Title: Viscosity of the Weight of the World
Rating: R
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: Written for the dmhgficexchange christmas fic exchange. Italicized portions are quotes from Ralph Waldo Emerson's essay: Self-Reliance. Most grammar mistakes are made purposely, by the way. (No, that isn't an excuse, lol, I had a wonderful beta who shall remain nameless.) The story shifts POVs midway and then goes into third person. I hope it's not too hard to follow.
Summary: She's a princess of the highest order… and he was the Lord that'd give her everything, and nothing. post-HBP, spoilers.

As a young girl, I often envied the princesses who resided in the fairy tales my mother used to read me. At the age of three, it was because of Prince Charming and their happily ever afters. At the age of eleven, it was because of their beauty and their happily ever afters. At the age of sixteen, it's was because of the black and white of their worlds and their happily ever afters. I had believed that even with Dumbledore's death, we'd be able to win. The mist of hope blinded me.

With the formal declaration of war came something unlike anything I had ever seen or imagined. I had imagined it to be something along the lines of chaos, of kill or be killed, of mangled bodies and disjointed hexes. Instead, I found order to the nth degree. I had expected the random killings, the erratic attacks made by the elusive Death Eaters. But I hadn't expected it to be like the bloody American Revolution I learned about in primary school. Battles were set on a specific date, at a specific place, and time decided upon by the leaders of both sides. Pairings were then made with the weak against the weak and the strong against the strong. Individual pairs duelled, following the code duello, and the side with the most survivors won that battle. Skirmishes were nothing but an attempt to whittle the sides down.

i. To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men, -- that is genius.

I never graduated from Hogwarts. Neither did anyone else from my year. We were the year that had Harry Potter. We were the year that consisted of the offspring of the important Death Eaters. We were the year that was forced to grow up at the age of sixteen. We were the year that was shattered inter-house relations. Smart Ravenclaws allied themselves with the Slytherins. Many Ravenclaws were purebloods and fantasized about Voldemort's promise of a better tomorrow, where mudbloods no longer existed. Loyal Hufflepuffs were joined with Gryffindor. During battles, we were put into a separate company, and forbidden to fight against each other. I suppose they thought that against adults, we had a lesser chance of survival. Funny, I think. Because it was us who survived.

ii. Do not think the youth has no force, because he cannot speak to you and me.

It took another four years and I was then twenty. The war was finally over and I was on the losing side. Voldemort had died by Harry's wand and Harry died in the fiery blast that followed. But Death Eaters refused to give up, knowing that the Ministry, or rather, what remained of the Ministry, would have shown no mercy if they did, and the Order – and those on the side of the Order – couldn't give up. And with the Light Side opting to take prisoners of war rather than killing them outright, unlike the Dark Side, we ended up with less and less people as the days went on.

Pretty soon, out of the original Order, there was only George, Tonks and me left. Moody had died when an old church collapsed on him, caused by the same explosion that took the lives of so many others. Life wasn't peachy for us. Gone were the endless galleons in our supply, gone were the stores of hope that we fed off of, but most of all, Gone, was Grimmauld Place. Our safe haven was no longer a safe haven after the Death Eaters found out. We scoured trashcans for food and did anything we could to salvage some knuts to buy a moldy piece of bread and moved to a new location every other day and fought day and night. If we weren't fighting the Death Eaters that were out for our blood, we were fighting the nightmares that plagued our consciousness.

iii. But the man is as it were clapped into jail by his consciousness. As soon as he has once acted or spoken with he is a committed person, watched by the sympathy or the hatred of hundreds, whose affections must now enter into his account.

We knew our chance of survival was low. We were amongst the most prominent members of the Order. And even if I, myself, was against Dumbledore's plan, no one knew of it. As far as everyone knew, I was still prim and proper Granger, crusader for the Light. And I was – in one way or another. But the Light had changed into a different Light. A much dimmer one. It was one of survival, because I wanted to live – I didn't want to die. For pity's sake, I was only twenty. It was one of vengeance, because my entire life was robbed from me because of two old fools who split my world. And it was one of desire, because I wanted what I knew I couldn't have had back then.

