Perfection Lost

I was naïve

Your love was like candy

Artificially sweet

I was deceived by the wrapping

Got caught in your ways

And I learned how to bleed

I was prey in your bed

And devoured completely

And it hurts my soul

'Cause I can't let go

All these walls are caving in

I can't stop my suffering

I hate to show that I

Lost control 'cause I

Keep going right back to the one thing that I need

To walk away from

~*~

Perfection Lost

He was sprawled across the bed, staring at the ceiling as had become his custom in recent days. In his mind, the concept of time had ceased to exist and he was blissfully unaware of how many hours he'd wasted away in his room. The only thing that penetrated his self-induced, comatose state was the melody created by raindrops trickling against his window. The sound was lulling him to sleep, but his passage into slumber was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Won't you come down and talk with us?"

No, he wouldn't. He wanted to wrap his self-pity around his body like a blanket and wallow in it. He hadn't moved much...the occasional trip to the loo and short recesses for meals. Naturally, people were worried about him, but he couldn't be bothered to allay their fears. He strained his ears, hoping to catch the sound of footsteps retreating down the corridor. His patience was rewarded a few moments later--his friend had gone back downstairs. Seemingly moved by his lack of activity, he suddenly had the urge to put his depression to good use. He needed to share his pain, and he knew just who he wanted to share it with. He roused his tired limbs and shuffled to his desk. He always kept a quill and a container of ink set up, and he pulled parchment out of the desk drawer as he sat down. He didn't even have to think; the words flowed from the quill with little hesitation as he wrote to the cause of his misery.

Congratulations. I've just heard the happy news--I didn't think you would actually go through with it. I've been sitting in my room for God knows how many days, waiting for you to Apparate and tell me you couldn't do it. But you never came, did you? I really hate you. I hate you most of all because you told me this would happen. You told me how this would end before it ever began. You told me it would have to end, but I didn't want to think about the 'then' in the presence of such a beautiful 'now'. I wanted to dive in and find out if your lips could possibly be as soft as they were in my dreams; I wanted to strip you of your clothes and see if your skin was as smooth and perfect as I'd imagined in my fantasies; and I wanted to feel you--beneath me, above me, in me--everywhere because since the day I dared to think about it, my thoughts were consumed with visions of us together. Of course I found everything to be true--your lips are that soft, your body is that perfect, and making love to you was that incredible--and now that reality is my curse.

I haven't missed the irony of all this--that I was always the one to do the 'right thing', yet here you are doing just that and I detest you for it. You were only ever loyal to one other thing besides me--your family. And you will do this for them because they wish it, and they need you to do that which you were born to do.

Is she pretty? She must be for you to even consider marrying her. You've always had a soft spot for beautiful things. I could never really fathom why you were with me--people say I have striking eyes, but I am no beauty. But you told me I was beautiful. Every morning you whispered in my ear, telling me you would rather watch me sleep than do most anything else. Now I can't help but wonder if it's the kind of beauty only you can see because you love me. Loved. Maybe. I can't allow myself to believe that you love me still, because if I do, I will never move on; I will always hope that you will come to your senses and come back to me.

I sometimes contemplate if I would feel differently had I died when I faced Voldemort. If I were an angel, I would have to be happy for you. I would be neither spiteful nor bitter, and I wouldn't be haunted by the possibility that you could find happiness with someone else. Because that's what really hurts. I need you to know that...this is my last spiteful act. You need to know how I hurt, and I hope you choke on every fucking word in this letter. Maybe I will be able to forgive you...one day. But you need to know that I don't understand, and I don't forgive you in the here and now. I choose to be selfish, just this once, and I don't give a damn about your noble reasons for doing this to me--to us. If I ever fall in love again, I hope and pray that you will understand the pain that I feel. With every step you take, I want you to remember what you have walked away from--the life you have left behind. We once promised each other always, and unlike you, I keep my promises. I will love, and adore, and hate you, and curse your name--always.

I wanted you to be my happy ending, but now, I will settle for your tears.

Harry

He held the letter up to the candlelight, and for one brief moment he considered burning it--letting the words give way to flame, to be forgotten in the ashes--but he couldn't do it. It needed to be read.

"Hedwig," he said softly, calling her over to him. She seemed thrilled to receive some attention from him...it had been a while. Before he tied the letter to her leg, he added the recipient's name on the outside of the parchment.

Draco

With an affectionate ruffle of Hedwig's feathers, he sent her off into the rainy evening. As Harry watched her fly off into the distance, the little voice inside him, which had been forgotten for days, told him it was time to get on with things. Later that evening, he would join Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Seamus downstairs, but for now, he would listen to the rain fall.

~*~*~

Now I've been licking my wounds

But the venom seeps

Deeper and deeper

We both can seduce

Darlin' you hold me prisoner

Don't know what to do

My heart has been bruised

So sad but it's true

Each beat reminds me of you

Christina Aguilera, Walk Away