Don't Stay

I can't take it anymore. I gave up everything to be with you. I even gave up my name to be with you. I took on a Pureblood name so that Voldemort would accept me as a Death Eater. As I lie here naked on our bed, in our house, I finger the tattoo on my arm. I remember all that pain I went through when the Dark Mark was seared onto my skin. But it seemed bearable because we were together and I loved you. I realise now how naïve I was. Straight out of school, leaving with higher results than Percy Weasley. Plain and bushy-haired. You made me feel beautiful, though. You told me I was beautiful. When we had sex, you made me feel so desirable that I didn't realise the way you were manipulating me. Now I've woken up to the real world. I've woken up to the truth. I've woken up and seen the real you, and I can't breathe when you're around me. I need you to go.

I was stupid. I was madly in love with you, though. Everyone warned me against you. Ron and Harry always were over-protective. I guess the thrill of running away with the man I loved at eighteen, the man who everyone loved to hate, the man who killed my own people for fun, the man who I thought loved me got to me. The way all my friends disapproved made everything seem so exciting then. I should have known that the excitement wouldn't take long to disappear from our relationship. The worst thing is, they were right. I always had the answers, I was always sensible and I always listened to good advice. I guess the real me went out of the window when we were together. Now I just feel like screaming at myself for not listening. For not realising. For loving you. I need to be alone.

I hate my life. My life is filled with cruelty, depression and regret. I don't want to live my life any more. I don't have anywhere I can go. My friends and family would never accept me back. I betrayed them all, especially Harry, by working for Voldemort. I hurt them all by leaving the way that I did. They won't want to know me. I'm only 24, but I'm broken beyond repair. I haven't smiled or laughed in years. My face is gaunt and pale, my hair limp. And my body is worn from the way you have exposed me and used me. To them, I am a traitor, an unrecognisable, untrustworthy piece of filth, your tired-out and abused toy. Discarded by you, the man I love, even now. I don't care about the way I love you, though. I don't need you anymore. I still love you, I always will, but I don't need you. Please forget what we had or could have. The reality is that we don't have it anymore, and we won't have it. Just give me myself back and don't stay.

Now you come striding in to the dark room. Your eyes scour my body as you throw down your cloak. You don't intend to say anything to me, I'm just lying here, conveniently. When you're having sex with me, you treat me roughly. I fail to react to your grasping hands. After a while, when you're satisfied, you stand up, fastening your trousers. Finally you break the silence. "For fuck's sake, what's wrong with you?" I stand, not caring that the cold air is cruelly biting at my naked body. I shout, using a voice that I lost years ago.

"Draco, I don't need you anymore. I don't need a cruel bastard like you. I love you more than anything, but you're never going to love me back. Just give me myself back and don't stay." My words echo eerily around the room, and he just stands there. To show my sincerity, I grab our wedding photograph and hurl it at the wall. It misses your ear by inches, and you look at me with your blank stare. Silently, you pick up your cloak and leave. Into the emptiness I whisper.