It isn’t my fault. It is not my fault. I told her again and again not to fall in love with me. It shouldn’t have been hard; it’s not like I was really ever there, but for some reason, that stupid girl found it in her to love me. No, she isn’t really stupid, just often times naive. She thought she could save me, and I was the stupid one. I was stupid enough to let her play her little game. I let it go too far, and in the end, I was foolish enough to lose my own heart.
I tried to stop it, our dangerous game, but she became like a drug. The longer I tried to stay away from her, the greater my cravings became. Night after night I went back to be the dark cloud in her life. I tried not to lie to her, tried not to make promises I couldn’t keep, but still she fell in love.
One night, the night that made me realize just how far over the edge we’d gone, she’d asked to tell her family. I had wanted to say yes, even though I knew how much they’d hate me for corrupting their princess; I wanted to be in her life as more than a shadow. But before I could say yes, reality came to bite me with a vengeance. I realized then, with out a doubt, that I had to end it.
Laughing, I insulted her, smiling as cruelty as I could as I untangled my body from hers. I reminded her of how much my family hated her, and how below me she was. Still smirking, I tried to scare her, asking her if she really wanted to die. All she did was glare back at me and unleash her vicious little mouth. Calling me a coward, she did more to me with her cold eyes than any words could ever do. When I stormed from her flat that night, I swore to myself that I would never be back again. Of course, it was all a lie.
She was like heroin burning through my veins, making me believe that there could be more to life than the fate that has befallen me. And like a crazed addict, I went crawling back for more of the fire that could eat me alive.
It was my own fault. I had let her distract me, and catching a flash of red on the battle field had rendered me immobile. I prayed as I ran towards it, my hands itching to tear off my mask, that it would not be her I found. Fear strangled my lungs as I ran following the fiery beckon. I knew that I would have given my life to save her, had it been she that ran before me. But the darkness and perhaps desire to see her again, had clouded my rational thinking. True, I had been following a pony tail of Weasley red, but in my mind all I had seen was her, completely forgetting about the thousands of brothers she seemed to have.
It was the eldest who turned on me, his hair whipping about his face as he spun with his wand pointed. I knew that my life was in danger, but I couldn’t bring myself to fire upon him. I wouldn’t let myself cause damage to someone she loved. He, on the other hand, knew not that she loved me, nor who lurked beneath a Death Eaters cowl, so he did not feel the same hesitation I did.
I remembered then, what Ginny had told me once; that her eldest brother had been a curse breaker for Gringotts. True to form, he was quick with a wand, and brutal, but I believe it unnerved him that I would not raise my own, not even in defense. He left me soon after, shaking his head in confusion as he ran back towards the melee not fifty feet from where I lay.
Death crossed my mind once then, but I knew he had not done enough damage for it to be quick. My only hope would be to slowly bleed to death, however truth be told I had the patience, nor the stomach to die that way, and so I fled. I went to the one place I knew to be safe, and the one placed I had vowed never to darken again.
When I arrived, she had been reading, or pretending to at least. The way her family had chosen to keep her in hiding, much against her will, had never made sense to me until then. Until that day when I had thought I had seen her, and feared for her life above my own, I had not realized how much it was I loved her, and how hard it would be when I finally got the courage to do the right thing.
She wordlessly came to me, the concern in her eyes overwhelming, as she led me, stumbling, into her kitchen. As she tended to my wounds, various cuts and gashes, some deeper than others, she begged me to tell her what had happened. I think in the back of her mind she knew someone she loved had done this to me. For some odd reason, she wanted to know who, but I have no idea what good that would have done her. Or perhaps she wanted to know which of her loved one she should expect to be equally damaged. Whatever it was she wanted I would not give it to her. I sat there, selfishly soaking up her presence, her warm touch and the sound of her voice as it washed over me, giving me the fix I had craved.
When she left me to retrieve clothes from her room, I steeled myself for what should have been the last time I spent in her presence. I told myself over and over again that now, was when I had to end it. But when she came back into the room, a loose smile fixed to her lips, I knew I was done for. I knew then that I would be an addict who died from his drug, for surly, she would be the end of me. It was fear that bade me leave her as soon as I could that evening, fear and the knowledge that I would be back, even if I would not share that knowledge with her.
And return I did. Each and every time I went back to her it made me sick to think that perhaps I was putting her in harms way. How an angel like her came to love the devil in me I will never be able to understand, but she did love me, no matter how foolish it was.
