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Draco wiped roughly at his tear-streaked face as Snape's wand was tossed onto his pyre. What are you doing here, Potter? he spat when he saw me. Pretending to grieve? You hardly knew him.
there was a bruise on his hip when I sucked him
a bruise, she shoved him, hard, her hand on his cloak so he went spinning and face-first over the corner of the library table, and laugh she laughed, such a handsome offer, but alas, my dear, there's no time to renew our acquaintance
until I killed her killed all of them
and later when I asked he didn't even blush
oh, they do things differently among the vampires, a pity you won't have the luxury of a misspent youth, Mr. Potter
and quiet he was so quiet even when he came I said to myself when all this is over
not a relationship of course me a hero and him so unpretty but
a day a weekend for old times sake and then scream I will make him talk I will make him say my name
but even when he held them off it was Potter it was through me Potter cast it through me you must
and there was a bruise on his hip and kiss his dead mouth in my mind I did but there was no time --
No, Draco, you're right, I said, I really didn't know him at all.
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