marieschlz

[marieschlz]

I told you, I'm not the good guy - A Dramione fanfiction

[ mention of violence ]

I was warned, at no time did he lie about his intentions.

He told me exactly what he would do and how he would do it.

And here was the proof.

Bodies... So many bloodied bodies with torn limbs side by side. The trail of tears on distorted faces. Soldiers, civilians, children, men and women, all the same, lying with opaque and lifeless eyes.

I can't help but think they're dead because of me.

I look at my bloodied hands, dirt and juice darken my nails. I tried to scream but my voice didn't come out, there were no more tears, I can't even remember how to cry properly.

Should I be feeling remorse? Fault?

It was so delicious.

I loved every second.

A weak giggle caught my attention, I slowly turn to face him. The crackling aura of ancient power swirled around him. He stood there, all the while, his eyes gleaming, enjoying himself as the blood of my people pooled on his feet. His blue eyes, so beautiful blue eyes, sparkled with sick desire.

Hungry.

For more deaths or my reaction, I couldn't know.

The wind that hit me hard was as cold as the blood rushing through my veins.

Malfoy was the man everyone warned me about. He was mad, his thirst for destruction known in every corner of the five kingdoms.

They thought I could cure him, help him somehow. There were spells, potions, I should have figured it out.

Apparently, the only sick person here is me.

— Pretty little thing— he called me. — I bet you're excited. That was fantastic.

He started to move toward me and I tried to process it all as my emotions fluttered between regret, orgasmic joy, guilt and remorse bubbling in my chest.

— I hate you.

— Such passion - He laughs again. He looks so calm, so genuinely satisfied. He looks at me with eyes softer than I ever expected them to be.

I look away.

— What are you going to blame me for? For getting rid of the cloud of lies you've been told? For waking you up and for showing you how wonderful the taste of human suffering is?

— How can I undo this? How can I save them, Draco?— I begged as he towered over me.

The laugh that followed seemed to echo for infinite minutes.

He bent down to look me in the eye. The glowing orbs that I thought long ago reflected the goodness he hid within him only reflected the latent hunger I saw in my own eyes.

As crazy as himself.

He looks a lot more beautiful to me now.

He looks pristine. Flawless, especially standing here amidst the dirt and destruction, surrounded by the saddest colours this landscape we've created has to offer. He is emerald and onyx and castles painted gold, his silhouette deceptively formed in the sunlight.

He could be glowing. That could be a halo around his head. This could be the world's way of setting an example based on irony. Because Draco Malfoy is beautiful in a way that no one else is.

Because Draco is not human.

Nothing about him is.

Not even me.

— Undo?! Ah, my dear Hermione. You can't get rid of who you are.

He soon lowered himself to my level before reaching out and touching my face, almost tenderly.

— I liked it, Draco. It felt so good— I mutter in agony.

He smiled at me happily. As if I had said something about piles of gold buried under our feet. His eyes are half-closed from the smile and his cheeks are pink from the cold.

He is a strange boy, strange and perverse.

Something inside my heart is ripping and it feels like fear, it hurts like genuine dread. I don't want to see him like this. I don't want to think of him as anything but a monster.

A monster like me.

— I am here. You don't have to fight yourself anymore — his voice is suddenly much closer than before.

I take a step back.

I feel his hands on my arms, I feel his skin against my skin, and I'm holding my breath. I don't dare move an inch. I don't say a word as his hands drop to my waist, to the thin, stained and torn dress. His fingers brush the soft skin of my lower back where the dress has been pulled and the seams have come loose.

I'm struggling to get oxygen to my lungs.

Then I feel his lips against my shoulder, delicate and flaming and tender, so gentle I could almost believe it's the wind and not this evil, broken creature.

Again.

Please, again, again and again.

Softer.

His chest heaving hard this time. His words were almost breathless this time.

— You destroy me.

I'm falling into pieces.

His lips are softer than anything I've ever known, soft as flesh, like sucking drop by drop of a little boy's blood, like melting and floating and weightless in water. It's evil, vile without making an effort.

And then it changes.

— O my God...

He kisses me again, harder, more desperate as if he needs to have me as if he's dying to memorise the touch of my lips against his. The taste drives me crazy; he's all heat and blood.

Mouths mingle and along with his taste also brings doom. It's like the plague. It kills, destroys, dries seas, murders firstborns and razes nations. He is breathing as if he has lost his mind and looking at me as if something is broken inside him, as if he has woken up and discovered that his nightmares were just nightmares, that they never existed, as if I can fix whatever is not working right inside us.

I'm crumbling and falling inside his heart and I'm destroying everything I find along the way.

— oh, my little witch. We will do fantastic things together.

[marieschlz]

Relatos- Maria. E. Schlz