My wounds may scab and heal, but the scars will never fade. The curses coursing through my hand are Dark; they never forget and never disappear.
He traces them with his long fingers, pausing every time they converge on each other. He doesn't mean to anymore; it's a habit just like biting your fingernails.
We've been sitting here for three months at this little café, drinking wine and smoking pack after pack, scabbing over and watching our scars run deeper and deeper. But that's why we ran away to Paris--to watch our scars manifest.
Anthony says all these fanciful things, how we're going to go back to England, how we won't have to hide anymore, how we're going to get married, and how he's going to be a good boy again. But I know better--he'll never go back for his other self. He'd rather sit here and examine his endless scars.
We'll never return to the real world again. That's where we leave the clichés--good boy and bad girl, forbidden romance hidden in the corners. We'd rather carve the scars ourselves, with the knife of sloth, wine, cigarettes, and rough sex.
The scars that we carve will fade someday…more than can be said for the others.
OOO
A/N: For clarification, Daphne and Anthony shared a secret romance during their seventh year. Anthony was a full-fledged DA member, and Daphne was a secret spy for the Army in Slytherin. After the war, they were rarely seen in England again.