Chapter One - I will love you always, and forever.
The door slammed shut with a resounding bang, a note of finality quavering through the air. Draco stood, staring, unmoving, at the spot where his redheaded lover had been standing only seconds before. She had pushed her keys in to his outstretched hand, left a lipstick stain upon his cheek and with sad eyes yet a resolutely high head had walked out on him.
Darkness had enveloped him and, yet, he still stood there. The argument running through his mind, like a film that refused to stop, he analysed every line of speech, every slight gesture, every pause for breath; attempting to find where he had slipped up, wanting to know what mistake he had made, wishing he could take it back.
He squinted and refilled his glass, letting the second dose of whiskey swill in the crystal goblet before swallowing it in one gulp, feeling its fire bring the blood to his cheeks and a distinct tinge of pleasure in his fingertips. Setting the empty chalice down on the solid counter, he made his way slowly and rather haphazardly to the leather sofa. It looked wide and uninviting, empty, as though another body should be filling its space.
He collapsed, feeling the springs take his weight and letting himself sink into the security of the cushions, as though they could perhaps lift some of the worries he now held in his heart. However as his head rested on the cream cushions he saw a flash of vibrant contrasting colour; a streak of fiery red. Blinking back the whiskey haze from his eyes he focused on the strand of crimson, wanting to look but knowing that if he did his heart would break all over again. Choking back tears - he would not cry - he remembered how, only hours before, he had run his slender fingers through those auburn locks and smelt the flowery aroma that had followed his Ginny everywhere.
In fact, now he came to think of it, the pillow under his head still held her scent. Feeling a sudden wave of anger Draco wrenched the cushion from under him and hurled it at the wall, narrowly missing a large framed painting hanging silently opposite him.
Suddenly feeling not so calm and certainly not so tired, Draco felt another whiskey was in order. Although, as he knew full well, alcohol was not the answer, at least it helped him to forget the question a little. He cursed softly as the last offerings of the clear bottle failed to refill his glass, and made his way to the kitchen. A wave of nausea swept over him, and he suddenly realised that three whiskeys was quite enough for any man. Putting out a hand to steady himself, his fingers closed around the corner of the work surface and, surprisingly, something else - that was certainly not work surface.
A rustle of parchment; he looked down between his fingers and saw a glimpse of swirling handwriting that could belong to only one person. Standing up straight, he snatched the note from the counter, holding it gently and reverently in his hands, as if it contained the very essence of the one that had walked out of his door not so long ago. He read slowly, stumbling over the words as they crept over the paper before his eyes.
His brow furrowed in confusion. So many words, so many apologies… He couldn't understand any of it, nothing made sense, except… There, at the bottom, where she had signed with a flourish…
I will love you always, and forever.
The parchment ripped easily under Draco's fingers. He tore it into tiny pieces, hoping that she could feel every tear, every shred, with the same intensity he had felt in his heart when she had shattered that into pieces just as small. A fit of anger took him, and he snatched up the empty whiskey bottle and flung it across the kitchen, where it smashed into a cupboard. Glass shattered, and fell into the sink below. His hands closed around the nearest thing: an expensive champagne flute. He looked down at his hand - the was only here because of Ginny, she had laughed as they had bought them in Diagon Alley, saying that once they were accepted as a couple and held dinner parties they would need 'posh glasses' for the guests. He had corrected her, 'flutes, Gin-a-ling' and her tinkling laughter filled his ears now. The crystal shattered easily as he crushed the fragile object beneath his fingers, obliterating it the way he wanted to obliterate his every memory of her.
The fragments of his memory fell to the kitchen floor, tinkling on the tiles with the shattered glass. Looking down at his hand he watched blood trickling from his palm, shards of glittering crystal adorning his snowy skin. This pain… Perhaps he deserved it. Perhaps he needed it. Perhaps being loved for who he really was had been to much to ask. Perhaps…
He collapsed on the floor amongst the confetti, like fallen soldiers on love's battlefield.
His eyes wandered aimlessly over the remains of her traitorous words, flickering over shapes of letters that held no meaning for him anymore. Nothing seemed real, except one scrap, one token that snagged his attention. forever… Alone on a single tiny piece of parchment, the word rang like a bell of comprehension in his mind.
He rose to his knees, feeling a sudden wave of guilt and something else - was it shame? - for the mess around him. Not knowing why or what for, he began desperately searching through the scraps for the remains of that last sentence…
I will love you always, and forever.
It was something he wanted to forget, but would remember for the rest of his life.
Draco leant against the bathroom sink, watching the water swirling down the plughole, tinged pink with his blood. He stepped backwards, wincing as something dug its way into his bare foot. Looking down, he searched the tiles for the cause of his pain. To no surprise, it was Ginny's doing once again. The beads of a broken bracelet were scattered across the floor. Would that girl never learn to tidy up after herself? He thought fondly.
Wrapping a flannel around his clean wound, he made his way to the bedroom. The wide bed suddenly seemed too wide for his slight frame alone so he sprawled himself across the width of it, his feet across his side, his head on the pillows Ginny should be sleeping on. He allowed his eyes to roam over the table next to him. A glass with the remains of last night's bedtime drink still sported her lipstick on the rim. An inkpot missing its lid was close by. Her alarm clock, set resolutely at eight o'clock - two hours after his own. The extra two hours gave him time to watch Ginny sleep in the mornings, her red curls falling lightly over her face. The memories came flooding back, washing over him and lulling him to sleep.
Author's Note: Hallo, my readers, this is Tasha with her new writing partner, for this fic: teh Nogm!
Now, read and leave us pretty reviews. 'Cause you're just that Smexy.
Tasha and Nogm x