A/N: Wasn't planning on writing a second part...but here it is....you should really read 'El Alma atormentada' first...cause this happens after it. This doesn't have as much squick in it but there's still squick warnings....read at your own risk. Please excuse the spelling mistakes...no spellchecker and a awful spelling grasp do not friends make.
Once again I don't own any of the wonderful characters....just using them to satisfy my sick mind.
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Las Lagrimas de un Dragon
(Draco's POV)
The water sloshed over my naked form. I let it pour over me, ridding me of my father's sins. My hands are braced against the wall before me, shaking with lothing and revultion. Not at him but at myself for once again letting it happen.
The waters hot, almost scalding, but it feels good. It stings my skin like sharp needles. I hope the heat will seep into my skin to my insides that were still cold....I fell numb on the inside even as the water turns my alabaster skin an angry red color.
I scrub furiously at it, rubbing it raw but I still can't get the feel of his hands off me....he'd branded me as surely as if he'd left a visable mark. He never did though...leave marks that was...at least not visable ones.
Even here by myself I can still hear him whispering my name against my lips....telling me I'm a good son. I tremble harder, sinking to my knees splashing scalding water....the steam is heavy, thick in the air. I want the floor to open up and swallow me....send me to the pits of hell where I know I belong.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I know that I can't stay here forever as inviting as it seemed at the moment. The Christmas feast in the great hall would start soon....
Bracing my hands against the wall, I climb to my feet. I tilt my face back letting the steaming water push the hair from my face, stinging my eyes....
I feel so old suddenly. So much older then a fifteen old boy should feel. I wonder what other boys my age have to worry about....girls...sports....marks. Probabbly, and not always nessasarly in that order. I feel jaded and bitter. Hatting my father even more for what he's taken from me, and for once I wish I wasn't a Malfoy...I just wanted to be normal.
I finally can't stop the tears as they spilled over my face, mingling with the water that was still flowing over my face....maybe if I stayed here long enough I'll drown....but then...then he would win.
Turning off the water I step into the changing rooms, the difrence in tempture making my skin shiver....I was many things, but a quiter was not one of them....
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(Harrys's POV)
I paused in the doors of the shower room. I hadn't expected anyone about. There had been no one awake when I'd gone to the Quidditch field to fly this morning. I was restless, both Ron and Hermione had gone for Christmas vacation.
The sight before me shocked me to the core. Malfoy...Draco...naked in the scalding shower that made me wince even thinking about it. Steam heated my face from where I stood and he was a bright pink color, but seemed oblivious to the heat, as well as his surroundings.
His head was tilted towards the shower head, water cascading over him. His fists where clenched at his side, flexing slightly.
The only thought I could think to describe him at that moment was beautiful. It shocked me to admit that, even if it was just to myself. Malfoy was the enemy...but oh...he looked sinful. All lithe body, toned in just the right way that almost begged me to reach out and touch him.
I didn't of course. I just stood and watched as his face betrayed his inner turmoil. I'd always thought as Draco Malfoy as cold and cruel, it made me wonder as I watched him looking so...vuneruble.
He turned off the water and I quickly backed away, knowing that he wouldn't apreatiate the intrusion. I hid until he'd left wondering what had happened to him to make him look that way...to make him so...human.
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(Draco's POV)
I can feel eyes watching me as I pick at my food. Looking up sharply, green eyes meet my blue-grey ones before they look hastily away. The look puzzles me, for it isn't the usual one filled with lothing but one of almost...pity.
I look back down at my food before me and try to ignore the converstaions around me. No one sits by me so I'm spared from chatting with anyone. I let the conversation work themselves into a steady droaning buzz in the back of my head like flys swarming around a dead carcass.
I still feel cold even after the scalding shower, even swathed in winter robes as I was. I push at my food not able to stomach anything and am horified as my vision blurs. I blink furusly to rid myself of them. Malfoys didn't cry. That was a lesson that was beaten into me long agao....the only time he never scolded me for tears was when he...he...I couldn't even bring myself to think about what he does.
I feel eyes on me again but refuse to look up, to let him see me so uncontrolled. I wrestle the emotions back under my icy exterior and finally looked up but the eyes are gone.
This time I look at him. Perfect Potter. Even with Granger and Weasley gone he is still surounded by adoring fans. The prat. He laughs, pushing a hand through his messy black hair making peices stand on end. I watch him wondering what it so great about him. Why is everyone Potters friend? I'm jelous...I can admit that to myself. His friends are real ones not like the Slytherins that glomb onto me in hopes of a bit of power and wealth. I know that he has his own problems. Voldemort being the biggest. His dumb luck of his has held out so far against him though, I refuse to beleive it's talent. His hands wave about in emphasis as he talks about something that he's obviously passionate about, probabbly Quidditch.
