Delusion

by S_Star

ceele001@medway.org.uk

Disclaimer: As if V-Day wasn’t depressing enough...not mine.

Summary: ‘They never made love out to be like this.’ Harry believes.

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Rating: NC-17

AN: This has been floating round for days, and I’ve finally typed it up. A big nyah nyah to certain people who thought this fic wasn’t ever gonna happen…A lovely angsty piece for Hallmark Day. ^_^


Delusion
by S_Star

When I was eight years old, I believed in love. I would make the dinner while Aunt Petunia watched her Sunday afternoon movies and stare in any free moments at the romances playing out on the screen; awed by the devotion of the dashing heroes, their willingness to sacrifice all for their love. In a heartbeat, they would die for their princesses. They never made love out to be like this.

Is love thinking that instead of dying for you, the person you are with would kill you? Is it the feeling that you are going to your own death every time you kiss him and the knowledge that, in the end, you mean less to him than his own life, his own family, his Master?

When I was fourteen years old, I believed in love. I would sit in the Common Room as Lavender, Parvati and occasionally Ginny tittered over trashy Muggle romance novels, and listen to them reading out impassioned extracts that illustrated the ordeals the couple were going through. At the end of the story, the girls would be wiping tears from their eyes, relieved and reassured that there’s always a happy ending. They never made love out to be like this.

Is love knowing that you were doomed from the start? Is it the certainty that every time you touch him you fall deeper into a hole with no footholds and that the only thing that could come of it is pain? Is it the feeling that every time you leave you are saying goodbye forever?

When I was sixteen years old, I believed in love. I would watch as Ron and Hermione first began their relationship, glancing over with a smile as they snuggled in a chair together, laughing at private jokes, kissing tenderly or just being with one another. Everyone said it was the sweetest thing they’d ever seen, and that they made the most perfect couple ever. They never made love out to be like this.

Is love the feeling of another boy’s cock in your mouth, the taste of ropey semen – too salty to be ambrosia – flowing down your throat as you struggle to choke it all down? Is it the thrill of desperately grinding against a hardness that echoes your own? Is it the knowledge that you could never, ever, cosy up together by the fire?

When I was eighteen years old, I believed in love. I would see patient after patient being brought into the Infirmary as the war raged outside the castle and the people who sat by their sides, holding their hands and reassuring them that everything was going to be all right, even – especially – when they knew there was no hope. I saw the light in the eyes of the victims and their carers when they took a turn for the better. They never made love out to be like this.

Is love the touch of a blade against your skin? Is it the knowledge that one wrong move could have either one of you killed in an instant and the feeling that this danger heightens the thrill? Is it not caring about the pain and even relishing its bite and the release it provides you? Is it the fact that the enemy’s loyal servant is the one burying himself deep inside you?

At the age of twenty-one years old, I believe in love. I see an icy grey gaze fixed on me as I point my wand, and a flash of emotion echoing through my own body as I feel my lips saying the words that will send him away forever. I know that everyone around me is ecstatic at the defeat of the Dark Lord, and some are even more delighted at this particular Death Eater’s demise, and I can sense the overwhelming adoration they have for me, the reluctant hero, who saved the world from hatred and evil. If this is what love is meant to be, I want no part of it.

Is love Draco Malfoy? Is it the memory of the way he sometimes used to watch me when he thought I wasn’t looking? Is it the pain that shoots through my heart when I picture the look on his face when he died?

Yes, that’s what love is, and I wasted it all for a fairytale that now won’t ever come true.



~fin~

~
VISIT BITTER TWILIGHT AT http://www.hofxf.com/twilight