Notes : Thank you for all the reviews already !! You just made my day ! ^^
Chapter four, 'Consumed'
Fortunately enough, the diner went by rather quickly. It was actually quite amusing from where I stood. Snape, I'm sorry to say, granted not really, was in fact the center of said amusement, being harassed by either Dumbledore, on one side, who wanted him to sing along, to laugh, to enjoy himself, to simply be merry, or by that sixth year girl from Ravenclaw, I think, eyeing him hungrily.
Ugh. I mean, how could she possibly...? Even I, who give everyone a chance, bring up those naughty thoughts of yours, was highly repulsed at the thought to bed him. Oh, I'm not saying I had a go with everybody. Because that would have to include the Golden Trio. You could make that everybody minus three though. Hehe. I was a busy boy, what can I say. But Snape ? Ugh. That was a really nasty thought. Oh well.
Poor Snape was trapped. I thought I had seen some colour creeping up on his cheeks. Our favourite Potions Master didn't seem to know how to flirt back. And who cared if she was Ravenclaw and student ? Just bloody flirt back and have fun. Bed her even. But it seemed to me that Snape had been running away for too long of the dating scene. Who could prefer damn cauldrons and brews to a good shag ?
Some people I'll never understand...I'd never pass up on an opportunity. And don't you dare bring that bloody dreadful afternoon in that Room of Rodents or something along these lines. This did not count as a sodding opportunity. This did not count as anything. Again with that bloody Potter. Lately, it seemed that he was everywhere in my mind. Was it better than others, perhaps...But it was bloody Potter we were talking about. Ironic shit.
Ah yes, it appeared our dearly beloved Potter was not the mingling type either. He had just sat down besides me with a dark air about him, emerald eyes blank, grave frown on his face, and had sulked during all of the meal. His head was bowed down on his plate and he just pushed around his food. It seemed Hero wasn't all that happy to be here. At least, I wasn't alone to feel that way.
Don't try to bring up that 'I found out we were pretty much alike' shit I said earlier. Wankers.
Hopefully, he didn't try to talk to me again. Phew. He spared me some small talk, some polite natters about Merlin only knew. And I wasn't up to a fight with Golden Boy, even if I did say otherwise earlier. I was too tired, too bored, too depressed. I really didn't need a catfight with Potter. He seemed to have understood that I wanted to be left alone. Well, not literally because you know as well as I did what would happen there...
Dark dungeons, dark corners, dark thoughts slithering their way in my mind, dark schemes lurking around ready to assault me. Leaving me alone on the day of Christmas would definitively not be a great idea...Both times I had tried it, both times I had stopped. Not because of a noble reason such as 'I can turn my life around, I can be better', no, not so much as that. More in the lines of 'I'll stay alive just to haunt you and piss you off, Father'.
But that year was a bit different. Some would call it the last straw, the breaking point. Yet I wasn't as much as angry as I was miserable. Anger wasn't really a problem. Anger came, went. But this was always there. These voids, this hollowness inside of me, one so newly filled and just as quickly emptied. Damn him. Damn him and his bloody scar. The other one was just plain vacant. It had always been that way. Damn him. Damn him and his Half Blood. Damn everyone.
"So, you decided to honour us with your presence ? "he asked me innocently. Not now, Potty. "Sod off, Hero, "I said a little more loudly than I should.
"Language, Mr Malfoy. "
Who just said that ? I looked up only to see two reproachful eyes glaring at me. Right, McGonagall. That Scottish woman, damn I hated her. I swept my gaze around. Dumbledore had his blue eyes staring straight at me but not with the usual scowl teachers gave me, rather a soft support, a sparkling amusement. What the hell was wrong with that man ? Beside him, Snape had pursed his lips, quirking a brow at me.
Damn. What the hell did they want ? What the hell were they thinking about Pots and me ?
"Yeah, sure, Professor, "I drawled out. "I'm not in the mood for insults and even less for chitchat, "I said shortly. He looked taken aback a bit.
"Oh, stop with the rubbish, Malfoy, "he said, dismissive, recovering quickly. "Quit the act, I'm not taking it, not a single drop."
"Oh, nobody asked you to take it and surely not every single drop of it, Potter, "I snapped back, annoyed.
