Author:  b.kitten

Notes:  Draco's POV about.. well, it's pretty obvious. 

Disclaimer:  I do not own Rowling's Harry Potter universe.  Nor do I presume to.  I'm not making any money off this nor plan to.  The only thing that belongs to me are the words chosen, the "plot" but not Draco Malfoy or the allusions to Harry Potter. 

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To Fall is To Hate

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I love him.

It's not a gentle love bowing softly under the guidance of a zephyr. This love... it's an unadulterated shot of lust, jealousy and possessiveness covered in a tangy candy-shell of love. It's full of hard kisses and rough thrusting.

of frantic evenings and lonely mornings.

of vicious words and high-strung fights.

of scratched backs and hoarse throats.

I've grown disgustingly addictive to him and those nights. My mind shuts down and I'm bursting with want, my body flooded with all sorts of the same desire.  So many flavors but it all tastes the same in the end.

Heady.

Intoxicating.

Tantalizing.

He's a drug and I'm a hopeless addict.

What a joke.

Father always said that I'd want all the terrible things in life.  Would it be a surprise to him then?  After all, he encouraged my delinquency.  My back-stabbing methods.  Everything. 

All the bad things.

All the naughty things that normal kids would lie
about to their parents.

Because bad things are. So. very, very good.  He's a terrible sort of goodness; full of lean planes and too-sweet, too-sharp emerald cut eyes.  The type of goodness that's too good and it's all about the hypnotizing feel of him all around.  

One day

Nextsecondnextminutenexthour

I'll overdose in a feast of his sense. His scent, his taste, his touch in a fullness engulfing my mind and tearing the carefully split walls in my mind;
cold metal that shocks as my sanity is threatened and I have none of that nicely padded safety.  He's a tipsy-turvy, desperate sort of craving

There are moments . . . Fucking Merlin, look at me now . . . but these moments—they're something.  Unique, one-of-a-kind and directed towards me.  Full of his drum beating unbearably and

AllIcandoallIcandoallIcando

all I can do is suffer the strain as the wild roar grows until I think I'll go mad from my own thoughts each and eery time. That's when, as I teeter precariously at my peak, I look in his eyes and everything is smudged in hard silvers and gentle golds.

So bad. So very, very bad.

Looking at him, my chest tightens and I. Hate. Him.

Hate him so deeply for these feelings. But when he turns around, giving that inquisitive glance--no questions asked, no answers expected--I fall in love all over again.

I fall and I fall.

It's so pathetic...

but I never want it to stop