A/N: I know I haven't updated any of my stories for a long time. And I'm really sorry about that. This is just a crappy little piece in which many things will remain unanswered that I made up a few weeks ago and decided to post it simply because I haven't updated anything else. So, once again, sorry 'bout that. But my fic 'Smother Me' is getting a companion fic called 'Bury Me' (in Lucius's POV), and those two fics are getting a sequel of sorts called 'Watch Me' (in Narcissa's POV). Ooooh . . . now won't that be interesting?
Read, then review (or flame) this.
WARNINGS: SLASH. Killing. Death. Sorta violent.
Monster
Draco's eyes slowly widened in realization.
"It . . . it was you, wasn't it?" he said slowly. "You killed Pansy."
Harry gave him a cold stare.
"And what if I did?" he said icily.
"You . . . I thought . . . she . . ." Draco began in a choked voice. He swallowed. "Why?" his voice was barely a whisper.
Harry narrowed his eyes.
"Why? Why? I kill the ugly, stingy, pug-faced, simpering little slut, and you're asking me why?" Harry's voice held a mocking tone to it.
"She is not a slut," Draco's voice was tense.
"Correction, Draco . . . not 'is' . . . 'was'," Harry smirked.
Draco's eyes widened in anger, turning a liquid mercury colour, and he launched himself at Harry.
But Harry had been expecting the attack, and had (wandlessly) conjured up a large bubble around Draco – all of the man's spells just hit the sides of the bubble and bounced back.
"You bastard! You BASTARD! I'll kill you! I'll fucking murder you with my OWN BARE HANDS!" Draco screamed, trying to launch himself at Harry, but the bubble wouldn't let him. "Let me out! LET ME OUT, you bastard, LET ME OUT!!" he screamed, whipping his wand out and yelling a curse.
But the curse just hit the front of the bubble and bounced back into Draco, striking him full force. Draco fell to the floor with a thud, over half a dozen deep gashes suddenly on his arms and chest.
Harry simply watched all this with an icy-cool exterior, only allowing himself a smirk as Draco began bleeding heavily.
Although he was injured, Draco wasn't finished with trying to attack Harry.
"Furunculus!" he yelled, a bit of pain creeping into his voice. But, just as before, the spell just hit the sides of the bubble and bounced back, hitting Draco. Immediately lots of boils started covering Draco's face.
Harry quickly muttered the counter-spell and the boils disappeared off the blonde's skin. He didn't want Draco marring his pretty little face – it would take all the fun out of it for Harry.
Just as Draco was about to try and launch himself at Harry again, the raven- haired young man lazily repeated some Dark-sounding curse, and Draco was knocked off his feet and fell forward, with a loud crunch which (Harry guessed) was a couple of his ribs breaking.
Draco, who was still bleeding from the first curse he had tried to cast on Harry, pushed himself up off the floor, a hand pressed to his broken ribs, and stood on shaky legs, an expression of defeat on his face.
"Why did you do it? Why did you kill her?" Draco whispered, sounding so pathetically forlorn that Harry just had to answer.
"Have you seenthe way she's all over you the second you come into a room?" Harry sneered. "'Oh Draky, you look nice today', 'Oh Draky, do you like my almost non-existent mini-skirt', 'Oh Draky, will you fuck me on the table'?" he put on a high voice as he imitated Pansy.
Draco's eyes flashed in anger, but then he frowned slightly.
Slowly, but surely, a small smile spread across his features.
Harry didn't like this. Harry didn't like this at all. What was Draco smiling about? And why didn't he know about it?
"You were jealous, weren't you?" Draco's voice was soft.
"What?" Harry snapped. "No I wasn't."
Maybe he denied it a bit too quickly.
Draco nodded.
"You were. You know you were, and don't try to deny it, Potter. You were jealous," the blonde's voice had an undertone of disbelief to his words.
"I was not jealous," Harry spat. "I just don't like other people laying their filthy hands on my property."
"Property? I'm not your slave, Potter!"
"Like fuck you aren't! Who the hell saved you from a life sentence in Azkaban? Me. Who the hell gave you a home to live in, food, and warm clothes? Me. So who the fuck do you owe your services to? ME!"
"'Services'? What are you on, Potter, I'm not your whore!"
"Crucio!"
That last comment seemed to have struck a nerve in Potter.
Draco let out a scream, but then bit his lip hard, not wanting to give Harry the satisfaction of seeing him scream. But Harry didn't get bored of the curse, and before long, Draco was writhing on the floor, screaming. It was pain, pain, pain all over, all he could feel was pain . . .
Please, kill me now . . . let it end . . . please . . .
Eventually Harry took the curse off.
"Maybe now you'll think before you answer back to me, Draco!"
Draco glared up at Harry, his lip bleeding profusely from where he had bitten it trying to stop himself from screaming out loud.
"Fuck you," he whispered. "You don't scare me. You're a murderer. Just cos she was my best friend, you had to go and kill her, didn't you?"
Maybe Draco hadn't learned his lesson after all.
"Friend? Friend?! She was your fucking lover, Malfoy, admit it! The way she was all over every time you stepped into the room like the hoe she was just gave it all away!"
"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT SHE MEANT TO ME!!"
"ALL I KNOW IS SHE MEANT MORE TO YOU THAN I DO!!!"
Draco's eyes widened.