And there came no replies. No witty comeback, nothing. He just stared at me. Confused. Oh, don't tell me he didn't catch it. Good grief. Slowly, his eyes widened and he was left open-mouthed as he finally understood what I had meant. He looked almost adorable, childish, vulnerable, not the young man he was, not the one who had escaped death for five times, but who's counting ?
Damn him. All my anger, my annoyance vanished. To the hells with him. He was not making me laugh, he was not making me smile. He was not amusing me, not in the good, the right, sense anyway. I pressed my lips together firmly, trying to repress the inevitable. That bloody smile was bound to come up, I knew it but it just couldn't. Bloody Potter.
Oh, blast it all. I couldn't help it. I smiled despite myself. However. He didn't say a thing, not right away at any rate. I did hear him gasp though...A small, sharp intake of air. In the fashion that it made me consider that it wasn't customary. He blinked a few times and then, his green eyes were burning with a fire I had yet to say, changed from how I was used to see them. A wicked spark, almost evil.
Oh, well. Not important. Maybe the punch was spiked. Maybe he took a lethal potion. Hurray !
"My, Malfoy, "he said, putting a hand to his chest, "I didn't know I had that effect on you ! I'm surprised you didn't try to molest me that day, "he said dramatically.
Not again. Please, do not make me laugh. Do not make me laugh at a joke you made. Of all people to make me genuinely laugh without any nastiness. Of all the folks present here, he had to be the one. Couldn't he just had shut his goddamn mouth for once ? Perhaps Snape was right; perhaps celebrity did go straight to the head of Golden Boy here. He really should learn to shut the fuck up.
"There..."he said, moving slightly closer towards me.
And with that he put his hand on my forehead. He bloody had put his hand on my forehead. Potters did not touch Malfoys' forehead. I crossed my eyes up at his hand on my skin. What on Earth did he think he was doing ? He was bloody touching me. He really was up to get me that evening. He would eventually conquer if he didn't stop the unceasing assaults somewhere around...now.
His hand lingered there for a bit again. It felt odd. It felt new. It felt soft. I did not like the surge of thoughts and feelings flowing through my mind. I wrinkled my nose and caught his eye. He quickly withdrew his hand from my forehead, not without a hint of sheepishness. I smirked at that, he snorted in reply.
I had to fight the disgusting urge to touch my skin where his hand had remained earlier. It was a truly revolting want. I felt something inside me warm up, melt, soften. No ! Wasn't there boundaries to him ? Not even a little tinge of self-restraint either ? He had not brought up these sensations in me. And he certainly had not aroused me. Dammit ! He had not just touched me period.
Close your eyes, mate, take a deep breath, open your eyes, it was a mere dream. Just a dream.
"Don't start and hyperventilate on me, Malfoy, "he said, smirking. "You'll get people talking."
"Don't mix your dreams and reality, Potty, "I managed to say.
"Oh, I wouldn't say I'm confounding anything here, "he said suggestively.
When did Potter became me and when did I became Potter ? Someone help me out here.
"Calm down your bloody hormones. I'm starting to think I'll be the one getting the molesting."
"Perhaps...would you enjoy it ? "he said, quirking a brow.
Snap out of it, Malfoy, get a grip, do something ! This was getting quite out of control. I did not like that Potter. That was a Potter I did not know and I was feeling I had been better that way. That Potter had aroused me. Hell, that Potter was worrying me. I rather preferred small talks to an unknown Potter flirting with me. I usually did the flirting, the molesting. I did not back up against a wall. Damn him.
Potter looked at me for a while, something ghosted over his eyes, he blinked a few times and seemed surprised not to say the least. He didn't appear to know what had been going on for the last fifteen minutes that had passed. Perhaps he was high, stoned, whatever ? Perhaps he was wanking off under the table...One never knows. Time to change the direction of this bloody conversation.
"So, Potty, tell me. What the hell was that about that other day ? "I enquired, trying to change the subject. "When you told me and I quote 'shove that sodding truce up your arse and bloody wank off'. Ring a bell in that thing you call a brain, hero ?"I explained at his perplexed stare.
"What ? Oh. Right. That. Erm...sorry 'bout that, Malfoy. I just...Well...you know how it is...It's just been hard...to...you see what I mean and then you...I, erm, I just couldn't then..."he replied sheepishly.
