REMORSE THAT KNOWS NO REGRETS

Chpt. 2

(OK it's been awhile (computer problems) but I have gotten a couple of reviews and I will limit the amount of song lyrics and poems I use.)

(I do realize that my view on Ron may surprise some of you… however I personally like it.)

(As well I would like it very much if you have any criticism on my story for you to send me it. Or any suggestions.)

Hermione and nearly everyone in the room keep asking me about what happened in the Hallway today. Everyone asks the same question.

"Where is Harry Potter?"

"Why was Harry Potter dueling instead of at Quidditch practice?" I really want to thump the next person who says another Harry Potter.

"Ron?" It's Hermione again. I look up at her. I love her even if I do not love her in the sense that all others would have me love her.

She hasn't been talking to me very much ever since the whole Ernie incident. I look at her and I realize that the reason I thought I loved her was because of the feeling of protection. The way I feel when Ginny is doing something that she shouldn't. Hermione is beautiful to me. But for me she holds no appeal. Her brown hair and soft brown eyes deserve more than I could ever give. Her intellect and absolute loveliness is more than I can bear. That she finds a love that has been forever forsaken for me is all I ask of life.

The way she looks at me I know that she's worried. However I know that though she would be mine to hold and to keep, I could never truly be hers.

No that has been stolen from the two of us.

I shake my head. "It's nothing Hermione. Nothing at all." A lie. But there are so many that I can no longer keep track of.

I've been sitting here for now over an hour. I keep looking at my hands.

The perfectly long fingers that are as cold as ice most of the time. The slimy ferret called them artist hands. Though as disgusting as he was implying that, I can see what he meant. In another world I could've been a musician, painter anything but what I have become.

In another world my passion could've been fueled by something other than the Quidditch my best friend excels at me in. I could have painted as that muggle, Leonardo da Vinci painted. I could've put all the things that I cannot even utter in the simplest of words on canvas for the entire world to see. The

My doodles tell that that was the way it could've been. What it will never be. I know who I am. I am…

Nothing.

The way that the thought enters my mind makes me think that there is more to the thought than what is revealed. The way that the failure of it all, makes me want to scream. Bloody with all the despair reflected in it.

I remember the way that Percy held me when it became too much for me to handle. I remember the way that I cried when he held me to heal the pain and hurt away. I remember that the little boy was just a little boy, how I felt that Death could be waiting for me at every corner. How I was afraid of that for the longest of Times, than that fear decreased and disappeared.

I know that the King has come to hold High Court. The peasants' cries fill my ears but I don't want to look up into those accusing eyes that demand me to answer their questions. I don't even look up when he's right in front of me.

"Ron?" There is so much behind that one syllable. I don't want to look up.

I wait; half hoping that he'll just walk away.

"Ron?" When it becomes apparent that I won't answer he continues. "We need to talk. Alone. Now."

I nod. But it seems that the only way to ignore the problem is to meet it head on.

After much time being suffocated by Harry Potter's admirers we finally made it to the Dormitory I felt like throwing myself out of the window near Seamus' bed. I'm standing there looking at the window thinking of all the suicide scenario's going through my mind.

"Ron." There. Now I have to look at him.

I love the way that his emerald green eyes seem to burn out of milky white face. The way the scar is the only thing that mar's this perfect face. I could have given the rest of my happiness to him. But I didn't. Not to this person who is nearly my brother.

I opened my mouth to say something to verify that we don't need to have a confrontation because everything is cool.

For him.

He's still staring at me. When it becomes obvious that I will not be the first one to talk, he begins.

"What Malfoy said? Why did he say that, I mean usually he says something about Hermione? Why did he say that about you?" He's suspicious because he probably thought that in the Wizarding world nobody said phrases like that.

I won't meet his eyes.

"Ron…" He's pressing to hard and I know that I'm going to have to say something. But I won't. I have nothing to say.

"Is it true…?" I can tell he doesn't really want an answer to that.

"The more alternatives,

The more difficult the choice…"

Abbe D'Allainval

I don't even bother to look up… instead I stare at my worn out shoes.

I nod.

Silence.

I'm running down the stairs at full speed. I could hear Hermione's cry of "Ron!" But I've already

Portrait.

After I nodded, the silence had become too much for me. Looking up I seen the exact thing that he didn't want me to see.

Revulsion.

No understanding, no concern… just disgust.

He tried to cover it up with the false look of concern, and caring. But it was too late. The damage has been done. The pit of my stomach dropped and the urge to run away from the monster I once knew as me.

I'm running through the halls as fast as I can. Out of the front door, into the cold bite of winter. The image of Harry's face is still present in my mind's eye.

The cold air is hurting my chest… but I refuse to stop running. There's a stitch in my side, the pain is rising. I keep running despite the antagonizing suffocation going on in my lungs. I cannot breathe and it's taking me all my strength to keep going…

My foot snags on an upturned frozen root. I fall, tearing some skin off of my knee.

I don't know how long I've been lying here but I know it's been long…

I can no longer feel some of my body parts. Instead there's a song that keeps playing in my head.

