I've become so numb

I can't feel you there

I've become so tired

So much more aware


I am tired suddenly.

I sink to my knees, watching my fingers sweep ghostly trails over the floor.

Footsteps approach. I look up at him.

He scowls at me.


"Don't even think of pulling another trick like yesterday," he says.


What trick?


"What are you on about?" I ask, rising to my feet.


His silver eyes narrow. "Don't toy with me, Weasley."


"Malfoy, could you stop being yourself for a moment and listen ? I have no idea what you're talking about."


He continues to glare at me. After a moment, however, his eyes widen.


Before I know it, he is inside with me.

My head is spinning. What is he doing?

I open my mouth to ask him and his lips meet mine.

His kiss is rough, and I want to scream.

I pound my fists against his chest, but my traitorous lips are accepting of the contact. They open to allow his tongue passage.

Angry tears sting my eyes. What does he want with me?


After what seems like an eternity, he pulls away, shoving me backward.

I fall to the floor.


A flash of red.

I feel my blood pounding in my veins.

Raw power, cupped in my hands. White hot fire.



I glare at him, and the condescending smirk falls from his face.

I can tell from his expression that he is in great pain.

And I enjoy it.

Let him suffer, let him burn.

He sinks to his knees, staggering under the weight of my power.

Still, stubborn git that he is, he refuses to scream.


I grow bored. It is no fun when they do not fight.

I lift the magic from him, slowly. Alleviating the pain bit by bit.

I shall not kill him. Yet.


He stumbles to his feet, still considerably weak.

He looks at me with open hatred in his eyes. It is a rare occasion, indeed, to see a Malfoy unguarded.


Suddenly I feel my energy draining.

Another flash of red.

And then all fades to black.


*


I wake.

He is still here.


"Merlin, Weasley. What the hell is wrong with you?"


I bring a hand to my throbbing head.


"I– I do not know."


He looks down at his hands. "They want you, you know."


"Wh-who?" It seems all I can manage is stuttering.


Harsh, bitter laughter. "You'll know soon enough."


Silence.


"Weasley, as fun as this has been, I must be going now," Malfoy says bitterly. He stands and in an instant he is on the other side of the door. He begins to walk away.


I snap my head up, ignoring the sharp pain the action brings. "Wait!"


He stops but does not look back.


"Where is Harry?" For some reason, I do not ask about my family. The ghastly image of blank green eyes will not fade from my mind.


"Potter is dead," he says casually. "Good night."