It is another thing that makes me hate him so. He is the talented one, the one that seems to be born riding a broom. He does stunts that I would break my nose trying and he does them effortlessly. Not that I'm a bad flyer, I sit a broom better then most of these pathetic sods, but I can never compete with Potter...perfect Potter.
The droaning buzz in my head grows louder and I turn from watching him to look back down at my plate, rubbing my fingers over the bridge of my nose. My body aches in all the wrong places and I wish this would be over so I could go back to my dorm. Go lie down and forget about today...pretend it never happened. Wonderful way to think about Christmas, hm?
Dumbledore rises from his spot at the teachers table and claps his hands together to get our attention and the converstions falters and dies. "Happy Christmas students, now that you've enjoyed your christmas breakfast. I am sure you will all be egar to get to the annual snowball fight in the courtyard."
The murmering that had died down, grew again in hushed tones though out the table. I blinked. Snowball fight? There was a snowball fight? It being my first time being here for Christmas since the whole Chambers incident, I hadn't known....I narrow my eyes. I wouldn't join...they couldn't make me.
"Please arrange yourselves into two teams and we will commence the competition in ten minutes."
The students quickly started chattering again. I pushed myself stiffly to my feet, I wouldn't join in any of this...it was pointless...it was a useless waist of time...it was...
"Malfoy!"
I look up as Potter calls my names before coming over. I glare at him as he comes within range, suspicious.
"Malfoy...join our team?" He asks. I stare at him for a few moments wondering what his angle is...why he is being...nice to me.
"You want *me* to join you Potter? Sure you didn't take a bludger to the head last Quidditch game?" I snear at him.
He rolls his eyes. "Just thought maybe having the only Slytherin on our team may give us an advantage....I'm sure a little underhandedness is not above *you* Malfoy."
He made it a compliment and an insult all in one sentance....I smirk despite myself. "Not afraid I'll defect to the other side Potter?" I say sarcastically. "Not afraid that I'll sully that golden boy image that you have being seen with me?"
He smirks back. "Afraid some niceness will rub off on you Malfoy?"
I look at him for a moment and glance at the team that had crowded a few paces away watching the exhange...his team. "You're an idiot Potter....but if that's your team then you need all the help you can get." I say "I'll meet you in the courtyard."
I turn and stalk away, not knowing why I'm doing this. My competitive spirit maybe? I hate to loose at anything, hate to back down from a chalange, and now I was on the same team as Potter...may god have mercy on my soul.
Once again I don't own any of the wonderful characters....just using them to satisfy my sick mind.
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Las Lagrimas de un Dragon
(Draco's POV)
The water sloshed over my naked form. I let it pour over me, ridding me of my father's sins. My hands are braced against the wall before me, shaking with lothing and revultion. Not at him but at myself for once again letting it happen.
The waters hot, almost scalding, but it feels good. It stings my skin like sharp needles. I hope the heat will seep into my skin to my insides that were still cold....I fell numb on the inside even as the water turns my alabaster skin an angry red color.
I scrub furiously at it, rubbing it raw but I still can't get the feel of his hands off me....he'd branded me as surely as if he'd left a visable mark. He never did though...leave marks that was...at least not visable ones.
Even here by myself I can still hear him whispering my name against my lips....telling me I'm a good son. I tremble harder, sinking to my knees splashing scalding water....the steam is heavy, thick in the air. I want the floor to open up and swallow me....send me to the pits of hell where I know I belong.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I know that I can't stay here forever as inviting as it seemed at the moment. The Christmas feast in the great hall would start soon....
Bracing my hands against the wall, I climb to my feet. I tilt my face back letting the steaming water push the hair from my face, stinging my eyes....
I feel so old suddenly. So much older then a fifteen old boy should feel. I wonder what other boys my age have to worry about....girls...sports....marks. Probabbly, and not always nessasarly in that order. I feel jaded and bitter. Hatting my father even more for what he's taken from me, and for once I wish I wasn't a Malfoy...I just wanted to be normal.
I finally can't stop the tears as they spilled over my face, mingling with the water that was still flowing over my face....maybe if I stayed here long enough I'll drown....but then...then he would win.
Turning off the water I step into the changing rooms, the difrence in tempture making my skin shiver....I was many things, but a quiter was not one of them....
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(Harrys's POV)
I paused in the doors of the shower room. I hadn't expected anyone about. There had been no one awake when I'd gone to the Quidditch field to fly this morning. I was restless, both Ron and Hermione had gone for Christmas vacation.
The sight before me shocked me to the core. Malfoy...Draco...naked in the scalding shower that made me wince even thinking about it. Steam heated my face from where I stood and he was a bright pink color, but seemed oblivious to the heat, as well as his surroundings.
