Precious Illusions - Bleed Out
A Draco Perspective
By Kat Reitz and Tzigane
He doesn't love me.
It doesn't seem like it could be possible. It doesn't seem like it's real. All these years...
I've known him since I was a child. I've loved him that long, too. He would come, so sweet, so soothing, and he always had something to make me feel so much better. He made things red and yellow and bright, bright blue, and he put them to my lips, and they were magic, sorcery that crept inside of me and made me his, made me forget for a few moments that I wasn't anybody's except Father's. It was wonderful, when he came. Days got quiet, and I could rest, and I could *breathe*, and even when I was very small, I knew that he was the one. The most wonderful person in the world, and that I wanted to be with him forever, that he was a prince out of a fairytale, tall and dark and frowning.
I loved him.
I love him.
I was eleven before I got to see him every day, and it was the most truly exquisite thing that has ever happened to me. Every day. All the time. And he would smile at me, and encourage me, and he never, ever hurt me. And if I was sick, then he made me better, and he was so tender. So tender. He didn't hate me, he didn't use me, he didn't touch me.
I never wanted to be touched.
That hurt me. It hurt me that he thought I wanted that from him. It hurt me that he gave it to Potter, that he gave anything to Potter. I've loved him all my life, and he thinks of me as a *child*. I love him so much that I would walk into fire and hell and certain death for him, and yet...
Even if Potter was the one that saved him, I'm the one who gave a chunk of himself to do it. I'm the one who loved him enough to recreate everything, to open the portal. I'm the one.
So why is it that when he sees me, he sees a child, but when he sees Potter....?
I don't understand.
He doesn't love me.
That was all I could think about. When they hurt me. When they left me alone in the cold and the wet. And I wish I had died. I wish that he hadn't woke up and told her what to give me, or that he couldn't remember what to give me. I wish he would have let me drown in my own lungs, the way Potter said I would. I wish he would have stopped touching Potter in front of me. I wish...
It would have been easier to do it with magic, I think. If I'd done it that way, though, they would have known, wouldn't they have? They would have felt it. I'll bet they have lots of spells up for that sort of thing. Father did. He always knew when I was trying to get away from him, and I stopped trying a long time ago, even this way.
They must not have thought any of us would be stupid enough or brave enough to do it this way. I can't say I blame them. It hurts -- stings -- awfully. That's nothing, though. It's nothing. It's not the pain of seeing him love Potter, and not me. It's not even close to having to tell all of those people what Father had done to me, or to see his face when I had to say it in front of him. Why couldn't they have kept us separate? Why did he have to hear that?
Maybe that's why he doesn't love me, too. Because I'm not innocent like Potter. Because I'm not pure like Potter.
Because I'm just Daddy's little whore.
He's still my fairytale prince. He always will be. And I guess I should have known he couldn't love someone like me. I guess I should have realized. Only I didn't. And I can't live like this. I can't live with people knowing, I can't live with him *knowing*, and I hope it's over soon.
I really hope it's over soon.
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