That Thin Line

October 7, 2010

Emotions frighten me. They're too intense. They overwhelm me. Everything comes at once until I don't know reality from fantasy. When it comes to him, I just don't know. He obliterates reason and makes me mad. But I can't say that. No…I can't cross that line from enemy to lover…

It starts first thing in the morning. In the dining hall I see him. He's so gangly and awkward looking, yet…somehow he's not awkward at all. He's beautiful in a way only he can manage. But I burn with disgust and hate. I want to hit him. He's with people who don't deserve to be in his presence. That annoying "boy-who-lived" Potter and the "oh-so-smart" Granger. I want to curse them. I want to steal him from them. I want to punish him for loving them.

I take a breath and look away. Same routine as usual. I can feel his hazel eyes turn to me. I can imagine a hurt expression, though I know in actuality it's probably a burning one of rage. That's all he passes to me. Rage, anger, hurt, utter disgust and distrust. I sigh and run a hand through the silvery strands falling into my eyes. Why can't I just ignore emotions?

I pass him in the halls. He's still got that good for nothing mudblood at one side and that disgusting Potter on the other. When will he gain better company? Then again, he is in Gryffindor; not much good company found in that house.

As he walks past, I feel his eyes upon me. I look back at him and smirk. I love provoking him because I crave acknowledgement. He glares so fiercely my heart pounds. Sometimes I wonder if I fear him or if that fast pace beat is something else altogether. I ponder this as I imagine running my fingers through that bright crimson hair. Is it coarse, or is it soft and silky? In my mind I always imagine it to be soft and silky.

We pass several times throughout the day. The frequency is actually mildly surprising, considering we're from different houses and Hogwarts is so large. But, then again, we are in the same year. Though we have no classes together… Hmm… Suddenly it makes me curious. Why do we pass each other so frequently? Is it intentional? On whose part…?

Dinner in the dining hall. I see him sitting across the hall surround by Gryffindor trash. His younger sister, his best friends, his brothers, even friends. He's surprisingly popular, or is it all run-off because he's best friends with "the boy who lived"? I know I'm staring, over thinking, but I just can't help it. I jump when he turns in his seat and catches my light blue gaze. Shit, I mutter to myself. He glares darkly. My heart pounds. He rises and moves towards me. My breath quickens. I'm not sure if it's anxiety or desire, and that frightens me in its own way. He reaches me, grabs me roughly by the arm and drags me from the dining hall, saying he needs to talk to me. Crabbe and Goyle move to stop him, but I just wave them away; I'm curious.

We stand in the hall outside the dining hall. His hazel eyes are fierce as they hold my blue ones. I'm panting, fighting for air. Damn, there's something too tangible about him. I want to touch him. I want to love him. I want to fuck him all night long and leave him tied to my bed to be used at my whim.

"Stop staring at me all the time," he says at long last, breaking me from my surprising thoughts.

"I don't want to," I reply quietly, slowly letting my eyes roam.

"It's annoying and it makes things awkward! It makes me wonder when you're going to get past staring and attack me in front of everyone."

I'm not fully listening, though that actually isn't too bad an idea. Though, my idea of attack probably differs from the expected. I follow the bridge of his nose, over his thin lips, along his jaw and down along his neck. Gods, I want to taste…

"MALFOY! Are you listening to me?"

He breaks me from my thoughts once more. I glare at him darkly. "Loud and clear," I spit out. "You should listen to me, though, Weasly." Not thinking it through I move forward, pressing him against the wall and holding him there. I can smell his body, feel his skin under my fingers as I pin him. I stand on my tiptoes to whisper in his ear, cursing his height silently. "You belong to me, Weasly. I want you. Come to me." On the last word I nip his earlobe, feeling him shudder slightly.

"Malfoy…" he whimpers, shaking his head and trying to escape my clutches. "Not out here, please."

I sigh, unable to resist his plea. I release him, turning my back to him quickly. "Whatever," I mutter. "It's pointless. All you hold for me is hate anyway."

As I start to walk away I feel his large hand grab my wrist and pull me back, my back flush against his chest. "You understand nothing," he growls in my ear, biting my neck roughly.

I look back at him in shock, my mind struggling to comprehend. His eyes burn, but that flame is different from what I'm used to. It isn't a cold flame of hate and rage, but a fiercely warm one of—could it be?—love.

He doesn't give me time to think, just grabs me roughly and begins to drag me to an empty classroom. He locks the door with a muttered spell before standing straight before me, holding me captive by his gaze alone. I hold those hazel eyes as best I can, heat rushing through my body as it trembles slightly, my quick breathing making me slightly light headed.

"What…what are we doing in here?" I quietly ask at last, holding myself as steady as I can against a desk.

"I want you to stop staring at me."

"I can't," I whisper, finally looking down and away.

"Why?" he growls, stepping closer. I can feel the air move with him and feel his heat radiating from his proximity.

