Disclaimer: Characters owned by J.K. Rowling. Story and poetry by me. Harassment by the FBI.
Author's Note: This story is admittedly shorter than I usually like to write and rather on the ambiguous side – so it won't surprise you to learn I whipped it up during a slow day at college. I hope you can enjoy it anyways.
Summery: "Say it ain't so, those lies…the lies my parents told me." Draco's POV.
Rating: R for slash. Don't like it, then there's a nice exit on stage left you can leave by.
Slow, sensuous...sometimes. Hard, fast, need, release – most of the time. Undeniably there is heat between him and me; only we never once dreamed it be something so basic and sexual.
We have always been at odds, so why and how did that change? I ask again.
You stare at me, green eyes amused because to both it is a rhetorical question.
We came together in hurt and pain (something we quite liked inflicting upon each other, and still do on occasion). And desperation, fear, this whole myriad of emotions at once.
All caused by the lies we were told. My parents lied to me and he was deceived by those he looked on as parental figures.
They shape you, make you,
They tell you what you wish to hear.
It'll never be the naked truth though.
Say it ain't so, those lies…
The lies my parents told me.
As we move together, in perfect time, almost ironic considering our past, I contemplate out change. I am not once fooled – I know this is not love that makes us desire each other this way (no matter what he may whisper on occasion). No, it is not love, it is reassurance. Reassurance that we are alive, that we have someone to be close to (in every sense of the word) and that someone understands what it is to have our illusions so brutally smashed and wrecked and see the naked truth in all it's glory.
We realise both that we are the pawns in this war; it is only the side we have been aligned to that is different. He will never change his choice...I? Well, I know not yet what to do.
They told me: Good is good and bad is bad.There's nothing in between.
And that you must choose only one,
And one only.
Because it's right.
Because it's wrong.
Because there's nothing in between.
This, the worst of the lies...
The lies my parents told me.
I sometimes feel quite sorry for him; in the rare moments I actually deign to think of another over myself. Nearly everyone looks towards him as their saviour and have made him feel extra special, though he knew not why at first and probably still does not.
In the end though, he told me, he realised the truth of his role – that he was deliberately made to feel that he was stronger than everyone because those he respected were in actuality pathetically weak.
That hasn't altered his allegiance however and I was never stupid enough to think it would. Mostly because I knew first hand that to join Voldemort's side would be a fate worse than death (quite literally, now that the Dementors are at the disposable of his spindly, bone white fingers).
I cry out, scream even, and it's not merely orgasmic pleasure – it is frustration, anger, soaring joy all at once. You join me – the music we make is a beauty beyond measure.
Perhaps something good has come of this deceit, who'd have thought lust and sex would be such a potent antidote to betrayal?
But it wears off after a while, and I can feel the hurt and that horrible sense of betrayal creeping back again. Do you to, me dear Gryffindor?
They shape you, make you,
They tell you what you wish to hear.
It'll never be the naked truth though.
Say it ain't so, those lies…
The lies my parents told me.
~Finis
