She sat before her dresser, looking at the mirror and feeling unclean, dirty, like she always did after—after she saw him.

It started at Hogwarts. It was past 11 and they were hurling insults in that dark hallway. They couldn't explain what happened, but before they knew it, he was holding her up against the wall, crushing her with his kisses and holding her breasts. She hated him so much but she couldn't deny that she wanted him.

They met almost every night after that. The sex was never gentle, as it was fueled by hate and lust. But it was always great.

When the war started and they were on opposite sides, they didn't stop.

They didn't care for each other. Hell, they even threw curses at each other while on the field. She just narrowly missed a Crucio from him last week. But without fail, every Saturday, they met on the secluded cottage near Hogsmeade. And they lost themselves in their lust.

Tonight was one of those nights. He just left. They had a huge fight and hit each other. She touched the bruise on her cheek and hated herself. She couldn't stop.

—

"Yes! Yes! Oh—!" she screamed as he thrusted himself into her. He grabbed her breast roughly and bit her neck. He could taste the blood and he pushed himself harder into her core. "DRACO!" she screamed as she fell apart. He stopped immediately.

"What did you call me?" he asked her.

"Your name," she answered.

He slapped her. She looked at him, shocked. "You mudblood bitch. Who gave you the right to use my first name?"

"You're fucking this mudblood bitch, as you well know. Why do you bother if you think I'm so filthy?" she screamed and got off the bed.

"Do not mistake my fucking you as something else. We are not friends. I would never lower myself. A shag is a shag, even if it is with dirty whores like you," he said.

She hurled herself at him and punched him again and again, her blows landing on his chest. "I—cannot believe —I'm cheating on —Ron —with the likes of —you!" she screamed between punches. "This, whatever this is, it's over."

"Hit me one more time and I will kill you," he warned, his voice so soft that she hardly heard him.

She stopped, knowing he was serious. She sat on the bed and watched him while he changed. He opened the door and looked back at her, his silver eyes filled with hate and something else he couldn't control and said,

"And don't fool yourself. You know you can never stop."

—

"What are we doing?" she asked him one night.

"I don't know," was his only reply.

—

He had a chance - he was so close to killing her one day on the field. If she had been anybody else, she was sure he would've killed her without blinking.

But he didn't. He took one look at her and disapparated.

—

They continued the sick, twisted affair for months. One day he didn't show up.

—

A week later, she heard he was killed. Her face was devoid of any emotion except the lone tear falling down her cheek.

Maybe she loved him. Maybe he loved her. But it would always be one of those things they would never know for sure.

When the tear reached her chin, her face went back to the mask that she mastered after she started meeting him in secret. She never spoke of him again.

—

Fin