Author's Note: Here is the third chapter! I'm sorry if it's been a little long but I've been busy and I do seem to have overloaded myself with other chaptered stories. Those too though have been dormant though. I will try to keep them going and not allow them to grow stagnant. This chapter is quite dark and disturbing, so be warned, and I will be putting the rating up a little because of it.
Acknowledgement: To all of those who reviewed, thank you.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the words.
Paper Roses
Chapter Three:
Pain Lies
Alone again in a room with four solid walls, a window and a door. Two means of escape from the torture of being with himself, and yet he would take neither. To go out there would to admit to the failure he was. He would have to sit back and watch the world point and laugh. Oh look, there goes Malfoy the loser. Did you see that fall at the Quidditch pitch? Poor sod, no wonder no one likes him!
Shivering slightly, he drew his knees closer to his chest. It was so cold when there was no one else around. Incredibly cold and harsh against the pale light of his skin. There had been moments where he'd felt like his heart had frozen solid with lack of use, and would stop beating any second now. It was scaring him how difficult it was becoming to breathe. His chest felt like a thousand ton had been rested on it, making him dizzy with the pain of it. Maybe it was because he had been crying for what seemed like days, never the light of the sun touching his flesh. Inside himself a lion roared to be fed more, to satisfy its overwhelming hunger.
He wasn't going to comply though. The only safety he had was the pain that surrounded his being.
They shouted that it was no use holing himself up and wallowing in self pity. They called that he was being stupid - it was an accident. Why was he punishing himself so much for something that was so trivial? People were dying out there and all he could do was feel sorry for himself. He didn't care though because none of them understood how it felt to be so high in the sky only to find themselves crashing. Burning.
So eventually they had all gone away - left him to die if that's what he really wanted. It only proved one thing though and that was that no one cared enough about him to stay through the rough and tough. If they did they wouldn't have taken his crap and forced him back to normality. He would have done the usual fussing about how he wished they'd just leave him alone, and they would laugh it off. It never happened though. No one came to rescue him from the doom of being all alone.
His fists balled up in anger. No one except that infernal Weasley girl. How he wished she would burn away for all her pity and sympathy. That was the last thing he could ever want from a piece of filth like that. She was beneath him and allowing himself to bask in her apparent care for him, would be lowering himself to her level. Was it not enough that he failed his father during the match? Did she have to make him feel guilt on top of everything else?
It had felt good just to let himself go like that. Just to be able to feel his heart beating in his throat as his vision clouded over in a red mist. Angry had felt good, but there was no more left in his body. It was as if it were betraying him to this other feeling. Guilt.
Uncurling his body from the tight ball, he stretched his limbs out. Standing up from the bed, like an old man who hadn't walked for a week, he paced over to his mirror and observed himself. Dark circles patterned his eyes in blue like greys. His skin was pale, eyes bloodshot and lips cracking away with lack of moisture. Well, he thought, at least my hair is tidy. Colouring the ivory paleness of his skin was a large red mark, protruding like a nettle sting.
Weasley had deserved what she'd got. The cheek of her to even hope she could get him to see her differently! Draco snorted at the idea even now. It had been pathetic the way she'd just thrown herself at him like that. She hadn't even been embarrassed for Merlin's sake. Never before had he seen such a miserable act of desperation. That was defiantly the right word - desperate. What had she been thinking? The only thing that could explain it was sheer insanity.
He rubbed his hot, sticky fingers over his forehead and sighed heavily. It was hard being above everybody. Nobody would ever see eye to eye with him because they didn't have the guts. He glanced at himself in the mirror again and turned away. Better to be ignorant then face the truth. Soon he would be forced to that anyway, so he might as well delay it until the crucial moment.
Walking along the corridor, he had held his head down. Of course that hadn't stopped him from being noticed. So maybe he was blowing the whole situation out of proportion, but it didn't matter. What mattered was the pain of it all, both physical and mental. It was a cruel pain that left nothing in its trail of destruction and it hurt in ways that couldn't be described. Mostly it was the knowledge of shame. It had made his head hang down in self pity that night.
