A/N This is a different sort of chapter and it is the reason that the rating went up. Thanks to all those who reviewed. I love getting reviews. Enjoy.
(Draco)
I am not a Death Eater.
I don't know how many times I have said that in my lifetime, but the words constantly ring in my head. Despite persecution and disbelief, I never joined the Dark Lord and his forces. Perhaps, long ago, I might have considered it an honor. I might have tortured muggles and committed murder. I might have done any number of horrible things to gain favor with my father's master. At the time it seemed so right, so very real, there was no greater distinction than to be given the Dark Mark.
Then, my father allowed my wife to die. He allowed them to ravage my house and destroy my belongings. He allowed my child's life to be threatened. All in the name of Voldemort. All to save his own skin. He started the fires and ran, like a coward, too afraid to pay for his handiwork.
He understood mob mentality better than most, knew they would be looking for someone to blame. It could have been anyone, any other person in the whole wizarding world, but he chose me. Let word get around that he was hiding in my house, that I was harboring a fugitive. Funny, that if he had asked, I would have. He could have stayed with me as long as he liked. The final choice, though, was to send the mass of angry, hurting people in my direction. Never thought to warn me.
They broke down the door at near two in the morning, wands raised ready for battle. I woke Pansy and ordered her to hide in the secret passage from our room. She shook with fright and hurried to obey, taking our one year old son with her. I grabbed my wand from the nightstand and threw open the door to face them. It was chaos.
A stunning spell missed me by inches, and I retaliated with one of my own. It sailed into the throng of Aurors that were ripping apart my house in search of my father. One of them cried out in pain. Three more tried to traverse the stairs, I knocked one back and hit a second with a blinding curse. The third reached me before I could raise my wand again and threw me over the railing.
The ground met the back of my head hard and I couldn't seem to see straight. Someone grabbed me and was dragging me somewhere.
"It'll be ok, just help me a little." The voice said.
I tried to walk and the world came back into focus.
"Can you see me?" A female voice asked.
I turned and saw Hermione Granger staring back at me.
"I can see you." I said and reached for my wand, but found it was gone.
"You dropped your wand, I didn't have time to grab it. Come on." She said urgently.
From the blue drapes I knew we were in the guest bedroom on the first floor, my head ached as I tried to remember where the entrance to the secret passage was. I knew she was going to kill me, that's what they had come for. She was going to kill me here and take the credit for ending my reign of terror. Those words almost made me laugh.
"Where is Pansy?" She asked.
"No."
"Tell me where she is. They'll find her if we don't get out of here."
"Kill me if you are going to, but I won't let you touch my wife." I was being brave, it was felt strange, as if my whole being fought the act.
"I'm not going to kill you, stop being stupid. The others will and it won't take them long to find us, so tell me where she is so I can help you."
My head was spinning and I thought I might vomit, but I still heard the scream. Pansy. They had found Pansy. My son….
"Come on." I said grabbing Hermione's hand.
I ripped back one of the tapestries and pressed a stone, the door slid open and I ran into the cool darkness. Our footsteps were uneven and she tripped several times as we ran. I led up stone stairs and towards the light of an open door. When we reached it I stopped and stared in disbelief. Pansy lay sprawled on the ground, her eyes open and empty, dead. A man stood in the center of the room with my son held carefully in his arms, his wand pointed at the child's heart.
"This will only hurt a moment little pretty." He was whispering.
"Backer, No." Hermione shouted and pointed her wand at him.
I stepped forward to reach for my son.
"Deffindo." The man shouted and I flew back against the stone wall, something warm dripping down my face.
"Backer, put the child down. It's only a baby." Hermione was saying.
"It's a Malfoy. The line ends here tonight. They have wrecked to much destruction on the world."
"Please." She begged.
"Please." I echoed trying to rise.
"Expelliarmus." She cried.
The man's wand flew into the air and my son fell from his arms. Somehow, the toddler seemed unhurt by the fall.
"Whose side are you on? Are you helping him? That monster?" The man shrieked holding his now bleeding hand.
"Lucius isn't here, we'd have found him already."
"I'll have to kill you as well then, you showed such promise as an Auror."
"Petrificus Totalus" She said easily and the man fell down ridged.
I crawled to my son and held him close, he was crying loudly. There would be others coming, she couldn't fight them forever. I could help. I could fight. Yet, I was unable to move. My skull felt like it would burst, my wife was dead, my son was wailing….
