I Thought You Were Special
By: Meghan~Jinx
Rating: PG-13 for some implied things, and death overtones, and all around self-pity.
Authors note: Yep. Another song fic. And for some reason, this song makes me cry. So does 'Gray Sky Morning' by Vertical Horizon, and 'Angel' by Sarah McLachlan. And I've written songfics for both. Hmmm… am I trying to make myself sad? ::shrugs:: But 'Last Kiss' by Pearl Jam (?) makes me cry. A lot. And it makes me depressed. So no songfics for that song. Sorry. This story is Pansy angst, set to Garbage's 'Special'. I like Pansy, though most people don't. And though I'm a fierce D/H shipper, and I adore D/G, Draco deserves Pansy, and Pansy deserves Draco. They're both so evil. They're a perfect match. :) Oh and most of this was written listening to a downloaded mp3 of Madonna's 'Frozen'. Cool song. Winamp never works though. Oh, and Savage Garden. Really loud Savage Garden, which is my new favorite band. ::tries to cover up the fact that she is in love with Darren Hayes:: Gasp! Did I say that out loud? No wonder I was up at 2 a.m. looking for pictures of him without a shirt…
Thanks To: Starfish Girl. The best beta-reader in the world. (BTW, thanks for the compliments. They made my day. :)
I'm living without you
I know all about you
I have run you down into the ground
Spread disease about you over town
A
Was it anything I didn't do?
Or what I did?
Was it too little?
Or too much?
Was it even me? Or was it he? It could have been both of us. Maybe we were perfectly wrong for each other… although, all those nights, when his arms were the safest, best sanctuary a person like I, who was constantly in their own world, could have known… was it in vain?
Vain? Oh, no. Stop now. Vain is so strong an utterance, if one so ever eagerly escaped me. My actions were in the best interest of my significant other. Vain? I felt good while I loved him. Though it was like through a wall. And I wanted to see what was on the other side.
And when I made a window in the bricks, I didn't like the view. There were no sunny meadows. No light. Only cloudy, dull, gray skies. And then, after seeing all that, tried to like him for him. Because I knew he loved me for me. And only equal treatment would work in a certain situation much like this one.
Now I think there is something wrong with him. And that's what I so want to believe.
But it's me.
It's me alone.
I felt so many times, like I was being sucked into the abyss the world has dubbed reality, and my own self-dug pit of irony. The hole was filled with foolish dreams I one clutched in my mind so dearly, fondling like my own children. And the memories of tending to his feelings, as though he would break if I did not carry out his personal bidding. Seems very stupid now, really. But I was happy, slaving to his wishes.
It's sickening, to my own actuality of fact that he only wanted my body to be close to his, in his moments of fervent insecurity, reassuring him, and catering to his every whim.
I suppose this sweet misery is better.
For now, the mirror hides all the flaws on the inside.
The heart of your lover does not.
I used to adore you
I couldn't control you
There was nothing that I wouldn't do
To keep myself around and close to you
"Hey, Draco," I drawled, strutting across the chilly ground towards him. I reached out, and my hand touched the smooth robes that were draped over his thin frame. They felt better on him. The touch was odd… at the same time, heat and ice ran up my arm.
He flinched, and turned to see who had dared to stroke his arm.
His face fell an inch when he realized it was I. "Oh hullo, Pansy," he muttered.
"Isn't a beautiful morning?" I asked, looking around, as the Care of Magical Creatures class gathered.
He nodded, as though my words were flowing over his body, him not absorbing their worth. Small talk, yet so effective for the mood. Or my mood at least.
"It's so chilly, too… isn't it Draco?" I put my arm on his shoulder.
He raised an eyebrow at me, a look of polite annoyance.
"And I'm so cold."
He finally gave a small smile and shrugged, turning around and walked away.
I stood rooted. Hadn't I given enough?
"Uh, Draco?" I asked, picking up my pace, trying to catch up to his long legs' stride. "It's really cold out here so…"
He stopped. My mouth closed immediately. He spun and faced me. Feeling a bit of dread shoot down my body, I found it wise not to say another word.
Leaning closely, he brought his face so close to mine, he was in danger of touching my nose.
"Pansy," he said, firmly, small clouds of breathe in the cold unfurling from his lips. His lips… they were perfect. I could just see myself on them.
I wondered how they tasted.
"Yes?"
"A word of advice, love, you're coming on too strong. Back. Away." Maybe he was in a bad temper. That's what it was, I decided.
