A/N: This is a relatively short chapter, but it was fun to write. It has a huge twist since I'm planning on making this story pretty long (over 100 pages). I think I made Ami and Draco fall in love a little too quickly, so I'm making them enemies/not exactly enemies again.
This chapter was really fun to write as well. I'm not sure how well I executed the last conversation, but hopefully it turned out okay.
I'm not going to update until Dec. 22 when my Christmas break starts! Expect a lot of chapters then! I'm going to try and finish up everything I've planned out for Ami and Draco's 5th year!
Comment if you want to! I'd appreciate feedback!
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Letting my body slide down the cold cobbled stone wall, I found myself in a fetal position. More than anything, I hated being weak, and I despised crying. Yet I had been doing a lot of mourning in the past couple of weeks. Facing an epiphany, I realized that I didn't need to depend on anyone to make myself feel stronger. All my memories served as a constant reminder of the strength I'd need to carry on. Relying on Hermione, Ron, Harry, or even Draco would only weaken me even more.
Love - the very emotion that fortifies bonds also damages them. Love would serve as the fatal mistake, and Voldemort would attempt to use all my weaknesses against me. Love would only cause me to suffer on the brink of tearing myself apart. Love would not be the glue; love would be the scissors.
Draco's passionate words reverberated in my head, and after a few minutes, I had deciphered their meaning.
Think about it, and then tell me your theory.
Although I had known for some time, I hadn't brought myself to admit that I had been the one who Draco had been talking about in front of the Mirror of Erised. The truth was, amidst our faults and differences, Draco and I symbolized the same person. We'd both been hurt in more ways than one, and we'd somehow always take the role as the pariahs - the ones who no one else would quite understand. Sure, we'd belong to a social group, but in the end, we would always deviate from the rules and regulations.
Draco comprehended that he had found meaning and requited understanding in me. Although our personalities clashed at times, they were compatible. Even though Draco had initially scoffed at the idea of falling in love with me, he subconsciously had. For him, love served as his ultimate fear, but by trying to understand me, he had somehow vanquished his fear and allowed it to become part of his emotions. Along the way, I had become the outward trophy of his conquest, and he had become mine.
Or so he thought. Draco hadn't helped me supplant my fear; in fact, now he existed as my greatest fear. He believed we could continue living as though we were sharing the most complex secret love affair the world has ever known. But had had miscalculated one thing, and one thing only - my feelings. Draco assumed that I would feel the same way.
But I didn't. Yes, I had fallen in love with him - in fact, I had loved him more than I could ever love Harry. This in itself was a terrible transgression; I had fallen in love with the enemy who would never help me achieve my vengeance. Draco would only get in the way, and by doing so, he'd get himself killed by his father's lord. All because of me. All because of my undying love. And in the end, I'd only feel more hollow.
True love served as a twisted, warped, intricate evil little emotion - the incarnate of the devil himself.
And suddenly, standing up on my two resolute feet, I knew what I'd have to do.
***
"Hello, Professor Snape," I stated as I entered the almost empty Potions room.
"Why are you here, Miss Silverlake? Don't tell me you are here to complain about Slytherin's victory in the Quidditch match today."
"No, Sir. I was wondering if you could help me prepare a certain potion."
"Which would be?"
"Verus Amor Mortem," I stated unwaveringly.
"Hm. The Death of True Love. An interesting choice. A highly intricate potion that takes skills of the finest wizards into account."
"Please, Sir, it's not a forbidden potion," I implored, hating that I'd need the aid of Snape.
"Yes, but it has been ruled out of Hogwarts' curriculum. It is a powerful potion that removes an emotion from the person who takes it. Most sane people want to fall in love, not run away from it."
"Yes, Sir."
"So why would you need to take such a potion? Do not lie to me."
Well, ironically, that was my cue to lie. I couldn't tell him my true motive; he'd know about me and Draco. And then I'd have to explain my life story. I couldn't completely trust Snape since he had been in line with Voldemort.
"As you probably know professor, Harry Potter is a good friend of mine. However, I've developed feelings that go beyond the realm of friendship. I've told Harry multiple times, but he has rejected me every single time. Harry is in love with someone else at the moment, and I cannot go on living this way, knowing that he will never return my feelings. Love is a curse, Professor. Please understand. I have thought about suicide several times. Please put me out of my misery," I silently rambled, on the verge of tears, thinking about Draco the entire time.
"Yes, alright, Miss Silverlake. Potter has caused quite enough trouble around here. I will give you the ingredients, but you will have to brew the potion yourself, as I have quite a lot of other work to do."