"Up." Hermione said grabbing my shoulder.
Clutching my little son to me I allowed her to help me. Together we opened the window and climbed onto the roof. With minimal problems we climbed to the ground on the rose trellis. The child was still crying.
"Silencio." She whispered and his screams were no longer audible.
Running, we made it far enough away from the house that she let me sit. Tears were beginning to form in my own eyes as I collapsed from pain and exhaustion. I saw nothing, not her, not where we were, not even my son, only the cold dead eyes of my wife.
"Ron will find us soon. We'll wait here until he does. Backer will have told them about our escape. Madness." Her thoughts seemed as disjointed as my own.
I rocked slowly back and forth, wishing desperately that none of it was real.
"I'll hold him for you." She offered reaching for him.
"NO!" I shouted scrambling to back up.
If I let go, he would be lost. If I let go I might die. If I let go…
"Hermione." A man's voice called.
I had a thought that I needed to get up. I needed to meet this person like a man, but my limbs disobeyed and I continued to rock my son back and forth, his little face wailing silently.
"Here, Ron."
"GOD! This is madness." His voice exclaimed.
"The ministry will have a lot to answer for in the morning. We have to get them out of here."
"Pansy?" The man asked.
"DON'T YOU SAY HER NAME! DON'T YOU DARE SAY HER NAME." I screamed angrily.
The world was becoming unfocused. He didn't have a right to say her name. No one did. Not him. Not her. Not anyone.
"Come on Draco." Hermione whispered near my ear.
I jerked at the sound, but couldn't see her, only those dead eyes.
They lifted me and carried me a long way. Longer than I thought they could. When I woke three days later in the hospital she was sitting in a chair next to me. I smiled a strange little smirk and tried to say her name.
"Shhhh. The healer said I was not to excite you."
"Pansy." I managed.
"I'm sorry. It was madness." She whispered with tears in her eyes.
"Bane?"
"Your son is fine. He's with a nurse at the moment. Shall I call for her?"
I nodded and shut my eyes. To much to think about. One thing at a time. My son.
"He's awake, wants to see his son." I heard her say.
"Of course."
"Draco." I opened my eyes and found Bane laying in my arms.
Without thinking I gathered him to me and held on as tightly as I could. He gurgled and uttered baby syllables.
"Draco." She said again.
"Yes." I looked at her and waited.
"Your father, your father has been sent to Azkaban. Harry caught him and …." She left the end unsaid.
Inside I knew why my family had been attacked. My gutless father had allowed it. He had let them kill my wife. He let them try to kill my son. My only wish was that I had been with Potter when he found him. I'd have killed him myself.
"Leave now." I said pressing my lips together hard.
"Draco." She murmured.
"Go. Come back later. Just leave." I begged.
Her footsteps echoed down the hall. As soon as I was alone I pressed my face against my son's little shoulder and wept.
It was weeks before they allowed me to return home. I was unable to attend Pansy's funeral, though several people told me it was beautiful and ironically, completely paid for by the ministry. They seemed to think that burying her made up for the fact that she was dead. They also paid for the repairs to my home and the replacement of all the things they had broken.
Hermione came to see me after the dust had settled and I was home again. I'm not sure why I let her in. I should have left her on the doorstep. I should never have spoken to any of them again, but I opened the door. She entered with a shy smile on her face, which I reciprocated as best I could.
"I wanted to tell you that I've quit my job."
I looked at her blankly.
"That night was insane. If I had known that it would go that far I would have refused to come."
"Yes, but then I and my son would be dead." I replied and attempted to usher her out of the entrance way.
"No I can't stay. But I wanted you to know that I won't be a part of anything like that ever again."
I nodded.
"I guess I'll go now." She said with the same smile as before.
"Wait," She stopped at the doors, "I wanted to tell you something as well."
"Yes?" She asked.
"I'm sorry. For the way I treated you. I owe you a great debt. One day I'll find a way to repay it." I managed.
She smiled again and without another word, she left.
(Harry)
She used to lay on me as she slept. One arm would wrap about my waist as her legs intertwined with my own. We were as close to each other as possible without truly making love. I would wake to the tickle of her breath against my neck, her hair tangled on my chest, there was no grander place to be. I'd smile and kiss her lips as she slept. Sometimes she woke and I would take her in my arms and love her in the early morning hours, thanking whatever powers there were that she was mine.
