Bloody Shards - Blair/Draco - pg13
Title: Bloody Shards
Fandoms: Gossip Girl/Harry Potter
Characters/Pairings: Blair/Draco
Rating: pg-13
Warnings/Spoilers: AU to a point, hoping this doesn't mean I've made them too out of character.
Summary: She sees the world through fogged glasses that are quickly becoming clear (she hates it).
She sees the world through fogged glasses that are quickly becoming clear (she hates it).
Purges the thought, cleans out everything there is to dirty because that way it's easier.
Cold queen (spoken bitch in whispers) does not get close to others, guards the cracks in her armor closely.
She gasps for air at night, arms empty around herself; faking the touch of a mother.
He knows (thinks) what the world is like; knows that there are people below him.
Humans lower then him who are to be used, possessed and left empty (emptier then his father's cold grasp).
Sniveling brat among monsters who should haunt his dreams at night, prompt him to check underside of bed.
He pretends to be something he is not, shaking wand held tightly in grip.
Dark curls whipping into her face, she screams out loudly into the air.
Eyes are clenched shut and lips are spread into wide, hesitant smile (never scared, always scared).
She looks down at the destruction laying waste to her city; her home (and can not feel a thing).
There is a darkness spreading upon the city that clogs the air, stirs the wind into angry currents.
Swirling green mass overtakes the skyline, writhing skull.
Broom handle is grasped tightly (splinters draw blood) as he watches her from up above.
Vermin run, scream beneath just his stare, die under his power.
It's times like this that that old man's words run through his mind (turning into long shouts of pain).
He ignores it as best as he can, draws into his armor; heals the slivers forming.
Buildings collapse around, dust rising thick into the air; fires burn brighter then possible.
(He makes it possible, they make it so).
She'll fear him (will beg for life) and he will take it.
He'll take it.
Eyes are duller and glasses have long been thrown aside, world is clearer then ever thought possible.
Something angry, bitter twists in her gut at all that is lost (childhood and innocence tragically killed; outlined in white tape).
"On your knees muggle, say your last words," shouts male voice, figure coming quickly into view.
If she's surprised, she chooses not to show it; stares through hooded eyes.
Every word is her last, isn't that how the heroine always goes out?
"What if I refuse? You're killing me either way I can only assume, given the state of the world around me," she whispers, grim smirk on her face.
She's not stupid, far from it.
He is before her, so fast she barely comprehends the movement of it all.
Their smirks mirror each others, deadly (dead) and she tilts her head to the side.
Glasses are so clear, they aren't need and she purges with every thought; every breath released.
Breath is hot across her face, eyes flutter wanting to close (she doesn't let them).
"I will kill you, but not before I torture you; thrive in the very screams let out of this pretty little throat," he murmurs, hand caressing her neck.
The grasp tightens and dots dance before her (it's a feeling long forgotten).
"Do I get to play next?" she manages to gasp out, as he shoves her back.
His face is that of frightened boy as she falls to her knees, breathing in needed air.
He can see the blood on them, stained so red it's black.
Blacker then the dementors that swarmed at his father (kissed the soul from him; if he had one).
Ragged sounds escape his mouth as he falls to his knees.
She drags herself forward, designer clothes long ago forgotten of.
He can feel his stupid shield shattering into shards that cut into him, bleed him dry.
The embrace is awkward and stiff; two people unused to emotion struggling to share it.
Her arms tighten around him, hands dig into his clothes; pull him closer (he is real).
"It's okay," she whispers, never truly believing the words.
That they have in common.
Fandoms: Gossip Girl/Harry Potter
Characters/Pairings: Blair/Draco
Rating: pg-13
Warnings/Spoilers: AU to a point, hoping this doesn't mean I've made them too out of character.
Summary: She sees the world through fogged glasses that are quickly becoming clear (she hates it).
She sees the world through fogged glasses that are quickly becoming clear (she hates it).
Purges the thought, cleans out everything there is to dirty because that way it's easier.
Cold queen (spoken bitch in whispers) does not get close to others, guards the cracks in her armor closely.
She gasps for air at night, arms empty around herself; faking the touch of a mother.
He knows (thinks) what the world is like; knows that there are people below him.
Humans lower then him who are to be used, possessed and left empty (emptier then his father's cold grasp).
Sniveling brat among monsters who should haunt his dreams at night, prompt him to check underside of bed.
He pretends to be something he is not, shaking wand held tightly in grip.
Dark curls whipping into her face, she screams out loudly into the air.
Eyes are clenched shut and lips are spread into wide, hesitant smile (never scared, always scared).
She looks down at the destruction laying waste to her city; her home (and can not feel a thing).
There is a darkness spreading upon the city that clogs the air, stirs the wind into angry currents.
Swirling green mass overtakes the skyline, writhing skull.
Broom handle is grasped tightly (splinters draw blood) as he watches her from up above.
Vermin run, scream beneath just his stare, die under his power.
It's times like this that that old man's words run through his mind (turning into long shouts of pain).
He ignores it as best as he can, draws into his armor; heals the slivers forming.
Buildings collapse around, dust rising thick into the air; fires burn brighter then possible.
(He makes it possible, they make it so).
She'll fear him (will beg for life) and he will take it.
He'll take it.
Eyes are duller and glasses have long been thrown aside, world is clearer then ever thought possible.
Something angry, bitter twists in her gut at all that is lost (childhood and innocence tragically killed; outlined in white tape).
"On your knees muggle, say your last words," shouts male voice, figure coming quickly into view.
If she's surprised, she chooses not to show it; stares through hooded eyes.
Every word is her last, isn't that how the heroine always goes out?
"What if I refuse? You're killing me either way I can only assume, given the state of the world around me," she whispers, grim smirk on her face.
She's not stupid, far from it.
He is before her, so fast she barely comprehends the movement of it all.
Their smirks mirror each others, deadly (dead) and she tilts her head to the side.
Glasses are so clear, they aren't need and she purges with every thought; every breath released.
Breath is hot across her face, eyes flutter wanting to close (she doesn't let them).
"I will kill you, but not before I torture you; thrive in the very screams let out of this pretty little throat," he murmurs, hand caressing her neck.
The grasp tightens and dots dance before her (it's a feeling long forgotten).
"Do I get to play next?" she manages to gasp out, as he shoves her back.
His face is that of frightened boy as she falls to her knees, breathing in needed air.
He can see the blood on them, stained so red it's black.
Blacker then the dementors that swarmed at his father (kissed the soul from him; if he had one).
Ragged sounds escape his mouth as he falls to his knees.
She drags herself forward, designer clothes long ago forgotten of.
He can feel his stupid shield shattering into shards that cut into him, bleed him dry.
The embrace is awkward and stiff; two people unused to emotion struggling to share it.
Her arms tighten around him, hands dig into his clothes; pull him closer (he is real).
"It's okay," she whispers, never truly believing the words.
That they have in common.