All he'd wanted was something to eat from the kitchens. Just something to take his mind off his own grievances and the deep rumbling in the pit of his stomach. There hadn't been anyone about, after all it was after lights out, but he still felt completely exposed. Draco couldn't place his finger on exactly what, though with every step he took it felt like someone was going to jump out and laugh at him. It was like walking a knife's edge - like having a secret everyone knew. They had all seen how weak he was in the face of perfect Potter.
Then she'd been there. It had been…vivid, he thought, the way she just appeared before him. He had stopped in his tracks, unsure of what to do. Somehow his previous embarrassment had affected his perception of other people. There was something about the way she stood there though. It was dark in the hallway, and yet her skin and hair seemed to glow eerily against the night. Then again, she was abnormally pale and her hair was a horrid shade of red. Without even knowing who she was, he could place her as a Weasley. It was evident at one glance.
'Come to gloat?' he had sneered at her, unsure of his standing. 'Well don't bother, because it's not going to work.'
Stepping forward, he had moved to walk round her, but something had stopped him. A whisper of a voice against the air, like the sound of silk falling against skin or the rustle of the trees. It was so subtle, that he wouldn't have noticed it had her hand not been clutching to his robes with a force.
Pushing her away, he turned to face her, his nose curled upwards like an angry dogs. 'Don't touch me!' he had hissed in disdain. 'In fact don't even look at me, you weirdo.'
'I would have thought that it was you who was the weirdo,' she had said softly. 'Everybody else seems to think so. Especially since Harry beat you at the match yesterday. You fly like an ostrich.'
'What did you say?' Draco had said, anger building up in him. How dare she talk to him like this, he thought, like he was a piece of dirt on the heel of her boot.
'You walk around here like you own the place,' she had continued to dig, her stance seeming unoffending but her words coming out in a gentle force. 'You don't. Everyone knows how much of a coward you are. The great Draco Malfoy hiding because he didn't get what he wanted. Oh what a great shame. He must be suffering so much. Well, I'll let you into a little secret - you're not. Get over it.'
His eyes widened. Weasley's voice was gentle and coaxing, but to it was an edge of bitterness. It was as if he had done something personal to offend her. Looking back, he couldn't think of any time he had even noticed her. To him she was just part of the scenery. She was something he wouldn't notice was missing. It wasn't that she was taken for granted; it was simply that she wasn't part of his world.
'You're pathetic, Weasley.'
Then she was laughing at him. Her whole face lit by some hidden joy. It wasn't the kind of laughing that was faked for affect, but a real laugh that rocked him to the core. This little wench was laughing at him! She had stopped him in the hallway, verbally attacked him, and now all she could do was be seemingly happy.
A surge of blind, passionate anger had swept over him. Bringing his hands up, he had shoved her hard back into the wall. The breath was momentarily knocked from her body, and a cough escaped her lips. Still though a smile lingered on her lips. One hand clutched her stomach and the other was rubbing her shoulder absently.
Pathetic, he remembered thinking to himself. This Weasley wasn't even going to retaliate. She was just going to lean there and take his anger. Maybe that had been the point, to stir him up. He had watched her blankly, no longer showing his disgust for her entire being.
Stepping forward, he her shoved her harder, knocking her hard to the wall again. This time his hands stayed on her shoulders, pinning her there to the cold bricks. Leaning forward, he studied her face with another sneer. 'Not only are you pathetic,' he whispered, 'but you smell. Then again, I shouldn't have expected more from a pathetic, little, ugly, smelly Weasley.'
Then something had happened, her head had tipped slightly, and she had looked at him. Her eyes were dark, with flecks of brown edging the iris. They seemed to look right through him, as if he weren't there. Her lips were tilted slightly at the corner, giving the impression of a smile. 'You take yourself too seriously,' she had whispered. 'You couldn't hurt me any more then you already have.'