Sometimes I would simply explore her. Touching as much of her as I could, determined to know her completely, to know every curve and every angle of her body. I found a spot below her ear that made her gasp as my tongue delved into it. Her collar bone, her ribs and each of her fingertips, nothing escaped my search. The curve of her hips, the length of her spine, the inside of her thighs, she had no secrets.
I loved to hear her call out my name, her soft lips against my ear. Her hands in my hair, fingers pressing into my back, pulling me closer. Her brown eyed gaze never leaving my own. It seemed there was no end to my need for her and she denied me nothing. After, when we were spent I'd lay atop her a moment longer, kissing her blushed cheeks and pale eyelids, telling her she was beautiful, telling her I loved her.
She gave me everything, put all she had into loving me. She gave up her innocence to satisfy my hunger for her, put her family aside so I could have a home, and she gave me my daughter. There was no possible way I could make those things up to her in my lifetime, but I determined to try. I protected her at all costs, kept her safe as best I could. Until finally, I failed her.
The attack on the hospital was a surprise. If I had known, or even had an idea, that it would happen, there would have been a guard. As many people as could be spared would have been beside her. Yet, I could have lost her and in a way I did.
After the death of her mother and her best friend she was little more than hollow. Everyone tried to comfort her, they brought her flowers and candies and other little gifts. I held her as close as I could, as she'd let me, but never for long. The depression might have passed had there only been emotional scars to heal, but she had been injured. A gash reaching from her hair to her chin left a pink scar to remind her of all she had lost. Hermione showed her how she could cover it with her hair, but she made no effort to do so.
I told her she was beautiful. I told her I loved her, but she didn't hear me. For a long time she hated to be touched. Hated my hands on her. Hated my lips kissing her. Wanted nothing to do with me. I knew I had betrayed her trust. I should have been there to stop it. I should have done something, anything to get there and help her.
Eventually she became something of her old self. She allowed me to touch her. Allowed me to kiss her. But nothing was the same. I found it hard to love her the way I once had. I was unworthy of something so selfless. Her touch made me ache for things I did not deserve and slowly we stopped touching. Slowly, making love became procedure instead of passion. Slowly, she regained her secrets and I did nothing to explore them.
I told myself that I had to make it better. I had to make up to her my failure. I worked more and more. Hunting Death Eaters, destroying dark magic became my escape. I focused on the work and tried not to look back. Perhaps if I did my job well enough, if I brought goodness back to her life, I could be worthy of her again.
Years passed. I forgot what it was like to know her the way I had. To feel the things I had felt. We grew less and less attuned to each other.
Aside from out personal problems, there were things happening that touched our lives. Dumbledore resigned from the head of the Order and I took over. Hogsmead burned. Hermione quit her job, due to unknown circumstances. And Voldemort was found and killed by Ron, Neville and myself.
Even after his evil no longer remained I continued to hunt Death Eaters and those that controlled dark magic. Usually I went alone. I could think clearer, act quicker and worry less if I was unaccompanied. Yet, sometimes Ginny came with me. Her healing magic was useful on such trips and despite our troubles I still loved her, I had just forgotten how.
On our way home we would stop in The Leaky Cauldron and stay the night. Ginny would owl Hermione and tell her we were coming and I would relax a bit. Rarely, we would find some semblance of ourselves there and make clumsy attempts at passion.
On one such occasion I could not sleep. Though the many weeks of travel had exhausted me I still lay in bed wide eyed and awake. Ginny stirred next to me, murmuring in her dreams. Softly I rolled on to my side and propped my head up with my hand to look at her better. She lay on her stomach, arms folded beneath her head. A strip of moonlight peeked through the window had lit her hair like fire, a molten river of it flowing down her pale bare back. Her mouth was open slightly and I longed to kiss her sweet lips. My hand reached out to touch her, slid down her back and through her brilliant red locks. I swallowed hard at the softness of her. Fingers traveling slowly to her face and alighting on her mouth. Her breath was warm. Short of air I brushed the stray hair from her cheek and stopped.
Glaring at me, angry pink, was her scar. The skin was uneven and crudely connected, taut and harsh on her lovely face. I could not bring myself to touch it. It was a mark of my failure, my ineptitude at anything involving love. Suddenly cold I pulled my hand back and the covers to my chin. Curling in on myself I lay there until the sun lit the sky in the early morning. My final thought before sleep was "Maybe one day you will forgive me."