Ah, one of the Potter I knew and liked, oh, keep on your knickers, will you: the shy, naive one.
"No, "I said simply.
"No ? What do you mean no ? "he asked me, dumbfounded. "Was it even a yes or no question ?"
"What the hell are you talking about ? I meant no, 'no', as in I don't see what you mean, Potter, "I explained idly.
"Oh, yeah, sorry. Well, it just has been a hard week, a hard year...I guess I just had it too much piled up and I had to get it out...Sorry I took it on you, "he said. Dear Merlin, not again.
"Whatever."
"Really should learn to control my temper, huh ? Just like 'Mione always says...Well, Ron does think that too...Doesn't want to meddle too much though, I guess...Or doesn't want to upset his girlfriend. Maybe it's both...You see, if he shuts up then leaves me in peace and he doesn't speak up his mind to 'Mione about shutting up too so I guess he ends up a two- time winner in that case.
"It's really funny though how Ron's afraid of 'Mione. She really wears the pants of the relationship. You should've seen him when she started dating Krum, you know, Krum the Quidditch player, the TriWizard participant of Durmstrang, Bulgarian and all. He really learned what jealousy and passing up on your chance meant.
"Hopefully, he had another one. 'Mione and him went to the Yule Ball last year. Hooked up there. Great thing Dumbledore reinstated it. Well, I don't like too much of dancing and all, perhaps because I can't dance properly though I never did dance before the fourth year Yule Ball, that was really a catastrophe. Hopefully that Parvati girl was there, though she wasn't very pleased with me...
"And..." He just went on and on about everything, anything, nothing. Headache incoming.
Heavens come to my help, here my plea, I summon thee. Help me shut this babbling pit, help me slay this jabbering git or at least put up with this gibberish boy they all call a myth. Hehe.
But I'll tell you something. But something of higher importance than controlling his temper, which is by the way very annoying, one other thing he should do was that he really needed to learn was to shut the fuck up. I had had it with his idiotic blabber. Just when I opened my mouth, all set with a clever retort, something in my head, in my whole body snapped.
I flinched as I gasped loudly. This pain had just appeared, out of bloody nowhere. A poignant ache. Not just a little headache. It was truly unbearable, not like that tale with that Hippogriff...It burned through me, it froze my bones, it smouldered my flesh, it chilled my bowels. It was everywhere at the same time. It was excruciating. I couldn't take it anymore. I hated it. I was suffocating, I needed to breathe. Deep breaths. Didn't work.
Well, just a bit. I did managed to suck in a bit of air, nothing to ride home about, nothing spectacular. I wanted more, I needed more, I was almost begging for it. A Malfoy begging, damn. Oh, I did say 'almost'. It was horrible, I struggle for a breath, I bent down. I could feel tears gathering up at the corners of my eyes, my throat was parched, it was hard to swallow, I could sense a fever rising, anger forming, blood boiling. What the fuck was happening ? And then, it stopped. Just as fast as it came.
I closed my eyes, tightened my lips together, breathed deeply. It was over yet my heart was still pounding, my breathing still ragged. I tried to relax but it bloody was not working. All I could hear were laughs, jokes, cheerful voices. I felt imprisoned, trapped, alone in a bubble with all this joy surrounding me. A sorrowful bubble. I felt immune to joy. Immune ? No, perhaps...deprived would be more accurate. What fool would be happy to be immune to happiness ? Riiight. Father.
Just thinking about him worsened my state of mind. Bloody not relaxing at all. How dare he let me here ? On Christmas nonetheless ! Easter I could deal with it, that damn bunny, but Christmas ! Of all the things he could do to me, this was by far the worse one. Compared to this, Christmas with him seemed appealing. Well, almost. At least, I would've get to spend it with Mum.
Oh but that would've made me happy. And he wouldn't want to happen. Oh no. Why should he allow me happiness ? Maybe this was a way of punishing me for refusing yet again to bear the Dark Mark. Surely. I made the mistake of telling him twice if not thrice that I would never bow to someone else. Malfoy pride and all. Hell, he was the one teaching me all this Malfoy superiority. Damn him.
