Hello all! This is the very first time I have ever written ANYTHING from a first person perspective so please be gentle and please don't flame me! I hope you like it as it's also my first attempt at a graphic slash story! Read and review but be kind. I own nothing but if I did it would be Tom Felton and Alan Rickman.
I watched him walk off to fight Voldemort, the climactic final battle which to me didn't seem very climactic. All this buildup, all this waiting and for what? For an old fashioned call out. I understood why he did it immediately, after all, wasn't this what I had been dreaming of doing to him for years? Didn't I want to call him on the floor and challenge him? Perhaps, and perhaps now. Hindsight is 20/20 and in some things he IS better than me. Now that I have admitted it, I will never, *EVER* repeat that sentence. I wanted to hate him, truly I did, but for some reason I found myself daring to believe in him, to hope in him. I should despise him on sight for who he is, for what he's done, but I can't. Unknowningly he freed me from a fate worse than death, though at the time I didn't realize it or appreciate his sacrifice, but then again, I never do.
I guess I should do some explanations at this point, as to who I am and why I am rambling on like this. This story has to be told to clear up and *misunderstandings* and *misperceptions* about the two of us. I am Draco Malfoy, proud Slytherin, proud Malfoy, the highest breed of wizard. I am perfection personified...have you seen my family tree? Do you dare to argue or dispute it? I thought not. HE just happens to be my worst enemy. The boy who rejected my hand on the train, the boy who I have never defeated at Quidditch, the boy who has to show me up by being holier than thou, so perfect, so shining, so...everything. Honestly! Sometimes I wonder how my teeth managed to NOT rot out of their heads, being surrounded by the innocent sweetness of said person. Harry Potter. The Boy who Lived. The Boy who does not know what a comb is. The Boy with no fashion sense. The Boy who fouls up my insidious schemes at every turn. The Boy who I fell in love with.
Do you have any idea how long it took me to say that last sentence? I'll bet you don't. To the unknowing eye we hate each other, fight like Blast Ended Screwts being stuffed into hibernation boxes, hex each other, curse each other and generally try to plan the other's imminent and painful demise. That's how it was.
Then one day in our Sixth year I stood back and watched him, tried to see him from another point of view, of course at this point he had just fouled up another one of my perfectly brilliant plans and I was more than a little miffed at him, and I realized that I had feelings other than hatred for him. This realization hit me with the force of a dozen bludgers and the Hogwarts Express and I do believe I trailed off mid-sentence as he entered the Great Hall and his green eyes (so expressive) caught mine and he glared daggers at me, probably because I caused him to get double detention with Snape and Filch. On life's list of fun things to do, a detention like that makes sitting in a tub full of scissors with open wounds seem joyful. He headed to the Gryffindor table but to my surprise he didn't sit with the Mudblood and the Weasel. No, he sat by himself as he tucked into something to eat and was silent. I couldn't take my eyes off him for some reason and I was damned if I knew why.
He ate only for a few minutes before getting up and heading out. I don't know why I followed him, I didn't think he could tell he was being trailed, but damn Potter has instincts the rest of us don't. Imagine gentle reader, my shock and surprise as I turned a corner only to find myself pressed against a wall, a wand at my throat and two furious green eyes burning like the fires of hell. I could stay lost in that fire forever. He had a sneer on his face. I'd never seen him sneer before. In that moment I was afraid of him, only momentarily of course, who do you think I am? A wussy Hufflepuff?
"What the hell do you want Malfoy?" he said in a low and angry voice. "Haven't you caused me enough agony today?"
"Don't flatter yourself Potty," I said in my most imperious tone. "I just happened to be walking in the same direction as you."
"You were heading to Gryffindor Tower?" he arched an eyebrow at me, imitating one of my patented moves. Bugger!
"I was just doing some research." I said coolly.
"Oh enlighten me Malfoy. What research were you doing? How to get me another double detention? How to deliver me into the hands of your Dark Lord or perhaps your father? How to lure me into a Death Eater trap?" he snapped.