As he stalked away, looking so vehemently like his father, I could feel something coming from his body… some sort of vibes, emanating from his soul again, a bright warning not to mess with this person.
"What's the matter today?" I asked, running to catch up once more, looking so much like I was tagging along.
"Nothing." He shook his head, possibly trying to make me for get and leave him alone.
If there is one thing I do, it's give up.
"I know there is. You aren't always in a bad mood. There is something…"
He sighed and looked at me. I didn't like those eyes.
"If you must know, I'm failing Transfiguration."
"Failing? But you're good at it!"
"It's that McGonnagal! She's just like Dumbledore. She's so partial to Gryffindors, isn't she?"
A mean smile crept to his face. "Yes, and we could say the same about Snape, couldn't we?"
"But we benefit from Snape don't we?"
"That's true."
"You're making good grades in his class," I pointed out, as we drifted towards the rest of the students. "And you're doing somewhat well in most other subjects—"
"Somewhat."
"Then what are you worried about?"
"My father."
"What about your father? What's he got to do with this?" As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized their stupidity.
He stared at me like I was some sort of idiot. I was, of course.
"I swear Pansy, I worry about you like I worry about Crabbe and Goyle."
I frowned. So he did think I was a tad empty-headed.
He rolled up his sleeve. I wasn't very surprised when I saw his muscles. But there was something else. A dark, black-blue bruise.
"That's why my father."
Oh, poor you. Poor you. That was the attitude at the moment. Sympathy. I wanted to tell him…tell him everything I felt.
"Draco?"
"What?" he asked, as he looked at the bruise once more, before rolling up his sleeve.
"W-would you meet me somewhere tonight?"
"Where?" he asked, mildly interested. I knew there was more than one way to his heart. Providing he had one. He certainly hadn't done anything to support this idea.
"By the trophy room," I stated.
"The trophy room? Pansy, you—"
I lifted my hand, and put one finger to his lips. I liked how they felt.
"I won't. I promise. I'll give you all the room you want. If you'll give me all the closure I need."
He nodded, not out of disregard for my proposal, but out of silent agreement. "I will. And what time?"
"Midnight," I whispered. "The dead of night."
"I will," he repeated, keeping nothing in his tone but curious wonderment.
"And Draco?"
"I won't disappoint you."
And there, in that moment, the window broke through.
And I was granted my sunshine.
Do you have an opinion?
A mind of your own?
I thought you were special
I thought you should know
As the clock chimed midnight, I felt something rise in my chest. Foreboding of the night's next events? Excitement? Something else?
And I, being the foolish girl I was, chose 'something else'. I felt the subtle creeping of nervous energy flow through me, as I exited the common room, and flitted down the dark hallways, avoiding Filch and his feline accomplice.
My feet were thumping almost rhythmically to my heart, which thudding so loudly in my chest, I was most surprised that it did not echo down the empty hallways.
Swinging around a corner, and up a flight of stairs, my destination was before me.
My destination was not the trophy room however.
It was Draco.
He was my destination.
And there he was. Standing like a presence in the hallway, almost too perfect to be there. He face was mysteriously shadowed, and his eyes two dark balls, blinking uncertainly. His hair darkened now, though still visibly blonde. It was listless looking, and lying atop his head, in a way no other could matter. His forehead had no bangs, they were combed to the side, though a precariously long locks fell into his eyes. It looked too wonderful to be real and I was overcome with an urge to run my fingers through, it feeling its soft simplicity. I wondered how it felt.
I hoped I got to feel what both his lips and hair felt like tonight.
My face broke into a grin. "Ah, you're on time."
"Barely." He looked me straight in the eye. "But you're late."
"Only fashionably."
"So… what's the meaning of this impromptu meeting?"
"To clear our heads. I have a lot to tell you. And I know you have quite a lot to say too."
"And what makes you have that insinuation?"
"I can tell. Your words are forced. Like this conversation."
He opened his mouth, then changed his mind. "You're right."
"But we can't say it here."
"And again, you're right."
"Like…maybe outside? Alone?" I asked, in a hinting way, but in a sense, planned every word.
He seemed slightly taken aback by this offer. But for my fortunate self, he gave in. "Lead the way."
Together, we eventually made it to a door, and walked onto the dim grounds.
Instantly, I felt the cold air swirling around me and pricking my skin, but in a pleasant way. Like earlier, our breath were small clouds, signifying the temperature was very low. The air that made you wish that Christmas break wasn't over and you were at your own home, instead of school. Christmas break had ended, but I could not wait to return.