'Stop it,' he had shouted in another whisper. He didn't want to get caught by Filch out of bed, but he wasn't prepared to walk away from this. No one did this to Draco Malfoy. 'Stop looking at me like that.'
'How would you rather I looked at you? You're nothing to me,' her words had come softly, 'nothing. That's what you fear the most.'
'Shut up!' he had shouted it this time, and his words bounced off the walls, colouring them with his anger. 'You don't know what you're talking about. If I wanted I could kill you right now!'
Weasley had nodded in unspoken knowledge. 'At least then it would all be over.'
'What are you talking about, you lunatic?!' Draco's face had come closer to hers, without him even thinking. In hindsight, he had probably wanted to intimidate her. Make her scared of him, because then he'd be the one with the power and control. She wouldn't be the one holding all the cards.
'You didn't even think, did you? You just destroyed it. There wasn't even an emotion when you crushed something so perfect. That's what makes you.'
Crushed what? His mind had raced and then it struck him. The rose he had found in his locker. It had been her, this tiny, unnoticeable Weasley. She had wanted him to want her… She fancied him! Well that had been a revelation. He had laughed then, but now he wished he hadn't.
Suddenly she had been pushing against his grip, her neck craned and her lips viciously assaulting his. It had shocked him and he had tried to push her back, but she was stronger then she looked. Eventually he had managed to slam her back up against the wall though, his lips feeling awkward at the contact and angry at his lack of consent. That was something he hadn't wanted.
'What do you think you're doing?!' he had sneered at her, again his nose wrinkled.
She had looked at him blankly. There were no words there anymore, just this absence of presence. It were as if she had vacated her body - the lights were on but no one seemed to be home. How dare she ignore him like that! Well he would show her…
His fingers moved to her neck and gripped tightly. 'See I could do it…I could kill you…'
It were as if he couldn't see clearly anymore. All there had been was this red mist of emotion. He had wanted to end her, end himself, end the world. She was right, he was pathetic, but it wasn't her place to say it. It wasn't her place to abuse him as she had. There was defiantly a truth in what she said: at least it would all be over. He wouldn't have to put up with the laughing, mocking, staring, backstabbing, self loathing and such.
Weasley had blinked, and looked at him, her breaths becoming shallow. She didn't struggle though. He remembered that clearly - her lack of love for her own pitiful life. What he also remembered was the trance he had seemed to be in. He hadn't notice her lean forward and begin to place gently kisses on his lips and he pressed his fingers deeper into her flesh. He hadn't noticed when her own hands came up and wrapped round his throat, gently putting pressure on his windpipe. He hadn't noticed the tears on her face, or the movement of his own lips. His breathing had become shallow like hers, and it had felt good.
Then there was a crack. Dots blurred his vision and he released her and stepped back. His hand came up to his own cheek. The Weasley girl had slapped him.
Presently Draco shivered slightly. It had been odd, the way it had happened. It had been like they had both been abandoning ship in a dark, morbid passion. The kiss hadn't even really stuck in his mind, just the slowness of it all. He couldn't even remember her leaving, or in fact getting back to his own room. Had he gone to the kitchen and eaten? No, he thought, he hadn't.
Releasing a long breath, he tugged down the collar of his shirt. Two little bruises tattooed his skin. She had marked him and he had done so to her too. Well she had deserved it he persevered in his own mind. It was everything she deserved for looking at him like that.
Draco had destroyed that paper rose, because to him it had meant weakness. It had meant pity and was a bash to his pride. For him it had been nothing more then paper. For her though it had been something else. It was as if she poured everything into the reaction he would give to her offering. Well she shouldn't have anticipated more than she got, it was pathetic to think she had. He wouldn't lower himself to her level again. Draco Malfoy was above it all.
Walking over to the door, he pulled it open to face the world. It was time to get over it.