Perfection

"The language of thought, long lost to both wizards and muggles, was the language that was used in Babel. However some strains of the language still exist, prominent among wizards who have an intense emotional bond, be it hate or love, it"

I snap the book shut, trying to forget about you I only succeed in remembering. You are the only one who doesn't see me as Harry Potter otherwise known as savior of the world. If you saw me now you'd laugh and tell me to get over myself. I wish I could be like you, you've seen so much but you aren't going to break, no matter what. I'm about to snap or explode. I'm already questioning Dumbledore who seems just one more master manipulator. I've made a unbreakable locator charm and put in all my people, now I know exactly where they are, what they are feeling, and can call them at a moment's notice. I haven't slept in two weeks. The last battle will come tomorrow, Voldemort versus Dumbledore. Me versus you. Our last night together you said good-bye knowing that we'd have to fight and kill and this would be the last.

I bled for you that night. You smiled so sweetly and asked so gently, and in that instant I wanted to belong to you, totally and completely yours. My friends don't understand, don't understand that what we have is stronger than love, don't understand that I enjoy being torn apart by you. At first I tried, but I should have realized that you can't overcome hate with love, fire doesn't put out fire. So in the end you won, and now we'll last longer than love, they say love consumes, and so hate fortifies, and I'll stay here forever within our fortess built of hate. You pressed me back upon the bed, your hips straddling mine, you were all hard planes, pale skin, and moonlight. Your eyes shone in the darkness, and a white flash of teeth when you smiled. I felt the thrill that always arouses me, that maybe this time you won't stop, that this will be the time when the demon inside you takes control. A part of me hoped for it. You took the knife and drew it tenderly down my sides, tracing each rib, every muscle, drawing my body. I hissed with pain as the knife bit into my skin, the pain followed by a wave of

intense pleause that overrode it. You concentrated, your jaw clenched, and ever so slowly wrote your claim over my heart. I moaned beneath you, I wanted you so badly, you smiled, ever so cold, and I stared into your extraordinary silver eyes as you licked the blood off my chest, making small satisfied sounds all the while. I would butcher myself for you if it would make you as you were then, complete. You were no longer Draco, Death-eater, and I wasn't The Boy Who Lived and in that instant it was perfect. It's later now with the final battle coming, in that battle we'll face each other, the power of the Light, and of the Dark, you'll be my weakness then. You could kill me without a thought, but I can't return the favor. I finger the scar on my chest, a thin red snake twisting around my nipple, forked tongue at the end, a reminder of a time when you weren't Draco, death-eater, and I wasn't The Boy Who Lived, a reminder of perfection.