The full moon above in the sky was directly above our heads, silvery, eerie clouds swirling upwards to meet it, like eager hands.
It illuminated the grounds, as though a very bright light was casting a ghoulish blue light, and casting everything else into shadows.
But funny. Funny how I felt warm.
"It's gorgeous isn't it?" I asked, wrapping my arms around my shoulders.
"It is. Gorgeous like tragic sorrow."
I cocked my head in a half-amused, half-confused expression, as though I understood every word.
He had a way like that. Like he had his own world, and he was safe, and intruders interrupted his delicate balance, as delicate as his frame, and as wonderful as the mind he possessed. He looked so much older than his actual age was. Like his father. I wonder if his mother had the same shutout troubles.
If his father was like him, I pitied her somehow. Being his girlfriend (unofficially dubbed) was hard enough. Alas, think what it would be like to marry the boy!
Lowering myself to the ground I muttered, "I'm cold." This time I was serious. I needed comfort that only he could provide.
Sensing this, he sat down next to me. The ground was hard and cold, but slowly heating up as he put his arm around me, and I felt body next to mine. His body was enough.
I drew my knees to my chin, wrapped my arms around them, and leaned my head against his warm body. I withdraw slightly, when I realized how thin his shoulder was.
"I do have one question Pansy. It's…it's been on my mind for quite some time, it has," he said, staring at the stars that were dotted like tiny stones in the inky sky.
"And what would that be?"
"What do you see in me?"
The question almost knocked me backwards. "What do I see in you?" I questioned. The words were almost the same, but the tone skeptically surprised.
His eyes were still on the sky, as though he was searching for something, but he didn't know what.
"Draco." I reached out and took his chin in my hand, forcing his face to look towards my troubled one.
His eyes widened a mere hair, but I knew from the subtle expression that no one had ever down that to him. "Yes?" he asked, with slight shake of his blonde head.
"Because I see you for you. Not because of your money. Not because you're so wonderful. Because I know you, and I accept you. And I love you for who you are. I find this…this superficial image everyone has of me, and it's in your eyes too, Draco, don't deny it. I'm too overprotective. I dote on you too much. It's only done with the best of intentions. But, it's not like that at all. It's like… your so not there, so abstract in your whole manifestation of what I believe, and what I dream of. It's because you're closer than anything to my utopia, to my fantasy paradise, that it frightens me that I could let it slip through my fingers."
"And what I see in you Pansy? A girl who knows." He leaned forward, and in a moment, before I knew of it, his lips were tightly against mine. It felt like lightening, surging into my body. His arms wrapped around my shoulders, and my arms wrapped around my body.
I liked this.
And I now knew what his lips tasted of.
They tasted like…Draco.
The only way to describe them.
Closing my eyes in all the ecstasy this moment was worth, we overbalanced and fell backwards onto the grass. We didn't care, we were still clasped together.
I drew a sharp breath as we pulled apart. The air filled my lungs, as though Draco was the water, yet the water was pleasant, and I wanted to drown.
"And that's why I like you for you, Pansy."
"Much better than my explanation, less words, more action." He smiled, and rolled over onto his back, staring at the sky, like he previously had been engrossed in.
"There it is!"
"There what is?" I asked, lying my head on his chest, scooting closer to his body, my hands on his chest. The pleasant up and down sensation made me want to stay here forever.
"Draco. My namesake." He pointed to a cluster of stars, that, in my opinion, resembled nothing like that of the magnificent brute and grace of a dragon.
Like Draco. My strong and fierce dragon.
"Do you like stargazing, Draco?"
"Yes. I love it."
"Well, you know what I love?"
He looked at me, a look I never though possible of him on his face.
"I don't know."
"All of this."
But I've run out of patience
I couldn't care less
I...
I...
Do you have an opinion?
A mind of your own?
How naïve I was. How quite tragically naïve. How I can honestly sit here and wonder, if I am still the same stupid girl.
Of course I was.
And I knew I was stupid all along. I just didn't want to admit it. I didn't know why at the time, but I didn't care. All that mattered was pleasing Draco. And for some reason, it was a one-way street for everything.
I gave.
You took.
I gave.
And you took.
I tried to take.
You locked up.
And when all my efforts… nothing paid off… anything like that…
All the while, I thought you were different. You listened. You understood. And you, in your own way, were so romantic and wonderful.
I reached under my bed, fumbled for a bit, and felt a cool, smooth book. Lifting it, my hand bending under the weight, I dropped it onto the bed, causing the bed to cave in some.
