Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't be writing for free.
Following from this, I make no money from it.
Hi. This is a little drabble shaped thing which came into my head, and I had to upload it because I haven't posted in about five million years. Enjoy :)
Sometimes Harry hates him, with an intensity that's terrifying. Sometimes he looks at Draco's pale, unblemished skin, and wants nothing more than to bruise it, and leave it blue and black and purple and ugly. Sometimes he wants to break that perfectly straight, aristocratic nose, sometimes he wants to let his fists fly and ruin his pretty, perfect face permanently.
Sometimes Draco hates Harry too, in a surge of emotion he didn't know he was capable of feeling. Sometimes he looks at the bottle green eyes, and wants to gouge them, to blind him, to do anything to stop Harry looking at him with the unrestrained feeling in them. Sometimes he looks at Harry's scar, and wants nothing more than to mark the rest of the Chosen One's body in the same way, to leave Harry with the same silvery scars across his chest that Draco has; a remainder from their school days.
Sometimes, when Harry is yelling and screaming and raging himself hoarse, and Draco is doing his best imitation of an immovable statue, when Harry's violent inferno is meeting the strength of the ice sculpture that is Draco Malfoy, they hate each other, with the sort of uncontrollable passion neither of them have ever felt for anyone else.
And sometimes, when they are together, and neither of them have mentioned parents, or wives, or political affiliations, when Harry is listening to what Draco says, and Draco is actually saying something… when they are together, in that sublime state, they look at each other, and hate themselves, for feeling that way.
Told you it was short.
Thanks for reaading!