Author's Note: I had to write my NoTP, which is Drarry. It was horribly painful, and I need chocolate and Firewhiskey now. I wrote more for it than I thought I would, though, and ended up cutting about 200 words. Turns out, I need a lot to make Drarry seem possible in my mind. I'm not sure I even completely achieved it. XD But it's written! And NoTP rounds are pure evil! Prompts are at the end.

Reviews are my life-blood. If you read and enjoy this, please leave me a review.

This is dedicated to the lovely Arty, who is not only an adorable orca but who likes Drarry. Hope this makes you feel a bit better. :)

Warning: Slash

Word Count: 3,989

The night came crashing down upon us, pinpricks of stars peeking through the window. We left it open every time, daring the moon to watch as we slipped into paradise, though the world considered it sin. I didn't care. The moon would keep our secret, as it had for decades already.

We were tangled up in limbs and bed sheets. Though I hated the vulnerability of being on bottom, I allowed this one moment of weakness. Every touch set me on fire, unleashing a desire within me that burned. I wanted to push harder until we were one, sharing the same heartbeat and the same soul.

I had spent my life chasing after him to no avail. I didn't believe in love at first sight, but there was certainly something to be said about loathing someone from the start. I was still chasing him, running trembling fingers over sweaty, slick skin as I pulled him closer. I could hold him for the moment but never truly possess him.

Outside, the moon smiled down. It had seen our implausible courtship; the three of us shared something the world could never know. Besides, the night was made for demons like me, and though he looked very much like an angel by day, there was a demon hiding in those green eyes, too.

...oOo...

From the moment we met, I hated the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Potter, Harry."

A hush fell over the Great Hall the moment his name was called, as if everyone was waiting with baited breath for him to make an appearance. But why? There was nothing particularly special about him.

In fact, everything about him was detestable, from his half-blood status to the way people walked on eggshells around him like he was some idol to be worshiped, like an angel come to save wizard-kind. Only I saw him for what he really was. There was nothing redeeming about those emerald eyes. Within them was hidden a darkness that I knew well; it was reflected in my own steel-gray eyes. We weren't so different.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Great Hall erupted into applause. It was an acceptable house for a hero to be in, so everyone was thrilled. What a farce.

We weren't that different, yet we were foils. Where Potter was a Gryffindor, I was a Slytherin. Potter possessed all the potential in the world, whereas I was doomed to follow the Malfoy name. My story was already written, so could they really blame me for giving in?

When the Dark Lord fell, Potter was immediately cast as the hero. That meant that I must have been the villain; it was the most fitting role for a Slytherin, after all. It suited me just fine.

I watched from across the room as Potter took a seat at the Gryffindor table, receiving a warm welcome from his housemates. It made me sick just watching it.

Before the Sorting had even finished, I made up my mind. I was going to destroy Harry Potter, whatever the cost, and show the world the sort of person their savior really was.

...oOo...

I stared at the stranger in the mirror: the jutting cheekbones, the sallow skin, the sunken eyes. Is this what I had become? My body was trembling, and I couldn't seem to stop it. The sobs tore at my throat, and despite my attempts to restrain them, they broke free. I couldn't stop the tears any more than I could change my destiny.

Then he was there. Potter. He had a bad habit of showing up at the worst times.

"I know what you did," he said as he pulled his wand.

No, he didn't know anything at all. How could he? Mr. Perfect, Mr. Hero, the Boy-Who-Lived. Everything was handed to him, and he had to work for nothing. Very little was actually expected of him. He had no family name to live up to, no burden to inherit. I had nothing to say to him, so I drew my wand, too.

The bathroom erupted in flashes and explosions. The mirror next to me shattered into a thousand pieces, and I was glad to be rid of the stranger. I was tired of looking at his face. A poorly aimed spell on my part unleashed a geyser of water, and it quickly flooded the floor.

I had to find Potter. He was there somewhere. I could destroy him. It would be so easy. Then I'd be rid of him forever. I rounded a corner and there he was, but I didn't raise my wand. There was something about those emerald eyes that caught me off guard, a flash of steel in them that penetrated me to the core. There was something distinctly Slytherin about them that seemed to oddly suit the Gryffindor.

I didn't even hear the spell, but pain erupted in my chest as I was knocked off my feet. Everything throbbed, like my innards were vying to escape, like something was clawing its way out. Is this how it would end? It was fitting, I supposed, after I had spent so much time in his shadow, that it would be Potter.

The last thing I saw, before succumbing to the darkness, was a cloud of black overtaking those green eyes.

...oOo...

It was never meant to end like this. I wanted to destroy Potter, yes, but not this way. Not when everyone needed him the most.

Get up.

