Burned You A Mark
By Capricious Insanity
His naturally wan face is tinged with red, and I almost miss those almost invisible tears roll down his cheeks.
Oh bugger.
He's crying and I'm not.
Maybe I'm the heartless one and not him. The uncomfortable lump in my throat grew, and my body goes weak. I slowly lie down on his bed and tried to focus my attention on my breathing.
And then I saw his lithe back slightly tremble.
Oh bloody hell.
"Malfoy…"
He stopped, and turned to face me. Those silver eyes glazed with tears. Somewhere inside, a part of me broke.
"Fuck off."
He says that, but I know he doesn't mean it. He never means it, but I always do. He looked away and stared at the floor.
"Whatever happened to the rules?"
Yes, the rules. Even before we began what we now have, he had set up rules that, supposedly, neither of us could ever break.
This… thing between us had started as a quick snogging session after an accident caused our flesh to collide with one another. Then escalated into our sick little fuck sessions.
At first it only lasted for half an hour, then an hour… and now… we didn't keep count anymore.
We both knew this was a dangerous game to continue. One we couldn't win. But every time we broke whatever this was, sometime in the middle of the night we'd end up together.
"You said them so yourself, remember?"
I scoffed at him, and closed my eyes. With frightening clarity, I recalled our first night. A bitter smile is on my lips as I remembered him, holding my hand in a painful grip, his gray eyes locked on mine as he recited.
One, we never speak of this to anyone nor give them any hint.
Two, there will be no… cuddling, no hugs afterwards.
Three, there must never be any mark that could be traced back to any activity between us.
Four, there will never be love.
I want to throw those four rules at Malfoy's face right this moment. The damned prick. Always acted high and mighty, and was terribly insulting at every opportunity. The person I thought incapable of being kind, or passionate. The one who broke all four rules he had set.
Not that he'd actually said that he… loved me. But actions spoke louder than words, and Malfoy's spoke in great magnitude.
At times I even caught him staring at me outside these four walls. With those steely eyes that always appeared devoid of emotion. I saw the truth though, the inner turmoil, a look that said love.
"This isn't like you."
It really isn't. Maybe he's just a copy of the real Malfoy. The one that always dominated, the one that always won. The one that never showed me any weakness. The revolting git that stated the rules as if they were the law.
It is as if you are the law, Malfoy.
He reached for a cigarette on the table and lit it, and immediately, I taste ash on my tongue.
He looked back at me; the tears dry on his cheeks and blew the smoke in my direction. It's a bad habit of his that he knows I hate. I don't feel weak anymore, but I still feel a bit like a monster.
"You know I hate it when you smoke."
I said through gritted teeth as I began to sit up to stand, but he pulled me down. I stopped moving and stared at him. It infuriates me that he hasn't said much. Usually he's the one blabbering on and on, not me. So I smiled as I returned his words.
"You told me to fuck off, right?"
And he gazed at me with those hurt, star-lit eyes as if his entire world had crashed. Yes. He's definitely not the real Malfoy. The real Malfoy would never look at me the way this person's looking at me now. He'd never show me how weak he could be and make it known that I was the source of his pain.
Pale, thin fingers took the cigarette from those soft lips and place it between my own chubby ones. I looked at him, bewildered and annoyed.
"I don't want to smoke. I've told you that before. If you don't mind, I'm going back to my dorm."
I tried to stand and again, his cold, smooth arms pull me down.
"I mind."
His voice almost cracked.
"What are you playing at? This is getting old."
He hesitated for a beat, and eventually spoke.
"This might be the last one."
A wave of dread settled at the pit of my stomach and made my heart beat faster. Panic, anger, regret and shame. The wave grew erratic with every recollection, and then finally, it reached and drummed inside my chest.
"This is the last."
He stiffened at my casual confirmation. Malfoy drew back, his hand still on my wrist. He was looking down at my arm so I couldn't fully see his face.
"I… I'd like to have something from you."
I smirked at his request. It's as if we had switched roles for the night, the final night. My throat threatened to clog but I still managed to speak without my voice trembling.
"I can't impregnate you."
My ears awaited a sneer, a scoff, any biting remark but nothing came. Instead, he lifted his head to meet my eyes. His hand slid across my skin and gripped mine, the one that still held the cigarette.
"Ron…"
My heart skipped a beat.
Ron.
It always did that when he said my name. I wonder if his heart would do the same if I called him by his name too.
"Malfoy…"
But I never used his name. I really don't know why, but I think if I do, I'd fall into the same hole he's trapped in.
He pulled my hand with the cigarette near his wrist, and my eyes widened a bit. Is that what he wants me to do? I tried to shake him off; I don't want to hurt him more than I already have.
"Pansy would freak, especially tomorrow."
His grip tightened and his eyes began to water. This really is our last night. He knows I would never touch him again after he utters those two lovely words.
Fornication is already bad enough; I'd burn myself alive if I allow adultery in my already long list of sins.
"Ron, please."
Then my hand snapped like a twig under his pressure. I marked him mine for the last time, knowing that in the morning it would still be there, the only remnant of our sordid game.
"I'm sorry."
He whispered as I left. The image of his scarred flesh imprinted in my mind.
The sun is up, and the bells ring and the wedding of the century start. The groom waits, dressed in black and white, while the bride walks joyfully down the aisle. I close my eyes and it's over. Then the reception begins and everyone is full of smiles. I straighten my back and tilt my glass, cheers to the newlyweds. I drink, I breathe, and I smile.
Smile, smile, smile.
Everyone looks, but none of them see what the smile is really about. I walk, I socialize, and I laugh. All is good with the world. There are no tears, no hesitations, no goodbyes, because there is no need for them. I am free.
I rejoiced with my peers and joined in their laughter, genuinely enjoyed the celebrated occasion.
That was until he looked at me, just before the night ended. Malfoy stared at me, his frigid eyes indifferent and unflinching. That's when the smiling ended and I finally grasped the memory of the cigarette.
I gazed back at him, my expression tender, as I congratulated him with my eyes. I really want him to be happy. I raised a glass to him. His face remained the same as he watched me. He lifted his glass, and instead of meeting the rim, his lips kissed the burned flesh. Those piercing eyes glimmered for a moment.
A second later, he's nodding and shaking someone's hand, but his eyes never left mine. Afterwards, he turned back to me.
The taste of ash is in my mouth.
I've been trapped in the same hole even before it had been dug. It wasn't him that had been marked. It was I.
"Draco."
My voice is soft, it's almost a whisper, but he heard.
"I love you."
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