And if I tainted the name well, he bloody ruined it. To hell with all the donations, to hell with all the fundraisers, to hell with all the supposedly good actions, to hell with the noble, proper image he had in the eyes of that bastard Fudge. He was allowing someone else to take control of his life, he was willingly bowing down to someone else. A Mud Blood nonetheless. Blood purity my fucking arse.
He would disappear under a mask, becoming nameless, faceless, becoming a servant. He would come running to his master like a sodding dog every time that stinking mark would glow. He would kill only when permitted to, he would only talk when permitted to, he would suffer the Crucius spell without protesting, without rebelling.
I could only hope he would keep his chin high up, he would never flinch, never show regret, never show fear, never show any emotions. I could only wish he would he would never blink, he would never allow him to see his weaknesses, never let his invisible Malfoy mask disappear, never consent to stoop below where Malfoys belonged.
Images rushed through my mind, memories, hidden, well kept, running everywhere. A strident sound accompanied them, it shrieked in my ears. Not again, not bloody again ! I couldn't take it anymore. Just make it stop. Make it stop. Now ! It was just too much to handle. Bloody memories. The worse ones even. Every time Father had been disappointed with me, every bleeding time.
Memories, bad memories, his upset tone, his eyes betraying him, the disappoint that was born in them, Potter when he refused my friendship, Potter when he became Seeker, Potter beating Lord Voldemort again and again, Potter when he beat me at Quidditch, Potter when he flew on that Hippogriff, Potter when he was just Potter.
Memories surging through my mind, my body, my soul, my very essence. Memories destroying every last ounce of pride, self-restraint, strength, composure that I had left. Was it like this, the Crucius curse ? Was it that unbearable ? Or perhaps it was even worse ? How worse could it be ? I already wanted to die from the ache, from the throbbing, from this bloody Christmas.
It hurt. It hurt so much, a stinging pain in my chest. It burned through my flesh, through my skin, it blazed through my very being, through my very eyes. My mouth and my throat were dry. My eyes burned. My blood seemed to jump out of my skin. My heart wanted to die, as clear and simple as that. It wanted to say goodbye and never come back. I just wanted it to stop. Somebody ? Anybody ? Really ? Even Scarface ?
Bloody hell. Yes. Even Scarface. Anybody just finish...me...off...p-p- p...pl...e...a...s...e...
Chapter four, 'Consumed'
Fortunately enough, the diner went by rather quickly. It was actually quite amusing from where I stood. Snape, I'm sorry to say, granted not really, was in fact the center of said amusement, being harassed by either Dumbledore, on one side, who wanted him to sing along, to laugh, to enjoy himself, to simply be merry, or by that sixth year girl from Ravenclaw, I think, eyeing him hungrily.
Ugh. I mean, how could she possibly...? Even I, who give everyone a chance, bring up those naughty thoughts of yours, was highly repulsed at the thought to bed him. Oh, I'm not saying I had a go with everybody. Because that would have to include the Golden Trio. You could make that everybody minus three though. Hehe. I was a busy boy, what can I say. But Snape ? Ugh. That was a really nasty thought. Oh well.
Poor Snape was trapped. I thought I had seen some colour creeping up on his cheeks. Our favourite Potions Master didn't seem to know how to flirt back. And who cared if she was Ravenclaw and student ? Just bloody flirt back and have fun. Bed her even. But it seemed to me that Snape had been running away for too long of the dating scene. Who could prefer damn cauldrons and brews to a good shag ?
Some people I'll never understand...I'd never pass up on an opportunity. And don't you dare bring that bloody dreadful afternoon in that Room of Rodents or something along these lines. This did not count as a sodding opportunity. This did not count as anything. Again with that bloody Potter. Lately, it seemed that he was everywhere in my mind. Was it better than others, perhaps...But it was bloody Potter we were talking about. Ironic shit.
Ah yes, it appeared our dearly beloved Potter was not the mingling type either. He had just sat down besides me with a dark air about him, emerald eyes blank, grave frown on his face, and had sulked during all of the meal. His head was bowed down on his plate and he just pushed around his food. It seemed Hero wasn't all that happy to be here. At least, I wasn't alone to feel that way.
Don't try to bring up that 'I found out we were pretty much alike' shit I said earlier. Wankers.