I look up at him fiercely and glare coldly. Why, he asks! Why does he think! Unable to control myself I fly at him and push him to the ground, taking his lips roughly in a bruising kiss. Using my tongue I force my way into his mouth. His taste intoxicates me, drives me insane. I can't control myself. I keep kissing him, not giving him an opportunity to protest as my hands move to unbutton his shirt. I trail my hands over his torso, amazed both at the muscles and the softness of his skin. I hear him whimper into my mouth, feel his hands suddenly trying to push me away. His protests seem weak though. I won't be stopped.

I break the kiss and look into his flushed face. "I love you, goddammit, Weasly!" He looks so sexy there. His freckled face is redder than his hair and his beautiful hazel eyes are glazed. All down his neck over his chest is a flush, his chest rising and falling in rabid gasps. Straddling his hips as I am I can feel his arousal against me. I really hope no one else has ever seen him this way, and I'll make sure no one else ever does.

"Malfoy," he gasps, making me look into his eyes again. "Please, stop this."

Awh, he's just too beautiful. I want to corrupt him, mar him, destroy him from the inside out. "I can't stop. You're mine, and I'm going to make you never forget." I lean down and latch my lips to the side of his neck, sucking and nipping until I am satisfied. When I pull back there's a nice red mark left. "Mine," I growl again, unbuckling his belt and opening his pants. I reach my hand into his boxers and smile.

"Stop," he pleads, covering his face with an arm, though I still see the tears on his cheeks.

"You don't really want me to stop, do you? You're already so hard and wet," I whisper, leaning to suck on his collarbone while grabbing him in my hand and stroking. He twitches, making a gasping moan. Too beautiful, too beautiful not to utterly decimate. I continue marking his torso with bright marks, stroking him slow and fast, enjoying the pained sounds of arousal emitting from that luscious mouth.

"Malfoy….Draco…I beg you, please….stop this….st…op…."

I ignore his pleas, gathering his pre-cum on my fingertips and probing at his entrance. My finger easily slips in, making my eyes widen in wonder. He's so hot and tight. I don't' know how long I'll be able to control myself. But, I don't actually want to hurt him. I carefully stretch him out, his body easily accommodating three fingers. All the while he's whimpering so wantonly. I'm drunk off the sounds he makes. I can't hold back any longer. I open my own pants and stroke myself a few times before grabbing his ankles and pushing his legs up. I carefully line up and slide into his welcoming hole. Gods….so hot…so tight… His face is scrunched up, trying to hide under his forearm, biting the fabric of his shirt. Slowly, gently I slide deeper inside him, shuddering at the sensation I'd only dreamed about.

"Weasly," I whisper gently, leaning forward and caressing his cheek. He flinches from my touch. "Ron," I try again, moving his arm to get a look at his face. He's crimson in the cheeks, tears flowing freely from those beautiful hazel eyes. "Does it hurt?"

"Of course, you git," he whimpers, his tears beginning to flow faster. "Just get it over with!"

I pause, fully sheathed in him. Just get it over with….? Wait…. Slowly I'm returning to myself. What I'm doing…what am I doing? I'm….raping him…aren't I?

With that realization I start to pull out, apologizing. He arches and moans, wrapping his legs around me suddenly. Wait….what?

"What are you apologizing for, idiot?" he groans, looking up at me with that addicting face.

"For..raping you…?" I answer, suddenly uncertain. What…what's going on?

"Idiot, you can't rape the willing."

I stop completely, half sheathed inside him. "Wait….what? I'm confused!"

"Dammit! Just move already!" His lustful cries for release cast a spell upon me and once more I'm beyond control. I begin to thrust deeply into his soft body, gripping his hip and thigh so tight I imagine he'll have bruises come morning. More marks by which he can't forget me. My pace quickens, my hand releasing his thigh to stroke him, wanting to bring him to climax. He whimpers so wantonly, his body arching upwards with need. Expressions such as his should be illegal. I feel him tighten around me, knowing he's close. With a shout he cums, the thick ropes landing on his chest. At the same moment his walls tighten around me, pushing me over the edge with a few more strokes. I fill him, holding myself deep inside him. Exhausted, I pull out and sit back, staring at his sprawled form upon the floor.

"What have I done…?" I quietly mutter, ashamed and disgusted.

"Finally," is the only response I hear, surprising me. His voice is satisfied like a cat, his body suddenly looking languid and relaxed rather than sprawled.

"Finally?" I exclaim, staring at him aghast. "Finally what?"

"You finally admitted your feelings, git. I've been waiting long enough!" He slowly sits up, wincing with a slight pain. "Damn, didn't know it'd hurt this much though."

I stare, confused beyond all reason. "But…I thought you hated me…"

I glare at him when he starts to laugh at me. "Well, that's the point, isn't it? Don't want anyone knowing the truth, do we?"

I can't help but to just stare at him. What have I gotten myself into? I think I'm in trouble with this red headed boy. But, I guess I don't mind. There truly is a thin line between all extremes.