CURSED [D.M]

-(29) her achilles' heel; her patroclus

ZILLIAH has never felt this pathetic- this disheartened- this weakened. She hates this feeling. She hates everything about it.

The hurt that flashed through those silver eyes that she finds ever so mesmerizing- she just can't take it. Especially when she was the one who inflicted it upon him.

Draco- her Achilles' heel; her Patroclus.

She almost walks back to his room and apologizes. She almost says that she never meant a word of what she said. She almost confesses that despite everything, she still feels like she needs him- like he is much essential as the very air she breathes. That he is her weak point. The only vulnerable part of her.

She almost does. Almost.

When we think about it, isn't 'almost' the greatest tragedy of all time. To have something right there in front of us- something we've always wanted- something we've always needed- but never getting to touch it- never getting to have it once and for all- almost close.

Always almost close.

Just like how Achilles couldn't bring himself to get over his anger and agree to fight, she couldn't either. She can't walk back down the stairs and give in to Draco no matter how much she aches for him. The war of her heart. She can't fight it. Even though she knows he is begging and praying for her to. She can't because there is another part of her reigning dominance. Her mind. And it is shattered into some million pieces, always burning and freezing over and over. She can't get one single thought straight. She is tired, exhausted, worn out. And the fuel to revive- it feels like it doesn't even exist anymore.

That's the thing people don't realise. It is indeed maddening for the heart to break but it is even more maddening for the mind to shatter. Much more maddening and lethal.

Not desiring the company of a single soul, she slips out of the common room that was still filled with drunk and sweaty people. She has had too many drinks too- and even though it increases the throbbing of her head, she feels better somehow. Like she was more in control of herself.

An utter lie, really. Because as she was pressed against that wall, foreign lips on her neck, not one flicker of emotion or feeling had coursed through her body. She didn't want it. She wanted to pull back. She wanted to shove off and walk away from this boy she didn't even care about. But somehow, she couldn't bring herself to.

Something close to relief had washed through her when he was finally untangled from her. The leech finally removed by salt. Except, she didn't quite like the salt that did it. As she looked up and saw Draco, her anger had returned.

Always so controlling.

She hates being controlled.

In a whirlwind of emotions, she makes her way up the stairs to the astronomy tower. Once there, she sits down by the railing, her legs crossed, her eyes fixed upon the night sky as a light breeze gushes past.

The moon didn't smile at her tonight. Nor did the stars.

She draws her wand. Mutters the incantation. Dex doesn't come.

With a sigh, she gives up. The ache in her chest ever growing.

Barely a minute must've gone by before she hears soft and familiar footsteps approaching. "Hey."

"Theo", she acknowledges his presence in a soft mumble as he settles down beside her, crossing his legs just like she had.

"Hi, my love", he mumbles back, nudging her shoulder with a small smile playing on his lips.

"I'm in no mood to talk, Theo", she sighs again, pulling her knees to her chest as another chilly wind gushes past. She misses the warmth of Draco's chest.

"Okay fine", he says, putting an arm around her and pulling her to his chest. "We don't have to talk."

Putting up some resistance, she gazes up into his blue ocean eyes with freckles of green and gold at the corners, like star dusts. "Why are you doing this?"

He meets her glance, the whole of his piercing features soft under the moonlight. "So you can feel safe enough for me to stab you through the heart."

A chuckle escapes her at it and she quits resisting, letting him wrap himself around her like a warm blanket. "Such a prat."

"A caring prat."

"A caring, handsome prat."

"Oooh", he muses, settling his chin on top of her head. "You think I'm handsome now, do you?"

"I've always thought you were handsome", she responds, melting into all of him despite herself. "I've just never said it to you."

"Ah!" A click of the tongue as she slowly moves his thumb up and down her arm. "I've never said you're quite pretty either, I suppose."

"You haven't."

"Well now I have, haven't I?"

She can't help but chuckle again as she feels this giddiness her stomach- in a really long time, that is. It isn't necessarily romantic. Just this flutter that she hadn't realised she had missed.

"Just don't tell Draco I said that. He will skin me alive."

And there, the feeling is gone.

"Sorry", he is quick to apologise like he can instantly sense it.

"Don't", she mumbles, her voice wavering with the emotions that threaten to burst out. And he takes it for what it is. He doesn't talk. He merely stares up at the night sky with her, his arms tight and secure around her frail body.

And maybe it is the comfort he is offering. Maybe it is the alcohol in her. Maybe it is the fatigue from her magic. Maybe it is her anger within. Maybe it is the pain from her chest. Maybe it is the turmoil of her mind. Maybe it is all of them- but she soon finds herself slipping away to sleep, her heavy eyelids drooping shut.

And when she startles awake after sometime, the moon and the stars still gleaming upon her face, she finds her back on the floor, her side empty.

Alone.

Maybe it's exactly how she is supposed to remain for all eternity.