(1) 𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐄 | d. m

Chapter forty-five

Draco

I despised the words the minute they left my tongue, hated myself for what I did to her, and how easy it was to break her apart, to convince her something that was far from the truth. Not only did I leave her when she needed me the most — but I also gave her the slightest bit of hope — only to take it back the moment I opened my mouth to speak.

I don't love you. I never did.

There was just one lie after the other, adding fuel to the fire no one wished had even started in the first place, and I couldn't seem to break free from this endless cycle of vengeance and heartbreak.

She was returned to me, after weeks of agony, only to be snatched right back, and was all my fault. I was the one to blame for both of our misery. I was the one gifted with her heart, just like I was the one in charge of mending it. Of taking care of her, and making sure she would never have to go through something like that ever again.

And what did I do instead?

I broke it in half. I broke her.

She doesn't deserve this, I thought to myself as I took one last glimpse at her before turning my back and sprinting out the door. The tears continued to prickle behind my eyes, staining my face as well as my shirt. I could hear her breaking down behind the closed door, begging for me to come back.

Boy, was that all that I wanted.

To turn around. To set her free from her cage and scoop her away, away from this terrible terrible place. To have her body close to mind, wrapping my arms around her waist and hers around my neck. To look into her unbelievably mesmerising eyes that could put a spell even on the most powerful of sorcerers.

To tell her that everything is going to be okay.

That she was going to be fine and that nothing of it mattered. Because as long as we're together — nothing can stand in our way.

To tell her that I do—I do love her. More than words can describe. More than the number of stars in the galaxy, and more than life itself.

But I couldn't.

I couldn't tell her either of this things.

This was my chance to keep her safe. To make sure she stays that way, and if it means having to let her go—

—Then so be it.

I could handle the pain of my own heart breaking, but I would never be able to live with myself if the same happened to hers.

No, I needed to protect it. To shield it from everything and everyone.

Before it was too late.

Delaney

I don't love you. I never did.

His words had never hit me as hard before. Sure, he would scold me and throw nasty remarks my way when we didn't know each other as I thought we did now — but that was different.

That was way back when neither one of us wanted anything to do with the other. When we didn't seem to care anything or anyone, and when we didn't have to worry about protecting the other person from our pasts.

Things were different back then, and I never hesitated to believe in his harsh words and menacing comments, because I didn't know him. I didn't know the feelings he was in possession of, or the burdens he carried, or why he was acting the way he was. I didn't know him — not as I would grow to do — and so I had no reason not to believe him whenever he said those things to me.

Whenever he called me a 'filthy half blood', or any number of downgrading and depreciatory nicknames he seemed to be carrying around in his back pocket.

Whenever he brought up my backstory only to taunt me, when he thought I was a threat to whatever reputation he had.

Or when he flirted with me and brushed his lips against mine, only to have him act like his cold and distant self the next day.

Yeah. Things have certainly changed since then, and here I was, thinking he actually came because he cared.

Maybe even because he loved me.

Turns out, I was as wrong as I'll ever be.

Although I could sense that he was struggling to get those words out, just as he was attempting to keep from crying, I couldn't help but feel like there might have been some truth to it after all.

Because who could ever love me?

And who could ever love someone like him?

When Draco swung the door shut after him, he left me in the cold and lonely dungeons once
more, and I was back to succumbing to the feeling of hopelessness and dejection. My body was still shivering from the cold and I had no control whatsoever over my breaking heart.

It felt, as if it would never mend.

This was it.

The End.

"So, now that we have that little spectacle out of the way, what say you about paying a visit to dear old Voldy?".

Lucius stepped out of the shadows once again, making himself — as well as his snake cane — known. A deliberately wide grin was plastered on his bony face and as he came closer towards me, I caught a glimpse of his bloodshot eyes. He was wearing his usual all black, fancy attire and his white hair was pulled from his face slightly, showing off his menacing smile.

I didn't say anything at first. Instead, I turned my face to look him dead in the eyes, before I spat at his feet.

I think its safe to say, he didn't take it very well.

"You bitch! Have you any idea who you're disrespecting!", he raised his voice, closing his fists at his sides. "I could have you killed in a matter of seconds — just like that — and no one would miss that pretty little face of yours. Not even my pathetic excuse for a son".

That right there, that was the moment I realised I was scared of Lucius Malfoy.

Not because I knew he was capable of hurting me in ways I never thought possible. Not because he had the power to call on Voldemort and have him torture me til I can't walk nor speak nor fathom anything.

No, I was scared — terrified — of him, because I knew he could use my feelings for Draco against me.

Even though Draco made in clear he didn't love me and that our relationship was nothing but a game to him, I still felt those things. I still loved him more than anything, and that meant I was weak. That meant, I was an easy target.

And perhaps I was.

Perhaps I was weak, perhaps I didn't stand a chance against any of the people who wanted me dead and buried. Perhaps I was just a liability to Draco, and now that we were broken up — he was free.

Free to do whatever he want, free from the weakness and danger of keeping me safe, of having to put on an act around me.

Because he didn't care. He didn't love me, he said so himself.

Right?