[Disclaimer: I do not own the characters used in this story, nor do I own the song.]
I am not entirely back. Flawlessly Flawed is, at the moment, painful at best for me to work on so do not expect an update with that.
I may post short stories as I write them, but I am making no promises on that either. The most you should expect from me is responses to reviews/PMs and I'll be getting on every so often to read stories.
This is not edited, any mistakes are my own.
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Porcelain Dolls
"No, please I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." The move was so sudden I didn't register it until I was staring up at the man I loved, clutching my bleeding eye in something remarkably close to bewilderment. "Sorry isn't good enough. Get out." He spun and began walking away, but he hadn't made it two steps before shaking hands were grasping at the bottom of his robes. "Please don't walk away from me. Please…please don't…"
A kick to the side of my cheek and my vision blurred. The sound of the front door opening and slamming shut spurred me into action once more as I stumbled, still half blind, to the door and slung it open once more. I weaved through the streets as fast as I could, looking through blurring vision that was either from rain or from tears. "Please…" I wouldn't stop searching.
I feel it every day; it's all the same
It brings me down but I'm the one to blame
I've tried everything to get away
So here I go again
Chasing you down again
Why do I do this?
The rain was cold and numbing, but he was grateful for it. It took away the pain in his throbbing left cheek; in his bleeding eyebrow. People stared as he walked by but he ignored them. Let them think what they would about one half of the 'Famous Couple', limping around in the rain with no charms around him, bruised and bleeding. His hair hung around his face as he stumbled over the cobbled stones that just a week ago had convinced him to buy the apartment.
He slipped suddenly and hit the side of a nearby building, a gasp tearing itself out of his aching throat as his hand automatically found its way to his left side; as if by clutching the spot of pain he could magically make it go away. His name was being called, he realized belatedly. He turned his head turned the sound and managed a small smile at the worried frown on his friend's face. His mouth opened to send a greeting, and the pavement rushed to meet his face.
Over and over, over and over
I fall for you
Over and over, over and over
I try not to
Soft hands were wiping the blood away gently and he felt the familiar tingle of healing spells as he regained consciousness. He opened his eyes blearily and gave a small smile to the teary witch hovering over him. "Hey 'Mione." He managed finally as tears slid silently down her cheeks. Her mouth was moving but no sounds were coming out and he sat up slowly, recognizing the couch he had often ended up on lately.
"She doesn't understand." A voice spoke before he could say anything. At these words the witch made a small gasping sound and latched onto his shoulder, shaking with repressed sobs. He turned to view the other man in the room who was watching the all too familiar scene, eyes sad. "She doesn't understand why it happens when you're so powerful a wizard. You both are, really."
Hermione shook harder at the words and Ron walked forward, prying her off her gently and sitting beside them. "We all knew what he'd been through, though we didn't know how much until after the war; when everybody was showing their true colors. But we never thought it messed him up this bad. You know this; you were there." He shook his head, mouth a hard line. They had never had this conversation and it wasn't going to start now.
"You should leave. It's going to get worse." He scowled at the person he considered his friend. "I know you love him mate but…sometimes that isn't enough." His eyes narrowed. He thought they understood. "Just because we don't have a relationship like you two doesn't mean…" Ron interrupted, fatigue in his voice. "How many times has he hit you? How many times has this happened?"
"I'm tired from working all day and I come home to this? I thought we had an agreement?"
"That isn't an excuse!"
"I don't love you. I never loved you. You were just a plaything to me; a puppet. You're the marionette and I'm the puppeteer."
"I'm so sorry baby. I didn't mean any of it. I love you. I love you so much and I don't deserve you."
"You think you mean something to me? I fuck you and that's it!"
"I didn't mean it. Oh god I never meant to hit you. I'm so sorry. I'm so…sor…sorry…"
"It's alright baby; you didn't mean it and I deserved it anyway. I know the agreement and I know you work all day."
A reassuring smile and a small, hesitant one in return and the conversation is over for the night.
It feels like everyday stays the same
It's dragging me down and I can't pull away
So here I go again
Chasing you down again
Why do I do this?
The house was silent and dark when I got home and I mentally sighed; I should have known he wouldn't be back yet. I murmured a simple locking charm and glanced around the sitting room. Another quick spell and everything was back in its proper place. I walked through the other rooms, leaving the lights off until I reached our bedroom. The spilled blood was cleaned up in a second; another one had the bed sheets replaced. The bathroom light was the only one I turned on as I showered; the hot water hit my abused muscles and I winced, though whether from the pain or from the memories assaulting me I wasn't sure.
I thought back to what they had said, Ron and Hermione, and I sighed. I knew they were right. He wasn't the same person we knew in school. He was so much worse, but I also knew it made no difference. I loved him and I would not leave. No matter how bad the beatings got I would stay. The realization made me dizzy and I slid down the wall, resting my head on my knees as sobs shook my body.
Long after the water had went cold I got out. Soft white towel was rubbed half—heartedly over my torso and arms before settling on my waist. The mirror wasn't fogged, so I could see myself plainly and I almost winced. Hermione was no medi-witch that was for sure. My cheek was still bruised and swollen, and my eyebrow had been torn back open and was bleeding fresh from my crying spell. I reached for my wand but suddenly there were hands wrapping around my waist and I froze, staring into the mirror. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." The words were softly whispered in my ear and followed immediately by a soft trail of kisses down my neck.
I swallowed the lump in my throat with difficulty and smiled as best I could. "I know." The invisible hands on my chest stroked aimlessly. "I don't deserve you. I'll change I swear I will." I nodded and my heart swelled with hope; just as it had done for the past two years he had promised this. I almost missed the whispered words but the change in my appearance was drastic enough for me to take note.
My eyebrow was perfect once more; not a single mark as to suggest what had happened. My cheek too had been restored to its original shape and color, and the pain in both had vanished. My eyes drifted downward. The bruises and the cuts, the ones I hid from everyone, were gone. In place of all the injuries, he had appeared. His hands rested right over chest, causing me both to feel alarmed and safe. His chin rested on my shoulder and his nose nuzzled my neck lovingly. I wanted to believe that. I did. But the words I'd heard earlier repeated themselves in my head ['If you loved him you'd leave him. Show him he's hurting himself.' 'You don't deserve this.'] and I couldn't make them stop. I opened my mouth to say something but made the mistake of meeting his gaze in the mirror. "I love you baby."
His voice had dropped into the one he knew I could not resist, and my mouth shaped the words back before I could say a word. His eyes were shadowed, I noticed. I wondered if he felt the same pain I did. As if reading my mind he nodded and pulled me gently from the bathroom. Once again everything was alright in our household, and I would cherish it while I could. Because I knew in a few days, a few weeks if I was lucky, the anger would start back and it would be a cycle all over again. But for now I would be content –happy even- and tell myself just because we didn't have a fairytale romance didn't mean it wasn't perfect for us. I would tell myself any relationship we had would be dysfunctional. Because I was Draco Malfoy and he was Harry Potter, and just because it wasn't perfect didn't mean it wasn't love.
Or at least, that's what I'd tell myself.
So many thoughts that I can't get out of my head
I try to live without you, every time I do I feel dead
I know what's best for me
But I want you instead
I'll keep on wasting all my time