Potter remained in the dirt, motionless, as if he hadn't heard the silent plea.

I had acted every bit according to my role—the Malfoy with a Mark, the Slytherin as a Death Eater. I'd done everything expected of me. That meant that this was all my fault, and the realization formed a knot in my throat that made it hard to breathe. I was the villain, after all, wasn't I? It wasn't all that surprising. But bad guys don't get to win. That's not the way it works.

Get up, Potter.

This was never what I wanted, but no one had ever asked. It was simply what was expected of me, being a Malfoy. No one had ever asked Potter, either, I supposed, if this was what he wanted. It couldn't be. No one wanted to be a martyr, did they?

Everyone was watching him—sad eyes, scared eyes, eyes filled with love. I hated it. None of it made sense. What had he ever done to make them love him so? Nothing. Yet, as I looked around the group, it was obvious. He had what I didn't, what I had always wanted. He was loved. Maybe, in the end, the why didn't really matter. Whether there was a reason or not, he was loved.

Get. Up. Now. Potter.

Almost as if in response to my thoughts, the body stirred, and Potter slowly picked himself off the ground. Despite the situation I was in, I found myself smiling. It was the most ludicrous, absurd thing ever, but there I was.

Never had I been so thrilled to see the darkness billowing in those green eyes.

...oOo...

"As I'm sure you're well aware, Mr. Malfoy, after this year at Hogwarts, you will need to decide what course the rest of your life will take. Have you given any thought to what you want to pursue as a career?"

Headmistress McGonagall pursed her lips and waited patiently, scrutinizing me with steely eyes. I was amazed to even have been allowed to come back for my final year at Hogwarts, so I certainly never imagined I'd be sitting there getting career advice.

"I have."

"Oh?"

She raised her eyebrows as an open invitation for me to continue.

Truth was that I couldn't do what I wanted. I was tired of playing the villain, so I first considered becoming an Auror. With Father's influence, I was sure it would take no time for me to progress through the ranks. But earlier in the year, Potter had started his own Auror training, and to say that I was sick of chasing after him would be putting it mildly.

"I was thinking of joining the Department of Magical Artifacts. What with Father's extensive collection and with my small collection, it seems like a natural fit."

"There are a lot of branches there. Hunter, Researcher, Keeper."

"Hunter. Definitely Hunter."

"And you're sure this is what you want?"

I faltered as the Headmistress knitted her eyebrows at me. I'm sure she expected me to back down. They all did. But I was tired of being Malfoy the Death Eater. I wanted the Malfoy name to mean something again, the way it used to before Voldemort came along. I wanted to find a way to move out of Potter's shadow, because I couldn't stand the thought of living there for a second longer.

There would come a day when he would discover his own darkness, and I was determined not to be there to see that. He couldn't stay the hero forever any more than I would remain the villain.

"Yes. This is what I want."

...oOo...

The rock above my head exploded in a flash of white, and I let out a string of curse words as I ducked lower. Green eyes regarded me with amusement, as if he hadn't thought I was capable of such blatant swearing. The situation we were in wasn't his fault, but I blamed him just the same. He wasn't even supposed to be there. I had been so sure that Potter was out of my life for good, and then he came ambling back in with no regard at all.

"Will you keep your damned head down?" he snapped, pushing hard against my skull until I finally scooted lower to the ground.

"Never knew you cared so much, Potter," I grumbled, peeking out from the side of the rock. We had managed to incapacitate two of the would-be thieves, but that left five more to contend with, and I could only see three from our vantage point.

"I don't." Potter grabbed my collar and yanked me towards him. "I just don't intend to get fired because you were stupid and got yourself blown up."

"I don't need you here, you know." I shoved his hand off of me and threw a curse over the rock. There was a small explosion and then a cry. That was one more injured, at least, but I didn't dare stick my head out to check as a fresh barrage of curses were hurled against our protective spell.

"Clearly, Burgmeier didn't agree. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here. Trust me."

Ah, yes, Burgmeier. I had several choice words for him when we got back. I was the best Hunter in the DMA, he had said, so he had wanted me on the mission, no one else. Top secret. I wasn't even allowed to know what artifact it was that I had to retrieve. Of course, he was smart enough to wait until I had left to send a Patronus message. I was to meet up with an Auror as an escort as an added precaution. By the time I realized I was stuck with Potter, it was far too late to do anything about it.

"Let's just get this over, shall we? The sooner we deliver this to Burgmeier, the sooner we can be on our way."

The sooner I can get rid of you is what I had really wanted to say, but Potter seemed to get the message loud and clear regardless.

"If you have any ideas, I'm listening."

"As a matter of fact, I do."