"Thank you, Professor."
I sighed a breath of relief as I exited the room with all the essential ingredients in my bag.
***
That night, after Padma had fallen asleep, I slipped out of the room and then the Ravenclaw dorm. Entering the closest girls' bathroom, I began brewing the potion near the sink. I had brought along the Basic Essentials Potions' book that my mother had given me when I was thirteen. Gliding over the rough, woven parchment pages of the book, I finally landed on the instructions for Verus Amor Mortem. As I added every ingredient to the iron pot and mixed, my heart lurched, knowing that within a few hours, I would never understand romance again. As I dropped in the last ingredient - a vanilla bean that I had gotten from the Potions' closet - I pondered about Draco's heavenly aroma that would never tantalize me ever again.
My thoughts sounded renounced and fragile, as if I had been loath to accept my fate in the first place. After double-checking the potion's sapphire color and other hints that signaled its completion, I poured out some liquid into a flask.
As I brought my delicate lips to the flask, I hesitated.
"Sorry, Draco."
And then I chugged. The rancid liquid burned the flesh of my throat and matched the acidity of my stomach. Its effects were immediate; when I peered into the rectangle mirror in front of me, my bronze eyes had lost a sense of feeling. Before they had been bright and cheerful, despite what string of emotions I had been feeling at that time. Yet now they were lackluster and vapid, as though a shard of my soul had forever been misplaced.
Placing my materials into my bag, I sauntered out of the bathroom and back to my room.
***
When I woke up that Sunday morning, I felt as though a burden had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt free, and as rays of sunlight penetrated the window, I carried my sketchbook down to an oak tree by the Black Lake. Sitting down, I began to carefully sketch the vast, marvelous empty scenery laid out in front of me. Halfway into the drawing, I felt the warmth of someone next to me. I slowly turned my head to the left and glanced upwards with my eyes. The cool eyes of Draco Malfoy gazed into mine, and he wore a smile, not a smirk, on his finely featured face.
"Nice drawing," he eventually broke the silence.
"Thanks, but it still needs a lot of work."
"It'll be good, I'm sure."
"Thanks again," I replied neutrally.
"So... have you thought about what I told you?" he questioned after a few moments of relatively awkward silence.
"Yes, Draco," I sighed. Suddenly, he tilted his head as though he were perplexed by my words, but soon enough, I found out that he was perplexed by my tone of voice.
"And?" he pressured.
"Well, I've come to the conclusion that you're in love with me because you think I can understand you," I sighed again. "But, Draco, I can't. I'm not the right one... I can't... I can't... I can't love you, Draco."
"Stop saying my name. The way you say it -it's like you're resigned. It's so neutral, like you can't feel anything. Did you rehearse this speech?" his eyes were filled to the brim with agony and burgeoning anger.
"Draco...I," I started.
"No! I don't want to hear it! I don't want you to go into some sort of explanation that you're not over Potter. I'm tired of being second class to him!" he stood up abruptly.
"No, Draco -"
"Malfoy!" he growled.
"What?" I asked in consternation.
"Call me 'Malfoy' from now on. I can't stand hearing my first name from your lips. It hurts too much. It's just better if you just talk to me as though we're enemies because that's the path that we're headed," he stated through his teeth.
"Wait, Malfoy, before you go, I just wanted to say I don't like Harry either. I'm not capable of feeling profound love anymore."
"That is complete and utter crap. When I kissed you yesterday, you were plenty capable of feeling something."
"Well, I can't now. And I'm not going to tell you why," my temper surged. Why couldn't he just understand?
"The reason's obvious. Potter did something to you that made you reconsider what side you're playing for," his sharp eyes cut through mine.
"No. No one did this to me. I did it to myself. Draco, you were my love. You are my biggest fear. And because of that, I can't return your feelings in this lifetime."
"What does that mean, Silverlake?"
"I can't tell you."
"Why?"
"Because it's for your own good."
"It's my own good to suffer and have the only person who could understand me now tell me that she wants nothing to do with me? I don't believe that. I don't fucking believe that. "
"Draco, just leave me alone. I need to move on. Let's face it. You can never have me, and I can never have you."
"Fine, if that's how it's going to be, then consider us enemies. Maybe I'll finally leave you alone. Maybe I won't." With that, he stormed off, leaving me only to gaze after what fragments of my foolish love remained.
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All characters except my O.C. Ami Silverlake belong to J.K. Rowling.