Disclaimer: All characters etc. belong to JK rowling. Not mine.

Non-Saviour

She is bound for success. She has a glittering future ahead of her. She is intelligent and resourceful with the looks to match. Her flaming hair resembles her fiery spirit, a contrast to my ice blonde locks and even colder soul. Each strand, liquid fire, radiating determination and confidence, intoxicates me.

She is beautiful.

It is her purity, her naivety that allures me, how she believes in the good in everyone. It has brought me, a monster, to this fresh-faced virgin. Of course, she is no longer a virgin, but I digress.

We spent many months together, the virgin and the monster. She accepted me and showed me kindness and unconditional love. She taught me to love, and love her I did. I love her body, her soul, her everything. I would have almost gone to the ends of the earth to see her happy and safe. Almost.

She should have realized that monsters like me do not change, for love or anyone. We cannot change our nature.

Father and the Dark Lord are right. To love is to show weakness. Perhaps great unconditional love is strength, but in this case, love only served to weaken and land her in our clutches. It was her love for me that brought her to the Dark Lord, and she has now outlived her purpose.

Now, separated from me by bars, here she is, in standing in front of me covered in dirt. But her beauty still shines ever so brightly. I could have wept for her beauty, to hold her in my arms once again and tell her everything will be all right, to make her feel safe again.

But nothing will be all right, and she will never be safe again. Never.

She notices my presence and she raises her eyes to mine, but instead of soft, loving blue eyes I'm so used to seeing, her eyes are ice cold and full of the ugly hatred that I am oh so familiar with.

Though I would not admit it to her, seeing such hatred in her was agonizing. Had I corrupted her with my hate? And selfishly, I wanted to rush in and gather her in my arms and just explain everything to her, to whisper sweet nothings into her ear. Anything to get her to stop staring at me with such loathing.

The pain in my chest is agonizingly real.

But no, I cannot explain everything to her. Her loving nature would only make her forgive me. It would only serve to hurt her deeper. No, best to let her hate me, perhaps hate me enough to kill me. I'll only betray her again and again, until there is no more of her to betray. I'll be the death of her. No, I have to remain composed.

I walk into her prison. She glares at me, angry sparks flying from her eyes. I, a calm expressionless living statue, wave off the others. Now it is only her and me.

Without further ado, she slaps me. Hard.

"Bastard!" she yells and she throws herself at me. I catch her slight body with ease, as she pounds my chest with her small fists, screaming incoherent profanities, tears stream down her face leaving tracks on her dirt covered face. Gently, I use my thumb to wipe away those crystalline tears.

She slaps my hands away and turns away from me. She falls to her knees and buries her face into her hands. I watch all this without a change in demeanour.

I walk over to her. Tentatively, I place my hand on her head. When she didn't flinch away, I began to slowly stroke her soft hair. It wasn't until then I realize that I'll miss entwining my hands in her soft locks.

"Help me Malfoy," she speaks quietly into her hands, but I hear her. I also note that she has reverted back to my surname. How I wish I could help her, but I can't. I can't bring myself to do it.

I am a coward. So, like the coward I am, I remained silent, just continuing to strike her hair.

For the first time, I notice she is only wearing a very torn rag, perhaps what's left of her robe, on her too thin shoulders.

"Won't you help me? ... Draco?" She lifts her dirty, tear-stained face to look into my eyes.

I look away.

She has a name, I thought numbly. Yes, a name, my mind grabbed at the distraction, anything to divert my attention away from her pleading face, shining with tears and beauty.

But I know, it's a weak distraction. I know her name, I know everything about her.

But for now, I will forget, it'll make things less painful. For me, not for her.

I move away. I hear her get up and walk towards me. I turned back to face her and notice that her rag barely covers her long legs.

"You'd leave me here to die ..." it is a statement of fact. She knows it.

"After all I did for you. All I gave up. You abandon me." Her voice breaks at every word as it increases in volume and emotion. I can feel her anger building. Yes, let her take her anger out on me. I deserve it.

But I can't help but notice her face is exquisitely flushed and her coral pink lips are parted. I want her, and letting my heart take over, I shake my head violently. No! Never abandon her, never!

"Then prove it! Die with me at least! Or at the very least, let me die in your arms!" She yells, backing away from him until her back hits the damp wall.

"For what? Both of us die for what?" I ask her scathingly, stalking up to her.

She shakes her head, as more tears fall.

"For love," she whispers.

An internal battle wages inside me. I want to agree with her and die with her, but another side of me, the cowardly, but surprisingly very rational side of me, sees that dying together will accomplish nothing. Dying together is just sentimental rubbish found in romance novels. This is real life.

"What is love? Don't you have to love the other person in order to die for love?" I corner her, bringing my face dangerously close to her. Her eyes widen in pain and look away, missing the hurt and pain in my eyes as I uttered those words.

"I HATE YOU!"She spits.

Her anger just serves to turn me on.

I capture her lips in a crushing kiss, my hands encircle her tine waist and I bring her body up against mine. She is taken by surprise, and I use this to my advantage as I plunge me tongue into her soft, mouth. She tries to push me away, but I have her firmly in my embrace. She gives up pushing me away and returns my kiss with equal ardour. It's as if we're trying to push all our emotions, love and hate for each other, into this one kiss. Her moans arouse me, as I move down to her neck. I do not care that she is dirty; her flesh is still succinctly sweet underneath the grime. Impatiently, I tear her dress off her. Her young firm breasts greet me. I gently knead her breasts before kissing my way down. I take a nipple into my mouth and sucked hard, while my other hand rubs her other breast. Her moans turn into little yelps of pain as I gently bite down on her erect nipple. Her hands are entangled in my hair. She pulls on them painfully, as I my hand finds her core, hot and wet for me. As I move up and kiss her lips, I slip a finger in. She gasps and thrusts her hip forward. Quickly, I undo my pants and thrust into her.

I do not care about hurting her. She needs the pain and pleasure as much as I need feel her around me once more.

I pick up the pace and after feeling her convulse in an orgasm, I came.

Sweaty and breathless, I slump against her and we stay in this position for a while. The peace and serenity in these few moments are almost reminiscent of our first few times. Almost.

"I'll never abandon you again," I mutter into her hair. And it is true, I cannot bring myself to abandon her again.

She gives no response, so I pull back and see her staring up at me. Her eyes glittering.

"You're going to free me?" she whispers breathlessly. I shake my head and place a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"No" she looks at me in surprise.

"I'm going to die with you" She looks up at me fearfully, but she remains silent.

I get off her and cover her in my robe. I walk out the cell and close my eyes.

Cloaked figures immediately rush in.

A flash of green light.

Then ... Nothing.

When she didn't scream, I know she knew.

I love her, and when she died, I became a hollow shell.

As long as I remember Ginny Weasley, I cannot live.

But I never forget, if I could, I'd be alive.

Fin

A/N: RR please :)