I know that my father is a Death Eater, hell I've been trained in the Dark Arts since my conception it seems. I have been raised praising his mighty name, and cursing Potter's. I knew by the time I was a year old that I was to hate Harry Potter, for he caused pollution of the wizarding line and sent the greatest Slytherin saving Salazar himself into oblivion. The rumours about me have not escaped my ears, I'm not as blind as that, I know that I am thought to be a Death Eater, like every other Slytherin and most of the time Potter and I never spend time alone because people fear that I will do what Potter just accused me of. Oh if they only knew. "Not everything has to do with you Potty." I reply.
"Then what business do you have here?"
"I have business wherever I want. I am a Malfoy and we cannot be denied."
"How cryptic." he said as he took his wand from my throat and shoved it into his robes. "Well I don't care. Whatever you are going to do, do it and leave me out of it. If you are going to deliver me to Voldemort, do it now because I'm too tired to fight you."
"Wimping out on me Potter? Hardly a challenge." I give a patented Malfoy glare. "I like my prey fresh and alert, you look like you have been pulled through the Forest by an basilisk and then trampled by a herd of rampaging Hippogriffs."
"Always one with the compliments aren't you?" he muttered. "You sure do know how to make a person feel good about themselves Malfoy."
He looked like the personification of an underdog there. For an instant I could understand why everyone adored him, why he was the hero of wizarding world. He looked so adorable that I wanted to grab him and snog him senseless. I wanted him period, any way I could take him, preferably somewhere where there was a comfortable bed and fluffy carpets nearby. I felt...warm towards him. I'm not meant to feel this way! I'm a Malfoy, we are cold and hard hearted bastards, we don't feel warm towards anyone, least of all our mortal enemies. This was bad, very bad. I didn't reply to what he said, just turned on my heel and walked away. This was more than an infatuation, I could tell that already. This was dangerous to me.
Over the next few days I popped up wherever Potter was, giving him quite a twitch in his cheek. I shamelessly watched him change in the changing rooms, memorizing every detail of that flesh, every scar, every flaw, every bit of the perfection. Of course I bore no such blemishes on my skin, I am a Malfoy and therefore I have natural grace that ordinary mortals lack. Harry, despite being in a class by himself on a broomstick was a total klutz on terra firma, always tripping. The fact that he had recently had another growth spurt and was now taller than me (damn it!). He reminded me rather of a young giraffe, trying to walk across a room without tripping and make his limbs obey him. It was sickening. It was humourous. It was *adorable*.
I had to get him alone and talk to him. Normally I wait for people to come to me. I am oozing sex appeal out of every pore. I am the one they all want to shag, repeatedly, daily and twice on Sundays, I am the blonde walking Sex God Adonis of Hogwarts, and Harry Potter has just boyish charm. I know the art of seduction so well I could teach a class on it, Potter has that toe-in-the-ground shy thing happening. I am confident and superior to all others in the bedroom, I doubt Potter has ever ventured in with anyone. I would be his first, and his only, for the rest of our lives. His boyish appeal attracted me, and every other person in Hogwarts. The Hufflepuffs were mad over him, thinking him to be one of their own, but misplaced. The Gryffindors zealously guarded him, their prize jewel, their emerald. The Ravenclaws observed him, the Slytherins wanted him dead, mounted and stuffed.
I spent so much time thinking about when I could next get a chance to talk to Potter that I actually ignored Professor Snape. In Darwinian terms of survival of the fittest, this was the stupidest thing I could have done. Really, despite being a predator myself, you do not turn your back on a bigger and more powerful predator which is what my head of house was. "Mr. Malfoy, if you wouldn't mind paying attention, you'd notice that your cauldron just melted through your table and is making a rather large mess on my floor." he said in his usual sardonic tone, only the twitch of his mouth gave away that he was amused that I did a Longbottom. Damn Potter! He's distracting me in everything!
I said nothing, but began to clean up the mess. I knew the next words out of Snape's mouth would pain him far more than they would pain me. "Detention Malfoy." he said silkily. "You will practice making this Potion until it is perfect."