Hopefully, he didn't try to talk to me again. Phew. He spared me some small talk, some polite natters about Merlin only knew. And I wasn't up to a fight with Golden Boy, even if I did say otherwise earlier. I was too tired, too bored, too depressed. I really didn't need a catfight with Potter. He seemed to have understood that I wanted to be left alone. Well, not literally because you know as well as I did what would happen there...
Dark dungeons, dark corners, dark thoughts slithering their way in my mind, dark schemes lurking around ready to assault me. Leaving me alone on the day of Christmas would definitively not be a great idea...Both times I had tried it, both times I had stopped. Not because of a noble reason such as 'I can turn my life around, I can be better', no, not so much as that. More in the lines of 'I'll stay alive just to haunt you and piss you off, Father'.
But that year was a bit different. Some would call it the last straw, the breaking point. Yet I wasn't as much as angry as I was miserable. Anger wasn't really a problem. Anger came, went. But this was always there. These voids, this hollowness inside of me, one so newly filled and just as quickly emptied. Damn him. Damn him and his bloody scar. The other one was just plain vacant. It had always been that way. Damn him. Damn him and his Half Blood. Damn everyone.
"So, you decided to honour us with your presence ? "he asked me innocently. Not now, Potty. "Sod off, Hero, "I said a little more loudly than I should.
"Language, Mr Malfoy. "
Who just said that ? I looked up only to see two reproachful eyes glaring at me. Right, McGonagall. That Scottish woman, damn I hated her. I swept my gaze around. Dumbledore had his blue eyes staring straight at me but not with the usual scowl teachers gave me, rather a soft support, a sparkling amusement. What the hell was wrong with that man ? Beside him, Snape had pursed his lips, quirking a brow at me.
Damn. What the hell did they want ? What the hell were they thinking about Pots and me ?
"Yeah, sure, Professor, "I drawled out. "I'm not in the mood for insults and even less for chitchat, "I said shortly. He looked taken aback a bit.
"Oh, stop with the rubbish, Malfoy, "he said, dismissive, recovering quickly. "Quit the act, I'm not taking it, not a single drop."
"Oh, nobody asked you to take it and surely not every single drop of it, Potter, "I snapped back, annoyed.
And there came no replies. No witty comeback, nothing. He just stared at me. Confused. Oh, don't tell me he didn't catch it. Good grief. Slowly, his eyes widened and he was left open-mouthed as he finally understood what I had meant. He looked almost adorable, childish, vulnerable, not the young man he was, not the one who had escaped death for five times, but who's counting ?
Damn him. All my anger, my annoyance vanished. To the hells with him. He was not making me laugh, he was not making me smile. He was not amusing me, not in the good, the right, sense anyway. I pressed my lips together firmly, trying to repress the inevitable. That bloody smile was bound to come up, I knew it but it just couldn't. Bloody Potter.
Oh, blast it all. I couldn't help it. I smiled despite myself. However. He didn't say a thing, not right away at any rate. I did hear him gasp though...A small, sharp intake of air. In the fashion that it made me consider that it wasn't customary. He blinked a few times and then, his green eyes were burning with a fire I had yet to say, changed from how I was used to see them. A wicked spark, almost evil.
Oh, well. Not important. Maybe the punch was spiked. Maybe he took a lethal potion. Hurray !
"My, Malfoy, "he said, putting a hand to his chest, "I didn't know I had that effect on you ! I'm surprised you didn't try to molest me that day, "he said dramatically.
Not again. Please, do not make me laugh. Do not make me laugh at a joke you made. Of all people to make me genuinely laugh without any nastiness. Of all the folks present here, he had to be the one. Couldn't he just had shut his goddamn mouth for once ? Perhaps Snape was right; perhaps celebrity did go straight to the head of Golden Boy here. He really should learn to shut the fuck up.
"There..."he said, moving slightly closer towards me.
And with that he put his hand on my forehead. He bloody had put his hand on my forehead. Potters did not touch Malfoys' forehead. I crossed my eyes up at his hand on my skin. What on Earth did he think he was doing ? He was bloody touching me. He really was up to get me that evening. He would eventually conquer if he didn't stop the unceasing assaults somewhere around...now.
His hand lingered there for a bit again. It felt odd. It felt new. It felt soft. I did not like the surge of thoughts and feelings flowing through my mind. I wrinkled my nose and caught his eye. He quickly withdrew his hand from my forehead, not without a hint of sheepishness. I smirked at that, he snorted in reply.
