Title: You're Not Sorry
Warnings: Established m/m, abuse, vulgarity.
A/N: Let me know what you think of it. I wrote this... *checks date of creation* Exactly 2 months back. I thought it looked fine, so here it is!
Draco walks into the room and starts packing, pulling all his clothes from the wardrobe into a bag. Footsteps sound as they thud on the wooden flooring, coming to a stop behind him.
A hand reaches out to push Draco's off the shirt he was folding. "Come on, Draco, stop it. Just listen to what I have to say."
"No."
"Come on, Draco. Don't be difficult. I said I was sorry, didn't I? You know I didn't mean it." The voice is low and apologetic, and arms wrap around him.
Draco pushes them away. "Yes, you said you were sorry. But you've said that before, as well as many other times before that."
He feels the atmosphere tense up, as the man bristles with anger.
"Why do you always push me away? You won't even let me touch you anymore! Why? Oh, I know, there is someone out there, isn't it? Who have you been letting touch you? Tell me! Who? Which bastard is it?"
"There isn't anyone, and you fucking know it," Draco hisses, but he is caught up in his spiel and is oblivious to what Draco is saying. His hair seem to stand on ends, a veritable mop of messy hair.
"What has he been saying to you? What has he been telling you? That's why you won't listen to me anymore, isn't it?!"
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Draco thinks that he should have anticipated the blow, should have known that it would happen as usual. But as always, he is surprised as he watches the hand swing towards him, hitting him with a force he still never expects from such a gentle-looking man, and he falls to the ground in shock. Like he always does.
Draco looks up with accusing eyes and said, "And this is precisely I'm leaving."
He watches as the man stares at his hand in horror, falling to his knees.
"Ohshitohshit Draco, I didn't mean it, you have to know I didn't mean it."
The brunette reaches out a hand to help him stand up, but Draco pushes it away. He gets up and continues to pack silently, the blooming bruise and the twinge of pain in his cheek the only evidence of what had transpired.
The man is desperate and he pleads on his knees.
"Come on, baby, what must I do to make you forgive me? Please?"
Draco ignores him and puts in another of his shirt. He likes this one. It is pinstriped with green and silver thread running through the cloth.
"Please Draco!"
The pleading sounds so sincere that it makes his heart stutter a little. His hands tremble slightly as he puts the shirt down neatly on top of a pile. Draco turns around to look down into green eyes.
"You've had your chances. Merlin knows I've been giving them to you, but all you do is let me down. This is the last straw. You can tell me that you're sorry, but I don't believe you anymore. We both know you don't mean it. It's over, Harry."
Draco turns and zips the bag close.
"Please Draco, don't do this to me. You know I can't live without you!"
Without warning, he finds himself wrapped in a tight embrace. Draco struggles against them, pushing hard at the strong arms that he once admired. Now all they do is trap him, hit him, bind him, confine him. He no longer feels safe in their embrace.
"Yes, you can. Let go of me, Harry. You're the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. You've lived through everything else; you can live without me too. Now get off, Potter, before I hex you."
"No! No I won't! Draco, you can't leave me, you can't! You're mine!"
-"I belong to no one!"-
"I love you so much and I'm really sorry! I promise-OW! What did you do that for?"
Harry sits on the floor, looking up at him with puppy-kicked eyes. One of his hand rubs at his backside, sore from a Stinging Hex.
Draco stares coldly back. "I told you to get off, Potter, before I hexed you. Obviously, you didn't listen."
He casts a Lightening Charm on the bag and hefts it into a hand. He walks away without a backward glance. Suddenly, he hears Harry cry out.
"I'M SORRY, DRACO!"
He freezes, and after what seems like an interminable amount of time, he continues walking. Every step he takes feels like it requires a huge amount of energy. Finally, when he reaches the door, he stops and speaks to the doorknob.
"No, you're not."