Nothing Could Come Between Us

You're right on time, so invite me in,

This is where your trouble begins
But I like you better than the other ones

I remember when my eyes first settled upon it, the cool harsh treason that your body threw at mine. It wasn't so much the antics that you managed to pull, but rather, the steps in which you took to do so. A touch . . . a kiss . . . a feeling simply elicited from a single glance even one lacking passion. Because as far as I can see, between you and me, passion is rather scarce. But it wasn't even the psychical aspects that I missed as much as the human mentality that I now no longer possess. It's true, Potter.

It's no longer within my human nature to have compassion. Which is why I feel that what is due will come and whatever is left with meet it's end. Does that make sense? Or did you also snatch away my ability of coherent speech? They say that nothing will come unless its called and those that are called will do as they're told, but what if that theory only works on those of sound body? Would that work on someone, for example, such as I?

And you say I'm right
When you know I'm wrong

We could never just get along

I can hear the moans coming from the other room and they shake my very soul, Potter. I cannot think. Please, oh God, someone help me. I reach out to the darkness, and who do you suppose is there to grasp my hand? It's your entire fault, you ever proud Gryffindor. Ah yes, I know. And what does that make me? The ever pompous Slytherin? You have false standards about what makes right and wrong, Potter. I only pray that one day someone will be able to snap your head around and show you the correct path because God knows that I can't do it.

You're so damn relentless

And you will find
The two of us are like two of a kind

I hate you. Oh God, do I hate you. You're cool, collected and confident. Believe me, I know the stigmas that are attached to the Slytherin name - the exact characteristics such as those. But in my case, the creator seemed to have forgotten me. And judging by the sounds escaping from the other room, you seem to have forgotten about me as well.

What's it like, Potter, to break somebody's heart? Does it feel good to know that you have just crushed someone's soul . . . someone's very existence into mere nothingness? Because oh God, that is exactly what is occurring within my soul and I don't know how to stop it.

But it hits you harder than the other ones
And you said it loosely
When I'm just sitting here with my self

Its happened, its true, and you're the one who broke me. Remember how it used to be? When I was perpetually sardonic and sarcasm ran more quickly in my veins than blood? You showed me that I didn't have to be like that, that it was possible, though difficult, to experience things on much different grounds. I just had to want to do it. Well, I had wanted to do it . . . because you thought it was best for me, Potter. Now I can laugh. Sing. Cry.

All for you.

And look what you've done to me.

Don't you hate when it gets stuck in your mouth
And then those words get in the way

I curl around myself more tightly as the moans cease and footsteps are heard coming towards the door where I am hidden. I place my hand on my chest, knowing my heart would quicken if I had one.

The latch unlocks and the door opens, two bodies steeping delicately out into the hall, looking both directions into the deserted corridor. I glare selfishly at the clasped hands. My eyes travel up your body and into your own eyes, as once again, as so many times before, I lose myself in the emerald green sparkle of your personality. With startling realization, my breath quickens. You don't see me.

Oh God, you don't see me, oh God. I panic slightly, the nervousness sending shards of pain through out my being. Please, God, stop me from my actions.

Without realizing my intentions, I shove my foot from underneath its protective embrace, causing you to trip over it slightly.

"Agh," you mumble. Your partner, (and how I shudder to think that I am no longer a part of you), turns towards me and raises an eyebrow in confusion. "What was-"

You turn your body and your head follows suit before settling on a mask of shock and surprise. You peer into the darkness, closing the space between us inch by inch. I press my back into the wall, attempting to make the space larger. Oh God, you don't realize its me.

"Potter."

You wretch your head back, as though I have had a touch of fire, and stumble backwards slightly. You do, though, have the decency to drop Ron's hand.

"Malfoy?" I shudder at the name, so foreign to my own ears. When was the last time you said it? And how could you possibly use my surname . . .

I slowly rise, and it is though time has stood still. Nothing moves. The windows from the tower are open and even the crickets outside elude us of the moments trapped inside.

I step out of the shadows and you finally see my tear-stricken face. Yes, it is a miracle, Potter. Through all the time spent wallowing in self-pity I have finally mustered up enough emotions to cry. It's a miracle. Should we rejoice?

Your head reels back slightly and you swallow. You're shocked. I desperately hold back a smirk. Good.

I turn on my heels and take lazy steps in the opposite direction, loving the final click of my heels on the stone floor.

"Malfoy-" A strangled cry all but escapes your throat. I'm far enough gone where I can pretend as though I didn't hear it.

"Let him go," Ron's soft, caressing voice fills my ears and though it's no match for my internal rage, I take the words and use them as mine.

Let him go. When I am out of earshot, I race down the corridors and through open and closed doors. Past people and ghosts and teachers. Individuals calling my name and screaming to be heard.

Let him go. I trip and fall and scramble and fall again, tearing my clothes, in a mad rush to escape from this horrible school and its lying people.

I spit on the ground as I run. Let him go. "No running in . . ." calls a teacher as I speed past her, tears and sweat making trails down my face. Let him go.

The outside feels amazing, but it is unlike me to experience its potential so instead I crumple on the ground by the lake, sobbing uncontrollably into my cloak.

Let him go.

Don't worry, Potter.

I'm gone.