Hello everyone! This is my very first Harry Potter fanfiction! Yay! Now I
have to warn you all, this contains yaoi that is boy/boy stuff. If you
don't like stuff like that, DON'T READ!! This first part is a little
angsty...Draco is reflecting on how he feels about Harry. It does get
happier! Maybe...haven't decided yet
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything! I don't own Harry! ::sobs:: or Draco ::breaks down hysterically:: SO DON'T SUE ME!!!!!!
*thoughts* (sorry...italics wouldn't work for some reason...)
Chapter 1
Draco entered the seventh year boys' dormitory and kicked out two other Slytherins with a murderous glare. Neither one wanted to be on the receiving end of Draco's rage so they left without hesitation. He fell on top of his bed, sobbing. Grateful for a moment that no one would be stupid enough to eavesdrop on him, then he stopped being grateful. What did he have to be grateful about? Nothing, absolutely nothing. He played the scene in his head over, and over, and over, and over again. Each time getting more intense. More crisp. More painful. He had been fighting with Weasley and had insulted his family. But what was he supposed to do? Weasley had insulted his family! It was retaliation! It was fucking self defense!
Of course he couldn't blame Weasley, not really, what the idiot had said was right. Draco's family was just a bunch of brainless drones following the Dark Lord. That's all Draco was. All he ever would be. Just another minion of a crazed mud blood who would slaughter him in an instant should he be taken over by a case of paranoia. That was the life intended for him. The life his father held in the highest esteem. But hearing someone else say what he knew hadn't hurt. What had hurt was never said. Harry came up and pulled his friend away, like always, but saved a second to glance at Draco. That look destroyed him.
*The way you looked at me. Can I describe it? I doubt it. You despise me, don't you? Of course you do. You always have. That's the way it is, isn't it? You hate me and I hate you. Gryffindor against Slytherin. Potter against Malfoy. You against me. And that's how it will always be. Always! That's how I was told was natural! It's natural for me to hate the one who destroyed my "master". Draco grunted. Master. Voldemort is not my master. My family's, yes, but not mine. I never had a master, and I was damn proud of that. I had no one who kept an unending bond on me. I would leave my family's home once I was old enough. I would get away, far away, from the one who considered himself my master. My father. Damn him. I never had a master, except you. You forced an unending bond with me against my will and without your knowledge. Damn you.*
*Do you know what you do to me Harry? Do realize how many times I stay up at night fearing for your life, terrified that a member of my family may take it from you, and in your very last moments the thought most prominent in your mind is I might as well have been the one to kill you? Or how many times I lay awake fearing for my life, which I would most certainly lose if my father discovered I was in love with you? I don't fear for myself as much as I fear for you. I love you so much. I never loved before. Never. You forced me to love you. How could you? How could you hate me so much that you would do such a horrible thing to me?*
*The way you do everything leaves me breathless. The way you move with a certain clumsy grace, the way you fly, making it look as if that's where you belong. The way your hair is always attractively messy. How you have a scent that is uniquely yours. That scent kills me. I love it. And your eyes, they're hypnotic. Beautiful green, too green for real eyes. They're always shining, always piercing, but always spiteful when looking at me. What I wouldn't give to see them as your friends see them. Or better yet, as your lovers see them. You haven't ever had any lovers before, have you? You couldn't have, your too sweet and too innocent for that. Besides, if you had, I would have heard. I've been listening for such rumors. They never come. If it had happened, the whole school would know. Who in their right mind would want to keep being with the most beautiful boy in the world a secret? I wouldn't. Unless you wanted me to. God, I love you.*
