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NOTE! This is the second instalment of Twin, but it is the fourteenth Chapter. This is how it's going to be done. If you want to read the first chapter, scroll down.





Chapter Fourteen- Crimson



Draco stood in front of the grand iron gates, took a deep breath, and pushed the inquiry button. Carla’s voice answered;

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

“Oh, Draco! I knew you’d come back-”

“Just open the gates.” He knew he sounded rude, but as Carla was the culprit just as much as Potter was, he reckoned he had his rights. A low buzz sounded, and the wrought iron gates slowly opened. Not one to lose his manners in front of a lady, Draco said sweetly, “Thank you.”

Nobody came to open the door, and after a few knocks, Draco pushed at it. To his surprise, it opened. He walked in, looked around, and threw his little bag onto the sofa before sitting down next to it, resting his head against the leather, closing his eyes and letting out a strained sigh. He was so absorbed in running over in his head what he was to do with Potter that he didn’t notice at first when soft fingers started to massage his clenched fists. But then he did, and he jerked them away and opened his eyes. Carla was sitting on the floor in front of him with a wistful look in her eyes. She knew that she wasn’t forgiven, but she still persisted in asking,

“Don’t be too hard on Harry, it…just leave him in one piece,” she said worriedly, eyeing his clenched fists. Draco stood up and looked at her- he saw in her face a reflection of him, like looking in a mirror- and took his bag from the sofa, slinging it around his neck.

“Tell him to meet me, my room, whenever. Then come back and wait until he comes. You can do that for me, can’t you?” without waiting for an answer, he ripped off his unbuttoned shirt and ploughed on, “Great! See you then!”

And he sloped out of the room, shirt in hand.

* * *

“Harry…?”

“What do you want?” Carla had been expecting less polite tones, but the words still stung her. She opened the door and walked in to see him sitting on his windowsill with one leg dangling down towards the chair below him.

“I have a message from Draco. He wants to meet you in his room, at…when you’re ready for him.”

“Did he look angry?” No eye contact, he stayed staring into the window unseeingly.

“Yes. He looked like he wanted to rip something…in fact, he did,” she frowned, remembering his shirt.

Harry finally turned to look at her, and his eyes were full of hate as he said,

“Thank you. Now, get the hell out of my room, please.”

Exiting quietly, Carla took the flight of stairs two at a time and slumped down next to her brother’s bedroom door, breathing heavily and suppressing sobs. A voice came from behind the door, “Did you tell him?”

She sighed. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I told him.”

There was silence from inside. Then, so quiet she wasn’t sure if she heard it right or not,

“Thank you. I…I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, worn out.

* * *



Harry tiptoed up the stairs, wincing when he hit a creaky one, and came to a halt at the top of the flight. Carla was sat outside the door, next to the wall, her head resting against it.

“He’s in there,” was all she said.

“Thanks,” Harry replied acidly to the brown-haired vision of Draco who’d caused all this mess.

Tentatively, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Draco was leant against the windowsill, the wind from the huge, open window ruffling his hair. He wasn’t wearing a top, and he proved to be very muscular as he unfolded his arms and turned around; Harry had a hard time keeping his eyes off Draco’s chest, although, given the circumstances, it was a better place to look than his face. Harry averted his eyes to look out of the window, whilst being stared down like a red sheet in front of a bull. A few silent seconds passed, and it was the loudest sound Harry had ever heard. Draco was the first to break it, however;

“Well don’t just stand there like a lemon, you great coward,” he hissed, “Get here and fight like a man, tell me what I want to know!”

“Draco-”

“Don’t you dare say my name, Potter! Don’t even think about tainting the noble name of Malfoy by speaking it on your filthy, half-blood lips!” Harry could see that Draco was getting angrier by the second, so he kept a cool head and continued.

“What happened yesterday-”

“What happened yesterday? I wonder, could you possibly have kissed my twin sister who I’ve only known for two days? Yes? Oh, what a pity!” Draco spat the words out, and watched the recognition flash in the other boy’s eyes when he clenched his fists.

“Well,” he continued, his words quiet but sharp as a knife, “There’s only one thing I want to learn from you tonight, Harry Potter.”