Detention...a perfect time to talk to Potter. I had to get him into trouble. Not too difficult since Snape gives him detention merely for knowing he exists, and he has an extremly short fuse with Potter. However there was one danger. Deliberately causing trouble in Snape's class is about as safe as tap dancing through a nest of scorpions barefoot and naked. But...when have I ever turned from a challenge? I already had detention. The worst Snape would do would be to take points off Slytherin house...something that almost never happens. I was in the clear. "Goyle!" I hissed out of the side of my mouth.
"Huh?" was his brilliant comeback. No wonder I turn to torturing and antagonizing everyone else for some intellectual stimulation.
"I want you to throw something at Potter. Get him into trouble."
"Ok." ah just how I like my minions. Big, stupid and unable (unwilling) to ask questions. I didn't expect genius from Goyle, but I did expect something better than what he came out with. He pulled out a simple muggle slingshot and took picked up a half broken bezoar from the table and shot it at the back of Potter's neck. How unoriginal, how grammar school! It had the desired effect however. Potter yelped and jumped up, trying to look in a dozen different directions at once for what had hit him.
The wrath of the Potions classroom was upon him. Swooping down like a giant black bat, Snape snarled at him. "Potter! What gives you the right to disrupt my class?"
"Professor something hit my in the back of my neck!" he protested.
"I see nothing, and everyone seems to be hard at work. Perhaps you are just upset that attention was diverted from you for an instant." Snape smirked. "Detention Potter, and twenty points from Gryffindor."
Potter's eyes flashed. When he gets indignant he is gorgeous. Well even more gorgeous than usual. Snape gave him a superior glare and walked away, satisfaction pouring off him in waves. "Good going Goyle." was my only comment.
So far Potter has been ignoring me. I finished the Potion long ago, and Snape had left me in charge of the detention room. Of course he'd trust one of his own before some feeble Gryffindor. Potter was muttering furiously under his breath and writing notes on the joys of Potion making. Snape was feeling particularly vengeful that day. I honestly don't know how Potter managed to keep a straight face when Snape gave him his detention, I know I laughed but covered it up nicely. I think his fury is what is getting him through. No doubt once that paper is read he will have detention until he dies.
"So Potter, you seem distracted." I drawl. An utter lie of course, I have never seen him more focused.
"Sod off Malfoy." he snaps before going back to his paper, his quill moving like Granger's. I think he's spent too much time with that Mudblood.
"Let me see what you've read." I snatch the paper from him and hold it at arms length away from him, while mimicing it perfectly. "'The Joy of Potions by H. Potter.'" I begin. "'Potions, while widely believed to be done only by wizards, is so therapeutic and wonderful that Muggles have actually found a way to incorporate them into their daily lives. Chemistry they call it. Indeed manys a time that a sublime look of relaxation can be found on the face of a Muggle as they brew and mix and stir, similar to the expressions on the faces of wizards as they concentrate on their softly shimmering cauldron with it's intoxicating fumes.'" I pause, fighting down laughter. Sarcasm thy name is Harry Potter. He looked like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, that innocent expression. Never mind the lifetime detention, Snape would just kill him after he read this. He was a former Death Eater after all. And it was some stones Potter had, to quote Snape's first year speech at him.
My admiration of him grew.
"Give it back Malfoy." he said as he reached for it.
I smirked. "You want it? Come and get it." I let out a rather evil laugh as I backed away from him. Ah at last he comes to me! To kill me perhaps, but by the time I am done with him, death...unless it is the little death will be the last thing on his mind.
He comes hurling at me, trying to get his essay back, and involuntarily his arms go around me as he reaches and stretches to get the paper I mock him with. He's wide open and I'll never get a better chance. I can practically hear the hallelujah chorus playing as I drop the paper, wrap my arms around him and kiss him.
He stiffens and for a moment struggles to get away. He has plainly never been kissed before as he holds himself rigid and holds his breath. I solve the problem for him by pulling away from his mouth briefly, letting him get a breath of air and just as he opened his mouth to speak, I reclaimed him for my own. I wanted to mark him, to brand him with my mark. I didn't want poachers on my territory, for I had claimed him for myself. I am a Malfoy and WE. DON'T. SHARE.