*I always thought you were cute, ever since our third year at least. But in our sixth year, you changed. A lot. You grew taller, taller than me, you were muscular but still lithe, your skin had a golden brown hue from the sun, and you had mended your eyesight and no longer needed those horrid glasses. I hated those glasses. They made it harder for me to see your eyes. Every time you came near me I could feel my heart pounding, my breath hitching, and worse of all, I didn't care. I didn't care that I was becoming so weak for you, not just for your body, but for you. Your idealistic notions and how you're compassionate to a fault. I couldn't care that I was weak, you wouldn't let me care. You made everything seem worthwhile. Every risk that I took to see you without you knowing, all the times I could have been caught and found out by my father didn't matter. I loved you, and I still do.*
*But you don't love me. No, you hate me. I'm nothing to you except your unknown slave. I don't like being a slave to you, but I am. I love you so much it hurts. It feels as if I'm dying from the inside out, like I'm becoming completely empty and it pains me to feel that way. I don't want it to hurt anymore. You and I will never be together because you could never bring yourself to that level. I know that you're too good for me. You know that too. You will never be mine. I'll never get to hold you, kiss you, and whisper in your ear that I love you and smile as you giggle and snuggle into my embrace, whispering that you love me back. No. That will never be mine. I'm too jaded for all that. I'm not the beautiful, kind hearted lover you deserve.*
*I live for you, Harry. My entire world is for you. I'd kill for you, bleed for you, die for you. I love you. But, again, you don't love me. If you don't, then what's the point to my life? There is none. My purpose is to love you, but I can't do that if I get nothing in return. The agony is too great for that.*
Draco slowly slid off his bed and wiped away his tears with his sleeves. He looked with fogy eyes at the trunk that sat at the foot of the bed. He wrenched it open and clawed through its contents with all the fever of a hysterical person. Suddenly, the weeping boy stopped. His eyes lost their tearful glaze and he saw clearly. Too long he had put himself through this. Too long had he put Harry through the suffering of his existence. He leisurely pulled out a long, slender, recently sharpened knife he had stolen from the kitchens. He walked trance-like to the middle of the room, knelt on the floor, and pressed the cold metal to his wrist. He stared transfixed as the crimson poured from him.
*Crimson...that's one of the colors from Harry's house. It's beautiful...*
He turned his attention to the other wrist, slashing it in a quicker, and more desperate manner.
*It hurts...* he laid down on the floor completely, for some reason feeling very tired and cold. *It hurts, but not as much as it hurts to be without Harry. I love him. I will never hurt him this way. He won't have to worry about me. Why is it so damn cold? It would be warmer if Harry was here, holding me. But he isn't here.*
The objects of the room began to fade and darken. Draco could no longer hold consciousness, with his breath stilled, and eyes closed, he was immersed in complete darkness .
I killed Draco?? O.o Oh my....Please review ^_^
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything! I don't own Harry! ::sobs:: or Draco ::breaks down hysterically:: SO DON'T SUE ME!!!!!!
*thoughts* (sorry...italics wouldn't work for some reason...)
Chapter 1
Draco entered the seventh year boys' dormitory and kicked out two other Slytherins with a murderous glare. Neither one wanted to be on the receiving end of Draco's rage so they left without hesitation. He fell on top of his bed, sobbing. Grateful for a moment that no one would be stupid enough to eavesdrop on him, then he stopped being grateful. What did he have to be grateful about? Nothing, absolutely nothing. He played the scene in his head over, and over, and over, and over again. Each time getting more intense. More crisp. More painful. He had been fighting with Weasley and had insulted his family. But what was he supposed to do? Weasley had insulted his family! It was retaliation! It was fucking self defense!
Of course he couldn't blame Weasley, not really, what the idiot had said was right. Draco's family was just a bunch of brainless drones following the Dark Lord. That's all Draco was. All he ever would be. Just another minion of a crazed mud blood who would slaughter him in an instant should he be taken over by a case of paranoia. That was the life intended for him. The life his father held in the highest esteem. But hearing someone else say what he knew hadn't hurt. What had hurt was never said. Harry came up and pulled his friend away, like always, but saved a second to glance at Draco. That look destroyed him.