His head was tilted towards the shower head, water cascading over him. His fists where clenched at his side, flexing slightly.
The only thought I could think to describe him at that moment was beautiful. It shocked me to admit that, even if it was just to myself. Malfoy was the enemy...but oh...he looked sinful. All lithe body, toned in just the right way that almost begged me to reach out and touch him.
I didn't of course. I just stood and watched as his face betrayed his inner turmoil. I'd always thought as Draco Malfoy as cold and cruel, it made me wonder as I watched him looking so...vuneruble.
He turned off the water and I quickly backed away, knowing that he wouldn't apreatiate the intrusion. I hid until he'd left wondering what had happened to him to make him look that way...to make him so...human.
******************************************************************************************************
(Draco's POV)
I can feel eyes watching me as I pick at my food. Looking up sharply, green eyes meet my blue-grey ones before they look hastily away. The look puzzles me, for it isn't the usual one filled with lothing but one of almost...pity.
I look back down at my food before me and try to ignore the converstaions around me. No one sits by me so I'm spared from chatting with anyone. I let the conversation work themselves into a steady droaning buzz in the back of my head like flys swarming around a dead carcass.
I still feel cold even after the scalding shower, even swathed in winter robes as I was. I push at my food not able to stomach anything and am horified as my vision blurs. I blink furusly to rid myself of them. Malfoys didn't cry. That was a lesson that was beaten into me long agao....the only time he never scolded me for tears was when he...he...I couldn't even bring myself to think about what he does.
I feel eyes on me again but refuse to look up, to let him see me so uncontrolled. I wrestle the emotions back under my icy exterior and finally looked up but the eyes are gone.
This time I look at him. Perfect Potter. Even with Granger and Weasley gone he is still surounded by adoring fans. The prat. He laughs, pushing a hand through his messy black hair making peices stand on end. I watch him wondering what it so great about him. Why is everyone Potters friend? I'm jelous...I can admit that to myself. His friends are real ones not like the Slytherins that glomb onto me in hopes of a bit of power and wealth. I know that he has his own problems. Voldemort being the biggest. His dumb luck of his has held out so far against him though, I refuse to beleive it's talent. His hands wave about in emphasis as he talks about something that he's obviously passionate about, probabbly Quidditch.
It is another thing that makes me hate him so. He is the talented one, the one that seems to be born riding a broom. He does stunts that I would break my nose trying and he does them effortlessly. Not that I'm a bad flyer, I sit a broom better then most of these pathetic sods, but I can never compete with Potter...perfect Potter.
The droaning buzz in my head grows louder and I turn from watching him to look back down at my plate, rubbing my fingers over the bridge of my nose. My body aches in all the wrong places and I wish this would be over so I could go back to my dorm. Go lie down and forget about today...pretend it never happened. Wonderful way to think about Christmas, hm?
Dumbledore rises from his spot at the teachers table and claps his hands together to get our attention and the converstions falters and dies. "Happy Christmas students, now that you've enjoyed your christmas breakfast. I am sure you will all be egar to get to the annual snowball fight in the courtyard."
The murmering that had died down, grew again in hushed tones though out the table. I blinked. Snowball fight? There was a snowball fight? It being my first time being here for Christmas since the whole Chambers incident, I hadn't known....I narrow my eyes. I wouldn't join...they couldn't make me.
"Please arrange yourselves into two teams and we will commence the competition in ten minutes."
The students quickly started chattering again. I pushed myself stiffly to my feet, I wouldn't join in any of this...it was pointless...it was a useless waist of time...it was...
"Malfoy!"
I look up as Potter calls my names before coming over. I glare at him as he comes within range, suspicious.
"Malfoy...join our team?" He asks. I stare at him for a few moments wondering what his angle is...why he is being...nice to me.
"You want *me* to join you Potter? Sure you didn't take a bludger to the head last Quidditch game?" I snear at him.
He rolls his eyes. "Just thought maybe having the only Slytherin on our team may give us an advantage....I'm sure a little underhandedness is not above *you* Malfoy."
He made it a compliment and an insult all in one sentance....I smirk despite myself. "Not afraid I'll defect to the other side Potter?" I say sarcastically. "Not afraid that I'll sully that golden boy image that you have being seen with me?"
He smirks back. "Afraid some niceness will rub off on you Malfoy?"
I look at him for a moment and glance at the team that had crowded a few paces away watching the exhange...his team. "You're an idiot Potter....but if that's your team then you need all the help you can get." I say "I'll meet you in the courtyard."
I turn and stalk away, not knowing why I'm doing this. My competitive spirit maybe? I hate to loose at anything, hate to back down from a chalange, and now I was on the same team as Potter...may god have mercy on my soul.