I had to fight the disgusting urge to touch my skin where his hand had remained earlier. It was a truly revolting want. I felt something inside me warm up, melt, soften. No ! Wasn't there boundaries to him ? Not even a little tinge of self-restraint either ? He had not brought up these sensations in me. And he certainly had not aroused me. Dammit ! He had not just touched me period.
Close your eyes, mate, take a deep breath, open your eyes, it was a mere dream. Just a dream.
"Don't start and hyperventilate on me, Malfoy, "he said, smirking. "You'll get people talking."
"Don't mix your dreams and reality, Potty, "I managed to say.
"Oh, I wouldn't say I'm confounding anything here, "he said suggestively.
When did Potter became me and when did I became Potter ? Someone help me out here.
"Calm down your bloody hormones. I'm starting to think I'll be the one getting the molesting."
"Perhaps...would you enjoy it ? "he said, quirking a brow.
Snap out of it, Malfoy, get a grip, do something ! This was getting quite out of control. I did not like that Potter. That was a Potter I did not know and I was feeling I had been better that way. That Potter had aroused me. Hell, that Potter was worrying me. I rather preferred small talks to an unknown Potter flirting with me. I usually did the flirting, the molesting. I did not back up against a wall. Damn him.
Potter looked at me for a while, something ghosted over his eyes, he blinked a few times and seemed surprised not to say the least. He didn't appear to know what had been going on for the last fifteen minutes that had passed. Perhaps he was high, stoned, whatever ? Perhaps he was wanking off under the table...One never knows. Time to change the direction of this bloody conversation.
"So, Potty, tell me. What the hell was that about that other day ? "I enquired, trying to change the subject. "When you told me and I quote 'shove that sodding truce up your arse and bloody wank off'. Ring a bell in that thing you call a brain, hero ?"I explained at his perplexed stare.
"What ? Oh. Right. That. Erm...sorry 'bout that, Malfoy. I just...Well...you know how it is...It's just been hard...to...you see what I mean and then you...I, erm, I just couldn't then..."he replied sheepishly.
Ah, one of the Potter I knew and liked, oh, keep on your knickers, will you: the shy, naive one.
"No, "I said simply.
"No ? What do you mean no ? "he asked me, dumbfounded. "Was it even a yes or no question ?"
"What the hell are you talking about ? I meant no, 'no', as in I don't see what you mean, Potter, "I explained idly.
"Oh, yeah, sorry. Well, it just has been a hard week, a hard year...I guess I just had it too much piled up and I had to get it out...Sorry I took it on you, "he said. Dear Merlin, not again.
"Whatever."
"Really should learn to control my temper, huh ? Just like 'Mione always says...Well, Ron does think that too...Doesn't want to meddle too much though, I guess...Or doesn't want to upset his girlfriend. Maybe it's both...You see, if he shuts up then leaves me in peace and he doesn't speak up his mind to 'Mione about shutting up too so I guess he ends up a two- time winner in that case.
"It's really funny though how Ron's afraid of 'Mione. She really wears the pants of the relationship. You should've seen him when she started dating Krum, you know, Krum the Quidditch player, the TriWizard participant of Durmstrang, Bulgarian and all. He really learned what jealousy and passing up on your chance meant.
"Hopefully, he had another one. 'Mione and him went to the Yule Ball last year. Hooked up there. Great thing Dumbledore reinstated it. Well, I don't like too much of dancing and all, perhaps because I can't dance properly though I never did dance before the fourth year Yule Ball, that was really a catastrophe. Hopefully that Parvati girl was there, though she wasn't very pleased with me...
"And..." He just went on and on about everything, anything, nothing. Headache incoming.
Heavens come to my help, here my plea, I summon thee. Help me shut this babbling pit, help me slay this jabbering git or at least put up with this gibberish boy they all call a myth. Hehe.
But I'll tell you something. But something of higher importance than controlling his temper, which is by the way very annoying, one other thing he should do was that he really needed to learn was to shut the fuck up. I had had it with his idiotic blabber. Just when I opened my mouth, all set with a clever retort, something in my head, in my whole body snapped.
