Story Title: Know What I Am
Rating (up to PG-13 only): PG-13 (to be safe)
Any warnings to readers (e.g. slash, other ships)? No.
Alternate Location (URL), if any: None.
Word count for this installment: 343
Running Total no. of words for entire story (5,000 or less): unknown.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. I just play with them.
Author’s Note: Oh God. Just tell me whether I should give up writing or not.
Summary: A beginning, a middle, and an end. Slight AU, I guess.
III.
Pale white like the skin stretched over your bones.
Neither of them want to talk. What’s the use, they both know this is the end of something.
He just cant seem to make an effort to care anymore, and she’s grown tired. Is that how relationships are supposed to end, with the couple wanting to separate in the hopes of actually feeling something?
She’s more in love with her books than him. He hates that, fighting with fictional characters for a place in her heart. Not that he fights much anymore, he gave up on that a long time ago.
He has no room to complain, though. He’s slowly drawn within himself. And her; well, she’s too worn out to take the initiative and make him talk.
I.
You are the smell before rain, you are the blood in my veins.
She’s nervous at first, hoping she’s not going about it all wrong. She made a pro/con list on the back of a potions essay. The pro’s came up short. I want him.
The first kiss is after a fight. He’s bloodied and bruised and she’s covered in scabs (picked at when she can’t sleep).
It tastes like iron, reminding her of all the times she bit down on her tongue hard enough to draw blood.
Later, when she’s lying awake at night, it’s all she can think about. He tastes like blood.
II.
You are second hand smoke.
She’s in Myrtle’s bathroom, back pressed against the wooden door of the stall furthest from the bathroom’s entrance.
He’s trailing kisses down her jaw and it’s all she can do to keep her hips from locking into place with his.
Her mother didn’t raise her to be like this. For a moment she thinks of pulling back, but then his fingers are running over the small of her back and it’s just too much.
She can’t concentrate anymore. All she knows is that this feels right.
It’s moments like this when the stupid pro/con list comes back to her. I want him.
“Draco.”