“Is there really? And what would that be, given the chance?” Harry tried to sound fierce, but his shaky voice gave him away. Draco smirked, and strolled across the room, coming closer and closer until he was practically leaning on Harry, a hand either side of Harry’s head, their noses just inches away from each other.

“Was she a good kisser?” he whispered.

Harry didn’t know what to say. If he said no, then Draco would most probably grow angry…angrier. If he said yes, then Draco might leave it. Or he might not. So Harry closed his eyes, and uttered the first word that came into his head;

“…Yes.”

Draco’s eyes flashed, and he roughly removed his arms from the wall next to Harry’s head, his body from pressed against the other boy’s, however, keeping his head level with Harry’s nose.

“Despicable!” He spat, and thundered out of the room, leaving Harry to sink into a trembling heap on the ground and feel the silent tears brim at the corner of his eyes.

NOTE! This is the first instalment of Twin, but it is the last Chapter. This is how it's going to be done.



Chapter Fifteen- Dream Ending.



He shouldn’t have replied with yes. That was the only logical reason Harry could come up with to explain away the haunted, angry look in Malfoy’s eyes. His expression stuck in Harry’s head, even though it appeared on his face nearly two days ago, reminding Harry of the sin he’d committed by answering that question.

Harry heard the bedroom door open, and turned just in time to see a brown curl fly out of the way, followed by the door slamming shut. But Carla avoiding him was the last thing on his mind right now. Despicable, Malfoy had hissed. And the sad thing was, Harry knew exactly where Malfoy was right now; in his room, like every other day, but today was different.

Harry got up from the chair he was lounging on and threw himself down onto the bed, his face in the pillows. He had been trying to deny it for the last two days and a half, but it was no use. He was truly and deeply into the waters, he had no way of escaping now. There really was no other way of hiding it; he, Harry Potter, had feelings for Draco Malfoy. He should have realised sooner that this was what it was coming to, what with spending all this time together, and the fact that Draco was unnaturally handsome, a tiny voice in the back of his head replied.

“Well, that’s a fine line between love and hate, then!” He sighed, rolling onto his back, “UGH!”

* * *

Draco lifted his head up to breathe, and then slumped back down into the pillows on his bed. The confrontation hadn’t done him any good; he still felt as angry and sorry for himself as he had done two and a half days ago. Also, the fact that he was irrevocably in love with Harry also messed things up. He knew it was coming, yet he didn’t try and stop it. He reckoned it had begun when he woke Harry up at the third hotel; it was a close shave to try that, but it had worked at the time, and so Draco had thought nothing of it. Then on the bus, that was trying their luck, he thought. Draco sighed, and rolled over onto his back so that he could breathe.

“I need to talk to Carla,” he muttered, and swung his legs around off the bed. He stormed over to the door, slammed the door open and thundered down the stairs. Carla was sitting on the sofa, reading a letter. Draco saw that it was in his own mothers’ handwriting, and pushed down the lump in his throat before calmly walking into the room and sitting down beside her. She immediately got up to walk out, but Draco’s hand snatched her back again.

“So you kissed him,” Draco said. His voice was flat, dead, “You kissed him willingly, knowing I would be upset.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Kissed me back. Harry kissed me back. It…wasn’t all me.”

“But I take it you started the kiss?” Draco inquired, his eyes bright, “Because when I walked through the door, I heard him ask what you were doing. That is, before you cut him off.”

Carla stared at the floor, blushing. Draco ripped his hand from her arm, and she fled away up the stairs. On her way, she dropped Narcissa’s letter. This time, Draco couldn’t keep the lump from rising as he took the letter and started to read.

* * *

Sometime later, Harry was sitting on his windowsill with one leg dangling down towards the chair he had previously occupied, staring at the little forest of wilderness in front of him. It reminded him of the Forbidden Forest; a particular night in the Forbidden Forest…

“Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?”

Narcissa Malfoy’s voice rang out in his head, reminiscent of the night he defeated Voldemort.

