So beautiful, love, as you sleep beside me. So beautiful. All pale hair, skin and eyes, delicate hands that can be so expressive. All mine. All mine for now, but not much longer. I can see you slipping away from me every second, and no matter how hard I try to snap the puppet strings that hold me I cannot. I cannot, and this disappoints you. It seems that you are used to being disappointed in me. I see you and the light I aim for distancing yourselves every day, and soon I will wake to find myself alone in the darkness with no way out. I hate the darkness and I hate being trapped, but most of all I hate being alone.
My scar fascinates you. I do not understand how this can be - I have always thought it ugly, a way of separating me from the rest of humankind. Marked as different. A freak. You think that I have not noticed your fixation. You like to trace it when you think I'm asleep, and I feel the reverence in your touch. I do not want it. You treat me as a superior, when all I want is for us to be equals. Why?
You fascinate me. I love to watch you write, dear heart. The way you suck on your lip when you can't find the right words, the way your hair falls to cover your face, painting shadow across all your features bar eyes and the high point of your cheek. I love how you whimper when I press my lips against yours in the lightest of touches and how, despite this, you are the one with the most control. I think I love you.
This is why I cannot stay this way. No matter how hard I try some day you will slip away, and I know that without you I would not be able to live. Better not to live at all. I raise the knife so I can study the blade in the moonlight, watching it ricochet off the gleaming metal to dance on the walls. I press it down against my wrist, following the path of veins under my pale skin. The other wrist is harder to do, and I wish that I had been born ambidextrous. I watch the blood flow for a minute. It is comforting with its strong colour and smell, and the pain that accompanies it. I grow light-headed and sink back onto the bed, turning slightly so that I can touch your face. Two drops of blood fall and land on your cheek next to your left eye, but you do not wake. My eyes slip shut, and I relax. There is only one thing more to do.
Your crying brings me back into a state of semi-consciousness. It is hard to open my eyes much less focus them, but I do. The two drops of my blood left on your face are mingling with tears that fall onto my body. I smile, trying to reassure you.
"Don't cry, Draco. I love you."
There is still one thing left, and I must be touching you to do it. You oblige me, raising my hand with your own to press it against your cheek. The strength to finish it is hard to find but somehow I do, breathing out the word to complete the spell of binding.
"Una."
Together.