A very nice reviewer pointed out she though this story would be best served as a monologue. Can't help but agree. I think I might write a Draco point of view tonight also, to complete this. I'm really happy with how this turned out, and thank you to Genevieve who's reviewed almost all my fics :) Merci.
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I am prowling the Hogwarts halls, lost in the North tour, one of the few places where I figured he wouldn't venture. He is probably sleepless to, hiding, or sulking, in the dungeons where I certainly would not be seen.
Even with the weigh of the castle between me and him, I can't seem to be free. I can still feel his burning hands on me, in me. I still carry the taste of his sensuous lips, the smooth taste that is him, mixed with cigarette smoke and the tang of danger. My throat is parched, and my eyes are wet, and even as I wrap my robes closer around me and close my eyes, the thought of him consumes me.
We are too different to possibly fall in love, but I can't live without his touch, and judging from his yearning looks, neither can he. Even now, curled up on the cold floor, exposed to the night wind, I am warmed by the memory of our latest encounter, only hours ago.
I couldn't sleep, surprisingly, and I sneaked outside for some air. When I turned a corner and saw him, I was only half-surprised. We always seem drawn to each other. He turned from the sky to look at me, his eyes almost feverish, his lips apart, a burning cigarette in his hand. We stood transfixed by each other, both unwilling to lower ourselves to each other's level, both longing for each other's touch.
He gave in first this time. Ha. Short-lived victory, for as soon as his lips crushed upon mine I lost my wits and only the most basic instincts remained. Only fleeting images and emotions remain, as always. We talked about it once, how it seems we get so drunk on each other's feel that we forget our names.
Nevertheless.
I remember his hand in my hair. His tongue in my mouth, and mine in his. My back hitting the stone wall, my robes pushed back, my hands finding his belt. My feet leaving the ground, my only support his shoulders, and the night sky above us a looming, forboding presence. I remember feeling the need for him to be in me, even as I straightened my skirt and buttoned up my shirt.
I remember walking away, hearing him curse, looking back to see him crumble to the ground, head in hands.
And now I'm here. I'm here and I miss him. I want him. Gods, I want him...
