Secret
by Silvia
It's stupid, so stupid to tear his
lip raw from the inside - tiny sharp teeth - because it's not stopping the
momentum. He's still walking forward. He smiles.
"Potter," he says, and smiles, and the smile turns so sick inside at
the flinch.
Chin up, hair flopping backwards off stark forehead, The Boy Who Lived And Never
Stopped And Never Slowed And Would Always Be Everything He Couldn't Have narrows
his eyes.
He thinks, maybe, chew them off. He bites, bites, and says something a boy
called him once when he still let boys call him anything. The Boy He Calls
Potter snorts.
And trips.
Draco digs his jaw down, hard, and crumples robe beneath his fingers. Laughs
instead of reaching down to lift him up.