2: Los dolores de corazón.
She wakes up, an arm lying in a crooked angle on top of her. She can count the fine hairs on the arm, lit from the moonlight that peeks through. It's cold, and she's shivering. She can feel her nipples harden, rubbing against the cotton fabric, and she wraps the sheet tighter around her.
She begins to think of previous arms that had lain over her body. Ron's arm was speckled with freckles, she remembers, and she thought she could count over a hundred on his arm alone. She remembers Ron pointing to her a cluster that he had noted, with pride in his voice, as a constellation. Ron would hold her tight against him, almost clinging to her, as if he was afraid that she would leave.
He had strong arms, and she would trace her fingers over the indents while he was on top. He was passionate, his red hair and blue eyes the only thing that she had wanted to return to at night. He loved her. They were meant to be.
She still loves him, but she can't run into his arms. He is buried six feet under, and she shudders again, picturing the maggots that could be moving in and out of his eye sockets. She can't remember how he had fallen, but she thinks that if she was there, she could have done something to prevent him from calling out her name one last time. She thinks that they could have had a future together, a family full of children running with brown curly hair and blue eyes.
She remembers another pair of arms, strong but slim, with an olive skin tone. She used to brush down the black hair on his arm, before tiptoeing with her fingers to under his arms or his sides. Harry would growl at her, laughing since he was fairly ticklish, before trying to pin down her arms. She would evade capture, howling with laughter after Harry snuggled his face onto her skin and blew raspberries. During those times, sometimes Ron would join in, diving into the bed after struggling with himself, standing by the door.
She begins to cry when she remembers these things. But she feels Malfoy's heart beating against her back, and she can feel beads of sweat beginning to roll down her back, as she hears his breath hitch and quicken. She feels his lips press against the base of her neck, and she closes her eyes, trying to stop the flow.
His hand is snaking down to reach between her curls and all she thinks about is how his fingers feel inside her and how she wishes she could just stop thinking.