Two Plus Two Makes Five

2 + 2 = 5

None could remember how it had started. Both could remember that it didn't make sense, like two and two make five, or like how a new moon is not visible. If it's new, don't you think God or somebody would want to show it off? Isn't that what you do when get something new? Like a new shirt; you always want to show off a new shirt.

He wasn't a new shirt to her. She didn't want to show him off. He was the scar on her moral fiber, the garish mark of sexual desire that she did not want to be associated with. She didn't do things like that. She didn't kiss like she wanted to possess ownership of one's mouth. She didn't bite one's lower lip, catching it like a piece of fruit. She didn't lick one's abdomen, getting lower . . . and lower. She didn't press her body against one's body.

But she did to him. And that scared her, embarrassed her, that she could feel something for someone like him: A Slytherin. A Pureblood. A Malfoy.

She wasn't the only embarrassed party in their relationship.

Malfoy was disgusted with himself, after he awoke their first morning together. He didn't even remember how they got to be in such a position, but he did remember how her lips tasted his skin, how her breath felt against his groin, how her breasts felt against his chest, naked and sweaty. He licked his lips, and he could still taste her on his teeth, salty and sweet. His head had been pounding and her hair had been suffocating him.

Upon reflection, he was horrified to realize that it was not suffocation that had tightened his chest; it had been something more akin to contentment, and he had been presented with a lovely image of his body entangled with hers.

He quickly banished the thought from his mind . . . and then she walked into the room. Her hair had been in a loose bun, a few stray curls falling over her eyes. Her shirt was untucked, and a few of the top buttons had come undone. It was then he realized exactly how short the uniform skirts were. He also learned how easy it was to just lift them over a girl's head.

It was a secret both kept. The secret was easy to keep, for it was much easier to control sexual urges then. But urges multiply; they get more violent, more prominent. They evolve into addictions, and addictions either become loved or hated.

They had reached the addiction status not too long ago, but both were afraid to wonder whether it was loved or hated. Both were content to just not think. Thinking made things more complicated, and complication of their issue was a danger neither wanted to face.

The sun was bright, the moon was visible, the trees were swaying, and neither wanted to notice. Neither cared, nor did they feel the need to care.

It didn't make sense, but not everything is made to make sense. They were two plus two equals five, and that was fine.

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finis