Wishing

Wishing doesn't make it go away. It doesn't make the bleeding stop when he is lying there, shivering and whimpering as an injured animal should. It doesn't stop the screaming of spells around me making me confused and distraught. It doesn't shut him up when he tells me that he loves me. It doesn't stop his caresses along my body that make me high with pleasure. Wishing doesn't make the hurt go away. The pain so deep that it courses through the perfect blood in my twisted veins, stinging me and making my world dizzy.

I was never supposed to love Harry Potter, but I did. I loved him so much that the feeling got imbedded in my pale skin like a sickness. No one asked where I was when I skipped lunch and dinner night after night. No one wondered where Harry Potter was when he was absent from the table yet again. Who knew? Maybe he was off defeating the fucking Dark Lord.

We would meet in the prefects bathroom blinded by lust. Crushing our mouths together violently, suckling deep purple bruises along each others bodies. Watching the clock carefully we would time our absences minutes apart. I wasn't supposed to love him.

Sometimes we would sneak out of our dormitories at night and meet on the top of the Astronomy Tower unknowingly. When I couldn't sleep I would walk in the pitch dark to the top of the stone tower. I could always see the outline of his shadow on the cold wall. Rushing over to him, I would wrap my arms around his thinning body and comfort his soul. We would cry together, sharing thoughts and opinions on the war raging around us.

I would fall asleep in his warm arms, dreaming of a life that I could never have. A life with two children... they would be girls. Andromeda and Draconis, our little girls. They would have everything they ever dreamed of with their two fathers. I would be happy and so would Harry. We would live in a cream paneled house surrounded by a tall white fence. We would have a unicorn and that would run majestically in the acres of yard we provided.

I always wanted a unicorn. Daddy said they were too pure, the Dark Lord wouldn't want anything of such holiness around his most important Death Eater and his son. My father was a coward, wouldn't even speak his name, came running to his side when he rose to power. Well, it's not like any of that matters anymore.

Everyone always dies. I tried to wish them all back... it didn't work. Father is gone, burning somewhere in hell. Mother has been missing for three years, her delicate body is probably lying mangled in a forgotten place. Voldemort is gone now and forever... Not that I would care. I never liked the wretched old man. He forced me, holding me down, raping me. He kissed my bruises harshly, sealing them forever in place. He scarred my porcelain skin. Touching my arm and making me watch in horror as a skull appears on my paleness. Voldemort laughs.

I reach down to touch Harry's face and it feels cold. Death is so harsh. It sucks the warmth out of your soul and shrouds you in blackness. All you can do is wait for it to leave... but it is never gone. Leaning over his stiff body with my face inches from his, I breathe, feeling the warmness return to me, bouncing off his delicate features. Our lips touch. He doesn't respond. My tongue enters his mouth and I feel a passion I have never felt before coursing through my body... he doesn't kiss back. I kiss harder, wishing he would respond with all my might. Our lips part... forever.