Time and Time Again

Time and Time Again

By SuishouTenshi

He's here, dressed still in that pigeon tail muggle tuxedo, raven hair tamed by no doubt Granger's newly discovered spell, round glasses repaired anew after a day of working out in the harsh field. I bet they still can't believe that his superiors made him work, today of all days. Of course, he had always been Shaklebolt's favorite, and the man had given him a week off. But we weren't going to let them know.

No, he wasn't working today, he was with me. Yesterday, he was with me. The day before, he was with me. Me, me, me, always me. But tomorrow, it won't be me. Tomorrow, he won't be walking down that aisle with me. No, not me, never me.

I thought he wasn't going to show up tonight. I waited in our usual room, but I didn't expect him to come. The clock chimed eleven times, and he rapped four times on the door before whispering "alohamora".

The oak door swung forward with an ear-splitting squeak. His shadowy figure cringed visibly from the noise, but I remained still at my seat upon the windowsill. I waited until he came to me.

"Draco..."

How dare he whispered my name so sensually, so needy, as if he actually wanted me, as if he still craved for me! But I still surrendered. My name was his, my heart was his, my soul was his.

"Look at me, Draco..."

His wish was my command. I lift my head and stared into those gems that he called eyes. He actually looked forlorn! Can you believe the nerve?!

"Dra..."

"Had a nice rehearsal dinner, Potter?"

What? What did he expect me to say? He spent last night and the whole day with me, in bed, and left at six o'clock for his fucking wedding rehearsal dinner. Five hours later, he was fucking back here again, probably expecting sex when tomorrow, he was going to walk down the aisle of matrimony with Ginerva Fucking Weasley.

What was I supposed to say?

"Draco, don't start."

Oh, how precious!

"You started this, Potter!" I jumped off the windowsill and pushed him backwards, advancing on him. He backed away in a manner that was very unlike the hero that he was supposed to bee. "You were the one who was afraid to come out of the closet. You were the one who didn't want to 'disappoint' his damn friends. You were the one who proposed to Ginerva Fucking Weasley. You were the one who asked to break it off with me when you left five fucking hours ago. Why did you come back, Potter, why?!"

I was shouting, and Harry was cowering away. It was then that I realized perhaps I needed glasses too, for my eyes were becoming unusually foggy... and wet.

He lifted a gentle hand to caress my face, but I flinched away. I couldn't let him touch me, not now, not when I'm trying to remain upset with him.

"Draco, I came to apologize. I didn't want to leave it like that between us. Come to the celebration tomorrow, as my guest. Please..."

I gave up my name for him, my fortune, my pride, my family, my future, all for him. And this was what he gave me, a VIP ticket to the wedding of the century!

Well, fuck you, Potter. I was not going to giving you up after years of sneaking around, after years of waking up with you in my arms. No one will come close to you. Have you any idea what you've done to me? After you, how can I accept any other partner?!

Fuck you too, Weasley. You'll never have him, do you hear me?! You'll never have Harry's heart, his soul, and definitely not his body. No, he's mine, every essence of him belonged to me. Me and me only. Twenty-four hours later, when he takes you for the first time, he won't be seeing you in his eyes. No, it will be me that he thinks of, I'll make sure of that.

You'll never have him, you'll never have what was rightfully mine.

Mine!

With an animalistic growl that I didn't know I had, I pushed the man in front of me down to the bed we've shared for the last five years. He fell with a surprised gasp.

He tried to struggle, and usually, he would've won too. But not today. Today, I was taking charge. Today, his larger stature won't help him. Of course, he gave up the fight as soon as my lips slammed down upon his. That was expected, Harry had always been a push-over.

I tasted him for the billionth time. His familiar sweet lips pressed into mine, melting, moaning, accepting. He tasted like expensive champagne, hors d'oeuvres, and a woman's perfume.

I bit down hard on his lips, enough to draw blood and a loud gasp of pain. There was nothing sensual about that. It was all pain, all blood, for all the times that I woke up alone in the morning while he publicly courted girl-weasel.

I wanted the taste of Ginny Weasley gone from my Harry, so I thrust in my tongue, and reclaimed the crevices within, and marked every spot as my own.

He surrendered completely, gave in to this tortuous loving. Sweet moans of ecstasy chimed like a grand symphony to my ears, sounds that I'm sure he'll never sing for the girl that he was to marry the morning after. Everything about him was mine.

Not breaking contact, I tear his tux to pieces, not caring that I had just destroyed a perfectly fine article of clothing. He didn't protest either; for he was too busy trying to get the jumper over my head.

But then I froze.

There it was, that cold metal band that branded his fourth finger. It brushed against my bare back slightly, but enough to burn. I quickly broke away from the kiss and grabbed his hand.

Harry watched in mild horror as I pulled the cursed engagement ring off his finger and threw it against the wall.

"Hey, that..."

He never got to finish his sentence, for I was on him again, tasting, biting, sucking, claiming, tearing. But not loving, no, not loving, not tonight. Today was all about pain. I wanted to hurt him.

He fought back again, his conscious once again getting the better of him. I was having none of that. He pushed against my chest, and I pinned his arms above his head. He kicked me on the knee, and I squeezed his legs tight between mine. He wiggled his hip, and I thrust down against him.

And then, he protested no more.

