I hate everything.

I hate how Draco expects everything to be okay. I hate how everyone knows about us now, how the teachers give us furtive glances, how Susan slams doors in my face. I hate how Harry's face shutters when he sees mine. I hate how Harry has Ginny, and that he doesn't need me for his goddamned life to go well.

I hate how Draco holds my hand, whispers that I'm special, and suddenly we are the only two people in the world. I hate how I try to talk to Susan, but she tells me, softly, to leave her alone. I hate how Draco kisses me and gives me flowers and buys me presents and holds that hand that he hurt not too long ago.

I hate how he still grips my heart gently when he had just twisted and stomped on it months ago. I hate how we still kiss some nights, my hands tangled in his hair, pretending like everything is like before, like the tension between me and everyone else cannot be cut with a thick knife.

I hate how Harry hurt Draco with a stupid spell; Draco spent weeks healing. I hate how I didn't know who's side to take, when they both had a range of stories, rumors twisted. I hate how Harry still ignores me. I hate how Draco is the only one I have left, because I hope at least, one day, I will have someone else, too.

We are sitting in the courtyard, now, away from prying eyes. It is dark, and he is one of the many stars I see. There are many in the sky, and there is one right in front of me. Only he is a dying star, and he'll take me down with him.

But doesn't that make me a star, too?

"You can't be here, Anne," Remus said, and that is a week before I headed to Hogwarts, a week before I started going by Chrys because I wanted to be different, to be noticed, to be seen.

It didn't work for years.

Until it does now, and I am bathed in starlight, ready for death. He thinks I'm special and beautiful but he hurts me all the same, like they all do. He grips my arm deathly tight, traps me in his arms, and asks me to stay.

He needs me as much as I need him. I tend to his house, his flames, and he tends to my wounded heart, stitching it. And if I stop feeding the hearth or building the beams, he'll tear the stitches like they mean nothing.

I glance at his surprisingly calm face, like the ocean. In one second, it will rage and destroy, but it is still. For now.

He glances back and smiles, pulling me closer, his fingers gripping my arm tight. They are cold and wiry, and I lean against his shoulder as we sit in the wet grass.

Some days it is like this, silent. Other days, we are loud and alive, exchanging kisses and talking about our days. Draco hasn't bullied anyone ever since, and I know that's no excuse, but everyone's gone anyway. I have nothing to lose but myself.

And I don't care about myself much, anyway.

He's the only one I have left, because everyone else has faded, leaving me in the dark with him reaching out ━━━ and who am I to not accept it?

Hell, I want to stay like this forever, under the moon and stars with the one person who cares. And that is that saddest thing of all, because it is hard for Draco Malfoy to care about someone like me. And I know that some days, it takes all of him to do, all of him to even sew one stitch when it needs to be mended.

So we stay like that, calm.

I don't hate it anymore. My heart feels nothing and everything when I'm with him.

Reaching out to my face, his hand brushes my cold cheek, before joining our lips together. Fire spreads across my skin, tingling, burning, eating me alive, as I grasp for his hair.

Keep me alive, I want to say as our lips meld together, as I scoot closer to him, just to feel his warmth. Stitch my heart up until I can't feel anything but you, I wish to convey as his cold hands wrap around my waist. Our skin brushes together, and I want this fever to last forever. My fingers, nimble and fast, pull on his locks. I can smell his cologne, and the night air tingles me, bringing me back from our stupor.

I need to breathe.

I break our kiss, huffing and wiping beads of sweat away from the back of my neck. Draco smiles at me, lips plump and hair messy. We've learned to kiss each other properly in the last few months, and now I know exactly where my hands go and how the fire blazes and where my legs should wrap around and what the feeling pooling in between my thighs is. I've never explored it, never went farther than kisses on my neck and shoulders.

He leans in again, and our lips brush together. My brain wants to shut off, to let me go and fly and burn again. I want to, too, so badly. I want to pretend that there's nothing wrong with us, with our lips, with our desires.

But there is a lingering question in my mind, and that is the aftermath of the ruin we're causing.

"What are we going to do after you kill him?" I ask, and he leans back, almost as if he's afraid of that question.

He doesn't move. "I don't know."

I sigh. "Yeah. I don't know, either."

The silence grows uneasy, and my stomach is churning as he reaches out to touch my hand, drawing circles on my knuckles.

"I don't want to kill him, Chrys," he says, and my heart plummets for him.

"I know, Draco."

"I didn't mean to poison Weasley or curse Bell, or ━━━"

"I know, Draco."

He turns to me, his lips brushing my hair. I lean into his touch, letting the flames eat me alive. "Please forgive me."

"I already said that I did."

