Author: Sazmuffin
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine
Ship: Ron/Dracp
A/N: This is male on male slash. If you don't like it, don't read it. I respect your opinion, and quite frankly? I expect you to respect mine.
I love it when he smiles. Like the rays of the sun hitting a chandelier, the slices of light glistening beautifully. I love it when he jokes or laughs or says anything at all. I love him like a cold glass of pumpkin juice in June.
I hate it how he looks at me. Somewhat similar to that of an insect that needs to be squashed, its insides strewn across a sidewalk. I hate how I look at him, how we talk to each other, how we treat each other.
Secretly and silently, we both know of the other's infatuation. Sometimes you just know, no matter how uncomprehensible it sounds, how different it may be, how it could even be fathomed is a miracle to me. But that's what makes it all the more conceivable. That it could never be conceived.
"Are you seducing me?" he had asked.
I wasn't seducing him. I was capturing him.
I had to have him. The fact that we couldn't be together was silently devouring me from the core. I didn't love him - I was captivated, owned, enslaved by him. It wasn't easy to contain myself around him. His scent, his voice, his heart beating wildly in his chest made me all the more allured by him.
He never seemed as attracted to me as I was to him, always keeping his distance and staying away from me. That is, whenever we weren't together. Our "meetings," for lack of a better word, were passionate and lustful.
I threw him against the shelf and drew him into an embrace that was drawn by da Vinci himself. Passion, rage, and guilt poured from the kiss, as we released our bottled emotions on the other. Punching, kissing, scratching, insulting, licking. My cracked and dry skin rubbed against his, sweet and soft and delectable.
As I stood next him, his breathing was ragged as he gazed at me. Sweat lined his brow and his eyes radiated love and worry. I knew in my heart he still wasn't comfortable with himself, and all I was doing was pushing him further.
But I couldn't stop. I needed this. The kind of raw passion and longing I never knew as a child. Whatever I learned that didn't have to do with dark magic, I was told to forget. The integrity and courage I developed were soon placed by greed and terror and a thirst for things to be how they once were.
I was red, shielded by walls of green. I never wanted to be what I am now. I never imagined my life would take such a drastic turn as this. Being asked to murder just to up someone's reputation in the world seemed to me as pointless as a dull needle.
And that's why I made sure the kiss I gave Ron was in front of the Potions classroom. In front of Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy. In front of Potter and Granger. In front of the rest of Slytherins and Gryffindors. But especially, Snape.
I made sure by the time I finished, Ron's cheeks red from the heat, that his eyes double their size, and that his lips raw and bleeding.
I made sure their faces agape, their minds boggled, and a thick layer of fog lay in their minds.
And I waited.