Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, or the locations. They all belong to JK Rowling, so please don't sue!
Warnings: This will be a male/male SLASH fiction, so if you do not like that, you can just leave now (HP/DM) It also contains violence and self mutilation.
Again the fist hit his stomach, making him double over in pain. He knelt on the floor, trying to gather his balance and get up, only to be kicked in his side, causing him to loose his balance, and fall to hard stone floor once more. His side hit the grown beneath him, hard. He turned around, onto his back, biting his lips, blocking the scream that was trying to escape. He shut his eyes, the tears building up beneath his closed eyelids. He swallowed them down with his pride, and opened them back up. The man was standing above him, a sick smile on his unfazed face. He held his wand out to the human that was sprawled out on the floor beneath him. Their identical grey eyes locked with each other, one humiliating the other, and one pleading the other. He smirked and held his wand to the boy he was standing over him, who whispered his pleas, his pleas to his father, before he was silenced with another torturous spell, before being left alone in the cold room, passed out from the pain, the blood pooling around him, the coldness over taking him. He would wake up again soon, alone, like always.
He felt the anger rise in him as he walked faster down the corridors. He hated him; he hated him with such a passion that he was blinded with it. He was running now, his feet appearing and disappearing from his gaze. He looked up, he was close now. He was almost there. He turned the corner, and saw what he was looking for. He saw the figure in a blur as it rounded a different corner. He kept running, kept following the person, quickly catching up to the walking figure, to the clueless figure before him. How he hated that person, how much pain he had caused him to go through.
He yelled at him to stop, he held out his name. The boy turned around, shocked to see him there, shocked to see his perfection was gone. His clothes were socked with blood, drenched in sweat and tears. His hair was no longer perfectly blonde; instead it was tainted with red, the red from his blood. He was unrecognisable to him; only the smirk and the eyes couldn't fool him, those grey cold eyes.
Before he knew what was happening he was pinned against the wall by the insane looking boy. His arms were held tightly by his sides. The cold eyes glared at him.
"Do you have any idea how much pain I go through because of you potter?" he narrowed his eyes at the blonde, not knowing how to answer, keeping silent, and waiting for him to continue.
"Do you Potter? Do you have any idea what happens to me because of you!?" their faces were close, and he could see every cut and bruise on the others face, he had an idea, and by the state he was in, he knew it was a lot. What he saw scared him, the boy's cold eyes were no longer full of hate, and instead they were full of sadness, full of loneliness and hurt. Silent tears began to stream down his bloody face, his grips never loosening.
"I hate you" he spat at shocked boy, who was still confused about what was happening, he never once broke his stare.
"You have no idea Potter." The tears came out faster, but still silent. The boy hung his head, causing it to rest on the confused boys chest. And without any warning, those silent tears were taken off mute.
He looked back into the emerald eyes, repeating his words again and again. he let go of one of the arms he had pinned, and raised it, clenching it into a fist. The boy pinned against the wall flinched slightly and closed his emerald eyes, awaiting the pain he was expected. But instead of a fist against his face, like he was expecting, he felt the warmth of someone's lips on his. He stiffened in shock of what was happening. He opened his eyes wide, He tried to move, but the boy just pinned him harder against the wall, his lips pushed against him more forceful, demanding. He tasted the blood from the other boy's lips, he felt his mouth open, and he tasted the other boy. He felt his body relax, he felt his legs give in, he felt a feeling flutter through him, he felt the heat between the two. He loved the feeling he was experiencing, but he hated it was happening from him.
He heard himself moan slightly as the other boy shoved him harder against the wall, his hips grinding against his, a feeling of bliss sweeping over him. And then it stopped. The body left him, the warmth left him, and he realised how cold it was. His eyes remained close, as he felt the other boy lean towards him, his face brushed against his cheek, making him feel excited again, and also disgusted that he felt this. He felt his hot breath against his neck.
"I hate you." He whispered into his ear, and then the warmth was gone.
Harry slowly opened his eyes, only to see an empty hallway. Only a drop of blood on the floor indicated Malfoy really was there. He sunk to the floor, too confused to go to the Gryffindore common room, as he was doing before⦠it happened. He sighed, and banged his head against the wall, before getting up.
He followed the water travel down from above, in big transparent droops. He watched it as it streamed down his lean body, gathering his blood, sinking into his cuts, the water had turned thicker now, it turned read. He watched the changed streams flow onto the floor, and wash away into the drain, forever lost, mingling with all of the other water in the pipes.
