I'm well aware that it has been over two years since I have last written anything- call it life, call it lazyness, call it whatever, but I could give plenty of excuses. My love for this pairing has not diminished since the last time I wrote- in fact, I have had plot bunnies galore, and have various pieces begun but never yet finished, saved on my computer. This is miraculously short, and less miraculously written. I am almost embarassed at my quality of writing here, but I felt the need to publish it anyways, just as perhaps a nod to you all, to let you know I have not gone away yet with this ship.
So yes, you can certainly look forward to more Dracotrix writings from me in the (hopefully near) future. :)
It is one of those rare instances where she is asleep in the quiet chill of the morning, a cocoon of blankets swaddling her in a warm bubble of sleep. It isn't often that he finds himself rising before her, but this morning the cold nipped him awake, biting his exposed toes. Somehow she always ends up with all of the blankets by morning.
He turns on his side, and squints to see her. The sun isn't coming in through the windows yet. He wonders if it will come out at all today. He senses a day of gray and rain and prickling cold. It's been like that a lot lately. The sun seems to want to stay away, seems to sense an impending dark upon the country.
He can hardly see the rose pink of her mouth, or the milky porcelain of her skin, but strands of her sooty brown hair are fanned across the pillow, and he ever so carefully wraps a finger around a lock, curling it and letting it fall back in a perfect ringlet.
She sighs deeply in her sleep, and he wants to jump into her head, see what she is dreaming of, if she is dreaming. Or is there simply nothing at all in there? Is her mind so void of everything once ordinary, that even her sleep comes without a grain of sanity? Have the dementors extracted the dreamworld from her, have they made it so she cannot even escape to there anymore?
He thinks it must be a lonely land that she walks in her sleep, and in her wake. He tries to give her a few moments of happiness when he can, but they never last. He remembers, once, after he made love to her, (because that's what it was, it wasn't fucking or sex or shagging, he gave her love and she tried to return it to him) when she curled herself into him, like she was trying to meld their flesh together. He realized then that she was human too, that she was scared of loneliness and the black pit of hatred that she had become. She wanted warmth and light and soft touches, but she would never tell him that. Not in words.
He lays his head back down, wanting to catch the few more minutes of solitude he will have for the day before she wakes up. Living with his aunt, loving his aunt- it isn't a quiet life and he can't remember the last time he walked alone, ate alone, slept alone. He would never wish for a life without her, but he revels in these moments in the birth of the morning where he is truly alone.
But all he can think of is her, and the future. Will there even be a future? He knows his relationship with Bellatrix is destined to be short-lived, he is young and she is not. Because of her choices, she will always walk on the knife's edge, and he is not far behind her. It is not preposterous to think that they could both be dead within the year.
And still, all he wants is to hold her in his lap, like she's a broken, lost child, and smooth her hair back, kissing her mouth, her cheeks, her eyelids. He wants her to know that it's all right, what does it matter if there is death and sorrow for the rest of the world, if she has him by her side? He wants tell her that dying doesn't seem so bad, not if she is holding his hand, not if the last thing he sees is those brown eyes that have told him everything her mouth cannot.
He wants to tell her that she doesn't need pride or victory, because he loves her and isn't that all that really matters?
But Draco Malfoy cannot say these things, not ever, not even in his dying moments, because Bellatrix Lestrange does not believe lies.