Memory Of A Dear Place

45. Theodore Nott

December, 1996

~\~ Bella Huxley ~\~

I noticed I never really, intently paid attention to his rings. I remember feeling them digging into my skin every time he squeezed my throat or other parts of my body. The cold material would brush against my skin if he stroked my cheek or chin. I remember him sometimes taking them off and placing them on his nightstand.

I always paid attention to his hands instead. How cold they were. How his veins were pressed against the surface of his skin. One sharp edge of some parchment would be able to cut through. His hands were always shaky. Still are. It has gotten worse. 

I remember how is fingers were long and how his nails were always clean. You would expect him to have a bad habit like nail biting, or nibbling at the skin of his phalanges. But his nails always were the perfect length. Not too short, not too long. Perfectly clipped. He was perfect. Still is. 

And although I never paid attention to his rings, there is one that's always there. Very pretty and big. Silver and engraved with a snake. He liked to switch his rings up, but that one is always there, around his right ring finger.

Without any explanation about it, he decided to give it to me. A ring that has been around his finger for as long as I can remember. 

He never gave me something. And it feels weird knowing he gave me something that seems to be of much value to him. 

It wasn't the outside of Draco Malfoy that had imperfections. I always used to say he was an angel in disguise and that's the truth. Inside of him is where his imperfections are positioned.

Broken. Lonely. Neglected. Abused, both mentally and physically. Bullied by is father.

They caused him to create a version of himself that would protect him. That would make sure there would be no more broken, lonely, neglected and abused feelings.

Because if he would be the one breaking people, if he would be the one making people feel lonely, if he would be the one neglecting people and if he would be the one abusing people, it would mean they couldn't or wouldn't do it to him anymore.

It would be safer for him. It would be safer being a huge asshole rather than a nice person.

He was stupid for thinking that. It may have worked for him for 16 years, but feelings are not to be messed with.

You can try and suppress them for as long as you are able to. You can decide to crop them into a little ball and hide them somewhere in your mind where you are barely able to find them anymore. But they will find their way back to you. And they will be feeling worse than the moment you decided to stuff them away.

I may be a hypocrite saying this. But Draco fell for me. He fell hard. And he made me fall for him.

Due to the Memory Potion I was able to put my memories in order. I have been spending the past two weeks trying to observe them. Trying to fit them together. Trying to remember if there were any gaps that still needed to be filled.

But the most important thing was I remembered his love for me and I remembered my love for him.

Our love is a shitty construction. It's fragile and one blow of wind can make it fall apart. But a shitty construction is easy to recover. It's easy to build up again.

A solid construction may be harder to break down, but once it's broken down it will take a lot of time and effort to rebuild it again.

At this moment in our lives the shitty construction is the easier way. We are barely able to work on ourselves, let alone the weird thing that's going on between us. The thing nobody ever understood and probably nobody will ever understand.