I'M standing next to the common room dining table.
The front of my thighs hovering against the table as I put all my weight onto it with my hands, the palm of my right hand pressed onto the table as I'm thinking, just thinking. I think.
My head is spinning with the possibility of so many things, not sure of anything at all as I just stand there and process, don't know what I'm processing or how exactly, but I just am, for some reason, I just am. I don't know how to feel or what to do, especially after the conversation I had with Harry and the others yesterday.
I vividly remember the bloody floor, the bloody hands, the screams coming from Weasley's mouth as I could still feel Hermione's shaking body. I don't know how I had such control over my emotions, I had expected myself to break, to cripple down at the sight of such a thing. Sometimes I don't understand myself, I don't understand how to categorize my emotions or how to feel about certain things. I tend to just pretend some feelings don't exist or run away from them. It's easier.
Though my stubborn self likes to deal with it right away, talk it out, and get it out of the way. Be straight up and clear, why let it be dragged out for so long and create unnecessary inconvenient feelings? I don't know sometime's if I'm lying to protect others or me, loads of things in my life don't make sense, nothing really does, it's like a huge game of Jenna and everything is just falling without the slightest touch, there's no equilibrium.
The common room has always been dark and gloomy but the good kind, it's like darkness pulling you in, and you're dancing with it because it feels good, because sometimes darkness isn't always the bad thing. Maybe, just maybe. It was the casual calm weekend before the tournament began—before the storm came in. With the temperature in this common room you'd expect to be drowning in sweaters, but instead, I stood here in a sage green button-up dress, hugging me at the waist, as small black buttons trailed up to the middle of my chest.
The curls of my hair just falling in their own way, so elegantly as I pushed it away from my face, behind on one side of my ear as I could feel my entire body tensed out, aching for a release in a way as the sides of my head pounding, everything circling my mind again, the letter in my hand crumpling, Harry's words, and the thought of the tournament starting which weirdly was the last of my issues.
The tips of my fingertips slightly drum against the table, so gently that it sort of tickles. Massaging my forehead with my thumb as I sort of sniffle, just trying to collect myself.
It's all alright, all alright, all alright.
Lies.
I turn around as my back is against the table, looking down as I pinch down on the bridge of my nose, sniffling as my nose tingles from the allergies, or I can't tell if I feel like crying an entire river. I swallow the thick air within my mouth so harshly down as I look up, seeing him walk in.
He's wearing a white button-up shirt, the sleeves scrunched up to his elbows as they're folded. The shirt looks like it's been pressed down on an iron board. He's wearing black pants as his body movements are swift, seeing all the rings on his hands as he's still rolling up his sleeves properly. My eyes just memorize him from head to toe as he runs a hand through his platinum blonde hair—it looks soft.
He looks up as our eyes meet for just less than a second as I look away immediately—we really aren't on any level of talking since our last conversation. I glide my hair back with my hand and just take a deep breath in, my eyes not being able to focus on anything, my brain working twice as fast as I hear his footsteps closer to me almost, step by step as I feel his presence behind me, him grabbing my arm as he turned me around.
"Have you been crying?" He asked as my eyes narrowed at him.
"No," I spoke, my eyes burning up.
"You look like you've been crying," he spoke as I swallowed, still looking at him as his hands were wrapped around my arm. His eyes flickering around my face as he's looking for an answer.
"Nothing that concerns you Malfoy," I spoke as I touched his hand—cold hands—pushing his hand away as my eyes tore from him, turning around. "You can go back to whatever you were doing."
He jerks me back around, as I lose balance for just a second, almost offended at his gesture as I look at him. "What?"
"Did someone hurt you?" He asked as my face leaned back, I wasn't sure why he was being so concerned. He was trying to be nice, which is no such thing as in the dictionary of being a Malfoy.
"No," his eyes were so grey and deep. He has pretty eyes, it's the type of eyes you can stare at forever, memorize every aspect of it till you understand all of it, like a puzzle piece full of untold words, untold stories, untold emotions.
Grey, grey, grey, grey. So grey.
"Young—"
"Don't do that," I look at him, his hands tensing around my arm. "Don't do that thing where you ask me if I'm okay, comfort me as I'm someone you care about, stay with me and then treat me as if I was nobody after. I'm sick of it."
"You're doing that thing where you get defensive about every single thing I do or say," his tone was not as soft as before as I could feel his fingers pressing onto my arm, his body weight shifting onto mine.
"Defensive? All I'm asking is for you to stop being such an insufferable ass, nothing I said was a lie. You pretend you care and then walk out the door as if you had done some sort of charity work for me, I should remind you that I don't need any sort of charity so just let it be."
"Is that what you think it was? Charity work?" He questioned. "Is that what you think I did?"
"Yes, that's how you act," it's almost like a whisper. "You act as if I'm some disease that you'll catch if you just care about someone other than yourself."
