I don't own a thing.

"Don't touch me Malfoy"

You keep saying that, over and over again – I cause my ears to bleed and my heart to crumble but I pretend I don't care. Instead I do the precise opposite of your plea and hold you close. You always struggle in the start, telling me to fuck off and to leave you the hell alone. I ignore the harsh words from your mouth because I know it will only make it worse if I respond. After a while you stop pretending to fight me and you relax into my embrace. If I'm lucky. Other times you scream at me; telling me how much you hate me, despise me and that I am not worth a god damn thing. If I try coming near you, you attack me with fits and hard punches filled with despair and frustration. I never fight you back, I just lay there welcoming the blows with a sick feeling of content. When you get tired hitting me you slump forward and pick me up in a desperate grip. Sobbing, your sore hands now caress me and your touch is worth it all.

"Ohmygod, ohmygod, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry,"

you keep telling me over and over again. I can feel your heart pounding and your tears blend in with the blood on my face as you kiss me. And ironically enough I always think that I should be the one saying I am sorry – because it's me causing your pain. Next time we meet it starts all over again.

"Go away" your voice is hard and cold as ice. I stare at you across the deserted classroom but it's too bloody dark and I can't see your eyes. I cross the floor and join you by the window. You turn your head, refusing to meet my eyes and stare out into the black night. We've done this a million times and I'm still shaking with panic each time I come near you. I swallow hard and bring my hand to your back stroking you gently.

"Just go away…just…please"

the words fighting there way up your throat. I pretend not to listen and keep caressing you. I can feel your walls starting to fall apart and you accept my touch without anymore words. We stand like this for a while, me touching you, and you not responding. And I wonder like so many times before why I keep on bothering with you. Why I night after night deny myself sleep to be turned down, attacked, abused and have my heart ripped out over and over again. At first I thought it was a game you were playing. That you some how got off tormenting me, so I played along thinking that you someday would grow tired of it. But I realized that I had been wrong. The first time you cried after beating me up your pain came washing out of you in a million waves. The way you looked at me made my heart turn over in my chest and my stomach to twist in painful knots. And I realized that this thing we had going on was slowly killing you inside. And that you cared about me but really, really wish you didn't. I held you that night and took some of your hurt and pain on my shoulders. For the first time I noticed your scars and it made me feel like throwing up.

And it made me love you. So much that I think it will end up destroying me.

So that's why I stand here beside you like so many nights before waiting patiently for you to let me in and wondering how it's going to turn out this night.

"I can't do this anymore" you whisper, your voice thick with misery

"I know" I answer truthfully.

But you don't move away from me instead you let me embrace you, and the heat from your body and the smell that surrounds you takes my breath away and causes me to shudder.

"Don't touch me" you murmur softly against my neck but there's no true resistance in your voice only a faint abandonment. And as I find your mouth, your dry lips against mine I curse myself for hurting you so and I curse you for not stopping me. We melt into each other and try to forget that this is path is leading us directly to destruction. I try to forget the fact that you are going out with that weasly girl and the whole world expects you to marry her. I try to forget the fact that you probably should. I try to forget the fact that she loves you, the good kind of love, the love that keeps you going, makes you happy – not the kind of love I'm giving you, the kind which kills you. I try to forget the fact that I'm risking my whole life just being here with you. I try to forget the fact that my father will disown me and my friends will turn their back on me if they knew. And I try to forget the fact that I don't give a damn. Not a single one.

What did you do to me? You broke down the person I thought I was, piece by piece until I stood naked before you unable to run away. It started out as a stupid dare, a dare, I as the stubborn, proud sack of shit I am, couldn't turn down. I caught you alone in a hallway, pushed you up against the cold stone wall and kissed you without any explanation. Surprisingly enough, for the both of us I think, you started kissing me back with a frantic need – and then it all went to hell.

And that is precisely where we are at the moment – in hell. Because every time you see me you tell me not to touch you and every time I ignore your plea. So you beat me up and then go ruining it with kissing me, touching me with your rough fingers and whispering sweet nothings in my ear. And I hate you for not just leaving me bleeding on the floor. I hate you for treating me like I'm worthy of your affection. And I think you hate me for that too.

So you let me hold me, you let my lips contact with yours and as you tremble in my arms I know you can't help it. Slowly we sink down to the floor still clutching to each other. And you've start crying like you always do and your tears stain my robe. And it shouldn't be like this. You should be cuddling up with what's-her-name and falling asleep with a pleased sigh and dreaming of rainbows, pink clouds and love. But instead you are here, in my arms falling slowly apart because you aren't happy with her but you wish you were and you don't know how to deal with it. So you grasp onto me instead because we give each other something nobody else seems to be able to give us. Something I don't exactly know what is.

"I hate you Malfoy"

"Right back at you Potter"

You smile for the first time this evening and it briefly brings up the faded light in your emerald eyes. Then you move closer to me and rest your head on my chest and I sigh and stare up at the ceiling. It's getting late, we should be heading back now but we don't.

We will be sitting here a million nights, just like this – cursing ourselves and each other to hell and back. And we will separate when we absolutely must and we will swear to ourselves that this was the last, absolutely last time. And next night we will find each other again and he will ask me not to touch him and I'll defy and pretend that those words doesn't hurt me more than anything in the world.

R&R - as always, be gentle, english still isn't my first langauge.