Disclaimer: Nothing but Mela and the plot idea belong to me. They all belong to J.K. Rowling.
Quick note: Because of the reviews I have gotten I'm posting the rest of the story. If you flame me you will be made fun of in the next chapter. You have been warned. This is to stop all death threats, even thought I haven't gotten any. I'm reposting the story because I've changed Angel's name. It is now Mela which means 'dark' in Polish.
To Love a Nazi
Chapter 1-wish
Draco's P.O.V-
I'm looking as what I've helped create. This isn't what I wanted. All I wanted was him. The man who haunts my dreams. He's a Jew; the Star of David is always over his head. He is with the angel my mother saw when I was born.
My father had this idea. He wanted to keep me all to himself so he thought that we could stop what the angel said if we kill all of the Jews. I can't believe him. I am so messed up thanks to him, my loving father. Then he told his fuck-buddy his idea. And this man thought it was a good idea. Hitler was his name. He thought that because to him my father was perfect, everyone in the world should be like him.
Yesterday I went to the house that my father and Hitler lived in when ever they could. I saw the paintings. They were of my father. Then I went into the basement. Wondering what was down there.
Curiosity killed the cat, but I'm not a cat, right? It shouldn't have killed me to see what was down there. It did. Pictures, paintings all torn up. Who did this? Then I remembered a conversation I overheard. It was Hitler and my father talking about art. My father was saying that Hitler was a terrible artist before they met and that all of his paintings from before then should be destroyed. I think that my father was just kidding, one could never tell. I guess that this was what happened after that conversation.
Hitler loves me like a son. I hate his guts out. If my father had never met this man would he still be alive?
I may never have had a good or even somewhat nice family life, but still I wanted, no I needed my father to by in my life forever. Sometimes I wonder if he is still alive. I thought that he loved Hitler. What if he did at first love him, but then when.. God I can't even say it though I know that no one would dare listen.
When some Jew killed my father, Hitler went all out and joined the Nazis. Then he rose to the top of their ranks. Because I was his dead lover's son, he made me second in command. I can fuck all these Jewish women until the world dies, but there is no true passion in it.
I wish I could find the man who haunts my dreams.
This was the first time in years that I had thought about the past and the dream my mother had, along with my dreams of that man. These days I know that he is dead. Everyone I have ever loved is dead! Why should he be any different? Maybe I just have to meet them to kill them. I want to meet him and kill him. He should never have to live in my world. Only I should live in my world because I have grown up in it and can deal with what ever this fucked-up world wishes to give me.
Sometimes people ask me why I call him Hitler. Why don't I call him his first name? I tell them that I call him Hitler because he is above me in rank. The real reason I call him that is because if I were to call him his first name, none of this would be a dream. I wouldn't be able to wake from it. I can only live here if I can act like it is a dream. If it weren't then I would die.
I want to kill the dream man, because he is a threat to my way of living. If you can call it living.
I can not be loved. I am a killer. No one can love me. I can feel nothing.
