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Thanks to Merlin and GoldenSunnyGrl for being such great BETA's.

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Chapter Four

Soft whispering interrupted my attempts to fall back to sleep and when I next opened my bleary, hurting eyes all I could see was soft pale hair and sharp silver blue eyes that pierced my soul.

"Oh love, I wish you were real." I whispered as I raised a shaky hand to touch.

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It was easier to hurt, you know. Easier to let the pain build deep inside of me. Wounds so deep that they could never go away. Just continue to bleed me dry day after day. Taking me into the darkness and deadness of my soul night after night. A scary place it was, I know.

I am sure you have heard of people dieing of broken hearts. If you haven't, just wait. Soon you will know someone and that someone would be me. I wanted to tell my friends how much I love them and that I will miss them even if I haven't given them that impression lately. But I said nothing as there was nothing left to say.

Question: Can you die of a broken heart if you know that the one you love returns your love? I guess I wouldn't be dieing of a broken heart anymore but of a heart that has no hope. Yes, that sounds better. I die because my heart has no hope. Even though I knew he loved me back, it was now past the point of no return for me. I was dieing. And nothing my friends were doing was going to stop that.

Just thinking about him had made my heart begin to pound painfully in my chest. I am so weak. I have refused to look in the mirror that Hermione conjured after that initial look. I would look better dead, I think. At least then it would be right to look like this. My eyes are sunken and dead looking, black, lifeless green. My skin is pale and waxy looking. I think my hair is falling out. Does that happen often I wonder. My teeth hurt too. I am pretty positive that that is suppose to happen, just like the hair. A funny thought just crossed my mind, if all my hair falls out then no one can make fun of the rat's nest that it usually is. Funny huh?

SIGH A full body sigh. Man, that felt good. It really did. An ease in some of the pain always feels good. And a sigh eases hurt. Don't ask me why. I don't know but I do know it works. If, by some miracle I survive, I'll ask Madam Pomfrey about that. Maybe it is documented in some medical journal and I can read up on that. I let my mind wander with that thought so that I don't have to think about why I am lying, trapped by my friends, on my own bed. But like a horrific scene you just can't tear your eyes from my thoughts swing back to my love, my pain, my hurt.

Is it easier to blame someone else for your pain? Me, I had no one to blame. I had made my own pain. And in the process had given pain to the one person I wanted to save above all others. Is it better to give or receive pain? Does it even matter where the pain comes from or goes too? Hell, pains pain. And it bloody fucking hurts.

In my own defense I truly did not know that I had caused pain. And when I did know, what did I do? I ran. Like the coward I had always thought of myself, I ran. I didn't want to face it. I turned my back on everything so that I could ignore all of my hurt and all the pain I was inflicting on others. Stupid huh?

Because that kind of hurt never goes away. It seeps into your very soul. And if you are not careful it can take over your entire life.

That is what had happened to me. I needed my hurt to feel alive not understanding it was slowly eating away at my very soul. Ripping tiny pieces of it away every second until nothing was left but a black, empty hole. Pain and hurt and loathing. That's what I had become. I had done that to myself. Blame? No one. Nothing. Me. Just me.

Taking the hurt and trying to mold it to work for me....didn't work. I think I actually suck at that worse than I suck at Potions. And man, do I suck at Potions. All I wanted to do was have that scaly bastard come and end my hurt. One simple bloody avada kedavra was all I needed. But I couldn't find him. What was up with that? I can't for the life of me understand why he was hiding.

Did he know? Was he just sitting back waiting for me to die? Or did he fear me still, knowing I now had nothing to live for and wanted and needed to die, did he now fear me more?

This was a golden opportunity for him. I would lay myself before him, wand at my feet, begging for the bright green terrible life taking light that had started this life for me. Have you ever heard of anyone dreaming about that? Of wanting it so much he or she could taste it?

I could tell you what the death curse tastes like. Honey and blood and the just woke up from a nightmare taste you get in your mouth after a hard scream; the one that woke you from the nightmare in the first place.

It freezes your soul, that's why you scream. Souls are suppose to be free and warm and full of love. Not dead and cold and green.

I would have stayed that way until my death. Hell, I was begging for it. I needed it. Wanted it. Dreamed of it. Searched for it. I hated to hurt. But hurting made me feel just the tiniest bit alive.

Like a slow drip of blood from a self inflicted wound, hurt was the one and only thing keeping me alive.

Drip. Breathe in and out.

Drip. Sleep.

Drip. Eat. Throw up. Eat again.

Drip. Breathe in and out.

I had no life left. At this point, I could care for nothing, no one. Especially the one that I loved. If I let myself care now, I would hang on in hurt till the very last moment. I have tried to let him go, but I can't. I selfishly don't want her to have him.

He is mine. Mine. But I can never have him.

I wanted it all to end and I was well on my way to seeing it done once and for all, even if I had to literally waste myself away to get the job done. Then they came along and bullocked up all of my half-baked plans.

They decided I should live. They decided to try and keep me alive. They made me eat and cleaned up after me when I vomited it all back up. They made me sleep by forcing potions down my lax throat. They made me talk. They cried when I cried and held me when the shaking and fear became too much for me to handle alone.

Little by little they made me live.

Thank Merlin for friends.

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"Oh love, I wish you were real." I whispered as I raised a shaky hand to touch that beautiful pureblood pale skin that called out to be worshiped. And I was a worshiper of the highest order, or I would be if ever given the chance.

Everything I had ever wanted was right there before me. Shining brightly in the moonlight. I wanted to devour it but keep it whole and pure and touchless. He was the only real thing left in my life. And he belonged to someone else.

What's the irony in that? Belonging to someone else? Can you belong to someone? And if you do, are you still you?

I think I knew the answer to that one; I belonged to him and I was still me. Even if he didn't know he owned me, I still belonged to him.

Expecting my hand to pass through the vision before me I held still in shock when my cold, shaky hand met hot, tear-streaked flesh. Flesh that was real. And here. And not my imagination. I was touching him. He was here. He was with me. Why was he crying? Did I look that bad?

I touched a tear that fell from his beautiful eyes and it burned through my skin all the way to my soul, healing as it went.

"Oh God!" I breathed shakily in awe. "D-Draco?"

The hope that flared in my mind and body made me cry out and I welcomed the blackness that consumed me. For the first time ever I fell into it willingly because I had hope now that when I woke, I wouldn't be alone.

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Well, here it is. I do so hope that you all like this. Getting maudlin this close to Christmas. Possibly one more chapter to go!

Merry Christmas to ALL and have a Happy New Year!

ENJOY!

LMG