As the war lingered on, I tried time and time again not to go back to her. I didn’t want her to suffer for me, nor did I want to risk a memory of her flittering though my mind at an inopportune time. If the Dark Lord had found her within my thoughts, I know he would have killed her. But I was both luck, and stupid. I became so obsessed with the fairy tale ending I know she dreamed of, that I too began to see it. Not only did I wish for it, I began to plan it. I wanted to make her “happily ever after” a reality. Slowly, I began setting money aside, not enough to arouse suspicion, but enough to build a future.
One night, after the bloodiest battle I had seen, I found my way back to her once more. She didn’t ask this time about the blood that stained my hands and face, and for that I was thankful: I could no longer remember who it was I had fought. But what she did do was perhaps even worse.
Throwing her arms around me, she began to cry, her tears washing the blood from my neck. She told me of her fears as I held her shaking form. It was then that my resolve finally broke. Removing my cloak, I wrapped it tightly around her, the paleness of her skin contrasting with the darkness of evil and night that that cloth represented. As I held her, she begged me to lie to her.
I should have, I should have lied then, telling her that I hated her, and that finally I had grown sick of her company. I should have lied; it would have been the kinder thing to do. But instead, I spoke only the truth. I whispered my love into her hair and began to tell her of the life I had planed for us. In perfect detail, I told her about the cottage near Castlebar that I had been able to buy, and of the children I hoped we would one day fill it with. I hoped that they would have her hair.
I talked until she had cried herself to sleep, even then refusing to let her go. I realized then that everything I had ever wanted was laying peacefully in my arms. When morning came, I swore that I would whisk her away, and that never again would she have to deal with the press of war.
Sadly, my plans were interrupted when the dim pop of Apparition filled the air. Before me stood a man I had once thought to be my mentor: Severus Snape. His words filled my veins with ice as he spoke about suspicions within the ranks of the Death Eaters. If he had been able to find me, how easy would it be for another to follow me here? I had led death to her door. I knew then that the only way to save her would be to destroy her. I agreed to leave with Severus with the understanding that this really would be my last time, my last hit of a drug I doubted I could live without.
With a last kiss to her sleeping lips I left, vowing for the final time that this would be my last. To prove my love, I would leave her forever.
I tried to stop it, our dangerous game, but she became like a drug. The longer I tried to stay away from her, the greater my cravings became. Night after night I went back to be the dark cloud in her life. I tried not to lie to her, tried not to make promises I couldn’t keep, but still she fell in love.
One night, the night that made me realize just how far over the edge we’d gone, she’d asked to tell her family. I had wanted to say yes, even though I knew how much they’d hate me for corrupting their princess; I wanted to be in her life as more than a shadow. But before I could say yes, reality came to bite me with a vengeance. I realized then, with out a doubt, that I had to end it.
Laughing, I insulted her, smiling as cruelty as I could as I untangled my body from hers. I reminded her of how much my family hated her, and how below me she was. Still smirking, I tried to scare her, asking her if she really wanted to die. All she did was glare back at me and unleash her vicious little mouth. Calling me a coward, she did more to me with her cold eyes than any words could ever do. When I stormed from her flat that night, I swore to myself that I would never be back again. Of course, it was all a lie.
She was like heroin burning through my veins, making me believe that there could be more to life than the fate that has befallen me. And like a crazed addict, I went crawling back for more of the fire that could eat me alive.
It was my own fault. I had let her distract me, and catching a flash of red on the battle field had rendered me immobile. I prayed as I ran towards it, my hands itching to tear off my mask, that it would not be her I found. Fear strangled my lungs as I ran following the fiery beckon. I knew that I would have given my life to save her, had it been she that ran before me. But the darkness and perhaps desire to see her again, had clouded my rational thinking. True, I had been following a pony tail of Weasley red, but in my mind all I had seen was her, completely forgetting about the thousands of brothers she seemed to have.
It was the eldest who turned on me, his hair whipping about his face as he spun with his wand pointed. I knew that my life was in danger, but I couldn’t bring myself to fire upon him. I wouldn’t let myself cause damage to someone she loved. He, on the other hand, knew not that she loved me, nor who lurked beneath a Death Eaters cowl, so he did not feel the same hesitation I did.