Harry sighed, and was about to avert his eyes when he saw the distinct shadow of Draco storming across the field. As he came into the sunlight, it was easy to see he’d been crying. He held a piece of paper in his hand; this he threw down to the ground and stamped on, before spitting on. He stormed into the wilderness with an air of recklessness about him, kicking a tree as he went by. A soft shuffling from behind made Harry jump; a piece of paper was being slid underneath the door. He waited until Carla’s footsteps faded, and he saw her run across the lawn to the same place Draco had disappeared into, before jumping down from the windowsill and picking it up. On it, there was a map of the “Menks Woodlands”, with just three words written underneath;



Go after him.

* * *

Carla hesitated, her hands resting on either side of the huge oak she hid behind. She watched as her brother picked a flower from the ground. He sat, cross-legged, and began turning it over in his pale, long fingers, picking it to pieces and scattering it on the grass. He sighed, and brushed a strand of white blond hair from his face, swerving around to lay on his stomach in the same movement.

She started when she heard footsteps, but the walker obviously didn’t see her in the shade of the tree she was hugging. Harry paused, and walked over tentatively to where Draco lay, watching the flower in his hands. Carla gasped silently when Harry turned to the oak she hid behind, but her worries were unnecessary, as Harry crouched down at the base. Stretching her neck so that she could see better, Carla watched as he looked back towards Draco, sighed, and picked up in his hands a twin flower. Carla marvelled at the grace in which he stood up, swiftly returned to the other boy and sat down opposite him.

Draco stiffened, but continued to pick away at his mangled flower. Harry stared at the top of his head, trying to get through the pregnant silence. Carla used this uncomfortable moment to dart from her hiding place and run for cover behind the next biggest one. Craning her neck around its wide berth, she watched as Draco scooped up all the pieces of the flower he had shredded, and play with them in his cupped hand. Harry spoke up, quietly but firmly;

“Bhut Jolokia,” he murmured, “quite a rare flower. Most people would know it for its pepper, rather than its petals…”

Draco didn’t speak, but fixed Harry with a look as if to say, “So…?” before dipping his head back down to his petal pieces.

“So I wouldn’t pull it apart if I were you, D-Dr-” Harry struggled to say his name- “Malfoy. Flowers have feelings too, you know.”

“Well maybe the flower has a sister, and a…an acquaintance. Perhaps this sister and this acquaintance were to…” he cut off, picking the pieces more fiercely than before. Harry ignored this, pulled out the twin flower he had picked from the base of the oak, and continued;

“Pretty little thing, isn’t it? I personally like the way the white contrasts with the little dark bit in the middle, simple but effective, don’t you think?”

Draco herded any stray petals and put them into his hand, before clamping it shut and rolling off his stomach to sit cross-legged again. He raised his clamped hand to his mouth and leaned his face closer to Harry’s. Unfurling his hand, Draco sucked in a breath and blew it out again in a sharp gust. The mangled petal pieces fluttered over Harry’s face, sticking to his hair and ears. Draco smiled, happy with his outcome, and leaned back out again. Harry, evidently unaware of the fact there was a petal on that particular part of his hand, put his finger in his mouth to think. He then jumped, and took it back out again. Brushing off the petal, he hesitated before speaking again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I shouldn’t have done what I did with Carla. She’s…yours, and I should have known better. But then, I shouldn’t have treated you like that either; I mean, you-we-”

“I believe you,” Draco said quietly, and took the twin flower from Harry’s limp hands, examining it from every angle, “and I forgive you…It is pretty, isn’t it?”

Harry was fiddling with his fingers, struggling to come up with something to fill the gap.

“I…well, she sort of came on to me,” he managed to choke out, “But I let her, because it was like-” He cut off, looking away, and Carla saw his cheeks flush the slightest pink. Draco shook his head, a smile on his face.

“I don’t care about that. I forgive you, remember?” Harry nodded, so Draco held out his hand and said, “Shake on it?”

Harry smiled, and raised his arm to shake hands with Draco.

As Carla watched their hands connect, the atmosphere changed immediately. It was charged, electric, like a fuse had sparked when the two boy’s hands came together. They noticed as well; Draco looked down with great interest at their interlocked arms, whilst Harry stared, once again, at the top of the other boy’s head. Draco lowered their hands, and took Harry’s in both of his, unconsciously leaning towards him again.

Harry used his free hand to cup Draco’s chin and tilt his head up to look in his eyes.

