out my mistake very quickly, when Snape branded me as his own.
But after that I found that I could use this incredible desire I awoke in others to my advantage. There were many then, but only if they could give me something in return. It started the first time I recorded one of my liaisons with Snape. Didn't you ever wonder why he was so nice to me? And went down through a long list of others, including Hogwarts golden boy himself, Harry Potter.
'Gasp! Not Harry Potter, the boy who lived!' 'Oh yes very much so.' I reply smugly. That first time was delicious; he thought he was forcing me, punishing me, but I loved every minute of it. There's my twisted side talking, but bare with me, I need to tell you. Also it gave me something to keep over his head, those little midnight rendezvous. After all sleeping with the enemy is a very grave offense. I got a great many favors out of that one.
Them when it came time, I was given over to the Dark Lord himself. I think he expected me to fight and scream, but I just lay there. The pain itself was very comforting. And then there was the fact that I was too valuable to lose and I knew it.
And then there was you, and something I'd never known before. Kindness without ulterior motive. Not only did I not understand it, I feared it! No one had ever given me anything for nothing, but you just waltzed right in and gave me your heart. I stepped on it so many times and still you persisted. I told you on a million different times I was dangerous, and you told me you didn't care. Please understand that this is why I have to leave.
This is probably hard for you to face, I know you feel you love me. And even if I don't believe in love, I cannot deny I feel something for you. If I were normal I would call it that, and never want to lose you. Because through it all you were there no matter how I tried to push you away, you stayed and pushed your way under my skin. I'd tell you if I could, face to face. But that is my curse, I cannot even lie to you to make you happy.
Tonight I'm going to do this. The knife lies on the bedside table, feet away from where I write. A final downward sweep will add that final word to every one's lips. All I ask is that you remember of this power, bigger that both of us, that twisted the threads of our lives together. If there were time I would ask that you teach me to feel love, but there isn't. Know this, whatever is left of my life force you possess. I…care for you, Dearheart. Please whatever you do don't cry for me, I will be free. Goodbye
The older boy folded the letter, creased from constant rereading, and stained with tears almost to the point of illegibility. Kneeling next to the tombstone he felt a sudden flash of anger, it was so impersonal, just his name and the dates. But it subsided quickly, that didn't matter, words could never describe the person buried there.
He dropped a rose on the grave. Almost reverently, he brushed his fingers over the words, and brought them too his lips. Tears shining in his eyes for perhaps the millionth time, Percy Weasley nevertheless smiled a small sad smile and whispered six simple words.
"I love you too, Draco Malfoy."
So tell me what you think please! I swear they must have put something in those brownies I ate to make me write this. * Mutters and looks darkly at her muses * Strange, strange chibi's. Oh well it done now so please please please! I beg you to review. Anything will do but keep in mind that all flames will be used to fuel my weird fic machine. My thanx, Kitten Greywords.