Miscellany

A Quick Foreword:

I am going to (shameless) put in a plug for my collaborative work with Natasha, who puts up with me and Shadows!Draco like a Saint. The Spaces Between Shadows & Night can be viewed right here: http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=231636 and is well worth the read...or so I'm told.

Miscellany

Miscellany:

n. Separate articles or studies on a subject,
or compositions of various kinds, collected into one volume

I always loved the way you kiss me awake in the mornings.

We'd lie in our comfortable cacoon of blankets and pillow-talk, delighting in my hands on your hips and your morning breath mixing with my tongue. You would craw into my arms, your laughter full of roses and something that smelt, suspicious, like my heart. I would paint my name on your rustic skin, fresh as morning dew, your hands tangled in my hair that would messy itself in your rough touch. I would paint my name onto with hot breath and saliva made of gold and promises.

What I loved even more was watching you sleep, stretched out, filling my bed like you were filling my soul. I would photograph you lazily, your head lolled back, my hair flopping in my vision as I snapped your handsome face into my eternity.

Then, I would pull the covers over us, lazily stroking your chest, your legs, your neck; anything within my reach I claimed. You were my conquered being, you of tanned valleys and black-as-night stars; warm to touch and even better to love.

I was always surprised that everyone just accepted 'Us'. The stares that followed our progress through the halls became less frequent; the teachers stopped hassling our choices; our friends hesitantly rubbed out the lines of disdain and war that had lain between them for generations and hesitantly, accepted their fates. Or ours, however the case was seen.

When he came to see you, you were a nervous wreck, wringing my hand as if it was the only thing keeping you afloat, the only thing keeping your from going under and never again seeing the light of day.

I don't think you ever realised that I was just as nervous. If not, more.

I felt like he was going to make you choose, choose between him or me, choose between your past or your future. Future lover, future confidante, future friend. I waited, nervously, for nearly an hour while your voices rose and fell behind the closed door; it was difficult to keep breathing in the long wait and constant pacing. I think I would have worn out the floor boards completely if you hadn't have opened the door, taken me into your arms and told me it was okay.

He wasn't happy, but it was still okay.

We stood there, dark on light, night on day, and held each other like it was all we would ever need.

Our fights, although never lasting long, wore on our relationship a little.

Sometimes it was the smallest thing.

I thought your hair needed cutting, and would threaten to do it myself. You would try and 'borrow' my homework because you had left yours until the very last minute. I would pick your brains on Quidditch strategy and you saw past me every time. You would want to spend some quality time with your friends because you would have a guilt-attack and I would begrudge the time you gave them.

These never lasted long.

Sometimes it would be the biggest thing.

I'd make a joke about one of your friends and you'd leap to their defence. You would say I didn't take you seriously and storm out. I would tease you for being clingy and in punishment you wouldn't touch me for three days, until I broke and kissed you in the hallways. You would have a nightmare and not let me comfort you.

I'd try and pick your brains about the past and all the things you weren't able to talk about without collapsing into tears and you'd cry and I was never able to hold you hard enough to take away the pain. My arms were never big enough to hold all the agony inside you.

You would suffer in silence and I was never able to understand.

pale: like failed passion
like wind through non-existent shelves
of my mind.
you trace the corners of my hipbone

that juts out
irregular: you kiss the corner
of my mouth. you taste like
daisies and heavy cotton sheets
that grace your bed

and my imagination.
we walk the beach
and there's nothing left for
us to hold. except.

each other.

I'd recite poetry clumsily, try to hold your hand in class, cling to your passion as it wound through me like a snake through grass.

I was never any good with fancy words.

We had dinner together, that one time, and I watched your every move like a hawk.

Napkin on lap. You'd raise your eyebrow, laughing with the beautiful people. Start with the outside fork and work inwards. A servant bowed to me, ladling soup into my bowl and I almost thanked him. Sip at the wine, don't gulp. By second course, I was light-headed and dazzled, saying next to nothing. No elbows on the table. The sparkle of the room hurt my eyes and the tie I wore seemed to be choking me. Sit straight and tall at all times.

I just wanted to go home.

I was fiercely disappointed with myself that I couldn't be your perfect everything that night, that I was irregular and messy, I wouldn't let you touch me as we lay in your childhood bed, in your ancestral home.

You didn't know what to do with me, turning on your side, falling asleep after a long time of silence and puzzlement.

Your bare back was the loneliest plane I'd ever seen.

Do you remember the first time I kissed you?

You were spitting rage and pain at me and I realised, for the first time, that your anger wounded me. Your hate was like a fire that burned my soul and I suddenly couldn't stand it anymore, stepping forward and silencing you the only way I knew how.

Your lips were chapped and clumsy.

That first time was so ridiculously chaste, it was like one always imagining kissing when you're eight or nine, squeamish about tongues and other peoples spit. You kept your eyes open and I stared into them, staring you down like you were a dare, not yet believing that this is what I had wanted all along.

You started to back away, and I followed you, my lips jilting against yours with every step, noses bumping, my hands folding around your upper arms not quite willing to let you get away just yet. Soon, you were against the wall, cross-eyed from staring at me in shock, as I started to worry my tongue into your mouth, pressing your back into the stones with my stealthy fingers and smooth hips.

And then you closed your eyes, opening your mouth to me like a prayer.

You really were my everything.

You would let me brush your hair.

You would let me pin your wrists above your head while I ravaged your mouth.

You would let me apologise to you when I got angry for no reason and take it out on you.

You would let me steal your homework.

You would let me come and go into your room as if it were my own.

You would let me love you.

You would let me criticise, as long as I could back up my arguments.

You would let me run my mouth up your leg while you were dozing.

You would let me excite you.

You would let me be myself, even when it drove you crazy.

You would let me talk, incessantly, about nothing.

You would let me bring my friends into your world and make them at home in your heart.

You would let me sing in the shower.

You would let me rob you of the blankets while we were sleeping.

You would let me pick food off your plate if I were hungry.

You would let me nibble on your earlobe at the most inappropriate moments.

You would let me rub sun-lotion on your back.

You would let me go off for a midnight walk by myself.

You would let me make you Valentine Cards in September.

You would let me tease your cat.

You would let me hold you up when you had too much to drink at a party.

You would let me climb onto you and make love to you...all night long.

and sometimes all
the little things, can become
together the greatest

gift of all.

- finished -