Inspired by Stealing by Carol Ann Duffy
The most unusual thing i ever stole?
She was hiding again. Behind the tree. Her hair fuming behind her and whipping about in the icy wind. His footsteps crunching and sinking, into the crisp white icing; getting slowly closer to the quivering fire that is in his direct line of view.
A snowman...
...stood, alone on an icy white dune, in the distance. He'd already chased her down there, their marks imprinted upon the unstable drifts.
Midnight. He looked magnificant; a tall white mute beneath the winter moon...
...face pale, brows drawn close in concentration. A predatory look on his sharp face. The full moon illuminating the planes and angles of his cold face.
I wanted him, a mate with a mind as cold as the slice of ice within my own brain.
I could see him, shivering but not noticing. His cloak had been left behind. His remaining bedclothes mussed and stiff. I tensed as another barefoot came into contact with the icy flame of the snow.
I started with the head.
My fingers spasmed as i flinched away from the whipping branches around my head. My hand drew back, my muscles convulsing in the glacier temperature. I threw, the ball of snow, concealed before, arching up and...
Better off dead than giving in, not taking what you want...
I saw it at the last minute. The heaving pain throbbed through my nose and froze my thoughts. I took a chance, ducking under the frantic branches, cursing as several caught my bare arms, some slapping down onto my back leaving red lacerations. I leaped...
He weighed a ton; his torso, frozen stiff, hugged to my chest, a fierce chill piercing my gut.
I hit the ground fast, as a crash mat for his dead weight. He had thrown us clear of the tree, though i could feel the effects on his back. He sucked in a breath. Quick. Cold. Layed a cheek against mine. Shared body heat.
Children would cry in the morning. Life's tough.
There was blood on the snow. My blood. Doubtless some Hufflepuffs would see it in the morning, frozen, but melting, seeping into the soft cushion beneath us. They wouldn't know it's mine.
Sometimes i steal things i dont need.
Like her. I stole the fire from them, her brother, his friends the mudblood and the pathetic whiner. They dont know it yet. But that doesnt matter. I know she's mine. She knows it. She is not theirs; but mine.
I joyride cars to nowhere, break into houses just to have a look. I'm a murky ghost, leave a mess, maybe pinch a camera.
I think of the way back to the castle. Potters broom would get us there fast. But it is in the toads dungeon. I look over the way i've come. Traces of my passage linger there. She's got a glazed look on her face. I wish i knew what she was thinking. I wish i had all her memories, locked away.
I watch my gloved hand twisting the doorknob. A strangers bedroom. Mirrors. I sigh like this - Aah!
The door creaks in the stone corrider, my breath visible in punctuated mists of air. I peer in. His hand warms the small of my back, guiding me into his room, the Head Boys, unknown territory. It smelled of him.
It took some time.
I left later. His eyes glinting in the darkness at me. I shivered. He was suddenly at my side, lithe, reassuring and he guides me back to the entrance hall.
Reassembled in the yard, he didnt look the same. I took a run and booted him Again. Again. My breath ripped in rags.
We stood still. Breath harsh. I sensed a form slidding out of sight, merging with the background. I clenched a fist, sneering. I was afraid. My clothing hovered in the hall. I grabbed him. Hit him and stopped. Shoulders sagged. He hadnt done much. I sent him, sprawled on the floor. He took her back.
It seems daft now. Then i was standing alone amongst lumps of snow, sick of the world.
I slunk back to my room. Slept fitfully. Worried. Slept. Sheets twisted around my limbs, tangling.
Boredom. Mostly i'm so bored i could eat myself.
I haven't seen her. I stick to my room, in the shadows. Never thought i'd feel remorse. It's only because i'm so bored i feel things i shouldn't.
One time i stole a guitar and thought i might learn to play.
I tempted another. Slytherin, dark and cold. Opposite yet alike. Name of a flower. Nothing happened. I sickened of her the moment i caught her. I threw her away. Withdrawal symptoms overwhelm me.
I nicked a bust of Shakespeare once, flogged it, but the snowman was the strangest.
She smiled at me on the way to Potions. Left a note. Our alliance -if you want to call it that- isn't usual. Forbidden.
You don't understand a word i'm saying do you?
I smile at him, eyes flick to his cold icy lips. I feel each part where they have touched. I shudder. Feel his eyes on me, watching, knowing what he is doing to me. The promise of tonight.
Emerald eyes, one rimmed black, puffy, swollen but smiling, hold mine briefly. Confused, i shrug. He smiles. Puts a hand round Hermione and kisses her neck. I smile too.
Snape doesn't know what has hit him...
Finite
As it says above, this was inspired by a poem called "Stealing" by Carol Ann Duffy, one of the GCSE texts that we have to study. To help me pass the time, i wrote this, its meant to be draco/ginny, though if you want to interpret it to another ship then by all means. Please tell me what you think of it.