Pain and Pleasure
A/n: hello people! So this is the prequel of Hate and love, another of my one-shot. I asked whether I should write about their past encounter and most of you wanted me to and were eager to read its prequel, so here it is. I sincerely hope you enjoy this.
Disclaimer- I would say it outright that I don't own HP.
People say that there is a thin line between love and hate. Maybe that is true maybe that is not. But a fact born out of that notion is definitely true. We often overlook it or don't notice it when it happens with us all the time. The thing is-
Pain and pleasure have thin line too in between.
In fact, it is so thin, almost negligible that we end up crossing from one way to other and vice versa. We never realize it. When our pain turns into pleasure.
Do you know why people like violence? It is because it feels good. They find violence deeply satisfying. But remove the satisfaction and the act becomes hollow. It holds no meaning. People like to bully and laugh on others' price and it is not because they are essentially bad people. No, it feels good that you are part of something bigger. The power feels so good.
But with the power comes duties and with action comes consequences.
Have you ever had a cut from knife and watched the blood flow in sink, dripping from your finger. When you press the skin around the cut, the blood flow increases, but when you leave it, it stops eventually. The power we feel in that little moment on our lives can't be rivaled.
Have you ever felt so angry that you hit yourself or maybe hit others? When you have hit, it feels oddly calming. The sense of power and pleasure. Some think it is sick, a sadistic thing to do. But when you unwrap the layers of a human being, that sadistic thing; the pleasure from angry actions, you'll find it in everyone. Everyone loves power; some admit it while some don't.
But pleasure derived from pain, in hate is something different altogether. People often write about enemies falling in love. The notion of 'two lovers against the world' is quite fascinating I would admit. But is it enough?
Don't we all love some unfaithfulness, or secrecy or even infidelity sometimes? We do. The element of secret and mystery, the fear of discovery and all makes it our guilty pleasure. Same goes with anger and pleasure. The red hot anger boiling inside us, the wild animalistic urges.
Why do you think we say 'fuck you' to people when we are extremely angry? It is not because it is some cool slang, no. The deep urge inside us to see that person tortured or hit is the reason. The urge to really have that person fucked, and fucked hard is our deep inner thinking.
When two enemies see in each other's eyes, they see the anger, the fire. The fire that comes from hating someone, deeply and passionately, ignites us, makes us feel that rush. So the pleasure derived from pain and anger burns us yet makes us feel alive.
The second wizarding war had taken its toll on both the sides. The lives were dull and colorless. All the time was consumed up by planning and plotting attacks. Draco's life was pretty much hollow now. He had not been allowed to return to the school that year. He was expected to fulfill his duties of being a death eater. He was ordered to lead attacks on muggle towns.
While other death eaters were satisfied in torturing muggles and hearing their screams, Draco was sick of it. He derived no pleasure in torturing people. He wasn't that crazy. He was to some extent scared that this was all too much than what he bargained for. Sure he knew his side and believed the pereblood notions to some extent. But his life never seemed to be as dull as it was now.
He witnessed his so called fellow death eaters raiding towns, torturing males, raping the females and even some young girls and then leaving them there to die. It all seemed so much barbaric to him. On one side they preached of pure blood and being high and mighty while on the other hand they sunk to such lows as raping muggles. He was sick of the double standards and the monotony of his life.
And just when he thought that the three prisoners brought in Manor on that day would be the usual; torture, rape, killing. When he saw the three prisoners being dragged up to the doors of Malfoy Manor, he instantly recognized them. Soon he was called by his maniac of an aunt to identify them.
The moment he met her eyes, the world stopped. There was that fire he was missing, burning brightly in her eyes. She was being restrained by a snatcher, her clothes covered in soot, her face contorted in panic, her wild curls flying open. But her eyes, they were alight and it ignited his core.
Then he realized what he was missing. He was missing his spitfire. He derived no pleasure from the tortures or rapes or raids because they never resisted. All of the muggle didn't know about wizarding world and its war. The muggles feared them. When their houses were set on fire, they were tortured mercilessly, all they had was fear. None of them resisted them or stood up; they feared their death that much.