The day they caught us, I was back in the house I grew up in. It was the house of memories and as I ran my hands over the photographs that were never covered and the covers that were never turned, I had the intention of cleaning it out. I honestly did. It was going to be our next stop. George and Tonks were back at the muggle inn we had stopped at two nights ago. But I didn't get around to it. It was too much for me to see the house where I grew up and know that I was going to exploit it for all it was worth. You know, we desecrated every place we stayed at? After we left, the Death Eaters always knew we were there because of the broken chairs littered about and the scratches on the walls and the empty syringes that Tonks had taken to liking and the reek of cannabis that George liked since just about ever and the chocolate wrappings that I'd taken to stealing from garbage cans because they still had the smell of chocolate on them and they were my guilty pleasure. So I returned to the inn and found nothing but a note written by George and Tonks saying that they were sorry but I was a liability and they couldn't afford liabilities at this time.

iv. Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members.

They brought me into a large room. Could have possibly been a ballroom by the looks of it. But it was tattered. Drapes hung low and dust settled everywhere. Something broke my reverie and his eyes were the first things I noticed. They were so warm and so cold and so passionate and so unfeeling at the same time. He wasn't the same person I used to know and at the same time, he was even more of the same person he used to be. I was so proud of him and yet so disappointed that he didn't do more. It was all a big jumble of feelings. I wanted to run up to him and hug him because he was a familiar face that reminded me of the days when life was wonderful and just a fairy tale. But I didn't. I ran my eyes over him, drinking him in.

Behind him, it was a sea of black cloaks with something that resembled the Slytherin house insignia on the breast pocket area. Except, it was an owl. With a snake in its claws. Sufficiently distracted, I suppose they thought it was the most opportune moment to perform Legilimancy, because prickling tendrils began plucking away at my thoughts.

And I let them pluck, because I had nothing to hide any more.

v. Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind.

He was circling me with an attentiveness that I had never been privy to. Hands were on my shoulders, pushing away the wet hair that hung limp. It was the first shower I had taken since the Light Side began to fall and I had savored it like no other. To feel the hot water caressing my body felt almost as good as a lover's touch. But then he placed his feather kisses on my neck and began nibbling and licking and sucking and that feeling I had had from the shower increased tenfold.

Suddenly, it was gone and my eyes flew open and there he was, standing right in front of me with his pretty grey eyes and his mussed up hair. I wanted to lift my hand up to fix his hair, because with it mussed, it just wasn't right – it just wasn't him. But I didn't, because a voice in the back of my head reminded me that this was Malfoy and of what he was and what he did. And then his lips were on mine and the feelings that had left surged back into me so quickly that I arched my back with pleasure and instead of my hands fixing his hair, I only mussed it up more. So when his hands traveled lower, I thought, 'To hell with it.'

vi. But if I am the Devil's child, I will live then from the Devil.

My toes curled and some of the sheets caught because his hands and fingers were doing these wondrous things to my body. I don't know if I ever felt that way before because everything was just so amazing and colored and I was flying through the air. And suddenly his mouth replaced his fingers and I was unraveling so fast and I was spinning out of control and falling off that proverbial cliff. I couldn't move my arms because they felt as if they were submerged in peanut butter and had the weight of the world on it. Oh Merlin, I felt like one of those women in the romance novels my mum once had a penchant for. It was breathtaking.

And through all of this, it didn't occur to me to ask him why this was happening or what Harry and Ron and Mrs. Weasley and my parents would think or who he was. All that was going through my head was the time when I got lost in the middle of London. My mum and dad had found me five minutes later and the safe feeling that washed over me back then couldn't compare to the safeness I felt in his arms. And all I could do to repay him for that safeness was to give myself to him.

viii. No law can be sacred to me but that of my nature.

