D.M. Hate.

Ch.11

I woke up in the infirmary, cold. I could tell that the temperature surrounding me was warm, it basked on my skin, and the light coming through the windows was glowing, but the flesh beneath my skin shuddered. The pain was not there anymore, but when I attempted to move, I knew then that the pain wasn't gone yet.
Madame Pomfrey informed me that my attackers were a group of vampires and I was very blessed to be in the state I was found. If it had been any longer, my injuries would have been much more severe. Malfoy was the one to find me. I had a feeling it was him, because he always found a way to make me indebted to him after pummeling through my heart. But I didn't feel at all indebted because who wouldn't have saved an injured student? It would have been a terrible thing to leave me, he was not in any way someone to be overly gracious to.
Every time I thought about the attack, I was filled with an overwhelming nausea and I became so overly aware of the coolness in my vains. I felt forever apologetic to Madame Pomfrey for how many times my bed sheets needed replacing and the floor needed mopping. They'd pumped the venom from me while I was unconscious and with it came some blood of course. I had severe loss in my legs and my head but Snape said, through Madame Pomfrey, that they would recover in time. The wounds had closed up but I could still trace my fingers over the jagged lines and every so often there were surges of stinging pain that came from them. I was told it had been from the residual venom that remained on the near-surface layers of my skin that were less important since they weren't directly in contact with my main arteries. It had eventually evaporated with a spell yet only made the substance turn into gas and spread over the entire surface of my skin. I found some books beside my bed about the effects of the venom. It would have decayed me from the inside out and taken over my entire system and left me as a heap of bones. The book called my condition phantom rot.

"...This condition occurs due to mixed signals being sent to the patients brain... The use of the  evaporation spell to disperse the residual— ineffective— venom causes the spread over open or closed wounds... The brain believes that it has become an undead because of the particles left on the wounds..."

So basically the surface of my body was rotting, just without the lasting and actual physical effects, besides the already apparent wounds. Harmless and idle, but never-ending. It didn't say it would never go away, but it said things like a long time and lasting which was just textbook language for "probably incurable" when they can't actually claim so since there is still a  0.0001 chance of it going away in some cases.
But I could live with that. I could live with all of it.
The curtain opened and Malfoy walked in.
He sat on the chair beside my bed, "how are you feeling?"
"Fine."
"Good." He shuffles uncomfortably, "did they tell you everything about your condition?"
I look at him intensely, "about how my flesh thinks it's rotting and will probably never stop? Yeah they told me."
He hears my sarcasm, "I'm sorry, Mae—"
"Don't you dare use my name, Malfoy." I snap.
"Im sorry—"
I sigh, frustrated, "I don't care if you're sorry or whatever you have to say, I don't want to hear any of it."
He nods.
It surprises me that he doesn't attempt to get another word in and somehow it is disappointing.
We sit in silence for a couple of minutes. I can't think straight with him right there and the lack of blood flowing to my brain.
"How long have I been out for?" I ask, breaking the silence.
He looks up, hopeful, "oh, it's been a week since I found you."
It doesn't shock me, Madame Pomfrey already told me so, I just wanted him to speak.
I nod, "oh."
At that moment he looks almost fragile, like if I said the right thing he might shatter. The air around us is thick with memories of that night, almost potent.
"Malfoy?" I say and he looks up at me, "Im sorry I said that, I should have thanked you."
"You shouldn't be sorry, and you shouldn't thank me for anything."
I cock my head, "why shouldn't I thank you? You saved my life and I took your actions for granted."
He shakes his head, "it's my fault you were out there in the first place though, I should have never pushed you away or said any of those things to y—"
My cheeks begin to heat, "No, it's alright. I mean, I can't force you to want the same thing as me y'know—"
He stands up, "but I did and I shouldn't have denied it just to— I lied to myself and I don't know why I was so stupid."
My mind is whirling and the blood loss makes it feel dizzying, "what do you mean you wanted it too? Why did you stop? Why did you—?"
"Because I was scared of what would come if I did— er— continue..."
I grab his hand, "tell me whats wrong, Malfoy."
He shakes his head, closing his eyes as if trying to manually deny himself permission, "I will, just give me time and I promise I will tell you."
A smile grows on my lips, "I can count on that then, can I?"
He inches closer to me and I can see he is trying not to let himself smile if only to make this moment more serious, "Yes, you can, Ma—" he cuts himself off.
"You really think I'm still upset with you for using my name?" I laugh.
He nods sheepishly. I wondered how it might feel to him that he had to keep such a huge secret from me but somehow it doesn't bother me, not one bit. If anything I feel more at ease that there is a reason for his pulling away instead it being my fault. I thought I should tell him my own secret but that was only when I was guilt driven into thinking I owed him honesty. If I were to be completely honest with him, it would be to tell him that I also was not ready to tell him my own secret, not even close. So did I owe that to him?
"Malfoy," I start, shifting my eyes, "I should tell you that I also have a secret I am keeping from you but I am not ready to tell it— is that alright with you?"
He nods and I realize that his eyes and expression haven't changed in the past minute.
I straighten myself staring him in his eyes with a quizzical look, "what is it, Draco?"
"I want to kiss you very badly." It stuns me but I break into a wide grin, trying to bite it back.
"Then do it you coward," I say, sounding more like the coward myself.
"You're injured though, I don't know if it's safe to touch—"
I scoff, "Everything's healed, I only have a few phantom pains every so often."
He looks apprehensive and I realize he won't make a single move unless I am the one to initiate it.
"Come sit up here with me," I scoot to the middle of my bed, patting the pillow side for him.
He cautiously sits beside me, reaching for the small of my back in an attempt to support me.
"Now face me..." I maneuver him so that he is leaning back on my bed frame, making his large frame look so awkwardly hunched over and uncomfortable it's adorable.
In a slow movement, I sit myself on top of him, straddling his waist. Then I kiss him.
He doesn't react at first and it disappoints me but I know it is only because he is worried for my injuries so I make an attempt to clear it from his mind by demonstrating my health.
I wrap my arms around his neck, holding onto his head, kissing harder and tightening my grip on his waist. His mouth begins to harshly bite at mine, not to deter me but egg me on, his arms wrapped firmly around me, holding the back of my head. He whimpers at my nip at his lip and I disconnect myself.
"Maeve, you are marvelous," he whispers and begins kissing my neck, gripping tightly on my thighs and upper arm. I let out a moan, and then another and it begins to become uncontrollable. I whisper his name as I feel his hands reach lower and further until he's placed them teasingly against me.
His thumbs press in and around me, my back arches almost painfully when his touch becomes rough, and I hold onto his shoulders tightly for support.
I kiss his jaw, his collarbone, and after removing his shirt, I trace every muscle on his back with the very tips of my fingers, feeling him tense against me at every slight bit of contact.
Then his hands release me and he grabs at the waist of my panties, tugging.
"Take them off," his voice is gruff and I slip from them in one simple movement, "good girl."