Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's Note: I've managed to get another chapter up this week! It's amazing what a bit of Christmas cheer will do for ones urge to write. In this chapter we see Draco slipping deeper inside himself. There are some dark things I've tried to explore in this chapter, so please be warned.

I'd also like to mention the response I got for the ending of the last chapter. Well all I have to say is that you'll all have to wait and see. I tried to show the logic to her decision, but if that wasn't clear enough I will write a little more on it in the next chapter. Hopefully things will all work themselves out…

Oh and please pay special attention to the lyrics of the song. They are very fitting for the mood of the chapter.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the words.

Coeur Corrompu

Chapter Twenty Two

Wish I was too dead to cry
My self-affliction fades
Stones to throw at my creator
Masochists to which I cater
You don't need to bother;
I don't need to be
I'll keep slipping farther
But once I hold on,
I won't let go 'til it bleeds

You don't need to bother;
I don't need to be
I'll keep slipping farther
But once I hold on:
I'll never live down my deceit

Bother - Corey Taylor

Breathing in and out - it all seemed simple enough unless you thought about it. It was all a case of in and out, repeated on an endless loop. Endless, that is, until you met the end of your life. Maybe it would slow down and fade away, more likely though it would just end. One minute you'd be there, the next you wouldn't exist anymore. The meaning of life was as simple as that. Humans come and go, destroy everything in their paths but hardly ever make an indentation on time itself. The world would survive far longer then he ever would.

Draco closed his eyes for a second, his breathing becoming shallow. If only he'd relax, it would all be so much better. That was impossible though, because there was only so far you could wind a person up until they snapped. Snapping was what he had felt like doing, but it was a luxury he wouldn't allow himself. Just to cry and hide would be too easy, so he thought about breathing.

Closing. Opening. Closing. Opening. Closing.

It was difficult to keep a rhythm when you thought about it. Life became dizzying, and suddenly everything was twisted in among the crap. There seemed no end to it all, just endless fields of nothingness coming together in one punch. Soon he wouldn't be able to remember how to breathe. Maybe it would all end there, and he wouldn't have to be here. It would all be over. Fini. The End.

That was an appealing idea to Draco. There would be no consequences for him. He would never know how everything turned out. In fact he wouldn't be in existence anymore - just another corpse laid in the ground to rot. Such a pleasant thought to a grieved soul, he considered as he opened his eyes again.

He was sat in the kitchen, feeling miserable and sorry for himself. It had seemed like the perfect place to be - under everyone's feet, making them unable to ignore his obvious despair. There was no point in suffering alone, if he could dole out the depression among others. His mood was like dark smog coming down on people and suffocating them. Draco knew he shouldn't inflict it upon them, but at least it gave him a small kick.

'Lonely river flow…' murmured Mrs Weasley as she pottered round the kitchen, blatantly ignoring him. 'Wait for me, wait for me.'

Somehow her happiness was making things worse for Draco. As she meandered around the small room, singing to herself, he could see everything she had. Molly Weasley had a nice home with four strong walls, a family to surround herself with and the unconditional love of her children. Draco had nothing, not even a home to bury himself in. Only Narcissa remained of his tattered family, but her cold, hard manner was not a comfort. Through his entire life she had tried to show him a degree of affection, but it never worked and always came out awkward rather then loving. It wasn't that she didn't love her son, but that she didn't know how to express it.

So a lowly Weasley was having a much better time then the perfect Malfoy. His old self sneered inwardly, it was pathetic. Above all it was degrading. If a Weasley could have all this love and security, then why couldn't he? Oh yes, he thought, I'm a wanted man with a warrant on his head. That would defiantly put a damper on things, especially relationships.

It had been on his mind a lot over the past few days, all stemming from the fact that he was being ignored. He felt betrayed by Ginny - maybe she had her reasons, but he was a sick person who needed looking after. It was the least she could have done for him after all the help he's given her. A man was dead so she could live! All of it had made him feel childish, so he acted as any child would. He demanded too much, so it was all taken away.