What followed was three hours of angry sex. It wasn't love-making, because I didn't love him so much at that moment. I used no lubricants, no spells. I thrust into him again and again, until he came with tears in his eyes. Even then, I bruised him, added pleasure to pain. The sad thing was, I knew he liked it.

I made sure that he screamed my name, time and time again. I made sure to erase all thoughts of his future wife, the one that I loathed, the girl that he wasn't meant to be with. I made sure that as he walked down the aisle hours later, he will move with pain, and the pain will remind him who he belonged to. I made sure that as he pushed into Ginny Weasley, the sight of her blood will remind him the crimson liquid that I drew from his lips. I made sure that he'll regret ever letting me go, regret presenting that damned ring to her.

"DRACO!" He screamed, and I knew he was mine, now and forever.

I did not stay. After he collapsed, I grabbed my clothes and left. I wasn't going to hold him, nor be held by him. I wasn't going to kiss him gently and comfort him from the nightmares of the days. Not this time.

But I knew I was going to show up at his wedding seven hours later, to remind him once more the consequences of his actions. I was going to taunt Ginny Weasley in her face, tell her who Harry truly loved. I was going to have him. Let Weasley weep, let her heart die a widow when her husband is still alive and well. She never should've taken what was mine.

Damn you, Harry Potter, damn you to hell.

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Silky wedding dress, white drape, and glistering crystal sandals. I stood high upon a stool while Hermione and Pansy fussed over me. Angelina, Katie, Penelope and Fleur chatted excitedly by the makeup counter, arguing over which shade of lipstick fits me best.

And I stood, stiff and aloof, and wore an equally emotionless smile. I've been like that for the past hour.

I was getting married today, did you hear? I was getting married to Harry James Potter, savior of the wizarding world, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Man-Who-Killed-Voldemort. Presents piled up like mountains, gifts from all over the world, from people I've never even heard of before. I was every girl's envy.

Oh, if only they knew the truth.

They didn't see the empty kisses Harry and I shared in the company of others. They never saw the half-meaning pecks on the lips that he gave me when we were alone. They were nothing passionate, never passionate, not from Harry.

Everyone expected me to be happy when Harry proposed four months ago. And I was happy, albeit very confused. I saw things, things that I'd rather forget, things that I interpreted too deeply into.

But it's not just me, you see. My sister-in-laws saw it too, all six of them. They were pretending to be excited for my sake, but I can see the sadness and pity in their eyes.

Angelina and Katie hadn't looked at me in the eyes since they arrived this morning. Penelope and Hermione were still sharing worried glances. Fleur, the newest inductee into our family, saw it too, and was constantly mumbling French to no one in particular. Pansy, Charlie's wife, the one who knew him best, the one who understood the situation best, hadn't stopped frowning. She knew...and I wished she'd tell me, erase my suspicions, and let me make my decision without any further hesitation.

A gentle knock sounded at the door, and Neville entered a second after. Neville, reliable Neville. I bet he knew it too, for he gave me the saddest look last night during rehearsal dinner. Luna was a lucky woman to have married someone who would love her so much.

"Gin... Malfoy wants to give you his congratulations... in private."

Six heads snapped around to look at me in fascination and fear. I inhaled calmly and held my head up high. I was the seventh child of the seventh son, the only Weasley girl to be born in generations; I wasn't going to cower before Draco Malfoy.

"I'll speak with him."

The girls took the cue immediately and left without protest. Neville sent me a contemplative look but let Malfoy in anyway. Then he closed the door and left me alone in the company of... Just what was he, anyway?

He looked shorter from this perspective, probably because I was still standing on the high stool. But he seemed intimidating nonetheless. Long, silvery-blond hair that can rival a veela's hung loose below his slim shoulders. High cheekbones supported those startling mercury eyes. With his head at a tilt, he looked as if he was judging me.

"Nice dress, Gin."

He mocked me! I said nothing, and his feral grin widened.

"I just saw Harry outside. He's all ready. He looks incredible in that tuxedo, so gorgeous, simply ravishing."

Did he really think that I didn't know what he was hinting at? Did he really think so little of my intelligence? It wasn't everyday that a Malfoy abandons his family to fight on the side of muggle-lovers. But this Malfoy did it five years ago. He shed his Malfoy name and fought earnestly by Harry's side. Does he think that we did not notice their interactions? The looks they shared when they thought no one was looking?

And now he was here, taunting me, torturing me. But still, I said nothing.

"You're a really lucky girl, Gin. I bet millions of people want to get into Harry's pants. I think he'd be incredible in bed, don't you? Guess you'll find out tonight. Oh hey, maybe this will help you: He has a really sensitive spot below his right ear. Bite it, and he'll give you the most beautiful moan you'll ever hear."

Like a preying panther, he stalked forward with a velvet black box in his right hand. Taking my now numb hand, he gently placed the box onto my palm. He wrapped my fingers around the object and planted a sarcastic kiss on my ring finger.

"Give this back to Harry for me, will you? He left it in my place this morning. I guess he was in a rush to come here. Can't blame the guy, he is getting married."

With a billow of his cape, he exited. I didn't need to open the box to see what was inside.

I must write to thank Malfoy one day. He had just helped me make the right decision, the most important decision of my life. I quickly changed back into my everyday attire. With a kiss of love on Harry's shocked countenance, I ran out the wedding tent.

Harry, love, you're not mine.