The Abuser

Lines (Year 5)

All alone the way she feels. Left alone to deal with all the pain-drenched sorrow relief. Bite the lip just forget the bleeding.

- The Way She Feels by Between The Trees

.....

A/N: I'll be making DeLuce a Slytherin prefect, instead of Parkinson, because let's be honest, DeLuce is way more awesome, and a lot smarter too. :)

WARNING—this chapter may contain triggers for cutting or self-harm. It's not explicit, but if you will be offended or upset please, be careful! I love you all, be good to yourselves!

...

"There's my perfect, prefect girlfriend!" Draco Malfoy pulls me into a smothering hug and then plants a soft kiss on my lips.

I sigh, relieved, and grin at him. "You're not still mad at me?" I playfully tug at his tie. I regret blowing him off on the train at the end of our 4th year, but even I have to admit that he definitely deserved it.

He shrugs. "Nah. We've been writing all summer, there're clearly no hard feelings. Sure, I wish that you wouldn't hang around Potty and his crew...but you're free to make your own decisions. I like independent witches; which probably one of the many reasons for why I could never stand Parkinson."

I laugh and rub his shining prefect's badge. "And I like smart wizards...probably why I would never date Goyle."

I step back, looking him up and down. He's grown even taller over the summer, but still remains slim and pale. His face is just as pointed and his eyes are just as cold.

"You look absolutely beautiful." He takes my hands, spinning me around.

I cut my hair over the summer, so now it falls no further than my shoulder blades. "I'm just wearing jeans!" I protest, tugging at my Weird Sisters tee-shirt. "Let's get on the train; I want to check out the other prefects. I know that Ron and Hermione got in for Gryffindor, but I'm not sure about anyone else."

Let this year be a good one, please! I think beseechingly, as we walk hand in hand towards the Hogwarts express.

...

I flick a chocolate-covered coffee been at Draco and he catches it in his mouth, laughing. I slap his hand playfully and put my finger on my lips. "Shhh! I wouldn't want to have to dock points from Slytherin for bad behavior, would I now, Mr. Malfoy?"

We both glance guiltily towards the table at which the teachers always sit in the Great Hall, but not even the beady-eyed glare of Professor McGonagall has strayed in our direction.

"Nice poem the sorting hat came up with, huh?" I whisper casually.

He frowns a bit. "I suppose, but there're clearly no brains behind it. I mean, Slytherin and Gryffindor? Friends?! Please!"

"It's not too hard; I know from personal experience." I glance at Harry and his pals, but their eyes are focused on our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge.

She's droning on in an annoyingly high-pitched voice that just might out-score Pansy Parkinson's falsetto tones.

"What the hell is she even talking about?" Draco whispers, his voice practically dripping with a smirk. He gives a series of tiny coughs, then sticks his finger in the air, raising his voice several octaves in a breathless tone. "The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them forever. I mean, is she talking about education...or sex?"

I snort with barely suppressed giggles, burying my radish-red face in my napkin. "Shut up!" I gasp, hoping that no one heard him. Managing to maintain a serious face, I straighten myself proudly and say in my most dignified tone, "We are prefects now. Please take care to remember that, young master Malfoy, or I shall be forced to punish you most severely."