He was looking at me as I stared at him, waiting for an answer, his hand still around my arm as his fingers were putting more pressure. I could feel his body shifting near mine—much closer—he felt warm but his hands were so, so cold.
I wish I could touch every curve on his face, memorize every mark, just want to know more about him—to learn everything about him, but I can't. It's like every time I tried to be human with him—the universe pushed us away.
"Your silence is deafening Malfoy," I whisper, my eyes slowly trailing down his face as I look slightly down, wrapping my hand around his wrist—putting no full effort in moving his hands away.
Stay, I want him to stay.
"Why do you care what I think?" He asks finally as my eyes look up at him again, my body shifting backward, pressing onto the table as he steps forward. "Why does what I say matter to you?" Steps closer.
"It doesn't," it's a whisper as I try to look away, but I just can't, I want to look at him. I—I don't know why I'm feeling this way, it needs to stop, this needs to go away. He needs to go away.
No, stay.
No, leave.
His fingers loosen around my arm as my hand drops from his wrist, looking away as my arm falls to my side and his eyes just trail off. Pushing his sleeves up as he walks away.
I stare at the back of his head as I contemplate for just a second, the thoughts in my head taking over, encouraging me now. Do it.
I don't know if I can.
Do it.
I bite on the inside of my lower lip as I look, letting the moment pass away from my hands, it's going and going and going, and I'm doing nothing to stop it, to just pause it for a moment. Merlin sakes, Evelyn, what are you waiting for just move your legs already. I feel frozen.
Completely frozen in place as my feet are glued to the surface.
I take a second, you don't have seconds.
I move forward as I'm almost lingering just behind him, my hand reaching for his shoulder as I stop him, turning him around as he looks at me, he has such pretty eyes.
He doesn't say anything but waits and I just stare back at him as every molecule in my body is pushing me towards him.
I take a step forward as my hand goes straight for his face, pulling him slightly forward as my lips connect to his—he tastes so sweet, just the way he did last time. My lips move against his as I pull away—I look at him, wanting to press my forehead against his.
Regret.
"I—I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—" I was apologizing as he leaned forward and kissed me again. All words left my mind as he kissed me, his soft lips against mine as I savoured this moment, my hand on his face as his hand was by his side still debating what to do.
I leaned forward, pressing my body against his as his hand went for my lower back—pressing me forward till there's no space between us. The way his cologne filled up my nostrils as the taste of his minty breath lingered on my lips.
His other hand goes to the back of my head as I'm leaning as close as I can to him, wrapping my arms around his neck as my fingers place the ends of his hair. My body feels all of him as he has me pressed against him—all his weight on me.
He takes a step toward me as I take one back, and he takes one forward again till he's backing me up against the table—fully putting his weight on me until I'm below him, kissing him like I never have before as his tongue swipes my lips, as I shift my head to deepen the kiss.
He pulls away slowly, dragging my lower lip with his teeth as his forehead rests against mine, our heavy breaths colliding as one as its heaven to my ears, feeling his breath near my neck. He looks at me as his hands slowly travel from my knees, tracing it up to my thighs as I'm breathing, my chest rising up and down as I could feel his eyes on me—he enjoys when people melt at the tips of his fingers.
His hand tracing the curves of my thigh as he's so slowly going up as both of his hands are on both of my thighs, slowly memorizing my body as he slips them to back of my thighs as I grip his shoulders, looking up at him as he grabs the back of thighs—pulling me up to the table, settling me down onto it.
"Lift your hips, witch," he whispers into my ear as every bone in my body freezes at his words, completely shook at the way my body reacts to his words. My eyes look at him as I lift my hips, he pushes my dress up, so my thighs are bare to him as he runs his other hand down to the calf of my leg, wrapping it around his torso.
He leans in kissing my jaw as I hiss at the contact of his lips on my skin, as he leaves small kisses at the curve, going down to my neck. Peppering small kisses as every emotion in my body feels heightened, the way his touch feels so godly against my skin as he's memorizing me with his lips—marking me.
My hand goes for the bag of his neck as the other is pressed flat against the table as he leans into me. He pressed his other hand below my thigh as he suddenly grabbed it, pushing me against him furthermore as my brain stopped thinking completely—at a loss of words.
He bucks his hips forward, me as I'm gripping onto his forearm, my eyes closed as I know he's watching me—watching me as he completely unravels me. He likes to watch.
I'm kissing him as I've never kissed anyone before—the way his hands are making their way to know every single part of me—trying to understand how I react to him and in what ways. He continues to push me against himself as it ignites a fire within me—shattering me completely.
"Fuck—someone might hear us Malfoy," a moan escapes my lips as brings his hand to the crook of my neck, lifting my chin up to make me look at him. "I'm sure they'll enjoy your pretty little moans as much as I do."
