I open at the close
eredeti történet: x
fordította: Kaede
What happened to you, Malfoy?
The steely light has died out, replaced by a dim shadow. Your eyes do not reveal glory anymore, only just agony and sorrow. In my mind I'm thinking of a comdemned person who does not even feel as tortured as you do. Your face got thinner and is paler than dusk.
Huge, dark circles stretch beneath your swollen eyes.
It's painfully clear that something isn't right.
But then how can it be that nobody helps?
Why is no one in a hurry to help a pure-blood, a Malfoy?
On the spur of the moment I begin to caress your face but you, cussing and swearing, pull away.
It's like you can not decide whether you're angry or just surprised that someone had the courage to do this.
Then you move away, as if I were transforming into a threatening beast now.
While trying to figure out what you think I realize why nobody helps.
You can't show this side of you to many people, not even those who are close to you, can you?
Is anyone even close to you?
Crabbe and Goyle?
Or are they just your little slaves?
Maybe Pansy? Having this idea makes me feel sick.
No, if she knew you were in such a bad condition she would help you right away.
After all, you just snap your fingers and she does everything for you...
Oh God, how terrible not having real friends must be!
“Draco, let me help you...”
Desperation is painted on your face.
In a moment your pale cheeks are invaded by your tears escaping from your eyes.
I have broken you.
You fall to the ground, your tearful face is buried in your hands.
I've never seen you like that before.
Your mask now is lying on the ground, unfolding your true self to me.
I kneel in front of you and wrap you in my arms.
To my great surprise you don't resist, you even pull me closer.
Your muscular arms are folded around me, as if you were saying that you can not bear this torture alone.
Your hair has a rose and musk scent and I breathe it in deeply to remember this day forever, no matter how sorrowful it is.
“Tell me what's wrong,” I whispered into the back of your neck, barely audible.
Your shoulder began to shake once again.
“He's... he's going t-to– to kill me,” you said, and my heart cracked.
“Sssh! Nothing bad will happen,” I assure him and, myself. “Everything will be alright...”
“Tomorrow– tomorrow he is going to kill me... I did not do it... he's going to kill my family...” my heart shatters into pieces, but I'm sure that someday, somehow, once I can put it back even if the cracks will be present until the end of time.
I hate being incapable of helping or relieving your pain someway.
The descending sun almost fades away completely under the horizon.
It draws red and green glory above our heads, proving that both of us, deep down in our souls (or on their surfaces) we are pure.
I don't know for how long you weep on my shoulder, but when I look up again I see only the faintly flickering Moon.
Slowly you quiet down, your tears cease flowing, but I know you're still afraid.
“Thank you,” you whispered weakly, barely recognizable.
“What?”
“Everything,” you stand up and stumble to the door. “Now I know what I need to do.”
I just sit there thinking about what you've become determined about.
I suspect nothing that would not cost a human life.
Nevertheless, I don't follow you; I only steadily get up and I move clumsily out of the room. I feel like I have become entirely different after what happened.
I make my way to my room, as if nothing had happened, and – as it turned out later – you were to be faced with the worst moment of your life.
Nincsenek megjegyzések:
Megjegyzés küldése