Desired | Draco Malfoy & Theodore Nott, 18+

61

This chapter contains violent actions and a very destructive mindset—mentions of drugs, alcohol, blood, suicidal thoughts, and self-harm. Please read with caution.

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Draco Malfoy.

Don't look at me. Please don't look at me. I can't do this if you look at me.

Isla stood with her eyes locked in his, her lower lip trembling as he walked closer. Draco took dangerous steps up to her until the tip of his wand pushed into her neck.

''Everything.'' He said, coldly as she looked away, ''I want to see everything.''

Make me hate you. Make me hate you. Make me fucking hate you.

Gulping, she met his silver gaze again.

Why do you have to be beautiful? Why did I give you my heart? Why do I want to break yours?

He never let his sight part from hers. He read her mind, over and over.

He still flipped through the memories she'd shown him, looking for anything that would indicate that this was a lie.

Draco saw her father, how he left her mother and his daughters hidden not to be exposed by the Dark Lord. He watched as Isla snuck behind a door late at night, hearing how her parents argued over the fact that she had been spending time with the Weasley twins.

It will blow your cover, he yelled. Her mother cried. Isla cried too. It hurt watching her go through this.

I want to hate you.

Draco saw how her father merely visited every other year, how Isla stole the magical newspaper that still landed on their doorstep and blamed it on the neighbor cat. She just wanted to read about her father. Isla just wanted to see if there was anything happening to him, why he never came back for her.

You make me hate myself.

Malfoy locked his jaws, swallowing hard as he realized why she hated him when he was the one to walk away from her. It made sense now. Every time Draco had vanished from her, she hated him.

Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me about your pain? I told you about mine.

He never knew why.

He knew why now.

Please make me hate you.

Because her father did, because she had to read about his death in a newspaper, because she had to read about all the souls he slaughtered, she saw it all, and if Draco hated her before that point, he hated her more now.

I want to hate you, my beautiful girl. I need to hate you.

Draco loathed her for making him care, even in a time like this one. Even when he stood there, with his wand to her throat, staring right at her and all the lies she'd ever told him, he cared.

Please, let me hate you. It would be easier, hating you.

Malfoy didn't stop. He narrowed his silver into her ocean, and he kept looking.

Finding the day Cedric Diggory died, and his heart crashed to the pit of his stomach at the memory of her, throwing herself over his numb body. Seeing how Fred and George hunched on each side of her and picked her up.

Don't do this to me. Stop making me love you. Stop making me fall for you. I can't fall for you right now, sweet girl. I can't love you.

Draco was there that day. He sat in the crowds, and he watched as Cedric came back dead, yet he never noticed her. He never remembered how she cried and cried over that cold body, how his father fell to his knees beside them.