A/N: This is a very short oneshot I just wrote in the past five minues which I decided to put on Fanfic for the enjoyment of my readers. Read and review, pretty please.
Disclaimer: Do I own Harry Potter? How about do Fanged Frizbees wear dentures? The answer is no (well, as far as I know). I am merely a humble and devoted slave of the Harry Potter universe, probably abusing it more than anything else.
Rated: This is rated M. There is slash. If you don't like slash, don't flame me. Why are you even bothering reading this? There is such a thing as a life. I do not happen to own one, but I'm fairly sure it would suit you well. Also, the fanfic's - erm - slightly disturbing.
Summary: Love is a cruel mistress...
I hold your body against me as it sprays on me warm and soft, sweet and sticky. I smile, and you gasp, hands tightening around me and nails digging in. All I can do is smile. Your eyes are wide open for a moment and you go to speak, but all you can do is release your breath in short, shallow snatches, your eyes now fluttering. My hand reaches to your raven tresses and strokes it softly like I always did. They're wet, but my hand is too.
"Don't worry," I whisper, and that smile just won't leave my face. You say nothing, but your eyes squeeze shut and you arch your back. "It's all over."
Your mouth opens and closes like a fish's, and in tense, distracted twitches manages to form the word, "Love." You have to concentrate so hard to say it, and as those emerald orbs open to meet my steel blue ones, I can only marvel.
Your eyes close and you lay still. I laugh as the knife drops from my hand.
"No, Harry, I never loved you." Your blood leaves me drenched, and all I can do is walk away and smile. There's a pause. "No…I never did…"