I rooted in the pocket of my robes and pulled out a small box. There were more protections on it than Gringotts, so I couldn't imagine what the thieves thought they would do if they somehow got their hands on it. Still, at least it'd be safe.

I grabbed Potter by the collar and pulled him closer. His green eyes went wide as I shoved my hand down the front of his robes. Something familiar flashed in them, just for a second, and then was gone.

"What are you doing?" he asked, trying to shove my hand away.

"Don't flatter yourself."

I secured the box to his chest with a quick sticking charm before daring to glance one more time around the rock. One of the wizards was holding his wounded leg, and two had moved closer. They were trying to flank us, by the looks of it, but I didn't intend to give them the chance.

"You can't give this to me," Potter hissed, causing me to jump. I hadn't realized he was so close, but I could feel the warm puff of his words in my ear. "You're the Hunter. I'm not allowed to carry this."

"That's exactly the point. Whoever these guys are, they knew about this artifact, and they really want it. They were waiting for us. I'm willing to bet that they know who we are. If I go left, they'll follow me."

"But the rules..."

"Say that I can't let that out of my sight. Who knew I'd be so good at breaking them, huh? Well, except you, I guess."

I turned to the left and drew a deep breath. How long before they figured out I was simply a decoy? Probably not until they caught me. I'd have to make sure that was long enough for Potter to have a chance to get far away. I drew my wand and crouched down, ready to make my move. Before I could, Potter grabbed my wrist and pulled me back.

"Why are you doing this?"

I knew what he meant. I wasn't the hero, and villains didn't sacrifice themselves for some notion of the greater good.

"I'm not the kid I was at Hogwarts, you know," I snapped, yanking my robe from his grasp and smoothing out the wrinkles. Just because I was about to get a slew of curses hurled at me didn't mean I had to sacrifice my Malfoy pride. "I happen to enjoy what I do, thieves and all, and I'm damn good at my job. I'm not doing it for you. Just don't lose that thing, will you? I'd rather not get fired because you were stupid and got yourself blown up, either."

"I happen to be rather good at my job, too, you know."

I didn't doubt it. He was the Boy-Who-Lived. That was the only reason I trusted him with such an important mission. If he could survive death twice, the least he could do was protect a small box, especially one that was attached to him, no less.

With a deep breath, I darted out from our hiding spot, careful to avoid any spells. I was fairly confident in my ability to maintain my protection spell, even on the run, but I didn't particularly want to test my competence, either.

Once I started running, I didn't dare stop, but a quick glance over my shoulder assured me they took the bait. The injured one had stayed behind, but that still left four wizards in hot pursuit. The air sizzled with spells, and it was all I could to block or dodge them.

My lungs burned with every gasping breath, and my legs started to ache. Even so, my pursuers drew closer. There was no outrunning them. I fired off a string of curses as I dove behind a tree and managed to hit one of them squarely in the chest. It wouldn't kill him, but it would at least put him out of commission for a while. That's all I really needed.

The wood splintered above my head, and it was all I could do to roll out of the way before the tree completely erupted with the next spell, showering me with bits of timber. I was just barely able to scramble to my feet before the ground behind me exploded. I fired off another string of curses, but I didn't wait around to see if any hit their mark.

A few minutes of running later, I realized there was nowhere left to go. I'd run out of forest, and all that waited on the other side was an expanse of plain with nowhere to hide. I whirled behind a tree and peeked around the trunk. Three left. I'd survived worse odds.

A flurry of spells rushed at me, and I managed to block the worst of them. A couple slicing spells sheared off bits of my robe—thank Merlin I didn't wear my best one—and one grazed my arm. The first chance I had, I stunned the wizard on the right. Two left, but they seemed determined not to give me another opening.

It was all I could do to block and dodge spells, retreating a step for every step they advanced. I waited, and at the briefest lapse in spells, I stunned another. It was the opening the last thief had been waiting for, and I couldn't recover quick enough to block the spell. With a flash of white, I was thrown backwards, and my wand flew from my hand.

The world was spinning. Through hazy eyes, I could see him approach. It was over. He'd discover that I wasn't carrying the artifact and likely kill me. Not exactly the way I imagined dying, but at the very least, I had managed not to shame the Malfoy name.

Rough hands grabbed my robes, lifting me half off the ground. They searched every pocket but came up empty. There was nothing there to find.

"Where is it?" a rough voice asked, and I spit in his face. With a growl, he threw me back to the ground and drew his wand. "I won't ask again. Where is it?"

I had no intention of answering. Even he must have realized that much.

"Avada kedavra!"

A flash of green, and the thief collapsed on the ground in front of me.

"You came back," I said, squinting up. My eyes were still recovering from the flash, but I could barely make out familiar, green eyes.