The look on her face when she had seen him in the hallway had made him angry. In his translation it was a look of pity and disgust. Draco had been willing to forgive her that though, because he needed her to need him in some way. Just her presence made him feel more like a man, but she didn't want to play that game anymore. He remembered saying something along the lines of him not wanting to play games, but it had been a lie. Draco could have played mind games with Ginny for eternity, just as long as there was the undertone of dependence upon it.

When at his home, he had been in control. He was the one who brought her food, cleaned her clothes and comforted her when she was alone. Now though it had all been reversed. Draco was holed up in the Burrow until he had recovered enough to escape. That was the plan, and it was rubbish. He didn't want to leave here now that he was comfortable.

Most of all he wanted her.

Opening. Closing. Opening. Closing.

It was a scary thought that nothing else consumed his mind so completely. Truly there was nothing that compared to Ginny, but not in the conventional sense. There were women more attractive, richer, and nicer to be with but she was all he could ever think of. The thoughts he had about her were what determined him now. He wasn't a man running from the law to save his life - Draco was a man who thought he liked a Weasley very much.

It had all been so much easier at school. If you liked a girl then you could just get a friend to find out what she liked, modify the situation slightly, and then charm her until she gave in. Well, either that or do nothing and watch from a distance. Now he was older though things were far more complicated. For example, he had not told her the entire truth at the start. Ginny now thought that he had used her to transfer information between him and the Order. Okay, he thought, so she's right about that. Context was everything though.

Then there was the fact that she knew he was leaving her. It couldn't possibly be that simple, could it? Was she ignoring him because he was leaving?

'You should go back to bed. Far too cold down here for a man in your condition! What you need is a good snooze and some hot chocolate. Maybe a bit of pecan pie? Or would you prefer apple?' Mrs Weasley asked in an irritatingly cheery way. 'Ginny can never decided, bless her socks, but my boys always know what they want.'

'I feel that if I return to that feeble excuse for a room, I may well die a slow and very painful death. Also if you feed me anymore of your…luxury foods, I will throw up,' Draco said in a slow cold tone. 'Please refrain from speaking to me.'

'That'll be apple pie then,' Mrs Weasley interpreted from his reply. 'And if you didn't want to be spoken to then you would return to bed.'

'Anyone would think you're trying to get rid of me,' he said leaning back in his chair and observing her. 'I would love to feel that my stay was unwelcome.'

'We all know you're just grumpy because you can't have what you want. Clearly you were over indulged as a child.' Her tone was clipped, but showed no signs of hostility. 'My boys learnt at a young age that they had to fight for the last piece of pie, otherwise someone else would eat it.'

'I truly hope that wasn't supposed to be a reference to Ginny, because if it was then that would be incest. Such a shame to see such a reputable family fall to ruin,' his voice was laced with sarcasm, with his manner cold. He was in no mood to talk about his emotional difficulties with Molly, let alone refer to the object of his affections as a piece of pie he wanted to eat.

'You know perfectly well what I mean, or am I to believe you have no intelligence as well as no manners?' she turned the tap on and began to do the washing up.

'I know it might have skipped your attention, but it's none of your business whether or not I want to - as you so nicely put it - eat the last slice of pie.'

'It is my pie Mister Malfoy. Don't forget that so easily.'

Draco sighed heavily. It was a miracle that he was still alive living in a house run by such a mad woman. That did explain a lot though - like why she was on the Order and her daughters tendency to question things far too much.

'How long are we going to refer to…your daughter as a piece of confectionary?' he asked, not entirely wanting to be ignored again. Somewhere, deep inside, he needed to use his language. Without it he felt like he was dying.

Then again, maybe he was already.

'For as long as you refuse to admit that you enjoy her company a lot more than you let on,' Molly said softly, moving one pot onto the draining board and starting on another. 'Or is that below a Malfoy?'