I flinched as I gasped loudly. This pain had just appeared, out of bloody nowhere. A poignant ache. Not just a little headache. It was truly unbearable, not like that tale with that Hippogriff...It burned through me, it froze my bones, it smouldered my flesh, it chilled my bowels. It was everywhere at the same time. It was excruciating. I couldn't take it anymore. I hated it. I was suffocating, I needed to breathe. Deep breaths. Didn't work.
Well, just a bit. I did managed to suck in a bit of air, nothing to ride home about, nothing spectacular. I wanted more, I needed more, I was almost begging for it. A Malfoy begging, damn. Oh, I did say 'almost'. It was horrible, I struggle for a breath, I bent down. I could feel tears gathering up at the corners of my eyes, my throat was parched, it was hard to swallow, I could sense a fever rising, anger forming, blood boiling. What the fuck was happening ? And then, it stopped. Just as fast as it came.
I closed my eyes, tightened my lips together, breathed deeply. It was over yet my heart was still pounding, my breathing still ragged. I tried to relax but it bloody was not working. All I could hear were laughs, jokes, cheerful voices. I felt imprisoned, trapped, alone in a bubble with all this joy surrounding me. A sorrowful bubble. I felt immune to joy. Immune ? No, perhaps...deprived would be more accurate. What fool would be happy to be immune to happiness ? Riiight. Father.
Just thinking about him worsened my state of mind. Bloody not relaxing at all. How dare he let me here ? On Christmas nonetheless ! Easter I could deal with it, that damn bunny, but Christmas ! Of all the things he could do to me, this was by far the worse one. Compared to this, Christmas with him seemed appealing. Well, almost. At least, I would've get to spend it with Mum.
Oh but that would've made me happy. And he wouldn't want to happen. Oh no. Why should he allow me happiness ? Maybe this was a way of punishing me for refusing yet again to bear the Dark Mark. Surely. I made the mistake of telling him twice if not thrice that I would never bow to someone else. Malfoy pride and all. Hell, he was the one teaching me all this Malfoy superiority. Damn him.
And if I tainted the name well, he bloody ruined it. To hell with all the donations, to hell with all the fundraisers, to hell with all the supposedly good actions, to hell with the noble, proper image he had in the eyes of that bastard Fudge. He was allowing someone else to take control of his life, he was willingly bowing down to someone else. A Mud Blood nonetheless. Blood purity my fucking arse.
He would disappear under a mask, becoming nameless, faceless, becoming a servant. He would come running to his master like a sodding dog every time that stinking mark would glow. He would kill only when permitted to, he would only talk when permitted to, he would suffer the Crucius spell without protesting, without rebelling.
I could only hope he would keep his chin high up, he would never flinch, never show regret, never show fear, never show any emotions. I could only wish he would he would never blink, he would never allow him to see his weaknesses, never let his invisible Malfoy mask disappear, never consent to stoop below where Malfoys belonged.
Images rushed through my mind, memories, hidden, well kept, running everywhere. A strident sound accompanied them, it shrieked in my ears. Not again, not bloody again ! I couldn't take it anymore. Just make it stop. Make it stop. Now ! It was just too much to handle. Bloody memories. The worse ones even. Every time Father had been disappointed with me, every bleeding time.
Memories, bad memories, his upset tone, his eyes betraying him, the disappoint that was born in them, Potter when he refused my friendship, Potter when he became Seeker, Potter beating Lord Voldemort again and again, Potter when he beat me at Quidditch, Potter when he flew on that Hippogriff, Potter when he was just Potter.
Memories surging through my mind, my body, my soul, my very essence. Memories destroying every last ounce of pride, self-restraint, strength, composure that I had left. Was it like this, the Crucius curse ? Was it that unbearable ? Or perhaps it was even worse ? How worse could it be ? I already wanted to die from the ache, from the throbbing, from this bloody Christmas.
It hurt. It hurt so much, a stinging pain in my chest. It burned through my flesh, through my skin, it blazed through my very being, through my very eyes. My mouth and my throat were dry. My eyes burned. My blood seemed to jump out of my skin. My heart wanted to die, as clear and simple as that. It wanted to say goodbye and never come back. I just wanted it to stop. Somebody ? Anybody ? Really ? Even Scarface ?
Bloody hell. Yes. Even Scarface. Anybody just finish...me...off...p-p- p...pl...e...a...s...e...