A/N: Damnit. This was supposed to be a drabble. Twelve extra words. I just wanted to write something to the point that yet explored their relationship a bit.
Of all the people in the world he could blame, Potter was the easiest, the closest, and the most convenient.
It was rather unconvenient, however, to invest so much of his life in someone he pretended to hate.
"Christ, you're good at this."
Of course I am, Draco thought. For one, I've been practicing in my head for years, and I'm also just plain good at this.
His psychoanalyist called it misplaced affection. He had a lot of misplaced affection.
Potter had killed every man he had ever trusted and looked up to.
His tongue ran up the shaft of Potter's dick, and Potter moaned. Pale hands clenched on lightly tanned knees.