Without even looking, I slipped my fingers beneath the cover, and opened the book.
It was a photo album.
Mindlessly, I flipped through the pictures, each portraying my life in such a brief way, as though I was watching my body move and live from a perch unknown to prying, naked eyes.
I was the angel of my own misery. But corruption doesn't come naturally. It needs strong influence. And apparently, you were my influence. But at the moments we spent together, each time I saw your face, it was like watching a film without sound. You could see the pictures, and the emotions, and without words, you were so raptly keen on the body language that you could comprehend.
And sound filled the rooms, and sound ruined the silence.
My sound.
My aimless searching rested on a picture. Without knowing it, my fingers rose and stroked the picture, gazing lovingly at the image, knowing how superficial. Like eating with an empty spoon. It feeds you, but you never get full, and always go back for more. Maybe that's how we were. Maybe that's who you were. Maybe behind the falsehoods, and lies, you were a real person, and you loved me. Maybe I was too wrapped up in you, I never saw it.
It was a picture of Draco and I. It was so expression filled… its simplicity sang a sorrowful song, filling up everything that left me empty. The past is mixing slowly with the present, and it's driving me through this sweet madness.
I extracted the photo from the plastic covering.
I held it at eye level.
Smiling in a strange way, I took a firm grip, and ripped the picture down the center. So there were two halves: one with my face on it, and one with Draco's. I grabbed Draco's half, and ripped it again. This time, less neat. Then again. And again. Until there were tiny pieces of his face all over the sheets. Repeating the same with my own picture, I gathered the pieces, and brushed them off of my bed. That's how you made me feel.
I thought you were special
I thought you should know
I used to amuse you
I knew that I'd lose you
The next morning I awoke with a sense of something burning in my chest. Maybe it was satisfaction. I'm not sure, still.
But I loved it.
Maybe it was love.
Hardly likely. What I had was an obsession with the one whom I loved. But in that moment, I thought little of this, and went about my business as usual, all the while smirking a bit cockily. So dead-set determined that Draco loved me.
For some time he did.
As I made my way to breakfast, I couldn't help noticing the sky. It was dark, and foreboding. Filled with terrific rain clouds. Horrible and troublesome they could be, as they let out almighty roars, and rain bursting forth, so hard to the ears, it sounded like bullets of water.
Over the sea of heads, I spotted my blonde query. He was sitting in his usual position, with Vincent and Gregory. Every space near him was filled, save the seat exactly in front of him. Making a beeline to the empty sector, he looked up when he saw me approaching.
"Morning Pansy… sleep well?"
I smiled coyly. "Hardly."
He returned the smile, only reluctantly. "Yes—"
But at that moment a voice said, "Top of the morning, all."
Looking up, I realized it was Blaise Zabini. "Oh, morning Blaise," I replied. Blaise grinned. For some reason he had an unquenchable infatuation with me, for heaven's reasons only know why.
"Oh, hey, Pansy," he said, with a smile wink, and walked down the row to sit with a few of his closest friends. I watched him go, and sighed.
"Doesn't he know I'm taken?" I laughed, touching Draco on the arm.
He flinched.
"Don't do that," I said. "Flinch when I touch you. You'd better get used to it. I'll be doing a lot more."
"Well, maybe you shouldn't do that," he whispered back, looking at my brave hand.
And for a split second he looked as pensive and twisted as the storm raging outside. Except his was internal, and I felt sorry for him, to have rain falling on his head all the time.
It seemed cold and distant now. His sky was raining.
I smiled one more, now bewildered. "I'll see you in Potions."
And then I fled the room.
The dungeons were terribly cold, I found out. I already knew this, of course, but it seemed colder, some how. Especially the feeling emanating from the Potions. It seemed, no only in temperature, but also in… quite indescribable, it was. Like feelings… one would have to experience this to know what I was speaking of. It was like cold, malevolent eyes.
But as I drifted through the darkness that was familiar to my brain, I felt my thoughts drift to the cold stone, and the torches, and wonder what exactly this dungeon was used for, and I was not completely sure I wanted to know.
I stepped inside the Potions class, where Draco was sitting, waiting for nothing in particular, lazily thinking out into space.
The corners of my mouth arched as I approached him.
"Hey, Draco. Can I sit here?"
"Well, doesn't seem anyone is," he replied, his tone even chillier than the air swirling around our bodies. "You might as well."
Not quite as sure, I sat down and placed my cauldron next to him.