I remembered then, what Ginny had told me once; that her eldest brother had been a curse breaker for Gringotts. True to form, he was quick with a wand, and brutal, but I believe it unnerved him that I would not raise my own, not even in defense. He left me soon after, shaking his head in confusion as he ran back towards the melee not fifty feet from where I lay.
Death crossed my mind once then, but I knew he had not done enough damage for it to be quick. My only hope would be to slowly bleed to death, however truth be told I had the patience, nor the stomach to die that way, and so I fled. I went to the one place I knew to be safe, and the one placed I had vowed never to darken again.
When I arrived, she had been reading, or pretending to at least. The way her family had chosen to keep her in hiding, much against her will, had never made sense to me until then. Until that day when I had thought I had seen her, and feared for her life above my own, I had not realized how much it was I loved her, and how hard it would be when I finally got the courage to do the right thing.
She wordlessly came to me, the concern in her eyes overwhelming, as she led me, stumbling, into her kitchen. As she tended to my wounds, various cuts and gashes, some deeper than others, she begged me to tell her what had happened. I think in the back of her mind she knew someone she loved had done this to me. For some odd reason, she wanted to know who, but I have no idea what good that would have done her. Or perhaps she wanted to know which of her loved one she should expect to be equally damaged. Whatever it was she wanted I would not give it to her. I sat there, selfishly soaking up her presence, her warm touch and the sound of her voice as it washed over me, giving me the fix I had craved.
When she left me to retrieve clothes from her room, I steeled myself for what should have been the last time I spent in her presence. I told myself over and over again that now, was when I had to end it. But when she came back into the room, a loose smile fixed to her lips, I knew I was done for. I knew then that I would be an addict who died from his drug, for surly, she would be the end of me. It was fear that bade me leave her as soon as I could that evening, fear and the knowledge that I would be back, even if I would not share that knowledge with her.
And return I did. Each and every time I went back to her it made me sick to think that perhaps I was putting her in harms way. How an angel like her came to love the devil in me I will never be able to understand, but she did love me, no matter how foolish it was.
As the war lingered on, I tried time and time again not to go back to her. I didn’t want her to suffer for me, nor did I want to risk a memory of her flittering though my mind at an inopportune time. If the Dark Lord had found her within my thoughts, I know he would have killed her. But I was both luck, and stupid. I became so obsessed with the fairy tale ending I know she dreamed of, that I too began to see it. Not only did I wish for it, I began to plan it. I wanted to make her “happily ever after” a reality. Slowly, I began setting money aside, not enough to arouse suspicion, but enough to build a future.
One night, after the bloodiest battle I had seen, I found my way back to her once more. She didn’t ask this time about the blood that stained my hands and face, and for that I was thankful: I could no longer remember who it was I had fought. But what she did do was perhaps even worse.
Throwing her arms around me, she began to cry, her tears washing the blood from my neck. She told me of her fears as I held her shaking form. It was then that my resolve finally broke. Removing my cloak, I wrapped it tightly around her, the paleness of her skin contrasting with the darkness of evil and night that that cloth represented. As I held her, she begged me to lie to her.
I should have, I should have lied then, telling her that I hated her, and that finally I had grown sick of her company. I should have lied; it would have been the kinder thing to do. But instead, I spoke only the truth. I whispered my love into her hair and began to tell her of the life I had planed for us. In perfect detail, I told her about the cottage near Castlebar that I had been able to buy, and of the children I hoped we would one day fill it with. I hoped that they would have her hair.
I talked until she had cried herself to sleep, even then refusing to let her go. I realized then that everything I had ever wanted was laying peacefully in my arms. When morning came, I swore that I would whisk her away, and that never again would she have to deal with the press of war.
Sadly, my plans were interrupted when the dim pop of Apparition filled the air. Before me stood a man I had once thought to be my mentor: Severus Snape. His words filled my veins with ice as he spoke about suspicions within the ranks of the Death Eaters. If he had been able to find me, how easy would it be for another to follow me here? I had led death to her door. I knew then that the only way to save her would be to destroy her. I agreed to leave with Severus with the understanding that this really would be my last time, my last hit of a drug I doubted I could live without.
With a last kiss to her sleeping lips I left, vowing for the final time that this would be my last. To prove my love, I would leave her forever.
Author notes: AN: As of now, the story is finished. Please remember to review!
The End.
Pipperstorms is the author of 21 other stories.
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This story is a favorite of 12 members. Members who liked Dirty Little Secret also liked 738 other stories.
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