(Draco)
I am not a Death Eater.
I don't know how many times I have said that in my lifetime, but the words constantly ring in my head. Despite persecution and disbelief, I never joined the Dark Lord and his forces. Perhaps, long ago, I might have considered it an honor. I might have tortured muggles and committed murder. I might have done any number of horrible things to gain favor with my father's master. At the time it seemed so right, so very real, there was no greater distinction than to be given the Dark Mark.
Then, my father allowed my wife to die. He allowed them to ravage my house and destroy my belongings. He allowed my child's life to be threatened. All in the name of Voldemort. All to save his own skin. He started the fires and ran, like a coward, too afraid to pay for his handiwork.
He understood mob mentality better than most, knew they would be looking for someone to blame. It could have been anyone, any other person in the whole wizarding world, but he chose me. Let word get around that he was hiding in my house, that I was harboring a fugitive. Funny, that if he had asked, I would have. He could have stayed with me as long as he liked. The final choice, though, was to send the mass of angry, hurting people in my direction. Never thought to warn me.
They broke down the door at near two in the morning, wands raised ready for battle. I woke Pansy and ordered her to hide in the secret passage from our room. She shook with fright and hurried to obey, taking our one year old son with her. I grabbed my wand from the nightstand and threw open the door to face them. It was chaos.
A stunning spell missed me by inches, and I retaliated with one of my own. It sailed into the throng of Aurors that were ripping apart my house in search of my father. One of them cried out in pain. Three more tried to traverse the stairs, I knocked one back and hit a second with a blinding curse. The third reached me before I could raise my wand again and threw me over the railing.
The ground met the back of my head hard and I couldn't seem to see straight. Someone grabbed me and was dragging me somewhere.
"It'll be ok, just help me a little." The voice said.
I tried to walk and the world came back into focus.
"Can you see me?" A female voice asked.
I turned and saw Hermione Granger staring back at me.
"I can see you." I said and reached for my wand, but found it was gone.
"You dropped your wand, I didn't have time to grab it. Come on." She said urgently.
From the blue drapes I knew we were in the guest bedroom on the first floor, my head ached as I tried to remember where the entrance to the secret passage was. I knew she was going to kill me, that's what they had come for. She was going to kill me here and take the credit for ending my reign of terror. Those words almost made me laugh.
"Where is Pansy?" She asked.
"No."
"Tell me where she is. They'll find her if we don't get out of here."
"Kill me if you are going to, but I won't let you touch my wife." I was being brave, it was felt strange, as if my whole being fought the act.
"I'm not going to kill you, stop being stupid. The others will and it won't take them long to find us, so tell me where she is so I can help you."
My head was spinning and I thought I might vomit, but I still heard the scream. Pansy. They had found Pansy. My son….
"Come on." I said grabbing Hermione's hand.
I ripped back one of the tapestries and pressed a stone, the door slid open and I ran into the cool darkness. Our footsteps were uneven and she tripped several times as we ran. I led up stone stairs and towards the light of an open door. When we reached it I stopped and stared in disbelief. Pansy lay sprawled on the ground, her eyes open and empty, dead. A man stood in the center of the room with my son held carefully in his arms, his wand pointed at the child's heart.
"This will only hurt a moment little pretty." He was whispering.
"Backer, No." Hermione shouted and pointed her wand at him.
I stepped forward to reach for my son.
"Deffindo." The man shouted and I flew back against the stone wall, something warm dripping down my face.
"Backer, put the child down. It's only a baby." Hermione was saying.
"It's a Malfoy. The line ends here tonight. They have wrecked to much destruction on the world."
"Please." She begged.
"Please." I echoed trying to rise.
"Expelliarmus." She cried.
The man's wand flew into the air and my son fell from his arms. Somehow, the toddler seemed unhurt by the fall.
"Whose side are you on? Are you helping him? That monster?" The man shrieked holding his now bleeding hand.
"Lucius isn't here, we'd have found him already."
"I'll have to kill you as well then, you showed such promise as an Auror."
"Petrificus Totalus" She said easily and the man fell down ridged.
I crawled to my son and held him close, he was crying loudly. There would be others coming, she couldn't fight them forever. I could help. I could fight. Yet, I was unable to move. My skull felt like it would burst, my wife was dead, my son was wailing….