"Beautiful morning, huh?" I asked, my mouth dry for conversation. How awkward…how wonderfully awkward…
"Yes. You could say that."
I reached out my hand, and stroked his cold arm. He flinched, and withdrew, staring at me as though I was mad.
He brushed off his arm, not for sanitation purposes, just out of surprise that I had touched him.
Sighing, I watched with listless eyes as Professor Snape began writing ingredients to the potion, on the black board.
"Beautiful like last night, right?" I whispered, leaning closer, so that my breath brushed his face delicately.
He winced. Not from my actions, but from my words.
My foolish, foolish words.
"Pansy, last night you… you… misunderstood."
Perplexed out of my own curiosity, I replied, "Misunderstood what?"
"My intentions."
"Which were?" I pressed on, my heart sinking into my stomach so far I could feel it pulsing there, beat after beat.
"Not to lead you on like this." He began adding the necessary elements to his concoction.
"How are you leading me on?" I said, beginning to work on mine as well.
"Pansy, last night was a mistake," he said, an octave quieter, noticing Gryffindor ears listening in. "I never meant last night to happen. I never meant us to get this close."
"This close? We're hardly in each other's shadows."
"Pansy, you have to understand… we are. You especially. And I think I need to breathe."
I spread my hands out. "By all means, breathe."
"No. Without you taking my air."
Crash.
"Draco." I wrinkled my brow. "You didn't—"
"Pansy. It's too much. I've already told you that," he spat. "Earlier. And did you listen? No. You continued in your little fantasy. Well dream over Pansy, wake up. You were there always."
"I was there always? What in the he—" I paused. I didn't want to get angry. "What does that mean?"
"You were always there when I needed you. You talked. You listened."
"And how does this provide sufficient grounds to dispose of me?"
"You're not 'disposed'. You're being let off. I need some time alone."
"Draco. I was nothing but good to you!"
"And that was the problem right there." The wind of his words blew and literal chill bumps coursed along my arms.
Freeze.
Now you're here and begging for a chance
But there's no way in h-ll I'd take you back
Do you have an opinion?
A mind of your own?
I thought you were special
I thought you should know
The face that stared back at me in the mirror was beautiful. In my opinion, no finer creature prowled the earth, looking for divine prey as I, the beast of my own twisted affections and dreams. The face was not my own, though.
The face was the face that was spawned by my own desire to be the fairest and best in his life.
The best.
The best.
But whom was I fooling? Certainly not myself, for I was in full, total awareness that I would never be the best at everything. I shall try, I used to tell myself, with confidence and arrogance so greedily churning inside me, devouring my humble spirits that could have dwelled therein… but this feeling…this sensation of me actually deceiving my own mind, was sick even to I.
And I used to think I was better than the other girls were. I was prettier. I had worth. I had Draco.
Maybe I was never beautiful.
Maybe I never –assuredly not now– had worth.
Maybe Draco was the only thing I could brag.
Maybe. But that notion, that inkling chance I was better, made me so vile and contemptuous, I could barely stand myself anymore. And though my conscience screamed silently and my courteous, respectful side wept bitterly, this meant naught to me… for I was greater.
I stared at my dark eyes, forever twitching, it seemed, in the mirror. How wrong I was. How horribly wrong, I realized, as my hand moved to my face. I touched my face, as I smiled a heartbreaking smile. It wasn't of joy… it was a smile of pure regret and sorrow. Of worse things to come. It was a smile of clarity.
Who was Draco to blow me away, as though I were some common insect on a steamy summer day?
And who was I to let him? How dare he push me over? How dare he?
I ran my fingers through my silky, dark hair, spun on the ball of my heel, and marched out of my dorm.
In search of my divine prey.
But I've run out of patience
I've run out of comments
I'm tired of the violence
I couldn't care less
The common room was naturally cold. Being a dungeon, there's always a certain air to it, making you want to run… making you want to leave. Like there's something there that doesn't belong… like evil, or something abstract of that peculiar nature. You can't touch evil, or the presence in the room, like you can't touch love, you know it's there, and you know its power. But you wish like crazy that it wasn't.
Hatred can be like that. Only hatred can be as fun as it is dangerous, because it's so easy to do. It's easier than love—maybe because love is something you do all your own, and hate is backed by evil, making your efforts to hate someone so simple. Yet at the same time find it hard to grasp the fact that you hate this person … unless you despise the day they were brought into this horrible earth, then ever so easy to hate them, and you don't feel guilty. Like a second nature.
Draco was both—I hated him, but I couldn't get enough of him.