It took him a minute but he eventually begins to respond to the kiss, and as I pry his lips apart with my tounge, he moans softly and deepens the kiss. He's not a bad kisser and a damn fast learner. My respect for him goes up. I reach up into his perpetually messy hair and jerk his head back so I can have a go at his throat which mocks me with its unblemished perfection. I grab my want and utter the strongest locking and silencing charms I can on the door and around the dungeon. I doubt Snape will be back anytime soon, probably hoping I will do Potter in. I will, but in my own way. This isn't the ideal place I wanted this to happen, but any port in a storm. I wanted Potter to know he was mine, and I couldn't express it in words, so I would use bodies.
I reached up to his horrid glasses, seriously wanting to cast a vision correction spell on him, but decided to wait. Not too many things at once. He blinked briefly...how much bigger his eyes looked when they weren't covered by those awful spectacles! He looked down at me and I smiled before returning to his throat, my nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt, and casting off his robes. His clothes hung on him like bits of elephant skin, about five times too big for him. More advantage to me. While I moved my lips to one of his nipples, my skillful hands undid his belt, and down his pants fell, me not having to worry about undoing the buttons or zipper. I reached to dispose of his boxer shorts only to realize a rather pleasant secrert. Harry Potter went commando. Oh this just made my day. I felt like a kid in a candy shop as I ran my tounge down his chest while my hands played with his erection. My he certainly is a big one isn't he? Of course I just had to look at his hands to notice that.
"Draco." he groans softly as I move my mouth over his groin. He's my personal lollipop and I plan to take every bit of flavour that he has. I am rather talented at giving blow jobs and this was going to be my magnum opus...my finest work.
As I reach around to cup his buttocks, I listen to the sounds he makes above me, cursing me, begging me, pleading with me. I know just when to increase tension and when to deep throat. There is alot of work involved in what goes on down there, which is why it is called a job, albeit a pleasant one. The combination of my hands and my mouth are starting to get to him, and to me if the truth be known. I can't stop now though, I am getting more satisfaction out of this than anything I have ever done. He's thrusting against my mouth now and I try to take him deeper yet, yes I want this. He's giving me warnings for what is imminent and I could care less. Only once do I remove my mouth but let my hands take over as he gives a choked and joyful cry. "Now Potter." I whisper, but I know he hears me.
I put my lips back over the tip as I use the tip of one finger to trace the ridges and his knees almost buckle, but he manages to remain standing. I blow a stream of cold air on him and he yells my name. How I love the sound of that! He grabs my head, a move I didn't anticipate and almost jams my head back onto his erection. No more playing, he does sound like he's in pain and I know what that's like. There comes a point when pleasure becomes pain and he has reached that point. With my head bobbing steadily, my hands working diligently, he thrusts, once, twice and then lets out a roar like the Gryffindor he is and comes. I take in every drop, for this is the essence of Harry Potter, the essence of the man I love.
His knees finally give out as he collapses to the floor, panting. A sheen of sweat covers his body and I hunger for more of him. I do not waste time divesting myself of my garments. I notice his eyes greedily drinking in the sight of my naked and flawless flesh. He licks his lips when he comes to my erection and while I want him to taste it, first I must take him completely as my own, then there will be time to explore further. I sink down to him, spreading our robes out beneath us and kiss him firmly, my tounge now duelling with his as he runs his hands over my body. I know he tastes himself and doesn't seem to care. His lips move to my throat and find that spot *right there* just beneath my right ear and I shout his name. His lips are moving to my chest. My my he does learn fast. I always knew he was a bright boy. His hands...I can't think about that right now or I'll lose it and I can't do that yet. Despite his inexperience, this is the greatest shag I have ever had, perhaps poets are right when they say that doing it with the one you love changes everything.
