BETWEEN REVENGE AND LOVE

37

Sunday, 06/10/1995

I slip my shirt off, groaning from the effort it costs me. Not really do I have any energy left for anything at the moment. 

I am exhausted.

The pleasantly hot water, accompanied by thick, humid steam, which pours all over me a few moments later, prompts me to moan anew.

It is so relaxing to seek support against the cold wall, eyes closed, focusing solely on how rays of water meet my tensed shoulders and neck.

His hand suddenly grazing my hip makes me heave in a big breath of haze, my eyes, though, remain closed. His fingertips leave me and I am almost disappointed by it, wishing he'd hurry to come back to me for more.

The next spot he touches is unexpectedly my hair, wherein he begins to massage his fancy shampoo with both hands, gently into my scalp. And as dearly as I wish I could, I can't stop myself from breathing more moans, it feels far too good to fight it. He is already conceited enough with himself and now I give him this moment of weakness. Whatever.

Thoughts start flooding my brain, shower thoughts, ones I'm actually not quite ready for. Not right now, not ever.

What is it that makes this all feel so damn right? Him? Is it him who makes it right? Or at least makes it feel like it?

It shouldn't be him and it shouldn't feel quite so good nor so right.

Not when it's the wrongest thing for me to be doing. Using him for distraction. It's not right, is it? But, yet again, it feels so incredibly enchanting to be with him, surely distracting. 

And otherwise, isn't that what a friend is there for? To help? He's helping me. Are we friends? What are we?

Already I am drawn away by the next shower thought; what have I grown into?

Have I grown into loving? Him? Or him? Theo or Draco? Or neither of them?

Uncertainty is what scares me more than anything. Especially the uncertainty; love or not love? Love, or is love only a pretext, a disguise masking my selfishness? It should definitely be clear to me whether I love somebody or not. I should be able to tell. But I am not. 

My bloody brain doesn't manage to think straight when it's concerned with love, all it does is serve me up with unhelpful thoughts that turn things even crazier upside down than they already are.

Most suddenly, out of nowhere, his hands find their places on my waist and I get pressed against the wall by him, which still is cold somehow. The possibility to say something gets murdered by his hand that wraps around my throat, silencing me.

Draco's eyes only fleetingly meet mine before sweeping further across my face. His gaze is neither particularly soft nor hard, he's difficult to read it. If I didn't know better I'd think he maybe was a little angry with me. But that can't be.

Sighing, I close my eyes and tilt my head against the wall behind me.

He says nothing. And I wouldn't know what I'm meant to say. So it is silent, apart from the ceaselessly rushing water.

As he starts spreading his touch over my body, his hand leaves my neck, moving downwards, I find myself more confident about what he's thinking right now.

"Draco." It just leaks out like a faint sigh, yet his eyes meet mine as soon as his name crosses my lips. "Hmm?" He confirms his notice, "is something wrong?"

"No, not exactly, it's just-" His fingertips slide along my thigh, knocking me off my train of thought. "Talk to me Y/n," he demands, but counterproductively inches even closer with his face until our breaths mingle. "Well uhm," I start and tear open my eyes that had reflexively closed, "I'm still in pain, you know." 

Regret and remorse for my words spread through me. Why can't this stupid pain finally go away? His tempting eyes have me playing with my options. What if I just give in and ignore the ache? I would so gladly do it. However, that would be about the daftest idea ever.

"Right." Contradicting his insight his hands don't leave me, nor do they stay where they are, one of them slips down between my legs. "Can you really say no?"

I don't even have to look to know he's smirking, it always finds its way onto his face in situations like this. Sighing again and frustrated, I press my lips together. "Don't you want to darling?"

Oh, Merlin, that's not fair. Shocker, Draco Malfoy doesn't play fair.

His lips dip down onto mine, his kiss so fierce I can barely breathe. I don't mind. If I had the chance, I'd make this last forever. Not because it's him or anything, but because it's such a great distraction. I'm totally fucking kidding myself, it would so be about him. Him, him, him.

His hands come up to cup my face, and just as I'm about to throw all my efforts overboard, to give in, he breaks away from me.

Breathing violently, I stare at him. Confused. What is he doing?

"You really can't look after yourself, can you? Then I'll take over now. Get a good rest so I can screw you again as soon as possible."

. . .