Their tears fell like rain, soaking the earth before them as unholy testaments to hatred and fear. Draco watched them cry, his face devoid of feeling, his mind free of thought.

A steady rhythm was building behind his eyes, patterned after the splash of tears. The incessant pitter patter of falling water. The unleashing of the unconscious. The putridity of their minds, revealed before all. It was weak.

It was disgusting, that people should bare their feelings like that. That they pour everything out for everyone to see. As if emotion were a whore, a dirty fuck to do with as one pleased. To throw about and use and destroy.

'Some things are better left holy,' he whispered, his eyes never leaving the tear-stained cheeks. He narrowed his eyes; they were still crying. With an angry growl, he grabbed a chin roughly, wrenching the bright eyes from their hold on their lover.

"Leave it holy!" he shrieked, watching the eyes grow huge, watching the confusion and hurt and anger and hatred cover all of the love.

He let go then, staring at the long white marks he'd left across one cheek. He straightened out, cocking his head quizzically. "Does it help that you'll die together? Does it make it any easier that the last sounds either of you will ever hear will be the sounds of each other's screams?"

The tears again. He resisted the urge to hit. They weren't worthy of his abuse any longer. They were lower than his hatred.

"Kill them," he whispered. Two small words, and they would be gone forever.

Fuck love, Draco had seen enough of that. It was time for blood. And revenge. He thought they must taste about the same.

A fact that only made killing them more interesting.