I can't wait. I lay him on his back and mutter the infamous lubrication charm. His eyes widen as he realizes what is about to happen. I see the consent in his eyes as I move over his body. I kiss him at the same time I put a finger in him, and swallow his cry of startlement. "Another." he whispers harshly and I happily comply, my limit almost reached. I scissor them inside him and he moans approval. I feel my control slipping and can't wait. I kiss him firmly and move into positon, entering him fully and quickly. He screams with pain and then pleasure. I wanted to be gentle but I passed that point long ago. I feel as though I know what heaven is, I have never felt more protected, more perfect, more wonderful than I do right this second. As he moves with me, he begs me to go faster. While I never take orders, in this case I will. The only sound in the Potions lab is our heavy breathing, the whispers and moans of encouragement and the sound of flesh against flesh. For the rest of my life I will remember this moment.
I actually see stars as I come, and Potter...Harry comes for a second time. I collapse on him, our sweat mingling and feel complete. I feel love. I know in that instant that I will renounce everything I know, everything I am for him.
It's official. Harry and I are a couple and I couldn't be happier. There was one minor misunderstanding a few weeks ago when he killed my father and for some reason he thought I'd be upset by that. Isn't he sweet? My father was Voldemort's right hand, and now he will be weakened. Actually, Harry managed to take out about a dozen Death Eaters. He won't talk about it and his eyes are haunted. Not even Dumbledore can figure out what happened or what he did, and he requested that no one ask Harry about it until he's ready. For some reason Granger and Weasley (I don't call them names anymore out of respect for my boyfriend) seem to think this rule didn't apply to them. I quickly let them know how wrong they were. If Harry does talk, he will talk to ME first. Once it became known he was off the market, the Hufflepuffs mourned. I actually heard *wails* coming from them, and they all watch Harry now with mournful eyes. The Gryffindors, after questioning me rather brutally and extensively approved (it only took me 46 hours to convince them I was NOT going to kill Harry, yes I love him and no I won't betray him and NO I'm NOT a Death Eater). The Ravenclaws just sighed and went back to their books.
The one who had the hardest time accepting it, other than Professor Snape, was Weasley. Granger was thrilled and delighted, but it seems that in the beginning Weasley had a bit of homophobia which has since passed. The Weaselette however took it hard and is acting like they were involved and have since broken up. I had to correct her on that once.
Voldemort has gained much power, despite the death of my father, and at night Harry whispers his fears to me. Fears that culminated when Voldemort challenged him in a formal and ancient way to a duel. Despite loving Harry and wanting to be with him, I still want to defeat him. Ours in an odd relationship, but it makes us happy. I tried everything in my power to talk him out of it, I even went so far as to enlist the aid of Granger and Weasley, his godfather, Lupin, Dumbledore, McGonagall, anyone I could think of. But you might not know that Harry Potter is *extraordinarily* stubborn. He had his mind made up that this was some kind of western, that the two antagonists would face off against each other. Perhaps he thought he could talk Voldemort out of his evil schemes, I sure as hell don't know. All I know is that I just watched him go off to fight Voldemort alone, and on his terms. I don't know if he will live or die. I don't know what I'll do in either case.
Waiting is highly overrated, and this wait is interminable. All of Hogwarts seems to be holding it's breath to see if Harry will return. The Hufflepuffs (WHY can't they just die off?) are speaking of Harry in the past tense, the Ravenclaws are drawn on it, logically talking about the outcome. The Slytherins are on their knees praying, but for Harry to win or Voldemort I really couldn't tell you. I have been shunned by most of them since Harry and I came out. The Gryffindors are the worst, not pacing, not talking, not making any sounds at all. They sit there, quietly, staring into space. They aren't moving, not responding to any external stimuli. Whoever made up the stupid saying "Time Flies" was obviously a moron. Time doesn't fly. It goes at the pace of a drugged snail. I can't stand this waiting anymore, but that's all any of us can do is wait. Lights flash in the sky, some green, some orange, some yellow. The entire wizarding world is waiting. The only way I can stand it is to write this story, *our* story.
I have chewed my fingernails down to the quick. Me! A Malfoy! Chewing my fingernails. Disgusting really. I can't do schoolwork because if Harry loses it will be a moot point. "He's not going to make it." I hear the whisper from the Slytherin table. "Who can stand against darkness itself?"
