You don't know how precious you look right now. You're so still lying there, I don't know for certain if you're alive or not. I can't even tell if you're breathing. That scarlet whore's hair of yours…it's hanging in your face. I can't see anything. You better be alive. If they disobeyed me and killed you, I won't be happy.
Oh, I want to touch you so badly. Do you hear that, you disgusting blood traitor? I actually want to touch you. Your filth will get all over me, it'll infect me, but I want it, I want to kill you with my own hands.
You will suffer, but you will die by my hands.
Yes. Wake. Open your eyes, my sordid angel, look at me, see me. The way that you're struggling against your bonds is absolutely glorious. I hoped you would fight me, and again you fail to disappoint.
"Draco," you hiss, and your voice is poisonous with loathing. I brush your hair out of your face with my wand, smiling at the fire in your eyes. You always were such a spitfire. Extinguishing your flame will indeed be delightful.
"Hello, Weasley," I reply calmly, placing the tip of my wand right in the hollow of your throat. "Crucio."
Your screams are beautiful. The way that your body ululates in agony is beautiful. I could watch you dance like this forever, but no, you must keep your mind. You must. I remove the curse, and you hang limply by your bonds, sobbing, whimpering.
This time I use my hands to brush your hair away. Your skin feels moist, cold, and you can't look up at me. I hope I haven't broken you, I can't see anything in your eyes anymore, just nothingness, two seas of endless green nothingness.
"Ginny," I whisper, brushing your tears away with my fingertips. "Ginny, look at me. Look at me."
You do look at me, just like the obedient mutt that you are.
"I'm going to kill you now," I tell you in the softest tone that I can manage.
Something flickers in your eyes, a ripple in the oceans. Fear? Acceptance? You say nothing, you do nothing. Damn you. Damn you to hell.
I've dreamed for years about that pretty neck of yours, but I've never once come close to imagining how wonderful it feels to have my hands around it. Oh, I can feel your blood rushing to me, your pulse, your life, and it's beautiful, it's euphoric. You're fighting me, but you can't win this fight, darling, not this time. I'm watching you die, watching you die right through your eyes, and even after you're dead, after you can't look at me anymore I'm still killing you. You have no idea how beautiful you are to me right now. You never will.
You cannot belong to me. You will not belong to anyone else.
End