*The way you looked at me. Can I describe it? I doubt it. You despise me, don't you? Of course you do. You always have. That's the way it is, isn't it? You hate me and I hate you. Gryffindor against Slytherin. Potter against Malfoy. You against me. And that's how it will always be. Always! That's how I was told was natural! It's natural for me to hate the one who destroyed my "master". Draco grunted. Master. Voldemort is not my master. My family's, yes, but not mine. I never had a master, and I was damn proud of that. I had no one who kept an unending bond on me. I would leave my family's home once I was old enough. I would get away, far away, from the one who considered himself my master. My father. Damn him. I never had a master, except you. You forced an unending bond with me against my will and without your knowledge. Damn you.*
*Do you know what you do to me Harry? Do realize how many times I stay up at night fearing for your life, terrified that a member of my family may take it from you, and in your very last moments the thought most prominent in your mind is I might as well have been the one to kill you? Or how many times I lay awake fearing for my life, which I would most certainly lose if my father discovered I was in love with you? I don't fear for myself as much as I fear for you. I love you so much. I never loved before. Never. You forced me to love you. How could you? How could you hate me so much that you would do such a horrible thing to me?*
*The way you do everything leaves me breathless. The way you move with a certain clumsy grace, the way you fly, making it look as if that's where you belong. The way your hair is always attractively messy. How you have a scent that is uniquely yours. That scent kills me. I love it. And your eyes, they're hypnotic. Beautiful green, too green for real eyes. They're always shining, always piercing, but always spiteful when looking at me. What I wouldn't give to see them as your friends see them. Or better yet, as your lovers see them. You haven't ever had any lovers before, have you? You couldn't have, your too sweet and too innocent for that. Besides, if you had, I would have heard. I've been listening for such rumors. They never come. If it had happened, the whole school would know. Who in their right mind would want to keep being with the most beautiful boy in the world a secret? I wouldn't. Unless you wanted me to. God, I love you.*
*I always thought you were cute, ever since our third year at least. But in our sixth year, you changed. A lot. You grew taller, taller than me, you were muscular but still lithe, your skin had a golden brown hue from the sun, and you had mended your eyesight and no longer needed those horrid glasses. I hated those glasses. They made it harder for me to see your eyes. Every time you came near me I could feel my heart pounding, my breath hitching, and worse of all, I didn't care. I didn't care that I was becoming so weak for you, not just for your body, but for you. Your idealistic notions and how you're compassionate to a fault. I couldn't care that I was weak, you wouldn't let me care. You made everything seem worthwhile. Every risk that I took to see you without you knowing, all the times I could have been caught and found out by my father didn't matter. I loved you, and I still do.*
*But you don't love me. No, you hate me. I'm nothing to you except your unknown slave. I don't like being a slave to you, but I am. I love you so much it hurts. It feels as if I'm dying from the inside out, like I'm becoming completely empty and it pains me to feel that way. I don't want it to hurt anymore. You and I will never be together because you could never bring yourself to that level. I know that you're too good for me. You know that too. You will never be mine. I'll never get to hold you, kiss you, and whisper in your ear that I love you and smile as you giggle and snuggle into my embrace, whispering that you love me back. No. That will never be mine. I'm too jaded for all that. I'm not the beautiful, kind hearted lover you deserve.*
*I live for you, Harry. My entire world is for you. I'd kill for you, bleed for you, die for you. I love you. But, again, you don't love me. If you don't, then what's the point to my life? There is none. My purpose is to love you, but I can't do that if I get nothing in return. The agony is too great for that.*
Draco slowly slid off his bed and wiped away his tears with his sleeves. He looked with fogy eyes at the trunk that sat at the foot of the bed. He wrenched it open and clawed through its contents with all the fever of a hysterical person. Suddenly, the weeping boy stopped. His eyes lost their tearful glaze and he saw clearly. Too long he had put himself through this. Too long had he put Harry through the suffering of his existence. He leisurely pulled out a long, slender, recently sharpened knife he had stolen from the kitchens. He walked trance-like to the middle of the room, knelt on the floor, and pressed the cold metal to his wrist. He stared transfixed as the crimson poured from him.
*Crimson...that's one of the colors from Harry's house. It's beautiful...*
He turned his attention to the other wrist, slashing it in a quicker, and more desperate manner.
*It hurts...* he laid down on the floor completely, for some reason feeling very tired and cold. *It hurts, but not as much as it hurts to be without Harry. I love him. I will never hurt him this way. He won't have to worry about me. Why is it so damn cold? It would be warmer if Harry was here, holding me. But he isn't here.*
The objects of the room began to fade and darken. Draco could no longer hold consciousness, with his breath stilled, and eyes closed, he was immersed in complete darkness .
I killed Draco?? O.o Oh my....Please review ^_^
