Caged 8
by: Isa
PG-13
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise either belongs to J.K. Rowling or to Garbage.
A.N.- Thank you so much to all my reviewers.
Ace of Spades, I'm glad you like it. Actually you're right, I'm leaving hints all through the story.
JLF, I wrote Harry like that, not only because I don't like him very much, but also because he is very important to the plot.
Evenstar, I showed a bit of Draco in this one, but I used him mostly to explain Ginny's views.
Thank you so, so much to SnapeJuice, The Mistress of Angst, for her invaluable help.
*
"Steal me, deal me, anyway you heal me
Maim me, tame me, you can never change me
Love me, like me, come ahead and fight me
Please me, tease me, go ahead and leave me
Bend me, break me, anyway you need me
As long as I want you baby it's alright."
I Think I'm Paranoid - Garbage
*
When I awaken, he is already here.
Sitting on the cold floor, leaning against the bars.
He looks tired.
The dark circles under his eyes are even more pronounced.
He is wearing dark blue.
Normally it would suit him, but now it only makes him seem more defeated.
He is crying.
I go to him.
Cradle him against me.
"What is it, Draco?"
He doesn't move to embrace me but he doesn't push me away either.
"Tell me what's the matter."
"Like father, like son," he mumbles against my throat.
I rock him gently, back and forth.
My hands running through his silky hair.
"The strangest of the strange," he says with empty eyes.
"The coldest of the cool," he goes on, as if needing to add to it.
"The lamest of the lame," he whispers.
I kiss his forehead.
The skin cool beneath my lips.
He talks again. "Going on, choking on my smile. The deadest of the dead."
I hum a little lullaby.
"Fakest of the fake," he goes on. "A million lies to tell myself, it's all I ever had."
He falls asleep in my arms.
*
He sleeps for a long time.
It feels so good to hold him.
Like we were meant to be so close.
Like he belongs in my arms.
I take the time to study him.
Pale eyelashes. So long they rest on top of his cheekbones.
Pale skin. So pale it's almost translucent.
Pale mouth. So pale I want to redden it up with kisses.
Not a single freckle.
I don't know how he does it. Not a single one.
Proud straight nose.
Prominent cheekbones.
Pointed chin.
And fine silver hair caressing his face, sticking to drying tears.
Long fingers with perfectly manicured nails.
The expensive suit that seems to wrinkle just from touching me.
The lack of sleep in his features.
The scent of warm skin, so close.
Too close.
Too warm.
He seems a bit feverish.
A delicate, almost feminine neck.
His face prickling my own neck.
The first time I've seen him with stubble.
He stirs.
His eyes flutter for a moment before opening.
Unfocused.
Uncomprehending.
"You're wrong, you know?" he asks me.
"Wrong?" Just to indulge him. Anything to hear his voice.
"You hide inside your head."
I stiffen.
I force myself to relax.
He doesn't seem to notice.
"What drives you on will drive you mad."
I don't like where this is going.
He's not the one that's supposed to tell me the truth.
"It only brings you more pain," he tells me.
"You learn to love the pain you feel," I answer.
"You should try to save yourself instead."
I smile. "I'm saving you."
He's unconcerned.
I press on.
"I know what's good for you."
He starts to move away.
My arms tighten around him.
"You can touch me if you want," I tell him.
He pushes me away.
He seems disgusted with himself.
He stares at me.
Hurt clear in his eyes.
The hate just as clear.
I cry.
"I'm sorry if I hurt you," I plead.
"I want to see you happy," I sob. "I want to see you smile."
He shakes his head.
"You stupid girl, I swear I'll never understand."
He leaves.
I run to the bars, my hands sliding along them. Wet with tears.
I don't want him to go.
by: Isa
PG-13
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise either belongs to J.K. Rowling or to Garbage.
A.N.- Thank you so much to all my reviewers.
Ace of Spades, I'm glad you like it. Actually you're right, I'm leaving hints all through the story.
JLF, I wrote Harry like that, not only because I don't like him very much, but also because he is very important to the plot.
Evenstar, I showed a bit of Draco in this one, but I used him mostly to explain Ginny's views.
Thank you so, so much to SnapeJuice, The Mistress of Angst, for her invaluable help.
*
"Steal me, deal me, anyway you heal me
Maim me, tame me, you can never change me
Love me, like me, come ahead and fight me
Please me, tease me, go ahead and leave me
Bend me, break me, anyway you need me
As long as I want you baby it's alright."
I Think I'm Paranoid - Garbage
*
When I awaken, he is already here.
Sitting on the cold floor, leaning against the bars.
He looks tired.
The dark circles under his eyes are even more pronounced.
He is wearing dark blue.
Normally it would suit him, but now it only makes him seem more defeated.
He is crying.
I go to him.
Cradle him against me.
"What is it, Draco?"
He doesn't move to embrace me but he doesn't push me away either.
"Tell me what's the matter."
"Like father, like son," he mumbles against my throat.
I rock him gently, back and forth.
My hands running through his silky hair.
"The strangest of the strange," he says with empty eyes.
"The coldest of the cool," he goes on, as if needing to add to it.
"The lamest of the lame," he whispers.
I kiss his forehead.
The skin cool beneath my lips.
He talks again. "Going on, choking on my smile. The deadest of the dead."
I hum a little lullaby.
"Fakest of the fake," he goes on. "A million lies to tell myself, it's all I ever had."
He falls asleep in my arms.
*
He sleeps for a long time.
It feels so good to hold him.
Like we were meant to be so close.
Like he belongs in my arms.
I take the time to study him.
Pale eyelashes. So long they rest on top of his cheekbones.
Pale skin. So pale it's almost translucent.
Pale mouth. So pale I want to redden it up with kisses.
Not a single freckle.
I don't know how he does it. Not a single one.
Proud straight nose.
Prominent cheekbones.
Pointed chin.
And fine silver hair caressing his face, sticking to drying tears.
Long fingers with perfectly manicured nails.
The expensive suit that seems to wrinkle just from touching me.
The lack of sleep in his features.
The scent of warm skin, so close.
Too close.
Too warm.
He seems a bit feverish.
A delicate, almost feminine neck.
His face prickling my own neck.
The first time I've seen him with stubble.
He stirs.
His eyes flutter for a moment before opening.
Unfocused.
Uncomprehending.
"You're wrong, you know?" he asks me.
"Wrong?" Just to indulge him. Anything to hear his voice.
"You hide inside your head."
I stiffen.
I force myself to relax.
He doesn't seem to notice.
"What drives you on will drive you mad."
I don't like where this is going.
He's not the one that's supposed to tell me the truth.
"It only brings you more pain," he tells me.
"You learn to love the pain you feel," I answer.
"You should try to save yourself instead."
I smile. "I'm saving you."
He's unconcerned.
I press on.
"I know what's good for you."
He starts to move away.
My arms tighten around him.
"You can touch me if you want," I tell him.
He pushes me away.
He seems disgusted with himself.
He stares at me.
Hurt clear in his eyes.
The hate just as clear.
I cry.
"I'm sorry if I hurt you," I plead.
"I want to see you happy," I sob. "I want to see you smile."
He shakes his head.
"You stupid girl, I swear I'll never understand."
He leaves.
I run to the bars, my hands sliding along them. Wet with tears.
I don't want him to go.