"Thief"

I don't want to understand this horror
There's a weight in your eyes
I can't admit
Everybody ends up here in bottles
But the name tag's the last thing you wanted

As the world explodes
We fall out of it
But we can't let go
Because this will not go away
There's a house built out in space

I can't see that thief
That lives inside of your head
But I can be some courage at
The side of you bed
I don't know what's happening
And I can't pretend
But I can be your, be your

Someone help us understand
Who ordered this disgusting
Arrangement, time and the end
I don't want to hear who walked
On water, because the hallways are empty
And the clock ticks

As the world implodes
We fall into it
And we can't go home
Because this will not go away
There's a house built out in space

I can't see that thief
That lives inside of your head
But I can be some courage at
The side of you bed
I don't know what's happening
And I can't pretend

It's a long, long get away
It's a long, long get away
Make it home again
Make it home again
It's a long, long get away
It's a long, long get away

I can't see that thief
That lives inside of your head
But I can be some courage at
The side of you bed
I don't know what's happening
And I can't pretend
But I can be your, be your

- Our Lady Peace

I feel an unbearable pain in my chest… more painful than the frozen rocks cutting into my hand. More than the migraine forming in my head. I feel a heartbroken crush tearing apart my chest making me choke aloud that this is not enough…

But I stop hearing a soft voice calling to me as I feel the heaviness of sleep taking over my limbs. Like a lullaby the voice is soothing… a voice I've never heard and yet I never want to stop hearing. Soft and somber, like that of piano repertoire, Percy once made me listen to.

Get up.

No.

You must.

No… I can't…

Get up.

Why? It hurts too much…

It'll pass.

No it won't!

No it won't. The voice sounds resigned.

I don't know if I'm speaking aloud, I know that I am crying. My sobs I can hear.

Stand.

I slide one knee up to my chest. My arms are shaking under the pressure; the pain is becoming apparent where it had been numb.

Stand.

I can't.

Yes.

My arms are being put to their limit as I try to stand up.

One foot at a time.

I wobble but manage to keep my balance, cursing myself for being tall.

One foot after the other.

I shuffle my right foot first. It feels heavy and the cold air is nearly driving me down into the ground again.

One…two…three…

I can see the castle. The light is nearly blinding my eye. There is a figure shadowing the doorway.

Twenty seven…twenty eight…twenty nine…

I'm nearly there.

I know that shadow… how could I not. I know it as only someone who knows a figure intimately would know it. But I cannot waste my time on antagonizing about how I don't want it to be who it is.

I place one foot on the bottom of the Front Stairs and try to raise my body up.

I nearly fall… but there is a body next to me holding me up.

I'm sorry.

NO! You tell him to get away from me! You tell him to Go Away! You tell him to get his touches to himself! To keep his lips off of my cheek! I've had enough of him! You tell him…

I can't.

My mind falls silent as I allow myself to be touched by this fiend that I so desperately hate…

And love.

His voice in my ear remarking on how cold I am. His lips on my face, his circling my lower back as a true lover might.

I allow myself to be taken to the Abandoned Classroom. Allow myself to bathe in his warmth…

His body close enough to touch my intimate parts. Taking off my shirt and trying to warm me to normal body temperature.

Looking into his eyes I see some of the concern he showed me that first time he revealed his other side. The side that I love honestly.

The side I associate with Draco.

I indulge in the feeling as he kisses my neck. Indulge in the way he leans on me as my arms wrap around his tiptoeing body. Hugging him close to me, I whisper in his ear

"O mes petites amoureuses

Que je vous hais!

Plaquez de fouffes douloureuses

Vos tetons laids!"

He looks up at me with glazed eyes, as his mouth opens in a question I swoop down and place my mouth on top of his. Than I push on his body to the cushions making my intentions clear.

Tonight was and will be mine.

I have been leaving little kisses all over his body… reaching his naval and going to his organ. Having him whimper and nearly beg is music to my ears… as grotesque as it is.

Taking him in my mouth I skillfully begin to pull back the foreskin with my tongue and give him my standard best. Stopping before he can reach the point of no return…

Crawl up to his face and kiss his sweaty lips. Grinding both of our organs together, he cries out. Making me smile into our kiss.

"Patience Malfoy." He's delirious at the way I've taken control… the way that I make him suffer for it.

"Do… do it…" he doesn't know how beautiful it is to see his blonde hair cling to his forehead, the way that the hidden desire in his cold grey eyes seem to call out for something he can't stop begging for.

I ignore his pleas and grab some of the oil he rarely used on me. I have to lean over his body to reach it underneath on of the pillows by his head. My organ over his stomach as he bucks into my body making me lose balance and fall to the side.

Laughing I continue on my hunt, finally retrieving my prize.

Still smiling I stare into his face as I lather the oil on my erection… watching his pained face as I slowly spread it over my organ.

His desperate panting is becoming too much for me… my own lust is being tried.

I grab his legs and sling them over my shoulders as I lean down. Steadying myself on either side of his torso.

Than I slowly take my left hand and find myself an opening, pushing myself in despite the fact that his gasping has a painful ring to it… I know that pleasure will come soon enough…

Thrusting into his body I am met with a pleasure that I have only known when I was on the bottom. The way the tightness of him is around my organ… making gasp as much as he is…

Love him.

I do.

Only in this embrace?

There can be no other.

Cruel.

So the darkest voice in my mind preaches.

Would you have me say more?

No. Go away let me enjoy this… this "embrace" as you call it.

Very well.

I thrust one last time and both of us come. Our cries loud and very much alive…

"You should take a shower." His getting dressed, but for once he's in a good mood.

I lean back into the pillows.

"I will." I say still feeling the pleasure.

He turns to look at me. His grey eyes as cold as ice once again. Staring at my nude body. Lingering on the stain he left. Leaning towards me and licking my stomach.

Getting up he says one last thing.

"Clean up before you leave."

French poem by Rimbaud.

O my little lovers,

How I hate you!

Plaster with painful blisters

Your ugly tits!