"Up." Hermione said grabbing my shoulder.
Clutching my little son to me I allowed her to help me. Together we opened the window and climbed onto the roof. With minimal problems we climbed to the ground on the rose trellis. The child was still crying.
"Silencio." She whispered and his screams were no longer audible.
Running, we made it far enough away from the house that she let me sit. Tears were beginning to form in my own eyes as I collapsed from pain and exhaustion. I saw nothing, not her, not where we were, not even my son, only the cold dead eyes of my wife.
"Ron will find us soon. We'll wait here until he does. Backer will have told them about our escape. Madness." Her thoughts seemed as disjointed as my own.
I rocked slowly back and forth, wishing desperately that none of it was real.
"I'll hold him for you." She offered reaching for him.
"NO!" I shouted scrambling to back up.
If I let go, he would be lost. If I let go I might die. If I let go…
"Hermione." A man's voice called.
I had a thought that I needed to get up. I needed to meet this person like a man, but my limbs disobeyed and I continued to rock my son back and forth, his little face wailing silently.
"Here, Ron."
"GOD! This is madness." His voice exclaimed.
"The ministry will have a lot to answer for in the morning. We have to get them out of here."
"Pansy?" The man asked.
"DON'T YOU SAY HER NAME! DON'T YOU DARE SAY HER NAME." I screamed angrily.
The world was becoming unfocused. He didn't have a right to say her name. No one did. Not him. Not her. Not anyone.
"Come on Draco." Hermione whispered near my ear.
I jerked at the sound, but couldn't see her, only those dead eyes.
They lifted me and carried me a long way. Longer than I thought they could. When I woke three days later in the hospital she was sitting in a chair next to me. I smiled a strange little smirk and tried to say her name.
"Shhhh. The healer said I was not to excite you."
"Pansy." I managed.
"I'm sorry. It was madness." She whispered with tears in her eyes.
"Bane?"
"Your son is fine. He's with a nurse at the moment. Shall I call for her?"
I nodded and shut my eyes. To much to think about. One thing at a time. My son.
"He's awake, wants to see his son." I heard her say.
"Of course."
"Draco." I opened my eyes and found Bane laying in my arms.
Without thinking I gathered him to me and held on as tightly as I could. He gurgled and uttered baby syllables.
"Draco." She said again.
"Yes." I looked at her and waited.
"Your father, your father has been sent to Azkaban. Harry caught him and …." She left the end unsaid.
Inside I knew why my family had been attacked. My gutless father had allowed it. He had let them kill my wife. He let them try to kill my son. My only wish was that I had been with Potter when he found him. I'd have killed him myself.
"Leave now." I said pressing my lips together hard.
"Draco." She murmured.
"Go. Come back later. Just leave." I begged.
Her footsteps echoed down the hall. As soon as I was alone I pressed my face against my son's little shoulder and wept.
It was weeks before they allowed me to return home. I was unable to attend Pansy's funeral, though several people told me it was beautiful and ironically, completely paid for by the ministry. They seemed to think that burying her made up for the fact that she was dead. They also paid for the repairs to my home and the replacement of all the things they had broken.
Hermione came to see me after the dust had settled and I was home again. I'm not sure why I let her in. I should have left her on the doorstep. I should never have spoken to any of them again, but I opened the door. She entered with a shy smile on her face, which I reciprocated as best I could.
"I wanted to tell you that I've quit my job."
I looked at her blankly.
"That night was insane. If I had known that it would go that far I would have refused to come."
"Yes, but then I and my son would be dead." I replied and attempted to usher her out of the entrance way.
"No I can't stay. But I wanted you to know that I won't be a part of anything like that ever again."
I nodded.
"I guess I'll go now." She said with the same smile as before.
"Wait," She stopped at the doors, "I wanted to tell you something as well."
"Yes?" She asked.
"I'm sorry. For the way I treated you. I owe you a great debt. One day I'll find a way to repay it." I managed.
She smiled again and without another word, she left.
(Harry)
She used to lay on me as she slept. One arm would wrap about my waist as her legs intertwined with my own. We were as close to each other as possible without truly making love. I would wake to the tickle of her breath against my neck, her hair tangled on my chest, there was no grander place to be. I'd smile and kiss her lips as she slept. Sometimes she woke and I would take her in my arms and love her in the early morning hours, thanking whatever powers there were that she was mine.
