Work Text:
I feel the Mark burn into my skin, and I wince. Even though I close my eyes, I am still painfully aware that it is there. It will always be there—even if it is not visible, it is lurking, underneath my skin, and it is ingrained in my soul.
Voldemort smiles slightly and pulls back, and I feel his eyes trained on me, looking at my face expectantly. Draco and the others, I assume, have similar looks of anticipation.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I open my eyes. I stare at the Mark, still smoking slightly on my arm. It is fading, gradually disappearing; but I can feel it, simmering in my skin, waiting to visible once again.
I raise my gaze and look unfeelingly. My chest, my legs, my arms are numb. I feel not a thing, not even the fresh burn of the Mark.
For what seems an eternity, I do nothing but stand and wait.
Everyone is stony-faced. Yet I do nothing.
I feel, rather than see, Draco's breath hitch.
I smile inwardly. He believes that I am beginning to change my mind.
To reassure him, I look directly into his eyes; there is a moment, held between time, in which our eyes are locked, and there is only he and I.
To break the connection, I smile. He does not respond at first; he searches my gaze, trying to find an inkling of doubt or deception.
He finds none.
When he gives me a small smile in return, I am sure that I made the right choice. Maybe not the best one…but it is right. Because it is the only way that Draco and I can be together.
After all, I can resist anything but temptation.
xx