He had kissed me before I could get the chance to fully comprehend his words into my brain and process them. He's kissing all of me as my fingers play with his hair, my soul dancing within his scent as it feels so good to have him like this against me, all of my thoughts racing as fast as my heart rate as it might just explode.
He's kissing my neck, my collarbone as my fingers trace the shell of his ears—then his jaw unintentionally as he goes down kiss by kiss looking for more. His hands traveling up my dress as mine glide down his chest, wanting to rip open his dress shirt.
I want him, I want him, I want him.
I don't understand how I'm feeling this way, why everything about him is so addicting, the way I'm being dragged into the thought of being in the embrace of his arms. I want him, but I can't—I'm supposed to hate him.
I hate him.
I'm supposed to stay away from him.
Just think, breathe.
I can't breathe with him near me like this, his lips latched onto mine as his hands are running through my body.
I can't think properly, all I'm thinking about is him.
He's lifting me up higher as he's kissing me, my legs wrapped around his torso as he's pressing me onto him, my hands running up and down his arms as his hands are caught in my curls, holding a fistful as he's pushing me forward, onto him.
There's no space between us, yet it still doesn't feel close enough, everything about his touch feels so right.
We pull away just for a minute, as we look at each other, just so within the moment as I'm looking at every line on his face, the structure, the way his eyelashes are so long and dark—his grey eyes are so mesmerizing. My eyes linger down to the shape of his nose, to his lips that look bruised from the way he's kissing me.
It was just a second when everything paused, and it was just us, my hand on the side of his neck as he's holding me up.
Then suddenly he just puts me down, untangling himself from me as he looks away—pushing his hair back as he steps away.
"Malfoy—"
"Just leave me alone, Young," he cut me off mid-sentence. All my thoughts started rationalizing as I'm staring at him completely clueless—my eyes are just blinking.
"No, you don't just get to decide when to 'leave you alone' Malfoy," I emphasized as I stopped him in his tracks. "What is your problem?"
"I have no problem just—"
"You clearly do, one minute you're kissing me like you never have and the next you're telling me to fuck off, so clearly there's an issue."
"You don't have to psychoanalyze every single thing I say or do, I don't want you here right now so just leave, go," he gestured as I moved my hair off of my face, straightening my dress as I looked at him.
"You don't get to do this, you don't get to decide when you just get up and leave and leave me wondering if I did something wrong. You don't get to walk away every time things get intense Malfoy, you simply don't get to pack up and leave with your choice when you haven't even asked mine, it doesn't fucking work like that."
"I don't care about what you think, is that not clear enough for you, I don't want you here right now—"
"Right now? So you'll come back whenever you want to? You'll just kiss me whenever the fuck you feel like? I'm not some girl you can just pick and decide to make out with whenever you desire and then walk away like it doesn't mean shit."
"You think what we have going on here is a thing? What we have doesn't mean shit to me, Young, so I don't know what you have going on in your head about us, it doesn't mean anything to me so do not bring me into this."
"Are you even hearing yourself right now?" I questioned as I took a step forward.
"Perfectly clear, we have nothing."
I laugh.
I laughed like those times when your friend tells a terribly funny joke, and you can't stop laughing, and how funny it sounds, and you laugh and laugh and you just laugh, this was me.
This was hilarious.
I take a step forward. "You can read my thoughts, can't you? Did you know that sometimes I let you at times when you have? You can read them right now, and you were when you were kissing me, weren't you?"
He says nothing.
"I don't know what this is," I point back and forth between us, "but whatever it is, there is something and unlike you, I won't deny the attraction I have towards you, I don't know how, but it's there."
"If you're waiting for me to say the same thing, you'll be waiting a long time because there is no self-called attraction you're talking about."
"Running away as always, it's your thing, isn't it? Don't have the guts to face it, do you? Does it scare you Malfoy, are you scared that you won't get enough, you're scared that once you properly touch me the way you want to, know me, you won't get enough?" It's like a whisper, his eyes narrow at me, the way his eyes are angry, pissed off.
He steps forward, taking a hold of my arm as he pushes me forward. "You mean absolutely nothing to me, you were just there when I needed someone, pathetic that you think it's anything more."
He jerks me back as I stare at him, sometimes words can stab you much harder than an actual knife, you bleed more, you feel much more, it's worse than death. It's scary how words can affect a person. Words are such unpredictable creatures. No spell, no sword, no army will be more powerful than a sentence.
Swords cut and kill but unlike a sword, words stab and stay, it's a continuous bleeding wound that has no cure to it. You're stuck between not being able to die from it to not getting rid of the pain either. Words carve themselves into your bones, and carry on with you.
He turns around, walking away as it catches my eye.
"If you walk out that door," I breathe as he stops. "I never want to see your face again."
And then he leaves.
—
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