I could never forgive the Dark Lord for doing what he did to me in sixth year. Granted, through that, he made me who I am today, but I couldn't forgive him. It was the first time I looked into the eyes of a man I knew I had to kill. Avada Kedavra. The words just roll off of your tongue and it has a tragic beauty to it. But looking at that old man, Dumbledore on the day that I turned of age, June 5, those two words had a viscosity much like molasses. His eyes were like that of deep sorrow, much like the eyes of my mother when she heard of my task. His eyes were usually blue, but then, they were grey-blue. The color of the sky after countless snowflakes danced and fluttered around in the snow and mixed and mated.

Merlin, I hated that old bugger. But he was my headmaster for six years, five of which were the most wonderful years of my life, and I couldn't do that to him, even with the threat of my death looming over my head. It was my neck versus another man's, and for the first time, I was thinking of doing the honorable thing and sticking my neck out.

I was already looked upon as a horrible person since the age of 3, the kind that would stick his foot out when you pass so you tripped. So I decided that I'd dance to the tune that the piper played. Did I really care if people were courteous to my face and horrible to my back? It did not matter to me. My image was their preconceived notion of me.

ix. Good and bad are but names very readily transferable to that or this; the only right is what is after my constitution; the only wrong what is against it.

With the death of the Dark Lord, along with the death of the Boy-Who-Finally-Died, I was free. No longer would I have to sully my robes doing the dirty deeds of a crazed, hypocritical wizard. I could honor the Malfoy name now. The Death Eaters were without a leader and several people were in contention to be the next Dark Lord, myself one of them. It was easy to get rid of the others. Caution and wariness had become lax with the death of the Dark Lord. A sleight of hand here, an accidental payment there. Suddenly, there were only three men left. Me, my father, and Rosier. Two of the Original Ones. My father was getting old. He wasn't fast enough to dodge an Avada Kedavra that went astray during one of the battles. With him gone, the remaining Death Eaters who weren't already backing me realized that I was the better choice over Rosier. And Rosier was easy to convince once I had the rest of the Death Eaters behind me.

Finally, as the new Dark Lord, I could go after what I wanted and needed. But in order to do that, I needed to find it first.

x. I ought to go upright and vital, and speak the rude truth in all ways.

You'realittleMudbloodslutaren'tyouyeah…yeah…yeah, I whispered into the shell of her ear as I pushed into her for the first time. Merlin, it felt so good.

My only response was a moan and the widening of her legs. Her usually frizzy hair was slightly tamed due to the fact that it was still wet from the shower she had just taken.

The pace was a hard and fast one. It was one of desperation. And as I heard the slaps and the slurps and the moans we were making, I knew it was stripped of any remaining vestiges of humanity and all it was then was raw fucking. It wasn't making love, it wasn't shagging, it wasn't sex. It was fucking.

When I emptied into her, I kissed her for the first time in a long time on the mouth. And for the first time, she didn't slap me for it. She just moaned and scratched my back. It's okay, I had an itch that needed to be scratched anyway.

xi. Truth is handsomer than the affectation of love.

I was contemplating leaving her on the bed, doing what I did to every other cunt before her. But I couldn't. She wasn't a cunt. She was a woman. And women demanded respect. I suppose I fell asleep because when I woke up, the stars were barely out and the moon was already starting its descent into the sun. She was staring at me out of hollow eyes. Eyes that were, and are, so expressive. When she first came in, the expression in her eyes was one of despair and absent of hope. Now, with her head on her hands on my chest, it was one of questioning and I saw the remnants of satisfaction.

And I decided to answer all of her questions because I've fucked enough cunts to know when they were pleasured and happy, but with her, it was different. She gave herself to me. Body and soul, and I knew the least I could do was give her the answers she needed, and maybe she'd agree to my questions.

xii. There is a class of persons to whom by all spiritual affinity I am bought and sold; for them I will go to prison if need be…