My stomach flips. I can lie to him, but not to Susan. I will never forgive him, yet I am still here, with him, pretending it's okay. He's the only one who cares.

"Not about that," he says uneasily.

My eyes widen as I rise from his shoulder, my stomach churning. "Draco, what did you do?"

Draco exhales slowly, as if he is contemplating his next words.

I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

"How do you think the Death Eaters are going to know once Dumbledore is gone?" I know the situation's horrible when it's a question; he doesn't want to say it. He continues, his voice cracking. "There will be people to defend the old man after he's dead."

I don't want to breathe anymore. "What are you talking about, Draco?"

He purses his lips. "Do you know about the Vanishing Cabinet, what it does?"

I nod. "Yes, why?"

"Use your brain, Chrys. What can I do with it?"

My eyes widen and I stand up abruptly, the insult flying over my head. "No."

He slowly stands up, looking desperate again.

I hide my hands behind my back.

"What if they kill someone? The entire time, I thought you were doing this for your family: one life for them! And that already wasn't okay, but I understand the need of choosing family first." I inhale, glaring at him. "But the students here? The rest of the staff?"

I am about to cry, like I always do when I'm with him, as the invisible hands start choking me. It will never go away, like him. It will never stop trying to hurt me, like him.

He takes a deep breath, as if I said something wrong. "They're not going to kill anyone."

"How do you know that? They're Death Eaters, Draco!"

"I'm a Death Eater!" he snaps, taking a step forward.

I flinch back, my eyes watering. "And what are you doing right now?"

He stills. I am right, and he knows it.

"You lied to me, Draco. You said one life. You said that no one else would die. I don't want Dumbledore to die either, but I understand why! And yet, the others ..."

"Chrys," he starts, but I cut him off.

"Forget it. I'm tired of forgiving you. I'm tired of wanting you. I'm tired of your words. We're done."

My heart tells me to stop talking. But I'm tired of listening to it.

"Don't go, Chrys!" he exclaims, as if he cares. "Don't do this again ━━━"

My stomach twists. "Do you want them gone, Draco? The muggleborns and muggles?"

He freezes. "No, but they're below ━━━"

Tears are falling now. "I've heard enough."

"You can't change my beliefs, Chrys."

"I know. I've tried." I sigh. "I'm a half-blood. I don't understand why you're with me if you believe you're superior."

Draco scowls. "Stop it. You're different. You know it."

"How?" I ask. "What's so different about me than the rest ━━━"

"Everything, Chrys! And why does it concern you now? You're with me knowing that I hate Mudbloods!" He reaches out for me, and I try to dodge, but he grabs my hand. My other one, this time, so that both of them can match with their purpled bruises. "You were the one who came back to me!"

"Fine. Maybe I fancy you. But you're a shit person, and I'll get over it eventually!" I choke on a sob. "I hate myself for being with you, Draco. If I leave, it may not bring my friends back, but maybe I can love myself."

"I love you!" he exclaims, while hurting my arm.

"That's not enough."

I struggle to escape him. I always do.

"Why? Am I not enough for you?"

"You make me horrible, Draco! I don't want to be like this anymore!"

He glares at me, tightening his grip, causing me to gasp in pain. He's not going to let go, even if I tell him it hurts. "And yet, you're the one coming back, getting my hopes up. Again. And again."

"You're the one who wants me back. I never wanted to come back!"

"Then why did you?" he shouts, and I start to sob.

"Because it hurts, Draco." I choke on another sob. "It hurts so goddamn much and you always have some reason about your stupid actions and you make me feel special. You somehow find me every. Single. Goddamn. Time. But now, I just feel like shit."

"You are special, and I love you ━━━"

"Then let me go."

"No."

"You just don't want me to tell anyone that you're a Death Eater!"

"Of course I do! But that doesn't change how I feel ━━━"

I try to wring myself away. "Stop it."

His eyes glaze over, and he raises his hand to strike me, but stops himself as I practically scream, backing away, trying to leave, to ━━━ "You'll come to your senses, Chrys. You're special. You won't tell a soul."

I finally am free to leave when he lets my bruised arm go. I am shaking, sobbing.

He doesn't try to chase me. He knows I'll be back once I'm vulnerable, because he'll find me at that exact time, and make me stay.

I am horrible, and he knows it.

Maybe that makes him worse than me, because he's not doing this for love. He's doing this for his secrets, which I've been keeping all year. Because even if he says he won't do anything, I know it's a lie.

My hands, bruised and mangled, are proof of it.

But now, I don't care. He is horrible. I am horrible. I don't want to be.

As I approach the Commons, my hands stop shaking. I square my shoulders in determination.

It's time to do something, for once.

notes / i just realized how dysfunctional they are LMFAO like i knew but i didn't know yk