'I know you don't like me Mrs Weasley, so you don't need to reiterate it to me. You seem to easily forget that I am aware of your preconceptions. To a certain extent you are completely right. I am a coward who hides behind bullying to get what I want. I find other people, of a lesser character, to be beneath me. I see wealth as being a means to power, of which I am crazed for. I will kill, but only if it benefits me in some way. I, Draco Malfoy, am completely self obsessed, with an obsessive streak of treading upon every toe I can. But you see I know that it's right. Without people like me, there would be nothing for people like you to fight against.' Draco watched her intently moving about as he spoke.

'You're wrong. I have no preconceptions of you. I only know what you tell me, and that seems to be pretty much everything you just said. Overall you make me think of you as an unsavoury character with no actual beating heart within your body.'

Opening. Closing. Opening.

Mrs Weasley turned to face him, absently wiping her hands on her apron. 'You do nothing to lend it to your…nicer qualities.'

Draco leaned forward in his seat, resting his head on the table. Why was it that he had to be shacked up in a house with a do-gooder? She was the kind of person who wanted to make people' lives better, for no apparent reason. If it were him on the other hand, he would make sure that there was at least one personal gain. It was foolish to not look at the possibilities.

'Ginny never could make up her mind you know. Would she have the sweets or the chocolate? Did she like George or Fred more? Should she wear the darker shade of blue, or the lighter? Which one would Harry prefer? It's all questions with her and you're just another one added to the list,' she continued, walking to the table where he was sat and taking a seat herself.

'Thank you for that gem of knowledge. I'll be sure to lock it away somewhere safe,' he drawled from where his head lay on the table. 'I'm sure scientists are making a cure for it as we speak.'

'Your problem is that you don't listen when you should.'

'Yes, I'm sure it is. Now I think that I should really be going back to bed now,' he lifted his head off the table and fixed his gaze on her. 'There's this incessant humming that's giving me a headache.'

'Ginny loves you, you know?' Molly said with a slight frown on her face, as if having to concentrate very hard on the words. 'I don't think you deserve that.'

'Then why is she ignoring me, oh wise one? Why does she insist on not speaking to me, or in fact seeing me?' Draco snapped in frustration.

'She's scared of you, and I could well understand why.'

'Well if she's so scared of me, then it doesn't matter what either of us think about the other, does it?' he said coldly. 'I wouldn't entertain the thought if I were her.'

'See, there you go again, not listening properly. It isn't what you think about each other that matters, but what you feel. Ginny loves you, but you keep pushing her away because you're being all noble. You think running away will solve it all, and it won't. There will always be that person you left behind,' she gestured with her hands as she spoke.

'Actually I don't think running will solve anything. Dying, on the other hand, will cure us all of a terrible disease that I have become. You won't have to worry about cleaning up my mess, Ginny won't have to be scared anymore, Potter will have someone to lay the blame on and my secrets will never be known. I think that is the ideal, don't you agree?' his voice was angry now, but with a hint of pain. Every shallow creature on this earth, including him, feared the pain of death, but was willing to do so if it meant the end of pain also.

Molly stared at him. It was the stare of someone who was horrified by what they had just heard, but mixed with something else. Maybe it was confusion. Draco understood that look though, because he had seen it so many times before. She probably didn't know about the scars up his arms, the way he felt about falling asleep and never waking up, the dull ache of his heart forcing itself to keep going.

Closing. Opening.

'Mum? I'm home!' Ginny's cheery voice echoed through the silence. 'I've got something to tell you! Where are…oh.'

There was no point in turning to see the look on her face. Ginny hadn't expected him to be out of bed, let alone sat round the kitchen with her mother. True they had been arguing in a fashion, but there was no trace left of it in this instance. The last thing he wanted to see was her disgust again, evidence of her supposed love.

Was there a possibility that she loved him anyway? Molly was her mother, so surely she would have an idea of her daughter's ways?

Everything was possible though. It could be possible that she was wrong and that Ginny only felt hatred for this shell of a man. If she was right on the other hand, would that change anything? Would he stay and have the happy ending that seemed desperate to him? The ending of it seemed so imminent.

Did he love her?