Sometimes I would simply explore her. Touching as much of her as I could, determined to know her completely, to know every curve and every angle of her body. I found a spot below her ear that made her gasp as my tongue delved into it. Her collar bone, her ribs and each of her fingertips, nothing escaped my search. The curve of her hips, the length of her spine, the inside of her thighs, she had no secrets.
I loved to hear her call out my name, her soft lips against my ear. Her hands in my hair, fingers pressing into my back, pulling me closer. Her brown eyed gaze never leaving my own. It seemed there was no end to my need for her and she denied me nothing. After, when we were spent I'd lay atop her a moment longer, kissing her blushed cheeks and pale eyelids, telling her she was beautiful, telling her I loved her.
She gave me everything, put all she had into loving me. She gave up her innocence to satisfy my hunger for her, put her family aside so I could have a home, and she gave me my daughter. There was no possible way I could make those things up to her in my lifetime, but I determined to try. I protected her at all costs, kept her safe as best I could. Until finally, I failed her.
The attack on the hospital was a surprise. If I had known, or even had an idea, that it would happen, there would have been a guard. As many people as could be spared would have been beside her. Yet, I could have lost her and in a way I did.
After the death of her mother and her best friend she was little more than hollow. Everyone tried to comfort her, they brought her flowers and candies and other little gifts. I held her as close as I could, as she'd let me, but never for long. The depression might have passed had there only been emotional scars to heal, but she had been injured. A gash reaching from her hair to her chin left a pink scar to remind her of all she had lost. Hermione showed her how she could cover it with her hair, but she made no effort to do so.
I told her she was beautiful. I told her I loved her, but she didn't hear me. For a long time she hated to be touched. Hated my hands on her. Hated my lips kissing her. Wanted nothing to do with me. I knew I had betrayed her trust. I should have been there to stop it. I should have done something, anything to get there and help her.
Eventually she became something of her old self. She allowed me to touch her. Allowed me to kiss her. But nothing was the same. I found it hard to love her the way I once had. I was unworthy of something so selfless. Her touch made me ache for things I did not deserve and slowly we stopped touching. Slowly, making love became procedure instead of passion. Slowly, she regained her secrets and I did nothing to explore them.
I told myself that I had to make it better. I had to make up to her my failure. I worked more and more. Hunting Death Eaters, destroying dark magic became my escape. I focused on the work and tried not to look back. Perhaps if I did my job well enough, if I brought goodness back to her life, I could be worthy of her again.
Years passed. I forgot what it was like to know her the way I had. To feel the things I had felt. We grew less and less attuned to each other.
Aside from out personal problems, there were things happening that touched our lives. Dumbledore resigned from the head of the Order and I took over. Hogsmead burned. Hermione quit her job, due to unknown circumstances. And Voldemort was found and killed by Ron, Neville and myself.
Even after his evil no longer remained I continued to hunt Death Eaters and those that controlled dark magic. Usually I went alone. I could think clearer, act quicker and worry less if I was unaccompanied. Yet, sometimes Ginny came with me. Her healing magic was useful on such trips and despite our troubles I still loved her, I had just forgotten how.
On our way home we would stop in The Leaky Cauldron and stay the night. Ginny would owl Hermione and tell her we were coming and I would relax a bit. Rarely, we would find some semblance of ourselves there and make clumsy attempts at passion.
On one such occasion I could not sleep. Though the many weeks of travel had exhausted me I still lay in bed wide eyed and awake. Ginny stirred next to me, murmuring in her dreams. Softly I rolled on to my side and propped my head up with my hand to look at her better. She lay on her stomach, arms folded beneath her head. A strip of moonlight peeked through the window had lit her hair like fire, a molten river of it flowing down her pale bare back. Her mouth was open slightly and I longed to kiss her sweet lips. My hand reached out to touch her, slid down her back and through her brilliant red locks. I swallowed hard at the softness of her. Fingers traveling slowly to her face and alighting on her mouth. Her breath was warm. Short of air I brushed the stray hair from her cheek and stopped.
Glaring at me, angry pink, was her scar. The skin was uneven and crudely connected, taut and harsh on her lovely face. I could not bring myself to touch it. It was a mark of my failure, my ineptitude at anything involving love. Suddenly cold I pulled my hand back and the covers to my chin. Curling in on myself I lay there until the sun lit the sky in the early morning. My final thought before sleep was "Maybe one day you will forgive me."