Masterpiece

Masterpiece

He is back again, whispering some well-chosen words in my ear. The hallway is dark, even darker considering he is invisible; drumming his cloak-covered fingers on my slender frame. I can practically feel the heat of his breath against me.

I am powerless against him; his smile and roguish charm that comes from not realising it was there; a sweet mixture of passion and innocence. I'd let him step over me, around me, through me; because, like so many others, I am powerless to stop him. He knows what he wants and I can not stand in the way, whatever the cost. I am weak; a may-flower bending in the breeze of his will.

He

waits at the end of the hallway hesitantly, the darkness enveloping him like a night-cloak, swinging from his hips like velvet, slender arms enfolding sculptured torso as the silvery threads of moonlight are swept over them both and they vanish from view. I sigh, young love.

We were off on a date tonight

, he whispered to me later, all candlelight dancing and romantic music, smiling with a blush that comes from good food and tender love. We sat in the corner of the restaurant and he slid his foot up my leg; holding my hand when the waiter was checking me out. A possession of him; like I was all he needed, and would ever need.

I am envious. He steps through me, around me, over me. Completely envious.

Sometimes, when he is unable to sleep, he'll come and sit with me and talk for hours, his eyes unfocussed, his hair tousled from tossing between the sheets while he dances naked behind his eyelids. They are absolutely beautiful together, moving like shadows through the night; stopping to kiss every three steps or so, unable to tell where one left off and the other began.

The dark beads of night gather as I stare into the distance and the memory of past where there was simple laughter and two figures leaning against the wall; hair tangling as mouths worked together, hands mapping out valleys of love into softly covered skin. They would giggle and kiss; rumble with the gentle heat of touch, they can't bear to turn away from the consuming flames that have bubbled up within their hearts.

Two perfect souls merging together, the kind of love that moves and carves and breathes; submerged in something wild and unholy. A wind that knows only motion; lost in a maze of happiness and that certain feeling of Coming Home.

I was weak against their marble-edged knives of perfection. They step over me, through me, around me.

Cobalt night closes around them as they disappear into it; the stars littering the sky expansion outside, disappearing off to the Astronomy Tower, where every lover goes to meet their less-than-perfect match; dropping their stone hearts on the steps below trying to become divine creatures of the dark-light kisses. They can never bear to be apart. Many lovers come to that place and seek the plum-coloured passion of youth on the dry sidewalks and cool humidity. Exulted, risen, kissed by the lily scent of Spring and sunshine.

They think I don't understand; that my resistance is palpable, my eyes full of quiet desperation because I fear the manipulation is growing. I understand...the night swallows them up; the snow outside consuming their footsteps as they dodge between the trees and plain existence. But yet I remain; alone, forgotten, weak in my expectations and fearlessness.

I follow you both often enough, most nights in fact, keeping to the back paths of your footsteps as you slink around the castle with perfection, both knowing how the possibilities of getting caught; thriving off the way a risk can run down a spine. There was a harmony, a protection for you both; hands clasped in Holy Communion.

Sometimes though, he shuts me out, closes me off. He is short with me, we had a fight, and he leaves. Runs to his dormitory. Lies face down on his unmade bed. Smells the familiar mixture of soap and earthy cologne. Cries helplessly into the pillow smelling of him for what feels like hours.

He turns up, begs with me, and pleads his case. I am unimpressed; protective; but stubbornness can only get anyone so far. He walks over me, around me, through me. I am weak. I stand aside. There is nothing for me to do.

They lie on the bed together, all is forgiven; home again, home again, jiggity-jig. The longest fight they've ever had only lasted three days; he was so miserable he almost broke my heart with his tears and late night confessions. It's a mystery how they stay together...they're so hopeless different, and so hopelessly in love, I murmur to myself as I let him pass me late one night, smiling at him as he presses into the padded night for another midnight tryst in some quiet corner, or a raid into the kitchens to visit the ever-so-willing House Elves.

I decide not to follow them tonight.

He steps around me, over me, through me.

I have to be in control in control, a closed force, weak no longer.

Password?

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