'Ginny!' Molly said in a breezy, care-free voice. 'Me and Draco were just waiting for a pie to cook. Come and sit down, I'll get you a plate and you can tell us what you've got to tell us.'

If he did love her, then it would explain a lot of what he was feeling.

'Well, I think I should…you know…I…' Ginny stuttered, clearly trying to find a way of refusing the offer without sounding rude.

No, he didn't love her. That was something that Potter would allow himself to do. It was a weakness to allow someone so close. She couldn't get close enough to twist the dagger into his slowing heart.

'Nonsense, sit down. I never seem to see you anymore with all this extra work. I hope Ron is paying you extra for all this labour your doing. If he isn't then I shall be having words,' Molly's voice was commanding. It was the voice of a mother who expected her child to do as she was told.

It seemed to work quite well, as Ginny walked slowly over to the table and sat as far away from Draco as she possibly could. His eyes watched her all the way, taking in everything openly. They both knew what he wanted from her, so there was no point in hiding it now. Sex was all, he reminded himself, and the rest has nothing to do with at the moment. The heartache could wait.

Her hair was pulled back away from her face in a loose ponytail. Red tendrils of hair curled at the side of her face, making it appear more rounded. Her nose was red from the cold wind outside, with the freckles seeming more emphasised. Nervously she was chewing on her bottom lip. Her eyes were cast downward, willing themselves not to look at him. She knew he was watching her closely - examining her flaws. There was no need to worry though, because he knew now that she was perfect.

All he wanted to do at that moment was take her upstairs. There was all the complicated talk that needed to happen, but it could wait that little bit longer. If only he could touch her, then everything might be alright again. He needed her to need him so he could keep on living. She was hope's last petal before winter killed the sun.

'Well?' Molly asked expectantly as she busied herself.

'I saw Harry today.'

Draco snorted and put his head back down on the table. Could his day possibly get any worse? The last thing he wanted to hear was about Potter, especially seeing as he's tortured him only days earlier. No doubt there would be more scars from the abuse he had suffered under that mans hand. He knew he should be angry about it all, but he just couldn't seem to gather it up. Of course Potter had hurt him physically, but he was doing his job. Draco could understand that.

Ginny was toying with the edge of her robe now. Twisting it about her fingers, and then releasing it, in a repeated pattern. Her fingers were long and slim, with dirt under the nails and smudges of ink on them. It was amazing how much he had missed the first time he had looked at her, when there was no sense of time slipping away.

Draco was leaving, in which ever way he chose. She was right to be scared of loving him.

'He suggested I took a holiday and I agreed,' Ginny continued softly, refusing to look at him.

What had she ever seen in Potter anyway? He wasn't exactly conventionally good looking, with his rounded glasses and floppy hair. His body hadn't been exactly manly back in school. It was probably the persecuted hero complex that had drawn her in. It was probably the attitude he had of being down trodden by everyone. Having no family didn't mean he had bigger problems then the rest of them. Potter would never understand the sharp double edge of love and disappointment.

'Oh, that's nice. I thought you were in need of a good rest. You have suffered quite an ordeal over the past month and it was wrong to try fix everything so quickly. After all there are some things that need to be…sorted,' her mother continued. 'It was brave of you to face Harry though.'

More like foolish, Draco thought inwardly.

'Not really. He just appeared at the office and I knew I couldn't let him know I knew. So I…' she glanced at him now. 'Forgot and pretended nothing had changed.'

'Nothing has changed,' Draco said quietly. 'He's the same as he has always been.'

Silence settled upon the room, creating an atmosphere of tension. The message was crystal clear - Potter had always been a murderous killer. Publicly he had killed Voldemort, which everyone had celebrated. It was amazing what blood on a man's hand could do. Everyone had seen this as a justifiable murder. There was no way anyone would take him to trial on the matter. What none of them had understood was the blood though. It never left you. You would always be the person who had killed another human being. One minute they would be there, the next you were the hero of the hour.

'He asked me to go to China with him again,' she said in a confidence that seemed fake. 'I thought it would look suspicious if I said no, so…I…'

Closing.