Disclaimer: Own nothing.
Note: All hail to thy confusion.
Rating: Pg13
My words.
I feel like
Writing
The blackened
Brush of my
Ink
Scribbling away
The lopping swirls of
My letters
My words
So sharp
They almost bleed
Blackened red
They hurt, you
Say
I write back,
Instead
Choosing to
Poke and
Pierce you
In return
Words
They smirk
A life all their
Own
You sob
They snicker
And stab
Again
…
Three days ahead…
I always wanted to do it. Sit alone and look ahead. Just sit there and feel the stars above. The grass below. The air around me.
Tried it?
Sitting alone.
On purpose.
As the clouds swept a curtain across the golden surface of the moon, I felt the air quicken and the breeze pick up. My thin sweater could not provide enough warmth and besides I thought it wise enough to return to the castle.
After all, it was nearly an hour since I sat here. Alone. In the middle of the Quidditch Field. ( Not the lake. No, I wont go near the lake again.)
It was clear to me from the rumbling of my stomach, (for I missed Dinner), a late night visit to the Kitchens was in order.
The great castles' door opened easily, despite its humongous size; the air and the musty smell of the castle hitting me directly as it shut behind me with a thud.
Home. Its familiar visage never dimming, its colors of brown and beige never fading, the woods and portraits never ending. Home.
Sighing, I traced the familiar steps that led up to the Kitchens. It was meant to be a peaceful contemplative walk. A walk where I can figure out how messed up my life got. How messed up it can further get.
That was the case at first. But then, right at the corner, the sounds began their echoes…
I crept closer, trying to decipher who it was that was whispering. Daring a glance, I was rewarded with the most unexpected, most peculiar, most-
It was him. And Harry.
Together.
I quickly turned away, my back flushed against the wall, eyes wide open…
What the hell?!
"You can't go tomorrow… it'll get dang-"
"Cut it."
"Listen to me! I am worried about you! You saw what happened to Ginny! Why don't you-"
"Shut up!"
There was a pause.
And I just had to look.
They were right infront of the portrait. The one that blocks the Kitchen's Entrance.
Although, as much as I was fascinated with the Kitchen's own portrait (for who wasn't when its main feature was a ticklish pear), at that moment, I was captivated by another.
Harry was the other portrait.
His appearance captured the essence of turmoil. The lines etched on his face. Cast across his lowered eyes. Molded into his hunched shoulders. His whole stance was emotion. Bold and clear. The strokes were solid and glistening in his eyes. He was truly and utterly distressed.
About what?
Him, on the other hand…A sculpture…He was stone and marble. No emotion and all ice. He just looked at Harry, a somewhat assessing gaze. I wasn't quite sure. It was too dark.
Thoughts churned and raged infront of my eyes. I left the startling picture those two made and stared at my feet instead.
What's happening? What are they talking about? Why the hell is Harry talking to him? What are they doing?!
A rustle of clothing soon interrupted my thoughts.
It was him that was moving. Snow man. Right across the wide length of space that separated him from Harry. Closer. And Closer. And Closer.
Oh god…
Harry now looked up from his forlorn pensive gaze. His eyes widened a little at seeing the black covered figure lethally approach him.
He stood his ground though. Even as the icy glares sliced him each step closer.
Soon he stopped. And touched Harry's cheek tenderly, eliciting a soft sigh from the recipient.
"I was already informed." His words so hard, harsh, clipped. His fingers long, soft, and still caressing Harry's cheek.
"Leave, now. And stop bothering me." He stopped caressing now, moving away from the now disappointed Gryffindor, and turning to walk away.
"Listen." He cast a last demanding glare behind his shoulder, "Friday. 10 o'clock, I'll be-"
He didn't get to finish his sentence- a loud crash sounded before he finished it. It wasn't me.
I cursed, as a pair of eyes looked in my direction. I was luckily quick enough to hide behind the wall that shielded me, but I knew it was futile. I wont be quick enough or silent enough to steal away before they found me.
"Go. I'll find them."
But-
"Idiot. It'll be fewer questions to answer if they found us both. And besides, I am the Perfect. Go on. Leave!" He snarled behind him as he neared me.
I heard his footsteps tap against the marble floor, and prayed to God that he doesn't notice me. Move right past me. Ignore me. Like he used to.
No such luck.