Who indeed? I think. I want to scream at them and tell them that Harry can win, that he will emerge the victor, but I keep silent. Harry is powerful, the most powerful wizard the world has ever seen besides Voldemort or Dumbledore or myself, but Harry favours fair play and Voldemort is anything but fair.
The lights stop abruptly and silence falls. Dumbledore leaps to his feet, every limb seems alert. I am wrought with tension as I realize the Final Battle is over. Who has won? Why, in the end did the Order have to do nothing? Why did Voldemort use an ancient custom to do an old fashioned duel? Why did Harry agree? Why did he force us all to stay here? Why? Why? WHY? The smoke billowing towards Hogwarts speaks of Wizard's Life Fire, the last line of defense and the only wandless magic a wizard can do accurately. Oh Harry...say it isn't so. These past few days since you left to battle Voldemort and I know you had to fight Death Eaters and Dementors too have been far too long. I would give anything to hold you in my arms again, to snog you senseless, to shag you senseless as is our custom. Gentle or rough, you never complain, you like it all. I know you have never known love in your life until me, you know that I have never found acceptance until I found you. You can't be dead! You can't! I haven't beaten you yet! You can't welsh on our deal Potter!
A figure is coming out of the smoke, slowly and limping. A black cape covers it, the intimidation it once commanded diminished. Voldemort is walking towards Hogwarts. You have been defeated. Oh Potter...Harry. Harry what will I do without you? How can I survive? There a furtive movement behind Voldemort, something no one else would see if all eyes weren't riveted to that spot. The cloaked figure falls, as another crawls over, a wand in one hand, sword in the other and straddles the body. I don't know what is happening out there, is that you?
A pause. Silence so thick you could cut it with a knife. Tension so strong you could do a gymnastic routine on it. Who is the victor? The figure stands haltingly, painfully and turns towards Hogwarts. An audible intake of breath as the body is left behind, no one is sure who approaches. I see the figure pause to rub its forehead and I know it's you. Dumbledore lets out a shout and starts to run towards you but I sprint past him and pummel into you with the force of Hagrid on a broomstick. You're alive, you're alive! Thank Merlin! You are laughing. You say nothing but you are smiling. The horror in your eyes starts to fade as pain begins to kick in. What has he done to you? You're a mess...but alive! I can't stop kissing you, I don't care who sees, I don't care who knows.
Has it really been three years since the defeat of Voldemort? Somehow it seems just yesterday when I think about it. After the defeat of Voldemort, and you being hailed as the greatest wizard of all time and getting to graduate a year early from Hogwarts, things seemed to calm down, at least as much as they ever can in the wizarding world. You're the DADA teacher at Hogwarts (big surprise), you're the best Seeker Hogwarts ever had and you are my husband. I have yet to defeat you Potter, but I will someday, after all I am a Malfoy and we don't forget things like challenges, though it seems that SOME Gryffindors think that once they are married to their greatest enemies are exempt. You lean over my shoulder and kiss me while I write this, our memoirs and you are laughing at me now and kissing my neck. "Stop it Harry," I tell you. "You're distracting me. I have to finish this. You know the Daily Prophet wants our story."
I mutter a charm and the quill keeps going, writing the thoughts in my head, similar to the Quick Quotes Quill that Rita Skeeter had. It's just as well that I did because my mouth and hands are rather occupied. My hands clench your unruly black hair, but after three years with me, your fashion sense is much better. Of course you are now a Malfoy as well...though I would rather die than admit I am a Potter. Your mouth is on my erection now, honestly how do you work so fast? I taught you too well my love. Oh don't stop...yes right there Harry! I will finish this now as I am on the brink of ecstasy with all secrets bared and all feelings known. If the truth be known Potter, despite having denied me on the train, you had me from hello, it just took me six years to realize it. The greatest love stems from the greatest hate, and ours is the greatest of all.
I hope you enjoyed! Feedback please! I love reviews, they keep me going! Thanks for reading!