Strawberry Gashes

She is not scared to die...
The best things in life drive her to cry.
Crucify then learn...
(Take so much away from inside you, makes no sense,
you know he can't guide you, he's your fucking shoulder to lean on, be strong!)
Sit and watch me burn...
She's led to believe, that it be ok,
look at your face, scarred in dismay,
but times have changed, and so have you...
I think I'd rather crucify then learn
(take so much away from inside you, makes no sense,
you know he can't guide you, he's your fucking shoulder to lean on, be strong!)
Sit and watch me burn...
I'd like to take you down, and show you
deep inside, my life my inner workin
so smell and lack of inner pride,
to touch upon the surface, is not for
what it seems, I take away
my problems, but only in my dreams.
(Take so much away from inside you, makes no sense,
you know he can't guide you, he's your fucking shoulder to lean on, be strong!)
Crucify the learn...
(Take so much away from inside you, makes no sense,
you know he can't guide you, he's your fucking shoulder to lean on, be strong!)
Crucify then learn...
Sit and watch me burn...

Chapter 6: Brackish

The following afternoon Tristan was sitting with Hermione on the bleachers at the Quidditch pitch. Around them zoomed the Gryffindor House Team, practicing for their big match against Slytherin that was coming up later that week.

People were finally growing accustomed to seeing Tristan hanging out with her fellow Gryffindor mates, although that didn't stop anyone from giving the American snide looks in the hallways.

She and Hermione spent that breezy mid-October afternoon deep in conversation, with topics ranging from foreign countries to Muggle music groups, to philosophy to the Ministry of Magic. They made their way down to the Quidditch field as they were discussing Muggle politics when Ron and Harry approached them, stating that practice was over.

The four of them sat down on the freshly cut grass, enjoying the cool wind that was blowing in their faces. Before they knew it, the sun was beginning to set beyond the horizon. They walked over to the Quidditch broom closet, but the doors were locked.

Hermione pulled out her wand and said, "Alohamora!"

The door wouldn't budge.

"Someone thinks they're funny playing tricks," Ron said slightly annoyed.

"C'mon, I know a short cut to the front of the castle, follow me," Harry said, taking the lead. "Hurry, it's getting late."

They walked down a dark path in between two buildings. During their journey the girls were silent while the boys were muttering to each other about Quidditch.

"I learned this brill blocking mechanism today, would you like to see how it works?" Ron asked Tristan quietly.

"Sure," Tristan responded.

"Okay, pretend that you're the Quaffle," Ron said.

Tristan crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Are you on crack?" she asked jokingly with a smirk upon her face. "Cause that's just plain stupid."

"Oh c'mon! I'm serious about! Don't worry, I won't hurt you. Now, run towards me," Ron said, he stood still while grinning. Then he prepared for defense.

Tristan sprinted towards him when he grabbed her by the neck and shoved her against the wall. Panic rose in her eyes as her windpipe was sealed up by Ron's deathly grip. She shoved her arms up between his, breaking his hold on her throat. She then grabbed him by the collar of his robes and pulled him towards her forcefully, kneeing him in the stomach. The next thing she knew, Ron fell to the ground with the wind knocked out of him, gasping for the slightest bit of air. Harry rushed to his side, assisting him.

"What was that for?" Hermione asked angrily.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry Ron," Tristan said in horror as she crouched down beside him. "It was a reflex- and you're a whole lot stronger than you think!" she continued, trying to coax him.

"Don't... touch me," Ron spat.

Tristan's heart sank as she got up off the ground and walked swiftly back up to the castle.

"I'll ask her about it later," Hermione said, helping Ron off of the ground.

Ron replied, "She better have a good reason, because that bloody well hurt."

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A few days later Draco was patrolling his nightly shift around the dungeon corridors, awaiting to confront and punish any students out of bed past curfew. Suddenly he heard a creak down towards the end of the corridor in the direction of the Slytherin dormitories. He quickly crept down the hall to witness Tristan sneaking into the dorms. She had previously been in the library talking to the trio when she lost track of time, as usual.

Before she was completely inside the common room, she felt someone grab her wrist. She was able to pull away but her punch towards her foe's stomach was unsuccessful, for they blocked the blow, turned her around and pulled her into a tight, painful bear hug, lifting her off the ground.

"You are a very naughty girl," Tristan recognized Malfoy's bitter tone. "About that Divination project... I think that we'll be a better match and you'll be more friendly with me once I'm through with you," he said seductively, setting her on the ground while placing his hands within her robes, rubbing them down her torso and slipping a finger beneath the waistband of her pants.

He wanted her, and he was going at all costs to get what he sought out of her. Of course, being a Malfoy, he was oblivious to what a girl's true needs were. He treated all his past lovers awfully. He would trick them into thinking that he really cared about them, fuck them, and then leave them. All he really wanted out of them was sex. Girls knew that if they disobeyed him, he would abuse them verbally, threaten to cause them great disgrace to their family, and literally make their lives a living hell. When he would leave them standing in the dirt, moving on to other people, they would go down on bended knee, crying their eyes out, asking him to come back. But of course, these were only ordinary girls. Draco had once again forgotten that Tristan was no ordinary girl, and she would not put up with his cocky bullshit.

"Get off of me, let go!" she shrieked as she elbowed him in the stomach and stomped hard on his foot.

She left him wincing in pain by the door and sat on a wooden table that was towards the back of the common room. Draco wasn't giving up yet. He went after her, limping slightly, and sat in a chair next to her.

"Tell Draco what's wrong, he'll make you feel all better," he said, mocking a mother's voice with a sly grin on his face.

He ran a hand up her leg.

"Stop it," she said sternly, shoving his hand away.

He replaced his hand and continued to move it up her leg until it reached her upper thigh.

"You just don't know where to draw the line, do you?" she asked crossly.

She dug her sharp nails in to his hand. He released his grip.

"Why are you so fucking violent?" he asked irritably, clutching his scratched hand.

Tristan put her head in her hands and said something that he was unable to hear.

"I beg your pardon?" Draco asked wrathfully.

"I said, 'do you really want to know?'" she repeated herself curtly.

"Yes," Draco said irately.

"You sure?" Tristan asked sharply.

"YES!" Draco replied, feeling he was nearly going to explode with fury. He knew that if he didn't find out what her problem was, she was going to break him into a million pieces before the year was over.

"Okay fine," Tristan said abruptly. She arose from the table and pulled out the chair that was next to Draco and sat down. She placed her hands in her lap, interlacing her fingers. She took a deep breath and said slowly, "I was raped."