He swept past me, true. But in the last minute, before going around the other corner and safely away from my hiding place, he paused. And looked straight behind his shoulder, meeting my eyes squarely.
I saw menace in there that night.
"Stay put. I'll deal with you after I deal with your friend."
My friend?!
Stay put?
The hell I will. I ran as soon as his steps stopped resounding. I ran as fast as I could. As silent as my fading slippers could manage. One slipped off. No matter. I ignored it and kept on running. I truly was frightened.
He scared me. I had no time to gather my thoughts. Scatter them around until they fit. Tie them together. Tie what Harry said. With what I already know..
But I had no time.
…
…
Two more staircases and then haven. Gryffindor tower.
One more step and then one more hall.
Around the corner…To the last staircase…
Yes! Gryffindor towe--------
…
…
No……..No………No…..!!!
I was mercilessly dragged down the steps that I not moments ago tripped on as I hurriedly ran across them in my haste.
He was brutal. The very word.
As he dragged me down the steps, by the hair, I couldn't help but wander away. I tend to do that when in pain..
Don't you?
Be anywhere but here. Feel anything but the pain.
Feel anything but the long fingers clutching savagely at the tangles of my hair. The one slipper as it slapped against the marble steps. My whimpers as they resounded across the Castle's walls…
I tried to wander, think of happy thoughts, I truly did. But there always were moments that zapped me right back in.
Moments of pure unadulterated pain that sting you back and welcome you into reality.
Moments. Things. Anything that hurts.
Like having your back sharply crash into a rough wooden wall.
Yeah, that'll do.
…Gone are the happy thoughts…
..Back are the dead icy eyes.
"Look at me"
He had both his hands on the wall behind me, caging me in and leaving me no choice but to surrender.
I looked, and what I found I could not comprehend. I found the same lazy distracted look. Mixed with a calculating gleam. I could not understand how he could exhibit such strong emotions in one look, and yet be so closed and mystifying at the same time.
How savage and brutal he could be one second, and lazy and calm in the other.
I had no time to think it over, though. By now he had his fingers trailing and caressing at my cheek.
The slight feathery touch shocked me. True, it wasn't the first time, but giving our dire record together I could only come to one conclusion.
He wanted something.
"Ginny, honey," I snorted unbelievably. He ignored and continued, "I believe that you've overheard something that you shouldn't have." He now looked straight at me, his eyes wide enough to project all his false sincerity. He wrapped his long fingers, cupping my face to his, "I am not going to hurt you, dear." He kissed my forehead. So lovingly.
It sparked something inside, a false sense of security. Safeness, within his arms.
Of course, that was the most ridicules thing that I've ever said. But then again, I was feeling it.
But I knew it was planned. A touch here and there. A whisper, so delicate, smooth. A warm hand resting on my hips, grabbing me nearer. To his warmth. To share it.
He was good.
Really good, and that is why I found myself wrapped up in the feel of him. Letting him touch me, pull me nearer, and feed me his sleek sugared lies.
It was only after he pecked me on the arch of my nose, did I decide to put an end to this. I blamed myself all the while, as I suddenly pushed him away, for detaining this.
I should have been put in Hufflepuff.
I was angry. With myself, I wasn't sure. With him, I was positive. As my anger swelled, I missed the sudden telltale signs on his face.
The sudden straining of his ears, and the narrowed eyes, as he, in all outward appearances, listened.
And then, he smiled. Which freaked the living daylights out of me. A devilish smile that promised eternal hell. His look so transformed him, I found my anger quelled. For a while. Until I heard what he said,
"Ginny, dear." He was still smirking. His hands in his pockets, casually. The devilish arch of his eyebrow still present.
He wasn't even trying.
"I am afraid that if you don't tell me who that person that you've been oh so cleverly spying with on us- me and Blaize-" Here, he cast me a long narrowed look. "Then I am afraid that I wont be held responsible if Blaize decides to take action, if word gets out. You know how ruthless he can get. So, better you and your friend shut up about this. Or else."
All through his tirade, he kept glancing at his left the whole time. After a pause or so, he laughed.
An evil condescending laugh.
"Idiot." He snorted. An elegant snort, I hated to notice.
Glancing now freely about him, he now looked at me.
The normal way. Like he always does.
A careless distracted gaze.
And here, I am afraid, came the inevitable.
I blew up.