And that's who my prey was, (in the instance you could call him prey) the last Malfoy.
That night I was drunk on my own confidence that I'd get him back.
I exited the common room, and swaggered down the halls imagining myself from the boys' eyes. There was my perfect self, so like a prize, and I was won. I didn't mind being an object. Maybe that's why everyone thinks I'm so simpering, and empty. Because I like to be used. At least I'm being used. When it came to Draco, I was weak.
Crumple beautifully.
The library loomed like a spinning future in the distance. I wish I had never walked through that cursed door.
Curse that walkway.
I smirked and walked in. Past the tables. Past the mindless people who had no goals… the fate of the gutless human race. They had no reaches. So superficial, I thought, though, I can't exactly call myself pure and innocent… yes, I'm not innocent at all.
Not at the moment, of course.
My body moved towards the back of the library, where I saw the top of his head. He was sitting near some one… I couldn't tell.
As I drew nearer, I realized it was quite close. He had his arm around her. I say her because it was a she. Her head was bent over a book, her glossy brunette hair falling over her face. I couldn't make out words, just voices. Draco's was coy, inviting, and suggestive. A small smile was crossed on his magnificent face. His arm was distinctly slung over the girl's thin, arched shoulders. Her voice was annoyed. As though she was trying to shake him off. And from her movements, she looked a bit angry at the fact that Draco was so obviously coming on to her.
I halted before them.
"—Draco I don't want to."
"Why do you keep brushing me away? Did that kiss mean nothing to you!?"
"Draco?" The two heads both shot up simultaneously. Draco's silver eyes widened, and his mouth became an o of complicated surprise.
Hermione Granger (the girl, any shock there?) gasped, and looked at Draco, her eyes narrowed, and her mouth became a thin line.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, letting go of her shoulders.
"Interesting, sweet, I could ask you the very same thing—!"
"Draco, I should go…"
"No," I hissed. "I know when I'm not needed." I turned quickly to go.
"Pansy, you know it yourself, we're not a couple—"
I spun around rigidly. "You said we needed time off! Not that you were dumping me!"
"I'm not 'dumping' anyone—"
"Than who is it, her or I?"
"What?" he asked, looking perplexed at my inquiry.
"That's it. You don't even listen." Tears welled in my eyes, stinging my heart, and stinging my eyes, stinging everything I desperately stood for. He had taken my thunder, my rage, and now I buckled under him, like always.
"Pansy, I didn't mean for you to find out this way!" he called, as I raced away, deliberately not noticing the people watching me, and then staring at Draco, looking for an answer for my emotional outburst. Well, they can just forget anything from him… he never gives it to me, there's nothing he's going to give the world. Because I know him. He doesn't even know him. But if I were a monster, I'd not know my own reflection anymore.
I kept running, passing my friends (what friends? They know I hate them), passing everything in a nonsensical whirling haze, and didn't stop until I reached my bed, which was my only friend at the moment, flung myself unto it's softness, and cried into the pillow, never wanting to stop.
I wanted to lie there forever, drowning.
I would die there.
I wanted to rot there.
Maybe I would.
But no one would dare to touch my corpse.
I'm looking for a new
I'm looking for a new
I'm looking for a new
I'm looking for a new
I have no logical ideas to why I was so taken aback by that image. Why did I not figure it out sooner? He was sick of me! And for why? For what reason should he not be here now, with me, feeling me, by me, touching me… how shall I name the ways he's deceived what I thought to be true?
He never wanted me. I wanted him, and was so callously wrapped up.
Well, here is your fate, Draco, eternal loneliness. I hope you can't live without me.
I hope you toss in your sleep at night.
My insomnia is all that should answer that. I think about you, how weak and shallow it is, I am consumed by you. And I can't breathe without you.
Feel my way, take my pain, and shove it wherever you can find fit.
Because it's the last thing I'd want to own. Someone else's guilt. Someone else's fear. Someone else's romance.
That's how I felt as I sat in front of the fire, my knees curled to my chin, depressingly quiet and alone, as I stared into it's swirling blaze, wanting so greatly to just dive right in. My tear stained face pale, and streaked with stale livid passions. I rocked myself back and forth.
No need to cry now, he's over your life. He's a bug in your life…
"But I need you now," I whispered.
"I hope that's the case," a voice responded to my aimless comment.
I looked over the back of the chair I was perched in. My eyes saw him standing there like a disease about to make me ill.
