Creation

There are laws in the village against weeds.

The law says a weed is wrong and shall be killed.

The weeds say life is a white and lovely thing.

-- Carl Sandburg, Smoke & Steel

Confusion

Lucius Malfoy does not know when he has felt so utterly and happily confused.

His parents would disapprove, would disown him, would force some pale-faced, quiet beauty reeking of perfection into his unwilling arms.

But this plump girl, snoring softly next to him in his green velvet bed makes him smile, makes him laugh as he never has.

She trembles when he kisses her, and her eyes seem to have faded, but she seems happy, so very happy, when he takes her into his arms and kisses each one of her freckles, her eyelids, her hair.

She sings quietly, in breathless bits, when he holds her tightly, smiling always and never trying to show him that she is fading under his hands.

But he knows it and fears it.

Because what will he do when her joy is lost?

Paradise

She thinks she might understand how love can kill.

His eyes say he loves her, but his murmurs of Latin to her are cold, and his eyes are flat, like the Sickles that he has too many of.

She still smiles at him, and sees a light in his eyes, but she knows that this is like Eden and wonders how long it will last.

He holds her hand gently in the hallways, seeming not to care who sees them. Then she notices that the hallway is empty and he is leaning towards her, waiting to be kissed.

He whispers to her in Latin and the words sound loving, and his kisses are not as hard as they used to be, as if he wants to save her from the destruction he has already wrought upon her.

It's too late.

It's too late for her to be that dashing redhead again, isn't it?

When did the weeds grow in Eden, marring the beauty and perfection of paradise?

Shattering

His parents have written him.

A fucking "friend of the family" saw him kissing Molly, and told.

They hate him.

And why?

What has he done to cause all of this?

Fuck all of this.

He knows his parents are indifferent to eachother. He will not be like that, or so he thinks.

He thinks about this a lot.

Everything is shattering; she is brightening for every moment he considers her face - her brightness will soon seem angelic if he keeps this up.

His parents think that they're perfectly cultivated flowers, don't they? And that Molly is a weed, spoiling the distant perfection that they seem to demand out of everyone crossing their path.

This is all to drive him insane, isn't it?

She is going to stay his; already, he can't remember exactly how he survived without this pixie of a girl near him.

He remembers the feeling of her hands fluttering through his hair like so many butterflies, the feeling of her soft lips pressed to his.

No.

She is staying with him.

Fuck all else.

Grasping

He walks with her in the hallways now, his hand always holding tightly to hers, as if he wants to make sure that she will not disappear when he blinks.

He holds her tight, tighter when he kisses her; he helps her with homework; she feels as if he's never going to leave her side except for classes. She knows that the teachers look at them oddly, for who ever saw a Gryffindor and a Slytherin so attached at the hip?

The mark on his arm does not go away; he makes no move to explain it. She knows that there is something wrong, but wants to enjoy his hand in hers for the moment, ignoring the fact that her fingertips are turning white.

She guesses that something is wrong with his family; he merely traces his delicate piano-player fingers across her cheek and says nothing.

Her friends have stopped their cheery conversations with her, and she tries not to notice the sick feeling this gives her. She just looks into his eyes and feels the light pressure from his fingers and surrenders.

Maybe she is a weed compared to his pale beauty, but she is quietly content, somehow.

She is conquered and she does not care anymore.

She may be a slave, but she loves her master more than her freedom.

She feels ugly and jaded, and her joy is lost somewhere far away, but the look in Lucius' eyes is enough, so much more than enough, and she will stay in his arms forever if he asks.

Because she thinks she loves him.