I never was explosive around him. Never loudmouthed. In the contrary really, I matched his mood whenever I could. Which was always a careless dispatched attitude. Which explains my quietness around him. I didn't want him to think I cared. Or was delighted with his presence. Even in the short time that he tutored me, I paid close attention to exude the same aloofness he showed towards me.
I was now showing emotions nowhere near the same coldness I tired to imitate.
I was snarling for God's sake… I never do. In fact, I never hiss my words in anger. Nor do I point out my aggravations. I don't sneer and scoff. I don't growl out accusations and I certainly do not cross my arms like a child at the end of a fit.
That inevitably changed.
Soon, I found my wrists snatched, uncrossed savagely, and pinned harshly against the rough wooden wall.
I had no time to recall what I shouted, nor time enough to gather my breath before it was soon gushed out by the hard impact of the wall.
"You shout like a banshee, you know that?"
I whimpered.
"You idiot." He laughed derisively.
I glared.
"I wasn't speaking to you. And I know it wasn't Blaize, Weasley, all this was a charade. Your 'friend' was listening on us just then. Yes, that's right. I was speaking to your 'friend'-"
Here, I tried to stop his hurtful mocking attitude by declaring once and for all that I have no idea who that person is. But he cut me off by tightening his hold on my wrists. It hurt like hell.
" I know. You don't know who it is, do you?" At my small relieved nod, he turned serious. "Then we have a deal, I suppose."
He sounded so disgusted.
"You don't tell anyone its Harry. Even if that 'friend' comes and speaks to you, you say it was Blaize. Understood? No one should know, no, not even the Mudblood and the Weasel." At my defiant hurt look, he shook my wrists and banged them on the wall.
I screamed and slithered downward. The veins were pulsating harshly against my skin, his hold was so tight.
It hurt.
He ignored, and lifted me up by the wrists, so as to make me level with his face.
"A word never gets out, Weasley. Mark my words, if they do."
Even as my vision blurred, I could distinctly feel his glare, feel its intimidation and the sudden sparks of trepidation it shot through me.
But somehow, I found defiance in pain. Boldness in the hurt. And I blurted the first thing I thought of that might tick him off,
"..The other part of the deal? My part?" I whispered sourly.
"You get to live."
Bastard.
I cursed at him. Three languages.
He smiled, scathingly. Hurting me all the more and cutting through my outburst by a little twist of the wrist.
I screamed, opening my mouth wide enough to elicit the horrible sob that racked through me.
I slid along the wall, crying.
He kneeled down along with me, his hands still clutching my wrist.
At least, he allowed my feet to rest…
"You like it rough don't you?"He whispered in my ears. Softly, " You don't like those sweetened lies I give you. You want more, don't you?"
"I want the truth."
"Anything but that."
"Why not?" I sobbed. In to his chest.
"Because I cant."
Such simple words, they burned a vile path down my throat. Scorching my eyes, watering them until I could see no more. I hated. That was all.
"Why cant you tell me?! How come Harry knows?! Who also knows? What have I done to you? Do you hate me that much?! Just tell me, and I promise I wont talk to you again- I- promise…I wont bother..I wont be a bother..I promise…Why cant you.."
I was crying hysterically. Shaking against the wall, away from him. My hands above me, my tears across my face.
I felt his breath against my lips. I moaned. For the hurt or for him, I wasn't sure.
His hands tightened. Involuntarily, I couldn't tell, but the effect it caused was another gasp.
"Open up, wider." He tightened his hold, and I opened up to scream, my mouth wide open for him. His voice strained, urging, "Yes, please."
He took me. All of me. His mouth taking over my already opened one. The scream lost between us, quickly transforming its melody into a trembling beat of pleasure.
He was so urgent. He needed so much. He took and moved. All over me. We both moved, against the wall. Harsh sounds of my back scraping against it. And my harsh breathing. His lips. Taking mine and feeding on it repeatedly. My arms still pinned, his hands messaging my wrists then moving away. Downwards. On me.
He looked as if deprived. I felt so powerful that night, even though I craved him as much.
I broke the kiss as soon as that thought crossed my mind.
He didn't object, slithering his hands away from my hips. And turning away, before meeting my eyes with his now calm icy ones.
"You shouldn't have followed me that night."
He left, but not before taking out my pink slipper from his back pocket and throwing it next to me.
That had one question answered: How he found me.
But then again, that was one in a million.
I had a long road ahead.