"Speak of the devil," I said, cold as the air around me. Draco bravely stepped forward, his hair tousled, his clothes a bit wrinkled, his face looked desperately world-weary. The look that almost brought me to my knees, begging for the man's forgiveness.
The 'devil' smiled. "Hey, Pansy."
"Look at you."
"I am."
"Do you like the view?"
"Not in the least."
"Good. Take a good long look, so you can put a definition to the word 'low'. Then, look in the mirror, eat, sleep and live, and you'll see 'low' in action. That's putting it so mildly."
"I've been terrible."
I was now profusely confused. He was pulling me like his own puppet. How sadistic. He wanted me to cave. He was trying to smooth my mad edge. I'll rip his sandpaper.
To little bits! Like my feelings now. I was on my last thread earlier. My thread was no broken, and wrapping around my words, suffocating them in a twisted language of hate and evil. I hated him. I was evil. He was evil. But in such a different way. In a such different way.
I'll kill him now.
I'll kill him in the dark, where his screams will be no more. Then I'll throw him to the fire, that's what I'll do and destroy his evidence.
I would. In that state of madness I was now in, I'd do anything. Even murder.
"What an understatement," I snapped, clenching my fists white. "I'll be blunt with you: what do you want?"
"To apologize."
It was a like an ugly, harsh slap in the face. I didn't know what game he was playing (but for the sake of all that I deem holy, was he playing a game?)
I laughed mockingly. "Oh, to apologize. And, tell me this: for what?" I wanted to hear him say those words… I wanted to taste their bittersweet flavor in the air in which they would hang. I wanted them to be born on his lips, fly around me and fade to their death.
"For almost losing you." He sank into the chair next to me. I didn't dare look into The Eyes. I knew what grounds I stood on would fall underneath me if I did. "For doing that. Pansy, this is a chance to take me back. I need it." He reached out, and took firm hold of my chin, making it face him. "I don't want to lose you. You're the only thing I have left, Pansy. The only. What am I without you?"
I pushed his hand away. "Better off."
"Pansy—"
"Don't even say my name," I said, menace lacing my voice, like a boot. "You want me like you want the plague. You bumped me off so you could make your move on Hermione…"
"It isn't like that at all. We needed time to breathe—"
"And me, in a wallow of misery, and you cavorting with other girls?! Don't you know what you did to me Draco?" I whispered, tears running slowly down my cheeks. "I loved you. I wanted to be with you. Lord, I'd be you, if it meant getting closer. But after all the effort… I had enough for the both of us, and so tragic you never took my offerings! You left me helpless, Draco! I kept wondering if I was something that I was doing wrong, or something you were doing, and I was so confused. I was confused. And now you're here apologizing? I'm even more confused than before. It would have been better if you would have stormed in here and screamed at me—"
"But that's just it," he replied, looked so sweet and hurt. All a façade. "I want a perfect relationship with you now. Start over. We'll have no disagreements, now. A perfect life."
"You know the only problem with a marriage that is perfect is? The perfection is the problem. Draco, do you not see? Do you not here? If you don't communicate, then what good is it living together? You could love each other from afar, and never speak, and still feel the same cold air!"
"Pansy." He stroked my hand, and took hold of it. It was so cold. Like ice. His tone was nice and quiet, like a crying child I was, and he was the parent trying to comfort me, all the while in subtle amusement at my extreme feelings over a simple matter. Simple for you, Draco. "Pansy…"
"Don't you get it?" I yelled, snatching my hand back.
And like a whip, his hand shot out, and grasped my wrist, turning my hand white. He jerked the arm, until my nose nearly touched his, his hot breath blowing onto my face. I actually enjoyed that, though.
"Listen," he growled, talking like a villain in an old western movie, with a tough brow, and clenched teeth, and an attitude to match any evil, "I am giving you a chance to have a better relationship. Listen to me Pansy. I was wrong. Dead wrong. I need you. Now stop making this hard!"
There we sat in stunned silence, both surprised at Draco's reaction to my cold shoulder. It was so tense, the very atoms in the air seemed to freeze. The sound of his ragged, wild breathing, and the crackling fire were the only sound I heard, as the truth dawned on me.
"You tyrant! You control freak. All you want is me to be your simpering woman!"
"Now, Pansy…"
"You only want me so I can please you. You don't want them because they're too strong-willed to cater to your chauvinistic ways! You only want me because I'm weak, and I'll do you, you think! Isn't that the truth Draco?"
"I only want what's best for us. I've given it a lot of thought."
