Disclaimer: Harry Potter and any other related charecters do not belong to
me in any way, shape, or form.
Title- I Never Meant To Love You.
Author- Silent Angel
Authours Note- This is my first HP fic and I would appreciate any feedback.
It will progress in chapter form though I don't currently know how long it
will get. This fic takes place after the 4th year, during the summer and
onward. The rating will go up as the story progresses but it's PG for now.
We'll see, hope you enjoy. R&R please.
CHAPTER (1)
-Draco's POV- It was very late, the moonlight casting slanted beams on the plush velvet hangings of Dracos elaborate four post bed. He couldn't sleep, it was just impossible. He lay with his silvery blue eyes closed, trying to will the memory in his mind to leave him in peace. But it was hopeless. Over and over he kept seeing that fateful night, the last night of the Tri- Wizard tournament. The vision of Harry laying motionless, crumpled on the hard ground. For the first time in his life he had felt fear. Not for himself or his family, his 'family' could rot in hell for all he cared. It was Harry, he had feared that he'd been....dead. Draco shook the image from his mind. Since when had he started giving a damn about Potter and why the bloody hell had he called him Harry??? They were supposed to be mortal enemies after all, at least that's what people expected. But he had to admit, last year it had been getting harder and harder to pretend he hated Potter. What was wrong with him?! When had he started going soft? He sighed in confusion at the chaos churning in his own head. He knew nothing would ever be the same between Potter and himself again. Something had changed within Draco when he had been witness to that fateful night. Not only had Diggory been murdered but Voldemort was back in full power and Harry had been in very real life threatening danger. He knew it had only been a miracle that Potter had gotten out with his skin still attatched. But what did he care? He hated Potter! Didn't he...? Draco turned over wearily, groaining in irritation with himself. To make matters worse he had only recently since summer started found a way to keep an eye on Potter while he stayed with his muggle relatives. He told himself it was only to spy and get some good fodder for future redicule but that excuse sounded fake and hollow even to himself. He would have left it at that, but then he'd seen just what Potter went through with those muggles and he felt ill at the memory of it. The first time he'd been in complete shock as he'd watched Potters uncle beat him senseless and then proceed to rape him brutaly. A white hot rage had poured into Draco's soul like molten steel. He'd wanted to murder the bastard with his own hands. But where had that come from? Why did he all of a sudden care? And yet the abuse continued. They would pretty much feed him only enough to keep a bird alive and he wasn't allowed to do his summer work at all. His owl had been promptly locked inside her cage and ordered to keep quiet or she'd be on the menu for Sunday dinner. Draco had clearly heard his uncle threaten that if Potter ever breathed a word about what went on under their roof he'd be sure to leave nothing for the authourites to find. Needless to say Draco was in a turmoil. He wanted to help yet he didn't. What do I care if he's abused? It's not like he'd care if it was me in his position. But he knew better. As annoying as Potter was he knew that if he'd known Draco was in need he'd be there. It was just the kind of annoyingly honorable type he was. He threw back the covers, giving up entirely on the idea of getting any sleep as he set about gathering together certain useful items. Okay! So he was going to help Potter. But he'd be damned if he told Potter he'd done it. He could at least retain some shred of dignity.
Auothors Note- Ok, this chapter is realy short because I'm getting a feel for the plot. If you want me to continue please let me know by R&R. I'd greatly appreciate it.
-Draco's POV- It was very late, the moonlight casting slanted beams on the plush velvet hangings of Dracos elaborate four post bed. He couldn't sleep, it was just impossible. He lay with his silvery blue eyes closed, trying to will the memory in his mind to leave him in peace. But it was hopeless. Over and over he kept seeing that fateful night, the last night of the Tri- Wizard tournament. The vision of Harry laying motionless, crumpled on the hard ground. For the first time in his life he had felt fear. Not for himself or his family, his 'family' could rot in hell for all he cared. It was Harry, he had feared that he'd been....dead. Draco shook the image from his mind. Since when had he started giving a damn about Potter and why the bloody hell had he called him Harry??? They were supposed to be mortal enemies after all, at least that's what people expected. But he had to admit, last year it had been getting harder and harder to pretend he hated Potter. What was wrong with him?! When had he started going soft? He sighed in confusion at the chaos churning in his own head. He knew nothing would ever be the same between Potter and himself again. Something had changed within Draco when he had been witness to that fateful night. Not only had Diggory been murdered but Voldemort was back in full power and Harry had been in very real life threatening danger. He knew it had only been a miracle that Potter had gotten out with his skin still attatched. But what did he care? He hated Potter! Didn't he...? Draco turned over wearily, groaining in irritation with himself. To make matters worse he had only recently since summer started found a way to keep an eye on Potter while he stayed with his muggle relatives. He told himself it was only to spy and get some good fodder for future redicule but that excuse sounded fake and hollow even to himself. He would have left it at that, but then he'd seen just what Potter went through with those muggles and he felt ill at the memory of it. The first time he'd been in complete shock as he'd watched Potters uncle beat him senseless and then proceed to rape him brutaly. A white hot rage had poured into Draco's soul like molten steel. He'd wanted to murder the bastard with his own hands. But where had that come from? Why did he all of a sudden care? And yet the abuse continued. They would pretty much feed him only enough to keep a bird alive and he wasn't allowed to do his summer work at all. His owl had been promptly locked inside her cage and ordered to keep quiet or she'd be on the menu for Sunday dinner. Draco had clearly heard his uncle threaten that if Potter ever breathed a word about what went on under their roof he'd be sure to leave nothing for the authourites to find. Needless to say Draco was in a turmoil. He wanted to help yet he didn't. What do I care if he's abused? It's not like he'd care if it was me in his position. But he knew better. As annoying as Potter was he knew that if he'd known Draco was in need he'd be there. It was just the kind of annoyingly honorable type he was. He threw back the covers, giving up entirely on the idea of getting any sleep as he set about gathering together certain useful items. Okay! So he was going to help Potter. But he'd be damned if he told Potter he'd done it. He could at least retain some shred of dignity.
Auothors Note- Ok, this chapter is realy short because I'm getting a feel for the plot. If you want me to continue please let me know by R&R. I'd greatly appreciate it.