The Facade

Chapter 23

The second I opened my eyes; I felt a sharp pain in my head.

I hissed in pain, it wasn’t just my head, my whole body felt sore, I cursed myself now for not having transfigured a bed.

I grunted as sat up carefully, my palm against my forehead that seemed like it was a bomb about to explode out of my head, so much that I could almost hear my heartbeat as if it was inside my brain.

I glanced around the room; it was around afternoon the time I went to sleep surely it would be night by now. I frowned when saw morning light brightening the room and my gaze fell to the clock above the fireplace, it was eight in the morning.

My eyes widened, I had slept for too much hours, at least my nightmares hadn’t been a problem this time, but my headache was killing me.

When I glanced at Malfoy’s closed door, it all came back to me in a flash.

Granger’s imprisonment relocated, both Malfoy and me drunk, and what happened afterwards.

Both hands were on my forehead now. Holding what little sanity I had left.

It was as if I could still feel it, his lips on mine, his tongue possessively playing with mine, his hands grabbing my hair pushing me against him, and my own roaming his scarred chest.

I felt repulse everywhere, for him, for mostly for myself, for having let that happen, for letting this fucking facade stretch this farther, it wasn’t him, it was me. I was the one to blame and I alone.

Mostly I felt guilt, the last month and a half came back to me in an apex, of how much I sacrificed by sending that note to Theo, how I recklessly endangered him and the other fighting in the war, of how my obsession with defeating the Order jeopardized so many people and with so much at stake.

I could have ended this by taking merely Malfoy, Tonks and that man that day at Spinner’s End, I could have fought them with ease, and all this was over, but I fell into deceiving of hope I had to catch the full Order and put an end into this. I should have known better.

And now there wasn’t anything else I could do.

What was done, done it was.

If someone died, if Theo became a soulless person, if the war took a turn and we lost, if the Ministry fell, it would be all on me. All the blame would be branded in me for me to carry for my whole life, like a mark tattooed on my brain, not letting me to forget, not letting me to live.

I rubbed my hands on my face and suddenly, it was as if I could still feel his rough skin under my fingertips, the lines of his scars and the fine muscles tensing beneath my soothing touch.

It was worst than any nightmare I’ve ever had.

I immediately let my hands fall to my side, and I let my back sink down on the couch as I stared up at the ceiling, giving life to the questions lingering in my mind.

I didn’t know why it happened; I just knew it did. I never glanced at Malfoy in any way except hatred, and that wouldn’t change, not in this life, nor the other.

So why the fuck did I kissed him.

I never stopped to consider whether Malfoy was attractive or not, there wasn’t place for that in a war, and even less to be found in an enemy. He was my enemy, I couldn’t even remotely find him handsome or beautiful, and now I wouldn’t even consider that.

Probably the kiss was just some effect from the alcohol combined with loneliness. I pretty much that way throughout all my life, but it had never been an issue with me, I enjoyed being alone, with my thoughts, it wasn’t pleasant to feel this way, but there isn’t place for anything else in a war.