Disclaimer: Is this really necessary?
Satin Roses
A heart. A heart is the one thing in the world that is truly yours. The one thing you know, the one thing whose scarlet ribbons bind you to people, things, yourself. The one thing you wouldn't expect to betray you.
"No."
She held her rose tightly, the artificial stem fissuring, cracking in her grasp, bending to her will. There were no thorns, no jagged shards to pierce her skin and cause scarlet blood to flow forth.
Satin roses were all that he had ever given her, all they had ever been. Beautiful, yes, and so very perfect, fashioned to fantasy. And in the end, they were nothing more than that. She clutched her synthetic rose to her, her vision obscured by an unfamiliar liquid threatening to flood her eyes. Her mind drifted back to the first time he had kissed her. Ice, fire had foreshadowed this and yet she had not seen it coming.
"Scared Weasley?" He had asked her, his voice barely above a whisper, though she could not have heard him better if he had shouted.
"Yes," She had replied, the very meaning of the word coursing through her veins, filling her with a strange fusion of dread and anticipation. She stared defiantly back into those icy eyes, doe brown meeting fathomless grey. He was so close to her, and an almost predatory look was presently twisting his pale features.
He closed the short distance between them, capturing her lips in his, establishing his dominance over the trembling girl in his arms from their first kiss. It was neither gentle nor tender and her head had hit the stone wall behind her with the force of it. His lips were cold, so cold. Or maybe it was just the thought of who was behind those lips that made the girl shudder. And just when she had gotten used to the bruising pressure of the kiss, he drew away; pale eyes alight with a cruel humor.
"You're mine" He would tell her, and as she fell into his arms night after night, scarlet hair against pallid skin, she would know that he was right. She hated herself for it, and the more she despised herself, the more she needed him. He had become her Tom, and she loved it.
"Don't," She called to his retreating back, the blackness sinister around her. "Don't leave me."
She trembled violently, choking on her words. She held her satin rose to her heart, clutching the broken flower tightly. He did not look back.
"Please." She called, her wretched cry strangled with sobs that threatened to tear themselves loose and let the world register their pain. "Draco."
The boy gave no indication of having heard his name. He paused at the door, taking a final look at the girl he left crushed, choking on tears. His cold gaze rested on her broken flower and a horrible sneer twisted its way onto his face.
"I love you." Her brown eyes searched for an answer in his and the coldness she saw there spilled scarlet tears.
He laughed. She shattered.
Satin roses never die.
Reference to Tom Riddle, Chamber of Secrets.
Author's note: Yes. Well. This is a strange story, but I can explain. I am up at 3:12 in the morning with an apparent inability to sleep, time to kill before dawn and a lot of Skittles. So, what comes out of it? An angst- filled story and a stomach ache from too many damn Skittles. There you go.