Hey Guys: I am so sorry about this chapter being so freaking late. It's a disgrace to my name, heh. But if any of you have ever been a junior in high school you should understand the stress and pressure that I'm under right now. As soon as I get the SAT's, ACT's and my three AP's, plus the musical I'll be back to writing. Until then bear with me.

Chapter 6

A bolt of white-hot lightening erupted across the clear starless sky the moment my clock struck midnight. Rain drops fell from invisible clouds, exploding against the rattling window panes of my bedroom, waking me from my fitful sleep to an empty nightmare. Years ago, on this night, Harry had died. I had died.

And so I was being reminded by the great thundering blackness outside my small lonely room. I felt his presence in every single shadowed corner. I saw his emerald eyes light up the darkness. I could sense his love in the furthest depths of my heart, where every betrayal with you remained. Crying out, I begged for him. For his arms to hold me. For his strength to carry me. For his mind to clear my muddled thoughts. For his heart. For him to have me once more. But there were only rumpled bed covers and tearstained pillows for me to cling to.

In those hours of despair I wondered if what we had was good for both of us, or had all of our other emotions manifested themselves into love. Was your dysfunctional childhood blinding you into needing me? Did my broken heart seek to be mended in whatever person I could find? Or is it really love?

How can one distinguish between their illusions and their reality when it comes down to honesty with their most delicate fears? Is mankind really advanced enough to see past their own mirages?

When the day finally broke, my head was aching, dull from the ever abundant paradoxes of the night before. Yet there you were at my door, drenched by the storm, waiting with a tattered umbrella in hopes of keeping me dry. You had come to save me, as Harry had done so many times over.

The second you saw me you knew something was amiss. And instead of comforting me, in that annoying way that most people do, you looked deep within the confines and found all the answers to your questions. Without a word you kissed my forehead and disappeared noiselessly into the kitchen.

Relieved, I collapsed, exhausted, onto the warm couch and waited for you to reappear. It's strange how not talking can solve all the problems I'd ever dreamed of. It amazed me how perceptive you were, and how you sensed exactly what I needed.

"Here," you said handing me a warm cup of coffee.

I smiled in gratitude and let the silence sink in.

They say that infatuation is the closest thing to love. That the same passion is felt at first but then later fades into comfort. Humans, by nature, are resistant to change; therefore locking themselves into a cage of what they believe is love.

Does silence symbolize comfort, and so obviously infatuation?

Often times I find my self lost within my over analytical mind. It never rests, and it constantly feels the need to undermine whatever happiness I have. I am the master of comparisons and of the manipulation of words. I am able to twist any situation or phrase into what I want it to be, or what I subconsciously wish it would mean. That, in itself, is the great pitfall of my existence.

What we have was calculated and timed. It is a game both of us knew all too well. Yet sometimes I would forget, absentmindedly letting myself love you without the consequences. Those days were what I lived for, hoping that we could be normal, and fall in love like everyone else.

"Draco?" I asked quietly breaking the stale air.

You looked at me, analyzing my thoughts.

"Do you think that we could just go somewhere, anywhere really."

You nodded and stood.

I smiled and reached out for your hand, trying to erase the past night's trauma, to escape the suffocation.

As we stepped outside, you leaned down and whispered in my ear, "You know I always used to believe that the rain renews everything. It cleans away all of our mistakes and our problems. It's making a second chance."

I looked out and saw the frozen streets, a glittering white frost untouched by the dirt underneath. I saw the crystal icicles melting away onto the snow. I bore witness to an innocent day, unaware of the storm that had just shaken it. It was in every way a brave new world, and I, a brave new soul in it, reborn in the crisp air.

How was it that you had that ability to do that, to make it all better? I can't understand; in fact, I can't even begin to comprehend. Maybe that's why we stay together, because all of our childhood we wanted to know what was happening to us. We needed to believe that our lives meant something even if we struggled for eternity to find it. Maybe we think that together we can solve the puzzle. But maybe in the end, the rain has already washed it all away.

"So what are we going to do with this second chance?" I asked with a somewhat cocky undertone as I discretely packed a snowball.

You turned from me and I saw the hint of a smile on face.

I closed my eyes and threw, then before I could see the damage I ran.

"I hate you," you screamed and started off after me.

I heard the footsteps echoing across the icy pavement, and then out of nowhere a cold chill ran down my back. I felt my hair, and found it to be covered in snow.

"Ahh, revenge is sweet," you laughed menacingly.

I smiled and reached out for you admitting defeat, "Yes, I suppose it is."

You pulled me into a tight hug and sighed with a victorious afterthought.

Then, with your arms around me, I nonchalantly shoved snow down your grey jacket.

You pulled back with a grimace.

I threw my head back and cried, "Ahh, revenge is most definitely sweet."

"I hate you," you cried sullenly.

"No you don't, you love me," I said, meaning for it to be a joke but when it came out you looked at me with an unreadable emotion.

Once again the silence set in, this time an awkward one that implied all the confrontations that we had played out over and over again our heads, but had never ventured to bring up. So we stood there our hair frozen and our fingers numb blatantly avoiding eye contact. We were like little kids again, bashfully shuffling our feet, not knowing how to react to our crushes.

But they weren't crushes anymore. It was so much more complex than that. The emotion we felt towards one another was the manifestation of our lives and our struggles and the emotions they had created. It was the escape that we craved and read about. It was a second chance at everything good in the world.

"I'm sorry," I said in a hushed tone. "You know I didn't mean it to be, well…"

"I know," you responded back equally quite and pensive.

"Then why did it seem so…" I ventured out in hopes of finding the word to express the intangible feeling that had so quickly come over us both.

"I can't think of the word either."

"Changed," I came upon finally.

You nodded and looked away.

It was as if something had come over each of us and had shattered whatever the mold for whatever we felt had been. Because now, something was different. A sort of unspoken tone had come with the cold rain of the night's past. A chilling reminder of reality had passed.

We were not little naïve children anymore. Not that we ever really were.

An odd sort of tension had begun to set in. We both reverted back to the fear our childhood, isolated within our pain, within our loneliness. And now that we finally had love, we ran from it. We were turning our backs on everything we had ever dreamed of.

Ironic isn't it?

The tragic paradoxes of life reveal themselves for what they truly are and where they are truly found.

Nothing ever fucking works out for me and it seems like nothing ever will. Damn it. I'm sick of this place and this mess and the way everything good falls apart. What am I, some disease, some tainted piece of destruction that turns everything black?

I'm just not going to try any longer. The beginning of the end has begun.