And all throughout his school-life, he never had that. Whenever he mocked other students, he never quite got the satisfaction. He always targeted the golden trio because their reactions satisfied them. He taunted them and called them names but they never backed down. They gave him as much as he gave them. His best friend once suggested that he craved their response. Of course at that time it seemed ludicrous.
Draco Malfoy didn't do such childish things. But in reality, the animosity between him and the dunderhead duo was a childish feud.
Now, they were in a war. Draco was made to grow up and mature far beyond his actual age. While he should have still been a 17 year old teenage boy with raging hormones, school, girlfriends and even childish fights, he was made to mature up to be a sort of leader in the death eater clan. He was expected to lead fights and raid. He was expected to be actively involved in a long term massacre plan where he should be glad he was not on the slaughter side.
Looking in her eyes made him realize how much more he exactly signed up for. It made him realize that this war was just a barbaric fight for so called blood purity. This war would cost them heavy at end; no matter which side won. The political results would be devastating. Sure he realized the shit about blood purity and the large rubbish propaganda Voldemort had proposed and they followed. But he was still a Malfoy and Malfoys were always for power and self-preservation.
In that moment, looking in her fiery brown eyes, Draco realized no matter the outcome, he was screwed.
So if he was screwed, what was a little step going to do such as him stopping his aunt bella and asking for Granger.
'So you want her for yourself? I see you do have better taste than your father and others. I knew you would never sully yourself with a mudblood, or worse, a muggle. She is all yours nephew.' Bellatrix cackled like a maniac bint and left the hall.
Harry and Ron were dragged to the dungeons by the snatchers and his father. They were screaming for Hermione to not to worry and that they will save her. But once their eyes locked, the world faded away. He looked in her eyes. Sure, the fire he craved was there but there was confusion too, and he even saw a hint of panic. He was confused now. Why would she be panicked? Did he think he would actually force himself on her?
He masked his expression to be blank, staring at the girl sitting on the rich plush carpet. He risked a glance at his mother and regretted it. Her mother maintained a blank face perfectly, but did he see a hint of disappointment? Did she think that he would lower himself to such standards as raping a girl? He tried to not let the pain show. He returned his gaze to Hermione.
She was still sitting there. He called his personal house elf, Mandy, and asked her to take Hermione to one of the guest bedroom in the East wing; the only wing not tainted by death eater or by Dark Lord himself. He caught last glimpse of her being approached by Mandy before he turned and headed to his own room.
Once he reached inside his room, he locked the doors. He quickly hopped in the shower, hoping to scrub the war out of his skin. He had maintained a poker face for so long. He had taken part in all the assignment he was given and managed to act like a perfect death eater. But seeing that fire in her eyes made his resolve crack. He wanted more than this genocide of muggles. He wanted to burn in that fire.
As he got clothed, he pondered about how far his power and influence inside the inner circle would help him.
He sat on a chair and thought for long before a knock interrupted his train of thoughts. He opened the door and was greeted with the sight of Granger in a particularly beautiful silver gown. If it was some other time, he would have risked saying that she looked beautiful. But there she stood in an utterly feminine gown accentuating her petite figure with a perfect mask and fire in her eyes. Daunted beauty.
'Come in Granger to my humble parch.' He said letting her in.
'I would have said that it is quite impressive if I didn't know of your intentions already.' She snapped.
He spotted that fire again, even if just for some seconds, before she resumed the blank expression.
'Is that so Ms. Granger? Do make yourself comfortable, we have a lot to talk about.' I said and she snorted.
'You don't agree I see.' I said pouring us some red wine.
'If you want to rape me then do it and be done with it.' She snapped, the fire returning in her eyes.
'If that was all I would've wanted from you, I would've left you at my aunt's mercy Granger.' I said giving her a glass, which she took after eyeing it skeptically.
'So Granger, I heard you broke into the Ministry, is that true.' I asked sitting on the once used to be study table.
'I did what I had to for my side.' She said.
'And I do what I must for my side.' I said.
'Oh and what side is that, who kill people for just existing without magic?' she demanded, her eyes ablaze
'Think what you must Granger. The Dark Lord will continue this mad rampage in the whole Britain if your precious potter doesn't surrender or die.' He said looking at her face. He could feel her mind spinning.