"You've always had a sexist attitude towards our relationship haven't you? Weak woman, strong man, always doing for you," I said, as I rose to my feet. "You tried to get away. You said I smothered you. But you only left me to make your evil little rounds. You thought we were safe. But all along you loved it, because you had a back up, and you knew I would come crawling back. Well you were so right, Draco. But now you're wrong. I hope I never see your lying face in my presence ever again." The tears had begun once more, as I began to back away.
"All I said we needed was some time to collect our thoughts. Split for awhile. Be alone."
I shook my head in disgust. The truth was all over his face. "I hope you burn. And take those words to the grave with you, because they certainly never reached me. Regret the day you spoke them, and hate it for the rest of your life. As short or as long as you shall live."
And then, I left his bewildered and hurt face, sitting there watching me. How does it feel now, Draco? How does it feel to be ripped to shreds? Marvelous? Well, that's how you did me. Your own medicine isn't as sweet as it was when you gave it to me.
But what will haunt me forever, is that last look on his face, the look of very hurt little boy inside Draco. The one that comes out when he's in his utmost distraught stages. A look he will have carry from his childhood.
The look of his face alone will rip my heart with guilt, and scatter it's shreds along the dust path that used to be my life.
We were the talk of the town
We were the talk of the town
We were the talk of the town
We were the talk of the town
And just as easy as one snapping their fingers, I left him sitting there. And oh, how I was crying inside. On the outside, I was so confident about my decision. But inside my mind, there was a small person, classic devil horns protruding from her hair, her tail swishing, and she was laughing. It rang throughout my mind. It was my evil, triumphantly laughing. I left him there coldly.
And my good conscience was bound and gagged, and crying out with eye messages. Go back, she pleads, go back to him.
Amusing. Using my good and evil in the manifestations of smaller people. Quite eerie, actually.
I'd laugh at the voice. Because now I had clarity.
But what is clarity if it is so fogged and vague?
And now I sit here on my bed, rocking back and forth, wild ideas racing through my mind, watching the pieces of paper on the floor.
I wanted to go pick them up.
I wanted to gather them. And kiss them. And worship them.
But now, they were just that—pieces.
Like pieces of you and I scattered. Those bits are what's left of my love and respect for you Draco, and my love and respect for myself is torn on that floor as well.
Thank you, for making me hate you. Thank you for making me hate myself. Thank you for making a simple thing so complicated. Thank you for being yourself.
You're a selfish person.
But who am I, the brilliant empress, sitting atop a throne of her own egotism, to speak of you as such?
For I am empress. I do as I please.
Even if it means giving up you. And as much as I detest you, and your parents, and the night they created you, and the day you were born, I wonder through all of this, why is it so devastatingly hard to give you up?
We could switch back to that theory. The theory that I know it's wrong. But I want more.
Because Draco, my love for you was like poison chocolate. All the while I took it, I knew how bad it was for me, but I kept on, and after it was over, I stumbled back, drugged, wanting more, knowing all along the dangers of it.
It made me ill, but it tasted so good.
I want more of your chocolate, Draco.
Poison me.
Poison me sweetly.
But now, I'm am slowly dying because of your venom, and that, I do not need. So take all that you lack, and try to compensate greatly for it, because I see through you, and to your faults and flaws you so aptly hide under a translucent mask.
You knew me.
I once knew you.
I thought you were not like the rest.
I thought you were special, Draco.
And I am still so deathly wrong.
I thought you were special
I thought you were special
I thought you were special
I thought you were special…
Authors ending note: I'm done. :D It took me so long! We had these tests a few weeks back, when I was writing this, so I had to stop. I had a childrens book to write. (for English; it was inspired by Savage Garden's 'Santa Monica' [?], about a lonely teen who befriends several comic book characters who come to life.) And then I had my technology project (a Powerpoint presentation on the Laura D'Amato oil spill) due. And I also did a music video for my Career Discovery class. Guess what mine was on? 'To the Moon and Back' by Savage Garden! Hurray for me. I had to dance and sing by myself because I didn't want a partner. Everyone said they were really impressed by mine, but I didn't like it. But later this month, I'm performing in front of the whole school. . The best by far were these four boys, doing 'Welcome to the Jungle' by Guns 'N' Roses. They had cool flashing strobe lights, and real instruments. So, now I'm boring you, and now you know why I've been so busy, busy, busy! So review please. ^_^ I hate saying that. I honestly sound like I'm begging. Anyway…:: lowers flame-proof goggles over eyes:: bring on the flames! Wooo! ::runs off in search of water::