Title: To Tell A Lie
Disclaimer: You already know.
Plot: None, really. Midnight drabble - Draco Malfoy seeks company from a secret, redheaded Ginny Weasley, who has a request.
In a dark room, two distinct figures took seats across from the other, posture stoic, yet vaguely guilty. The only light was from a dirty window; the height it appeared and the grass that framed it proved the room to be a basement of sorts, a dark, secret place. After all, it was better their infidelities were kept underground.
Sharp elbows hit a dark table, which creaked with heavy thoughts swarming in a pretty red head.
"So what brings you here again?" was her stab, no pretense required. "Is it your desperate need for company?"
He wrapped calloused fingers around those pointed elbows and held tight as her words hit him like stones, sharp and small. Slender fingers fluttered, nails dragging down a rugged face to trace half-moon contusions; he wasn't sleeping right. She wondered why, but wouldn't ask. Floorboards creaked. He could imagine his wife in the doorway, her worn, scornful face and beautiful, petulant anger.
"So?" she pressed again; he smelled cinnamon, bitterness that scorched and dizzied, caught him off guard, just like her words.
She leaned away, but the empty space there was cold; finding she couldn't stand it, the emptiness, she moved forward again, clutching his fingers over the table top.
He wanted to say something. Why, he didn't know. Hell-bent eyes read his thoughts and blonde eyelashes batted.
"Tiring of my antics?" she smirked, blinking lazily.
A pointed nose breathed deep: deceit. Her eyes closed; he felt the world still as she settled into vulnerability.
He realized that this lack of guard was why he was here. The strange calming of her clichéd, beautiful features was release to him. However, he realized her beauty was only skin deep; her personality lacked mirth and the ability to find happiness. Her conniving brain picked worlds apart, and she was only as good as her words.
He brought his face close. Lips puckered in anticipation, cheap and red.
"Tell me a lie," she pleaded, her voice a broken whisper, and he watched her closely.
"I love you," he said with a voice backed by courage, before his head dipped and cheap, speechless lips were no longer visible.