'You're asking me to negotiate or surrender?' she said lifting her head up and looking him in eyes.
'No, I offer you a chance to escape such misery with me.' He said taking a sip of his wine.
'And you suddenly care because?'
'I don't have even a tiniest of clue as to why but you, only you seem to make me feel. I don't blame you for not trusting me; you fight as if the blood of Merlin himself courses through your veins. No, I blame this society that has brought us up to be enemies.' He said looking in her eyes and the honesty shocked her.
'If you have realized the error in your ways then why not join the light side?' she asked coming near and standing beside him.
He snorted at that comment and got down from the table. His spitfire could be so naïve sometime. How could he explain to her the adamant rules and structures of wizarding society.
'And then what Granger? You expect if I join your side, it would end up all merry? They don't care for us. You blame me for calling you beneath me but you would stick with those who didn't stand up for you? No matter which side wins the war, it'll end in disaster for you. The two brainless boys you call your best friends have used you and your knowledge over the years and still you want to fight for them? The second you reject Weasly's proposal to marry him and have his children, the Weasly clan will push you aside like a reject too. That's your light side and you still want to fight for them?' he asked keeping both of his hands on either side of her and trapping her.
She looked to be thinking but the fire never left her eyes.
'And you propose I run away like a coward with you?' she asked.
'Yes. I have never lied to you about how I feel about you and I am saying this, you make me feel alive. For some unknown reason, I crave your fiery presence in my life. I want to you to burn with that fire you have in your eyes but I also want to burn with you. All this blood purity propaganda and shitty life of a death eater tears me apart. I crave that fire inside you to be alive. Burn with me each night and be born again from the ashes in the morning.' He said that kissed her square on lips.
The kiss was hard and rough. It was fiery and passionate. There were no jolts of electricity, just raw passion.
Draco pulled her close reveling in the fire that her kiss provided. He had many girls in his bed but none of them could satisfy his quench for rawness. There was many he fucked; because making love was not his type, but this one kiss with his nemesis's best friend, the girl he had taunted for 6 years, was more than he ever got out of those meaningless fucks.
He pushed her in the table and she wrapped one leg around him. He could hear her moan. He roughly tore the front of her dress, feeling no regret of destroying such a beautiful dress. She returned the favor by ripping his shirt off him and unbuttoning his trousers. He took a hold of her locks and pulled her to lie on the table.
In one swift move, he filled her completely. She cried out with pain but he thrust himself in her roughly and kissed her neck. She took a hold of his platinum locks and pulled his face up for another rough and fiery kiss while matching him thrust by thrust.
She screamed in pain and pleasure as he hit her g-spot and pulled him close. He kissed her roughly and increased his pace. She wrapped both of her legs around him and he stood straight pulling off the remaining piece of her clothing hastily. Then he slammed her in a wall and continued ramming in her. She pushed her head back and cried out in pain and pleasure; her fingers leaving marks on his biceps.
'You can fuck Malfoy.' She un-wrapped her legs and stood for a moment.
'It's Draco.' He said breathlessly and drags her to the table.
He bends her over and enters in her from behind. She cries out and holds the edge of the table so tightly, her knuckles turn white. He slams in her hard before flipping her over. He pushes in a few times before they both come tumbling down.
As he stays in that position, with her trapped and their bodies touching. He grabs her hair and pulls her in for a kiss while she grabs his hair and pulls him closer.
This kiss was different. It was fiery and passionate but in that kiss, he felt the world came to a stop. For the moment it was just both of them, him kissing her with all he had and she responding with equal fervor, pulling him closer than is humanly possible.
The rise and fall of both of their chests, every body part touching, the feel of her full lips, the warmth. In that moment, the fire within both of them had engulfed them, was burning them and them both relished in it.
When the kiss ended, he asked just one question.
'Would you come with me?'
And all she said was one word in a breathless voice.
'No.'
A/n: so how was it? Bad? Good? Okay? Please tell me your views. This is a prequel of 'hate and love' but both stories can stand alone as well.
I hope you liked it.
And to my regular faithful readers, I have figured out next chp for ALTM. I will post it soon, I promise.
Whatever you feel about the story, my other stories or myself, please let me know. I'll try to do better and better. Constructive criticism is welcome.