"Didn't figure it'd look good if I showed up without the Hunter I was supposed to be protecting."

"Probably for the best. You wouldn't have been able to get that box off otherwise. That sticking spell will only release for my wand."

"You're telling me this now? After you told me to take it and run?"

"Well, I didn't think you'd do it."

"When we make it back, you definitely owe me a drink."

Potter held out his hand, and I allowed him to pull me back to my feet. I had finally managed to escape his shadow, and I didn't want to end up spending the rest of my life chasing him. But there was a weird sheen to his eyes, a sort of lovely light that burned from within. I decided to trust them, just this once. After all, he had saved my life, and Malfoys repay their debts.

...oOo...

"How'd you find me?" I asked, swishing the amber liquid in my glass as Harry plopped down on the bar stool beside me.

"Lucky guess. We drinking to any particular occasion?"

I took a long gulp of alcohol and was surprised to find that I had drained it. I hadn't thought I'd drunk that much, though the fuzziness in my head told me I must have.

"Astoria's pregnant. It seems I'm going to be a father."

"Two more of whatever he's drinking, and I'll take a whiskey," Harry told the bartender before clapping me on the back. "So you're a father-to-be? I'll drink to that."

I wasn't about to argue with someone who was willing to supply me alcohol, but I had so many reserves about being a father. Was I ready for the responsibility? Would I be like my father? Would I be worse? As the what-ifs ran rampant, I downed another glass of alcohol.

"Isn't your wife pregnant, too?" I asked, or at least I tried to. My lips weren't cooperating as well as I intended.

"She is, but at least I know what I'm getting into."

The bar was a small, out-of-the way place run by Muggles. Somewhere no one we knew would run into us, where we could just be two men rather than a Malfoy and a Potter. We'd meet there, on occasion, to share a drink. It'd been going on for years.

Maybe that was why I allowed Harry to Floo me back to Malfoy Manor after the bartender had decided we'd had enough to drink. We made quite the pair, staggering up the stairs to my room, each of us barely keeping the other up.

"Astoria?" Harry asked.

"Gone to her parents' to share the news," I mumbled, waving it off. I didn't want to think of her, not after I'd worked so hard at drinking to forget.

Moonlight filtered through the window of my room, pooling on the hardwood floor. Harry was little more than a shadow outlined in silver. In two steps, he suddenly crossed the room, pressing his lips to mine. They were salty, and when he forced his tongue into my mouth, he tasted like alcohol and chips.

I thought about pushing him away. We were supposed to be enemies, as far as the world was concerned. But there was a shadow in those emerald eyes, reflected in the moonlight, that I found irresistible. There was something about myself that I saw reflected in it.

With the moon as a witness, I let my Muggle clothes fall by the wayside, and I took him until we both shuddered with release.

...oOo...

"Do you have everything, dear?" Astoria ran her hand along Scorpius' head, smoothing his hair into place.

"I'm fine, Mother."

Scorpius pushed her hand away with a disgusted look, and I couldn't help but smile. He was the spitting image of me in many ways—still a boy, yearning to find his way as a man. He was ready to start Hogwarts, even if his mother wasn't.

From across the platform, I caught sight of another eleven-year-old who was also the spitting image of his father, from the messy hair to the emerald eyes. It was a new generation in many ways, but it was too early still to tell if they would make our same mistakes.

Harry glanced up, and our eyes met briefly. I nodded curtly before turning my attention back to my son. To anyone on the platform, it would look like two acquaintances acknowledging each other's existence. We kept our secrets well, especially after all these years.

...oOo...

He pressed closer, and I could feel him moving in me. I groaned, and he pushed harder, pulling me towards him until I could feel his heart beating against my back and his breath against my neck. I could see his eyes reflected in the window. I had never seen such a bright green. They were lovely, even with the demons that lived inside of them. Maybe because of that.

I tried not to give in to the pleasure; I didn't want it to end too soon. When we were done, he would slip away, like always, a ghost in the night. We'd return to our lives like nothing had ever happened. It'd be the way that it always was.

We weren't friends, we weren't lovers, but our lives were tangled in the most indescribable way. As if it was always meant to end with us like this: together. As if we were always intended to share this secret. Only the moon would ever know.

Hogwarts Houses Tri-Wizard Tournament Prompts:

(Situation) Your NoTP

(Song) "Tangled Up In You" by Staind

(Word) vulnerable

(Sentence) Could they really blame him for giving in?

(Dialogue) "I don't believe in love at first sight." (I was given permission to use it as an introspection.)

(Quote) "One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving." ~ Paulo Coelho

Hogwarts Talent Show Prompt:

(Poem) "A Pretty Thing" by Emily Pidduck