Disclaimer: As always, not mine. Belongs to J.K. Rowlings
A/N: *shrugs* See what my playlist does to me? Just a little drabble. Nothing terribly graphic, but most certainly HP/DM Slash. Enjoy! New chapter of Shattered is on its way. Comments welcome, flames not.
Any Other Time
Any other time, he would have walked away. But not now, not today. He couldn't miss the empty look in those green, green eyes. He couldn't bear the sight of that soul-less stare, once so filled with life. The dark circles that marred the tan flesh of his face, the cracked lips, bleeding from a cut in the middle; they called out to him.
And he hated it. Or would have, any other time. The tremble in the usually steady fingers, the quiver of breath snaking past those lips. No, he wasn't supposed to see the boy like this. This weak and broken creature, it wasn't the image of strength, of heroism. It was woefully human, imperfect and strange. It hurt him to see it.
He could leave the boy behind, his fellow student, his enemy. Any other time. Leave him to wallow, to melt and waste away in his pathetic sorrow. Tease him, bate him with his folly, bully him with his usually taunts and harsh words. Pretend he didn't see the hurt flash in those gorgeous emeralds, the tightening of the hands into fists.
He wanted to, any other time. Push away the thoughts of heat and passion that flashed in that angry gaze, call out to the hatred just sitting below the surface. He had a whole armory of weapons that could drive the boy over the edge, to tumble down in to despair and madness. And he used it to his full advantage.
Any other time.
But not today. Today, he understood the pain, the desperate clinching of the fists, the biting of his tongue until it bled. He understood the silent scream that buried itself in that slender throat. The rage, the madness, the power. He felt it singing over his skin, bleeding into his blood. And he welcomed it. He clutched those hips, bruising the tanned skin above him, his lips nipping and drawing rivets of crimson. He reveled in the trembling of those strong arms as they held him, those fingers fisted beside his head.
Swimming in the flow they had created, the waves of desire, want and lust threatening to drown them both. He would let it do so, if it meant keeping this moment, this fire they had wrapped around them. The heat of their breaths, the gasps of their names that echoed in the stillness. He refused to shut his eyes, swirling silver clashing with green, as their slick skin, tan and pale, showed just how different they really were. His neck arched, he showed his submission for but a moment in time, crying out as teeth bit down, as the lips he had come to love whispered sweet words along his skin.
Their bodies laying intertwined, sated for the present, in tune with the rapid beatings of their hearts.
Any other time, he would have been mortified of his action, his complete willingness to let go. He would have deny it, yelled in anger at the one who dared suggest he was anything less than the man he pretended to be.
Any other time, he would have refused to let go. But not now, not today. Not when he was so in love.
Not with his Harry.