Ahem :0) this is the end!!!!!! its been an experience and im writing the sequal, i need to do something to Draco and Ama
dont it ? COMMENT!!!!


''Learn to care' oh god please let it be said that I learnt that lesson. I care, I can't seem
to help myself....'

She gently dropped the diary, she couldn't understand the need she felt to record her thoughts,
or perhaps she could. Looking down at the silent sleeping face on the pillow of her bed. Hermoine
had moved in next door, the room had been empty and she seemed to understand her need for
privacy.

Draco of course had revelled in the fact that the room could be easily accessed, he wasn't a
welcome sight in the Gryffindor common room, but then, when alone neither was she. A sigh worked
out of her and she slid, naked, from the bed and stood in the wide window. It didn't have any glass in
it, an enchantment to allow her easy access to the night winds when the curse came upon her.

The moon was a mere sliver now, a silver sword against the dark but she could feel the pull in her
blood. She was a dragon born sorceress, she had mated herself by her own choice to a human
wizard. According to all the oldest texts it would only end in disaster, and yet she wouldn't change
a thing.

Love held her with the strongest bonds she had ever know, stronger than spell or steel. She had
said it a thousand times, and yet the words were never returned. Her Drake's eyes would silver
in stages from sea grey until they shimmered with white hot heat, he would call to her in the midst
of pleasure, her name, a thousand gods, but never the words.

Her insecurity was showing, another sigh, gooseflesh climbing her skin, she should go back to bed.
Save herself from the chill, instead she leant against the stone of the window and continued
to stare, counting silently an eternity of silver stars.

***

He had to watch her, it had become his habit, watching her every move. Since Dumbledore had
told them she could stay he had been able to relax a little, but he still watched. It was almost
obsessive, his fellow Slytherins were torn between hating the fact that the girl he was so transparently
obsessed with was a Gryffindor and being jealous of her family connections.

They didn't know her.

They hadn't heard her wake screaming from nightmares, they hadn't seen her like this, staring
pensively out into the night as if its velvet cloak held the answer to every question she had
ever asked.

He was one of those questions, he knew. But how could you say those three words that he knew
she wanted to hear, when you didn't believe in them, when all of the times you had said them, or
heard them said had been lies.

The words didn't mean anything, he was convinced of it, but when she said them.....

Sighing he slid out of bed and walked to her, nudity between the pair of them wasn't an issue,
he knew her scars and she knew his, and their bodies, well that was obvious. Looking down into
the darkness of those purple eyes he felt something like pain touch his heart, she was so still. So
contained, deep within herself.

Wrapping his arms around her he placed his head on the top of tousled white hair.

"Deep thoughts Amaris?"

She shook her head

"Just counting the stars Amore"

He shook with that, it was a sweet torture the things he felt for her. If he was to take it at the
dictionary definition then he loved her, and loved her madly, but the dictionary was just words. And
words could be honed like weapons, where she was concerned the cats claws he had developed
in that department were blunted and useless, to hurt her was to hurt himself, and that, that was
pointless.

"Amaris, I..."

Shaking his head he kissed her hair

"I, Care"

For a moment he was sure she'd speak, they'd been through so much, he doubted she'd settle
for so little. He knew he couldn't have but she turned in his arms and kissed his chest, as if
he'd given her something infinitely worth having, then she looked up and there was a wickedly tender gleam in her eye.

"Then show me"

For a second he was confused and then with a laugh he lifted her and carried her back to bed.
After all actions speak louder than words.

***

The truest visions are rare, the sort of seeing that only those born gifted have.

Nightmare images, blood and thunder.

Albus Dumbledore had just been presented with one, and it had to be taken seriously, treated
with the respect that the pain it had caused deserved.

The safety of his school brought with blood.

Perhaps it would be worth it, perhaps not.

Old features hardened with the sort of granite strength that had made him feared.

He would take the chance.