"I love you...", he whispers into the night.
It is not the statement itself that I dread but the question which I know always follows that statement.
"Do you love me?"
The question is a desperate plea which a broken family and war have pushed him to ask for comfort. His full, pink lips begin to pout as he awaits an answer. He snuggles closer into my embrace and begins to trail his hand up and down my arm. He is the definition of a Sex God as he lies within a mass of dishevelled sheets, with enticing emerald eyes and ruffled ebony hair but I can't help not answering him. The question has become an empty question between us and yet each time he asks it his eyes gleam with hope. He knew what he was getting into when we began our relationship but even my own thoughts about our relationship begin to change when it is just the two of us. When I find myself caught in these stolen moments I can't help but imagine what life would be without this bed and him to fill it; life would be nothing.
As my hands around him loosen and I shift out of bed he knows the answer to his question. I bend to pick up my discarded clothes and pause only for a moment. Unsure of whether a goodbye is appropriate or not instead I simply leave without another glance. I know that if I was to look back upon his God like beauty I would once more be trapped in a stolen moment, one which I would not be able to escape from. This is how it ends most nights, unspoken words and unanswered questions.
He continues to lay on the dishevelled sheets remembering the moaned promises he heard only moments before and as tears stream down his cheeks he wonders how he trapped himself in this mess.
Later after I arrive home and lie down next to my wife I wonder how my life has become nothing but a web of lies, each one strangling the life out of me. I can't help but wish I was a stronger, better person.
"Do you love me?"
He whispers again for the tenth session in a row.
Each time I simply force myself to roll out of my bed and ignore the question, however this time it is different. This time we are at my house, in the bedroom I share with my wife and I am standing over him as he looks up at me like a hopeless child. He is a child who has laid his life in my hands and is hoping that I will do no wrong; yet each time I disappoint him. I turn around swiftly while tucking in my crisp white shirt, keeping my cold facade. I bend down and pick up my shoes just as silently. As I reach the door I hear his silent plea for comfort. He wants me to be his saviour, the same role he so willing played for the rest of the world. I turn and look at his face which has undergone many changes in the past months. His once emotional eyes have become vacant, his smiles have become empty smiles and yet as he lies before me he looks nothing short of vulnerable. I look at him one more time. As his silvery eyes bore into my own I can slowly feel my heart breaking in two and for the first time I answer his question.
"I cant..." I whisper into the night air before I turn to leave once again.
I hear his hesitation before he begins to pick up his belongs and with a small click of the front door he is gone.
A week later my wife finds out.
I feel her presence haunting me as she follows me into the bedroom after dinner. She slams the door behind her with such force that the windows shake. As I turn to face her I see the tears streaming down her face and the look of betrayal lay for the entire world to see.
"You're cheating on me."
It is not a question it is simple a statement, the truth.
I turn around and hope that just like his question I can ignore her statement. However Pansy is not that easy to avoid.
"DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY YOU BETTER FUCKIGN ANSWER ME", she screeches.
The accusation is true. What else can I do or say?
"You bastard, I fucking hate you!" Those are the last words I hear before she slaps me hard.
The fury and underlying hurt are evident in her deep blue eyes. Red blotches are situated all over her skin as a sign of her sobbing. She hastily begins to wipe her tears away and the strong, defiant Pansy is once again standing before me.
"You have once chance Malfoy, start explaining now!"
Years later I know that I will look at this moment in my life and wish I had reacted differently. I wish I hadn't taken the unspoken option she gave me due to her love for me. I wish she had made this easier for me by not loving me. Instead I force myself to tell another lie, fake another tear and smile.
I do not cry, Malfoy's simply do not commit such acts but I do make my performance seem sincere.
"It was a one off thing", I whisper to her as I sit on the bed seeming defeated.
"It was a late night, I had drunk too much and it was just with some cheap hooker."
Even as I say the words I can feel the lie slowly eating away at my insides. It is slowly leaving a darkness which will soon consume me.
"I'm sorry...", as soon as the words leave my mouth I wish for nothing more but to take them back, to end this facade.
Pansy stands in awe of the fact that I have apologized and slowly comes to sit next to me.
"Do you love me?"
As I watch the question form on her delicate lips all I can think about is him. Her question is not one full of hope and needing comfort it is one full of forgiveness and reality.
As I lean forward to capture her lips with my own and whisper "yes", I can't help but imagine it is his dark brown locks I am running my hands through or his soft, swollen, red lips I am kissing.
Lying has always been a Malfoys' forte but as I lay in bed and think of him I wonder, was I always this good?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
For a week or so I resist the urge to return his calls or take notice of his glances at work, instead I spend more time at home. As a result of my ignorance I begin to think of him more. My body misses his presence and I find myself shying away from the world, from life.
I can no longer make love to Pansy without comparing her to him. She falls short in every way possible to his God like features. Sex no longer brings pleasure to me; it is simply a test of will power. It is a test to prove that I will not merge Pansy into him to satisfy my needs, a test to prove that I don't need him. After a week or so I realise it is a test I fail every time.
I hate myself for making my web of lies.
I hate myself for loving him.
I hate myself for not loving her enough.
Most of all I hate myself for causing them both to suffer.
I resist him for a few months before work forces us together.
"You've been avoiding", he says bluntly.
Over the last couple of months his appearance has slowly deteriorated until he has become a shadow of his former self. I myself look worse for wear over the strain of staying apart but now as I watch his luscious lips move to speak I cant help but want to ravish him.
"Draco you can't continue to ignore my questions", he says desperately.
I remain silent and continue with my work.
"I am sick of this", he says before grabbing my hand and pulling me away.
Within minutes we are outside of the ministry and he has apparated us to his near by home. I do not protest has his lips cover mine, this is what I want, this is what I need. I ignore the nagging voice at the back of my head and instead follow my heart. As he pushes me roughly onto the bed and begins to undo my buttons I realise I feel more at home here with him than in my own house. When I hid from the rest of the world he was the only one strong enough to pull me back out. My guilt no longer overwhelms me; I am filled with a feeling of peace and belonging. As we make love on his bed for the first time in months I know that I can not ignore him or his questions any more. I can not deny myself what I need.
A few hours later as I watch him get up and gather his clothes I make a decision. I lie on his bed and wait for him to ask the question for which I now have an answer.
Just before he reaches the door way he turns to me and smiles.
"I missed you", he whispers before walking out of the door.
As I lie there on his bed I realise our roles have been reversed I am now the one desperate for love and comfort. I am the one who is abandoned.
It isn't long before our next session and I find my home life in between to be unbearable. The lies have filled every vacant space in my home and it feels almost as if they are closing in around me. I crave his touch to take away my anxiety and pain.
The next time I find myself lying in his bed it is I who snuggles closer into his embrace.
"Do you love me?" I whisper as I turn to face him while tracing my fingertips over his skin.
The question is the same as the one he asked, a desperate plea for a Saviour. He smiles down at me and kisses my forehead.
"Always", he whispers.
"I do love you", I say almost as if it was he who had asked the question.
I smile back at him briefly before slipping out of bed. I gather my clothes and walk silently towards the door. I pause for a moment before taking of my wedding ring and placing it on his dresser.
"My saviour", are the last words I say before walking out the door.