“This,” he whispered, “is why I let your twin sister kiss me…”

And as their lips brushed together, Carla realised that she’d been stupid to let herself fall in love with Harry. In her head, images flashed by; Harry, catching her as she tripped on the corner of the pub table- Harry pulling Draco from the ground after he’d had too much to drink. His hand on Draco’s shoulder, moral support as Draco met his sister for the first time; pulling him from the room as he felt the pressure; Looking through the mirror to see Draco leant against the wall and Harry’s hand, once more, on his shoulder.

She was stupid not to have seen it before, given they’d spent seven years hating each other. In her views, it had to happen; it was a fine line between love and hate. In her head, she played again the kiss, only this time it wasn’t her reaching her arms up to coil around Harry’s neck, it was Draco. It all fit, it made sense, and as Draco freed his hands to hold Harry’s neck, something told Carla he’d never had eyes for her, that he was pre-occupied all the way. Well, she could deal with that, couldn’t she?

* * *



“It was always going to end up like this, wasn’t it?” Harry asked as they broke apart, still in close proximity, “Given the circumstances, I mean.”

“What circumstances? Are you trying to tell me you’ve felt this all along?”

“Well…” Harry flushed pink, “Yes.”

Draco shook his head, a smile on his face, and stood up, dragging Harry with him. “Come on, partner,” he said, and wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist. Harry smiled and did the same, and they strolled off into the woods.

* * *



As a single tear rolled down Carla’s face, the answer was clear;

No. No, she couldn’t.

Edwards' POV



Some people are lucky. They get to watch telly all the time, or live on chocolate, or be generally good-willed. And what not.



Other people are doomed to an eternity of night. Those who have to hide amongst their preferred beverages every day. Those who haven't slept a wink for 90 years but are never tired. Those who haven't eaten a pinch of salt for at least four years but don't starve. Those who have permanent bags under their coal black eyes every few weeks. Those who live with the preferred diet, but choose not to act on it. Those who have the greatest love in the world-which is ruined by that one particular love wanting to be a monster, a cold one, a non-human.



I am not one of the lucky ones. I don't have a soul; it escaped me sometime in 1918, when a little ray of sunshine came and "saved" me from the Spanish influenza. When, for several days, I was burning, on fire, ignited. When, after the fire disappeared, I was frozen.



None of this would have happened if it weren't for my figure father. Yes, he's a wonderful person, but he didn't have to change me. Loneliness. That's the reason why- he was lonely, needed a companion, and so on and so forth. But he didn't need me. If life had gone the way it should have, my body would have rotted away and been replaced in some cemetery somewhere, close to my mother. If life had gone the way it should have...none of this would have happened.



Isabella Swan. Daughter of the Chief's flighty ex wife, returning home at last, they all say. Why did she have to come to Forks? Why here? She said so herself, she hated the cold and the wet. So why come to Forks?



Because she's a selfless, heartfelt, good person.



If only there had been another space in the class. If only the wind hadn't blown as she stumbled on past me. If only I wasn't a monster, set to intimidate mere humans for the rest of my life. If only I hadn't gone and fallen; only she jumped in after me. And now we're stuck in the water, twenty feet under.

Ha. As if either of us needed to breathe.



Just...I wonder, sometimes, if I didn't give away my soul in 1918. If I kept it with me, unawares, and gave it away, three years ago, in 2005. Because now? Now, I'm not a demon, a monster, a creature of the darkness.



Now, I'm one of the lucky ones.





*NOTES*



This was written in the views of Edward Cullen; now he's a husband and a father, he's changed his mind about his past views on being a vampire.

I felt I might as well start off my journal with a bang =]

I just...I mean, wow, Edward is my favourite vampire, after all, I wanted to just......see, I'm wordless. If that is a word. I can't think of a reason for doing this, it's just something that comes to mind. I think it could be that I feel I...know Edward too well? Perhaps that I've read the books so many times his character is wedged in my brain, trying to escape but not..quite..getting there, if you see what I mean, haha =]



Well. That's all for now, perhaps I might write again soon; whenever another pops into my head, maybe I could post a Harry Potter fanfiction, I quite like writing them. And POVs, like these. Maybe, whenever I have any free time, I can just pick a character I reckon I know pretty well and just let their feelings flow through my fingers, *laughs*...



Byebyee

Chezzy Xx