Nothing Else Matters

Nothing Else Matters

It feels nice, and right, coming home to a warm house each evening. The curtains are always drawn, but sometimes I can see you walk through the house, from the outside, because of the bright lights.

You gave me my own key after two weeks, trusting me fully. It felt strange, being trusted by you, but then, I gave you every reason to these past few days.

I never was one for cliches, so I always stay silent when I get home, not calling "Honey, I'm home!" But I look for you, and surprise you by kissing your neck or cheek.

I am happy this way and glad it turned out like this. It could have gone very different. I now have something of a normal, office job that keeps me occupied during the day and lets me look forward to the moment I get home, now knowing that someone who cares about me is waiting for me.

You don't work. You have enough money. At first you also wouldn't let me get a job, but soon you noticed I'm not one for sitting, reading, doing nothing really. So you helped me find a decent job.

You always cook, as I don't know how. Sometimes it tastes horrible, but I shouldn't complain, at least I have something to eat. We eat in silence, which is comforting, but would seem weird to a stranger.

Then the day came when the house was empty when I got home from work. The lights were out, the curtains not drawn. The house was cold and so silent that it was scaring me. I called your name a few times but of course there was no answer. I went to every room, swishing on the lights and drawing the curtains. I lit the fire that was almost out again.

The house was empty, and I too felt empty. You didn't leave me, as all your clothes are still in the closet, and nothing is gone. But I never experienced this, not when I had someone to go back home for.

After what seemed like hours I heard the front door open and slam shut again. Angry footsteps walked through the hallway, and entered the livingroom. I stood up to greet you, a smile of relief on my face. It vanished immediately when I saw your face.

"What's this?!" you hiss, shoving a piece of paper into my hands.

I look down at my hands and see an old newspaper clipping. So you were at the archive. I bite my lip, recognizing the article. You shouldn't have seen this, never. You should've heard the story from me, from my lips.

I look back up at you as I hear your foot tapping impatiently on the wooden floor. Your eyes are waiting for an answer, disbelieve shining strongly in them.

"I..." I hear myself start, but I can't find the right words. I can't explain this, not really. It's too difficult, the wound too fresh. But I have to, eventually.

"Just say it, Malfoy. Tell me what you did. I want to hear it from you."

I speak, my story falling from my mouth, not rushed, but very calm, like I used to talk. You sit, as you probably can tell that it is going to take a while for me to explain everything.

"I wanted to tell you. But I didn't find the right time to do it yet. I... I never meant for this to happen. It just did. After I left school I went back home, where my fa... Lucius was waiting for me, ready to take me to my initiation. I tried to hex him, but he was to quick for me and put me under Imperio. I took the Dark Mark under Imperio. I killed my first Muggle under Imperio. After that I hardly had any choice but to do the things I did. When I was told to go with the other Death Eaters to get you, I resisted. I didn't want to go after you; I knew it was not worth all the lives. You would win, but so many people would lose. Voldemort himself put me under Crucio and let it last till I screamed for him to stop and told him that I would find you and kill you. I guess I should be honored though, because I could faintly hear the screaming of other Death Eaters from other rooms who also resisted going, but Voldemort came to me. My father was so proud, to see me writhing under Voldemort."

I swallowed a couple of times, my fingers rubbing absently over the scars on my arm.

"I went, but we never found you. A special group of Aurors were waiting for us. Most were of us were slayerd, I was taken as a hostage. Do you know what they did to me? What those good Aurors did to me? They tortured me, put me under Crucio numerous times, made me bleed by cutting my skin, trying to cut the Dark Mark loose. I almost bleeded to death once as they cut too deep. But I kept living, I didn't give in. They took me to see my father get the Kiss, let me see as his soul was sucked out, a disgusting whimper leaving his mouth. Then they slapped me and I felt one of them scraping a sharp nail over my cheek. They whispered that I had just seen my fate. Then they threw me back in my cell, laughing their ugly little heads off. Then Voldemort was destroyed and the Mark left my skin, but the scars didn't, they never will. Bad memories of a time I want to forget. I was rescued by one of the Order, who then dumped me somewhere in a small muggle village. I don't need to tell you my life got even worse after that. I wish I had never been rescued."

You slowly get to your feet and take hold of my left arm, rolling up my sleeve. You turn my wrist over and examine the many scars. You gasp faintly as you see the cut that almost killed me. Then you look back up at me.

"I'm sorry. I never should have asked. But the article..."

"The article was written by one of the Aurors that tortured me. There is not a word of truth in it, except for Lucius getting the Kiss. I never knew who caught him eventually, or why he got caught."

"I know," your soft voice says, as you pull my wrist up to your lips and kiss every scar carefully, as if they might open again if you push your lips to my skin too hard.

My eyes are begging you to tell me, but I do not want to know.

"He came to rescue you, wanted to free you. I was there the day he ran into the Ministry, screaming his head off, angry tears running over his cheeks. He loved you Draco."

"He didn't love me. He put me under Imperio and made sure I received the Mark. He didn't love me," I spat.

"He did," you answer, and then leave it at that. You never tell me it was a lie, but it made me feel better and that was what you were after.

You slowly unbutton my shirt and then push it from my shoulders. Scars mark my skin, creating a pattern, a map.

"Why didn't I see this before?"

"I used an ancient spell. A mix of the Vanishing spell and a Disillusionment Charm. It's very advanced magic. It lasts for 5 hours, which is always enough."

You turn your eyes back to my chest, tracing some of the bigger scars with one finger. I shiver, but not from the cold. Then you push me back to the couch, straddling my hips and running your tongue over them. It's a strange experience.

"I want to make them dissapear, make you lose the memory. I want you to feel special. I want you to forget, forget the past, forget the time. I want you to only see me, to only feel my touch, to hear nothing but my moans and gasps. Remember, nothing else matters."

I close my eyes and surrender myself to you completely.