Part 1 Complicate You
"you let me violate you, you let me desecrate you
you let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you"
I stood in shock as he looked at me. I'll never understand how green eyes can show such fire. I grew being told fire was red, occasionally orange or yellow, or else it wasn't fire. But this was fire; I could feel it melting me down. I could feel myself shiver under his gaze hoping he didn't notice it. If he had, he'd know he was winning. And Malfoy's always win. The Boy Who Was Supposed To Be Dead was not going to change the way I lived. He was not going to violate the way I worked. So instead I just stared back into his eyes. His fire.
"Why is it that you're only happy when I'm in pain? Why is it you're a dirty, immoral bastard, yet it's when I'm with you that the earth spins and I feel right?"
I just stared. It's not as if I couldn't have answered. I could have. Should have. Would have. If I could stop looking into his eyes, his fire. Suddenly, I was very hot. It was as if the fire from his eyes was warming me. Burning me. I tried to look away, but I couldn't even breathe. My breath caught in my throat and I knew my loss was showing. He knew he was winning. God, if only he knew why. I felt like I was going blind. Soon my eyes would start to water. Soon I wont be able to do anything but lose myself in the fire. I was losing comprehension. I was getting irrational. And suddenly my entire being was filled with Harry's fire and I felt desecrated. I felt broken. He knew he'd broken me too. And he looked away. All of sudden, my comprehension came back, and I was able to realize that Harry's fire was a mirror of myself, and my hate. My hate because Malfoy's are allowed to hate and all. Just as long as you win, which I knew I hadn't. I closed my eyes and fought against my urge to open them as I felt Harry's gaze on me again. How dare he, I thought to myself, how dare he look at me and take everything I have left. He's already taken everything that mattered. Why won't he just leave me alone? I opened my eyes and looked quickly into Harry's puzzled expression. The fire was gone. The hate, for now, was gone. The fire flickered away in my pain.
"Well? Are you even going to answer me? Are you going to come off your high horse and stop being so bloody wicked?"
"Are you sure that's what you want. Potter?" I stated it all as if it did not matter. Even though we both knew the words were by far the most important spoken the entire night. I stated it all nonchalantly except for his name, which I said with an unfamiliar, even for them, icy chill. Harry seemed taken aback. He simply looked into the gray pools of my eyes watching my every movement, my every fearful twitch. I watched him back, in slight horror thinking about how to make him answer, now that he was angry, downright livid actually, it was going to be harder. But not impossible, nothing's impossible. Just being here with Harry was proving that to him. Then as unexpected as my own statement had come, came Harry's.
"Don't think you actually mean anything to me. Don't think you ever will. Don't think I want anything from this relationship that I cant get somewhere else. Don't think you mean anything.
The words cut me deep. I didn't bleed; the wounds were far deeper than that. I felt the jagged edges of what Harry was saying. I knew he was lying. He wished what he said was true, but even that much struck me to the core. Made me want to die. I really wish this could have happened some other way. But looking back, I realize it couldn't have, and don't see how I couldn't have seen what we were doing before it got to where it was now, and would be forever. Forever, such a sick and twisted word. Young couples who think they know what love is whispering 'forever' into each other's ears. Married people lying through there teeth and wishing constantly that the love they'd thought they had would come back, never realizing what a sick word love was as well. Love was not what people made it out to be. It wasn't lucky. It was hell. Love took hate, and what most people thought was love, was nowhere near how far Harry and I have gone. We are in love. But the only problem with this, is what most people look over, love is hate, just another way of interpreting it. I'm almost bloody sure that only Harry and me know that though. We're definitely one of a kind, I just wish that I'd never met him, being with him is hell and heaven all at once, and I'm tired of it.
"You don't mean that Harry, the only thing that should mean nothing is love, we both know that."
"you let me violate you, you let me desecrate you
you let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you"
I stood in shock as he looked at me. I'll never understand how green eyes can show such fire. I grew being told fire was red, occasionally orange or yellow, or else it wasn't fire. But this was fire; I could feel it melting me down. I could feel myself shiver under his gaze hoping he didn't notice it. If he had, he'd know he was winning. And Malfoy's always win. The Boy Who Was Supposed To Be Dead was not going to change the way I lived. He was not going to violate the way I worked. So instead I just stared back into his eyes. His fire.
"Why is it that you're only happy when I'm in pain? Why is it you're a dirty, immoral bastard, yet it's when I'm with you that the earth spins and I feel right?"
I just stared. It's not as if I couldn't have answered. I could have. Should have. Would have. If I could stop looking into his eyes, his fire. Suddenly, I was very hot. It was as if the fire from his eyes was warming me. Burning me. I tried to look away, but I couldn't even breathe. My breath caught in my throat and I knew my loss was showing. He knew he was winning. God, if only he knew why. I felt like I was going blind. Soon my eyes would start to water. Soon I wont be able to do anything but lose myself in the fire. I was losing comprehension. I was getting irrational. And suddenly my entire being was filled with Harry's fire and I felt desecrated. I felt broken. He knew he'd broken me too. And he looked away. All of sudden, my comprehension came back, and I was able to realize that Harry's fire was a mirror of myself, and my hate. My hate because Malfoy's are allowed to hate and all. Just as long as you win, which I knew I hadn't. I closed my eyes and fought against my urge to open them as I felt Harry's gaze on me again. How dare he, I thought to myself, how dare he look at me and take everything I have left. He's already taken everything that mattered. Why won't he just leave me alone? I opened my eyes and looked quickly into Harry's puzzled expression. The fire was gone. The hate, for now, was gone. The fire flickered away in my pain.
"Well? Are you even going to answer me? Are you going to come off your high horse and stop being so bloody wicked?"
"Are you sure that's what you want. Potter?" I stated it all as if it did not matter. Even though we both knew the words were by far the most important spoken the entire night. I stated it all nonchalantly except for his name, which I said with an unfamiliar, even for them, icy chill. Harry seemed taken aback. He simply looked into the gray pools of my eyes watching my every movement, my every fearful twitch. I watched him back, in slight horror thinking about how to make him answer, now that he was angry, downright livid actually, it was going to be harder. But not impossible, nothing's impossible. Just being here with Harry was proving that to him. Then as unexpected as my own statement had come, came Harry's.
"Don't think you actually mean anything to me. Don't think you ever will. Don't think I want anything from this relationship that I cant get somewhere else. Don't think you mean anything.
The words cut me deep. I didn't bleed; the wounds were far deeper than that. I felt the jagged edges of what Harry was saying. I knew he was lying. He wished what he said was true, but even that much struck me to the core. Made me want to die. I really wish this could have happened some other way. But looking back, I realize it couldn't have, and don't see how I couldn't have seen what we were doing before it got to where it was now, and would be forever. Forever, such a sick and twisted word. Young couples who think they know what love is whispering 'forever' into each other's ears. Married people lying through there teeth and wishing constantly that the love they'd thought they had would come back, never realizing what a sick word love was as well. Love was not what people made it out to be. It wasn't lucky. It was hell. Love took hate, and what most people thought was love, was nowhere near how far Harry and I have gone. We are in love. But the only problem with this, is what most people look over, love is hate, just another way of interpreting it. I'm almost bloody sure that only Harry and me know that though. We're definitely one of a kind, I just wish that I'd never met him, being with him is hell and heaven all at once, and I'm tired of it.
"You don't mean that Harry, the only thing that should mean nothing is love, we both know that."