Now I've never felt weaker in all my life
You said it's only a one off, only a line
xXx
Are you addicted?
Tell me the truth
I think I'm losing my mind
xXx
I'm so fucked up since I hit the ground
Revive me
- The Fox and the Wolf
Another night, another dose, but tonight was different. She was different, and he could tell, and it set him on edge. He didn't know what it was, and that only made it worse. She was thinking. Thinking and on the verge of speaking, and he felt the panic rise within him.
"Hold me, Draco?" Her voice was soft—barely audible—and he wondered whether it was soft enough that he could pretend he hadn't heard her. Pretend to her. Pretend to himself.
"I know you don't want to. I know it's not your thing." Her voice was louder now—stronger, more certain—but his mind was rushing louder still and when he didn't—couldn't—respond she continued. "I come here, for you, because you need it. But damn it, Draco, I need this. So please, just this once, will you hold me? Will you stay?" She punctuated the plea with the softest kiss he'd ever felt. A wave of tortured weakness rushed through his body. He could feel a tremble run through her, showing that she knew how risky, bold, brave the move was, but the reflexive fury she likely anticipated was washed away by his own tremulous weakness, and that pitiful remainder of his heart was pierced by her lips, as icy fingers that flood with pain as the heat seeps slowly back into them.
The silence stretched on and his heart raced faster and faster—frantic echoes of an unrealised thought. She rolled over to face him properly and her eyes were full of warmth and concern. "Draco, I—. You don't have to, I just thought—. I just needed… I needed to try, is all. I couldn't not. I—" Her plea for forgiveness—a being of purity to a casing of evil—brushed through the ashes of his soul, spinning them into a dark cloud that lent to his soul a form, wraith-like, yes, but a form nonetheless. And so he cut her off with a tender kiss to her temple. An act so terribly foreign to both of them. Her words froze in the cool air between them and her eyes widened, though in confusion or fear or some other feeling, he didn't have the time to discern as he pulled her gently to his chest and wrapped his arms around her shaking form.
The sun was soon rising up over the low trees, blackened by the brilliance of the light, and the orange glow crept unbidden into the room, reaching ever to light upon her innocence. Amongst the tangled sheets she was beautiful. He could almost forget that soon her eyes would open, and they'd look on him as though he were deserving of love and of trust and of all things good. But maybe it was so dreadful only because he wanted it to be...