Draco sighed, and turned off the water, stepping out of the shower, and into the steamy perfects bathroom. He searched around on the bench, blinded slightly by all of the steam. He muttered a quick healing spell that closed up his visible wounds, and only left a faint scar, before drying himself with his towel. He wrapped it around his waste, and began to run his other towel through his silky hair. No matter how vain he sounded, he loved the way his hair felt, so silky, so touchable. He ran his elegant fingers through it. He saw his fingers running through dark raven coloured, unruly hair. Harry's hair. He pulled his hands away from his head quickly, shutting his eyes tightly. He sighed in frustration again. He didn't understand why images of Harry kept intruding his mind, simple pictures, but still arousing. He quickly got dressed before leaving the room. He knew where he had to go, he had to see Pansy, he needed to get rid of his frustration, he needed to be with a girl, to prove that he wasn't attracted to males. To prove to himself that he was not gay. He knew where she was; she always waited, just in case.
Harry stared at the ceiling of his maroon canopy. It had been an hour since he had first laid down, and he still couldn't go to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, his thoughts would drift to what had happened, to something he couldn't understand. He hated Draco Malfoy, and he hated him. Everyone knew it, it was as simple as that. He was reminded with it almost everyday. Everyday he would listen to him tease him, mock him, and everyday he do the same to him. That's why when he heard Draco behind him, he prepared himself with another meaningless bicker, it was natural, it was routine. But when he turned around, he didn't see Draco Malfoy, not the one he was accustomed to seeing anyways. Instead he saw a furious young man, a furious and hurt one. He had bruises covering his perfect pale face, cuts that had blood streaming from them. His blonde hair had been streaked in his blood, his clothes a tangled mess, hanging from his body. Harry remembered gasping when he saw him. He felt himself feel confused, as he was when he thought back. But most of all he felt upset, he felt upset for Malfoy. Something usually unbearable for him to think this, but when he saw him, he saw his hurt. And he felt bad, he felt sorry. He saw his life for what it truly was, imperfect, just like the rest of them.
Harry's mind drifted back to the kiss, and he felt that warm fluttering feeling in his stomach. He punched his pillow, what the hell was he thinking, he wasn't gay, he liked girls. He thought of the way Draco had pushed him against the wall, hurting him, yet he didn't care, all he could feel was the heat of Draco's body, the softness of his lips, the force of his kiss, the feeling of his hips grind him, the feeling of ecstasy. Even if he hated to admit it, Draco had made him feel more excited than he had ever felt when he was with any other girl. Even if that only added up to two, Cho and Lavender. He didn't know why, but when he was with them, he felt almost dead, nothing happened, nothing sparked him. But Draco, that was something different.
Harry got up with his bed, snatching his glasses from the bedside table, and gathering his invisibility cloak and his marauders map. He needed to talk to him; he needed to understand what was happening. He pulled the cloak around him, and left his dorm room, leaving his friend to sleep peacefully. He opened the portrait, and checked the halls before looking at his map, searching for Draco. After a few seconds he found him, he was on the third floor, on the north wing, in a room Harry wasn't familiar with. And he wasn't alone.
Harry didn't care, he had to see him. He began to run through the dark halls and corridors, only to stop when he finally made it to where Draco was. He looked up and was shocked when he saw that he was standing in front of a portrait of Luscious Malfoy. He frowned, puzzled slightly as he stared at the painting, who was fortunately sleeping. He quietly pointed his wand at the portrait, and whispered a spell Sirius taught him, which would allow him to enter through any portrait in Hogwarts. It swung open, and he silently stepped though, closing it behind him.
Draco's pulse quickened as he felt Pansy's kisses move down his torso, as she began to unbutton his shirt, and unfasten his belt. Her head was his lap, and although Draco wanted her to stop, he was too full with pleasure and excitement to say or do anything to make her stop. He ran his elegant fingers through her hair, feeling his excitement build up, feeling the ecstasy run through his body as her tongue worked wonders on him. He watched her through the blur of her half-closed eyes, he watched her ponytail swing slightly as she began to pump him faster. And then all of the sudden it was no longer Pansy, but Harry, her dirty long blond hair turned into the short unruly dark hair, that he so longed to run his fingers through. Unsettled by the vision, Draco tried to stop himself, but couldn't. It was too late. It was over. He leaned back against the wall and slowly allowed himself to regain his breath. He couldn't believe what had just happened. He wanted to have sex with a girl to feel better about what happened, but instead he had through about a boy while he was with a girl. And not just any boy. Harry Potter, his enemy.
Harry watched Pansy bring her head up from Draco's lap, and rest it on his bare chest, which was streamed in sweat, the moon light reflecting in it, making him look immortal. He watched as Draco shoved her aside and began to put his clothes back on. He watched her sigh, already accustomed to not receiving anything from Draco. He watched Draco's lean body being covered by the silky material of his robes. He saw the distant look in the boys grey eyes, and he saw him walk past him, and out of the room. He saw him stop a few corners in the hall, and he saw him whisper his name, before continuing walking to his dorm.
