(A/n: okay, I changed a couple of small things in the last chapter and made
the Epilogue one of its own. More added to it of course. Enjoy.)
Epilogue:
I haven't been the same since her; she had feasted upon my innocence in her short time, and took every last bit of it, until there was nothing left to take. So here I am, an emotional wreck and so very fragile.
I didn't watch them leave that next day. I didn't talk to anyone, not until that next fall, as a matter of fact. I spent most of my summer going for 'walks' in the woods near the burrow. I don't think I had a sober day for a year; a year and six months exactly, actually.
I liked being alone, going through life with a clouded head. Everything was so much easier. I didn't have to think or feel anything, and if I did I could always take more, drink more, smoke more; everything in excess. I Wouldn't have wanted it, no; I Couldn't have had it any other way. I was alone, always alone, drifting through life like a raft in the ocean.
I had begun self mutilation before she left, you know, sometime after we started meeting at the pitch. I remember; I used to sit in the shower with my knife or razor and cut, cut, cut, everywhere; my thighs, my arms, my ankles, my chest, my shoulders. I liked to watch the red of the blood dilute and swirl with the pure, clean water as it went down the drain.
Sometimes I would sit in there for hours, letting myself get light headed and tunnel vision. It was almost as good as getting high or drunk. Sometimes the smallest little cut can make one feel like that, high, and on top of the world. Most of the major scars have faded, but I have yet to kick the habit.
Eventually Hermione and I got together. She loves me in all that I am and all I am not. She has helped me sober up and be a happier, more enjoyable person. I love her too. I haven't been able to love in a long time, but now I can say I can. She is everything I want in someone. And I know she will do her best to keep me from pain. That, in itself, is amazing. I don't think anyone has ever loved me like that. It also helps we have enough in common to have a good foundation, but enough differences to keep things from getting mind numbing.
Sex is interesting. For some reason, when I have fresh cuts on my shoulders, that Hermione is going to bite them when she put her face by them, but she doesn't. She kisses them, then me, and makes me feel safe and comfy, like nothing can hurt me when we're wrapped up together. I actually enjoy cumming and making her cum. I like it when she uses her nimble fingers to find every 'tickle' spot on my body. I like the little noises of pleasure she makes.
Fleur never made any noise. She made me feel like a whore, who bended to her every whim, because I did. It was so mechanical and serious when we fucked, the polar opposite of making love with Hermione, which is whimsical and happy, no matter the circumstance.
Sometimes I almost want Hermione to hurt me, just because it was part of the mechanical fucking. After two and a half years it's still engrained in my head. I don't even know if I like it, or what. Just, sometimes I want to ask her to do something painful, or sometimes I won't tell her when something hurts, but she knows. She knows my body, and my limits and she will say something if I don't. I feel bad doing that, because it brings her to tears.
I'm sorry baby, I won't lie again, I promise. You know me, a promise is a promise, and I hate to see you hurt. You know I won't go back on it.
I don't understand. I'm sure it will be with me still, no matter how much I don't want it to be a part of my past and me. Sometimes I forget, and I'm elated, hand in hand with my girlfriend, but am quickly reminded when I get a floo-call or an owl from Fleur, asking when I'm free next, and my mood falters and crumbles to bitterness, and hurt.
Here's the thing, I am free. I'm free from Fleur, and I never want to see her again.
Fleur has come to visit from France every once in a while, and hasn't changed a bit. She tries to tell me she loves me, but all she wants to do is fuck. Honestly, I can't stand the sight of her anymore. I hear she is moving here, to England, to work in the ministry as a spy. She'll be close enough to haunt me.
Hermione has yet to begin to comprehend what went on between me and Fleur. I was a toy. Used over and over, and I couldn't stop it. Now I'm affected forever. It's like being hemophilic, once the bleeding starts, it's hard to stop.
(A/n: well that's much better. See that little box in the lower left hand corner... yeah, that one... now, review!)
Epilogue:
I haven't been the same since her; she had feasted upon my innocence in her short time, and took every last bit of it, until there was nothing left to take. So here I am, an emotional wreck and so very fragile.
I didn't watch them leave that next day. I didn't talk to anyone, not until that next fall, as a matter of fact. I spent most of my summer going for 'walks' in the woods near the burrow. I don't think I had a sober day for a year; a year and six months exactly, actually.
I liked being alone, going through life with a clouded head. Everything was so much easier. I didn't have to think or feel anything, and if I did I could always take more, drink more, smoke more; everything in excess. I Wouldn't have wanted it, no; I Couldn't have had it any other way. I was alone, always alone, drifting through life like a raft in the ocean.
I had begun self mutilation before she left, you know, sometime after we started meeting at the pitch. I remember; I used to sit in the shower with my knife or razor and cut, cut, cut, everywhere; my thighs, my arms, my ankles, my chest, my shoulders. I liked to watch the red of the blood dilute and swirl with the pure, clean water as it went down the drain.
Sometimes I would sit in there for hours, letting myself get light headed and tunnel vision. It was almost as good as getting high or drunk. Sometimes the smallest little cut can make one feel like that, high, and on top of the world. Most of the major scars have faded, but I have yet to kick the habit.
Eventually Hermione and I got together. She loves me in all that I am and all I am not. She has helped me sober up and be a happier, more enjoyable person. I love her too. I haven't been able to love in a long time, but now I can say I can. She is everything I want in someone. And I know she will do her best to keep me from pain. That, in itself, is amazing. I don't think anyone has ever loved me like that. It also helps we have enough in common to have a good foundation, but enough differences to keep things from getting mind numbing.
Sex is interesting. For some reason, when I have fresh cuts on my shoulders, that Hermione is going to bite them when she put her face by them, but she doesn't. She kisses them, then me, and makes me feel safe and comfy, like nothing can hurt me when we're wrapped up together. I actually enjoy cumming and making her cum. I like it when she uses her nimble fingers to find every 'tickle' spot on my body. I like the little noises of pleasure she makes.
Fleur never made any noise. She made me feel like a whore, who bended to her every whim, because I did. It was so mechanical and serious when we fucked, the polar opposite of making love with Hermione, which is whimsical and happy, no matter the circumstance.
Sometimes I almost want Hermione to hurt me, just because it was part of the mechanical fucking. After two and a half years it's still engrained in my head. I don't even know if I like it, or what. Just, sometimes I want to ask her to do something painful, or sometimes I won't tell her when something hurts, but she knows. She knows my body, and my limits and she will say something if I don't. I feel bad doing that, because it brings her to tears.
I'm sorry baby, I won't lie again, I promise. You know me, a promise is a promise, and I hate to see you hurt. You know I won't go back on it.
I don't understand. I'm sure it will be with me still, no matter how much I don't want it to be a part of my past and me. Sometimes I forget, and I'm elated, hand in hand with my girlfriend, but am quickly reminded when I get a floo-call or an owl from Fleur, asking when I'm free next, and my mood falters and crumbles to bitterness, and hurt.
Here's the thing, I am free. I'm free from Fleur, and I never want to see her again.
Fleur has come to visit from France every once in a while, and hasn't changed a bit. She tries to tell me she loves me, but all she wants to do is fuck. Honestly, I can't stand the sight of her anymore. I hear she is moving here, to England, to work in the ministry as a spy. She'll be close enough to haunt me.
Hermione has yet to begin to comprehend what went on between me and Fleur. I was a toy. Used over and over, and I couldn't stop it. Now I'm affected forever. It's like being hemophilic, once the bleeding starts, it's hard to stop.
(A/n: well that's much better. See that little box in the lower left hand corner... yeah, that one... now, review!)
