AN: I don't own HP.

In reality the first time he kissed her on the lips (and not her cheek) was during a party in the Slytherin common room.

They were

TRAPPED

under enchanted mistletoe

(back then he hadn't known of the creatures which dwelled there)
And she nearly bit her bottom lip r.a.w, with nerves

(and maybe some excitement
he hoped)

before he p-r-e-s-s-e-d his own parted lips over it,

soothing the red flesh with his tongue.

(She smelled like flowers and tasted like liqueur)

In his dreams

(hallucinations)

she laughs as he leans forward, shaking her golden head,

eyes **bright** as sapphires in her mirth

_n_o_ is what she means

yet the word doesn't pass her pink lips.

Instead what she says is,

"Do you really think I want to kiss you? I'd rather it were Lucius."

That stings like a slap in the face.

He wonders if it's a-l-w-a-y-s like this.

R

e

j

e

c

t

i

o

n

In reality, months after the kiss, whenever he asked her if she was going to accept his cousin's offer of a betrothal, she would say, "Maybe, maybe not," in that haughty voice he always hated.

(It made her sound like Bellatrix)

And he would feel as if one gust of wind would be enough to blow him over.

Right
Over
The
Edge

But, now, in his dreams he asks her to ~~ run away ~~ with him

(something he never did in reality)

and he stares into her b.l.u.e eyes,

all but begging her

pleasedon'tsayno.

She smiles sweetly, a smile he .does. not. like.

Her eyes look an unnatural bright blue as they bore into his own g-r-e-y ones
(different from his dear cousin Lucius' in that they hold glints of silver and blue in certain lights)

Her mouth opens, but then he sees a shadow in the corner of his eye.

He feels a s-h-i-v-e-r of fear

right - - down - - to his bones

"Run, 'Cissa. Please."

He tries to grab her hand,

she turns to mist at his touch.

He stares in horror

he L-O-S-T her

like he lost

(Lucius' older sister) Ophelia,

his (dead, drowned) betrothed,

when he was but a babe in arms

Then he has no choice but to

run

fast as a firebolt

~winged~ as Icarus fleeing Crete

as the shadows come for him

(like they did in R.E.A.L.I.T.Y)

Only this time he -t-r-i-p-s- over his own feet

{ his wings

m

e

l

t }

and the ground rushes up to meet him

like he's famous and they've n-e-v-e-r met.

And the shadows loom over him

before collapsing into one person.

Lucius sneers down at him, malicious as ever, "you never did have what it took to be a Malfoy, ward in my father's house or no. You had less strength than I. You with your foolish thoughts of grandeur. Swanning around like a Slytherin version of that bigoted Potter."

Xeno was two years above Potter, so it was actually the other way around

(though no one, aside from the people who knew him, would believe that if they could see him now, daunted by reality as he was).

Severus, misguided though the young Prince could be,

said that Potter was but a weak p.a.r.o.d.y of him.

With, 'none of your likeability and strange charm, but a lot of arrogance'.

Lucius continues,

(he always did like the sound of his own voice)

"But I am the Malfoy heir. I am the only one of us allowed to think such things, achieve such things."

He's a jealous bastard, that's for sure

(in ~d~r~e~a~m~s AND r-e-a-l-i-t-y).

He opens his mouth to tell his older cousin so, when Lucius whips something out of his cloak pocket.

His \\ivory/ wand is aimed at Xenophilius' face

and before the

f.a.l.l.e.n Slytherin can even scream

there is a flash of GREEN

(when, in truth, there had been streaks of red, purple and blue
as ViViD as jewels from the wands of his o-l-d housemates)

And then N-O-T-H-I-N-G.

(where there had been pain and the breaking down and rebuilding of his mind)

The next dreamxeno knows, he's looking - down - at himself

- at his c.o.r.s.p.e -

on a slab in a mortuary.

He's not alone.

"Do you recognise this man?" The witch in lime green questions the other beside her.

Unnaturally bright blue eyes look at him coldly as Narcissa Malfoy says no.

(But, really, she ran from him, from his room in St Mungos. And, as far as he knew, she didn't look back.)

Written for Camp Potter, a Challenge, Arts and Crafts (freeverse). Prompts used were: Mandatory: 1. Maybe, maybe not. 2. Blue. 3. Wind. Optional: 1. Was it always like this? 2. Strength. 3. Saying no. 4. Less.