So did Harry's.
Fucking fuck fuck . . . I did not just say that, Harry thought in shock. He didn't even realise that it was true until he had said it.
There were a few moments of silence.
"And you wonder why that is . . ." Draco whispered. He unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it to the ground. "You see this?" he asked quietly, pointing at his chest. Harry winced. It had 'Property of Harry James Potter' branded into it. Yes, branded. As in with hot iron. Harry had done this one time when he was feeling particularly vicious. After a few moments Harry realised that Draco was still bleeding. And that he had many purple- black bruises covering his entire chest and stomach.
"And this? And this?" Draco asked, pointing to each bruise and scratch and cut in turn.
Harry couldn't say anything for his life. He was too shocked. Too stunned.
Too horrified.
He had done this. He had done this to Draco. Marred his body.
Marred his life.
He was a monster.
The truth smacked into him as surely as if a truck had hit him.
No wonder he had spent so long hiding from it.
"Pansy never did any of this. All she did was love me unconditionally. And not in the romantic way, either. She was my best friend. She had been ever since fourth year. I could tell her everything. But then I got together with you. Fell 'in love' with you, you could say. Actually gave my heart away to someone I thought I could trust with it. And what did you do?"
Harry remained silent, still in a state of shock.
"You ripped it out, stomped on it, slashed it into five billion pieces, and then you spat on it. Not only my heart, but me too. You broke me, Harry. I'm admitting it. Whether I like it or not, you broke me. I can't do anything to change that fact. And I couldn't tell a living soul about any of this. Pansy . . . she was fantastic. Even though I wouldn't say a word to her, she knew that something was wrong. She talked to me, made me change my mind about committing suicide countlesstimes during the time I was with you. And now she's dead. Because of you."
Harry met Draco's steel-grey eyes.
"Why do you think she meant more to me than you do?" the blonde whispered.
He suddenly collapsed on the floor, the bubble still around him. And he started crying. Draco Malfoy. Crying.
Crying because Harry killed his best friend.
I'm a monster, came that thought again.
Without warning, Draco let out a loud howl like a wounded animal.
"She's gone!" he sobbed. "She's gone, she's gone and she's NOT COMING BACK! I don't care what you do to me anymore, I JUST. DON'T. CARE! She's dead . . . she's dead . . . I have nothing to live for . . ." Draco sobbed, still bleeding in countless places all over his body, all over the floor.
Harry swallowed. He muttered something, and the bubble around Draco disappeared. He sat down next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Draco flinched, but Harry did not remove his hand.
He leaned in so that his face was very close to Draco's.
"You could live for me," he whispered, the tiniest bit of hope he had ever allowed himself to feel ever since fifth year filling his heart.
Draco looked up at him, face shining with his tears, eyes incredibly wide in disbelief.
There was a pregnant pause in the air.
"I'd rather die," he choked out.
Harry's eyes narrowed in anger.
"Then die, Malfoy!" he hissed, muttering some spell under his breath and suddenly he had a knife in his hand, and suddenly he was stabbing Draco in the heart and through the chest and in his stomach again, and again and again and again and again and again-
And then Harry started crying too.
Sobs, loud sobs, sobs that wracked his body and tore his heart and soul. But he had no soul. He had no heart. He must have surely sold them to the devil at some point during his life.
Draco was dead. Draco died in his arms. Draco died because Harry killed him.
He truly was a monster.
End.
Read, then review (or flame) this.
WARNINGS: SLASH. Killing. Death. Sorta violent.
Monster
Draco's eyes slowly widened in realization.
"It . . . it was you, wasn't it?" he said slowly. "You killed Pansy."
Harry gave him a cold stare.
"And what if I did?" he said icily.
"You . . . I thought . . . she . . ." Draco began in a choked voice. He swallowed. "Why?" his voice was barely a whisper.
Harry narrowed his eyes.
"Why? Why? I kill the ugly, stingy, pug-faced, simpering little slut, and you're asking me why?" Harry's voice held a mocking tone to it.
"She is not a slut," Draco's voice was tense.
"Correction, Draco . . . not 'is' . . . 'was'," Harry smirked.
Draco's eyes widened in anger, turning a liquid mercury colour, and he launched himself at Harry.
But Harry had been expecting the attack, and had (wandlessly) conjured up a large bubble around Draco – all of the man's spells just hit the sides of the bubble and bounced back.
"You bastard! You BASTARD! I'll kill you! I'll fucking murder you with my OWN BARE HANDS!" Draco screamed, trying to launch himself at Harry, but the bubble wouldn't let him. "Let me out! LET ME OUT, you bastard, LET ME OUT!!" he screamed, whipping his wand out and yelling a curse.
But the curse just hit the front of the bubble and bounced back into Draco, striking him full force. Draco fell to the floor with a thud, over half a dozen deep gashes suddenly on his arms and chest.
Harry simply watched all this with an icy-cool exterior, only allowing himself a smirk as Draco began bleeding heavily.
Although he was injured, Draco wasn't finished with trying to attack Harry.
"Furunculus!" he yelled, a bit of pain creeping into his voice. But, just as before, the spell just hit the sides of the bubble and bounced back, hitting Draco. Immediately lots of boils started covering Draco's face.
Harry quickly muttered the counter-spell and the boils disappeared off the blonde's skin. He didn't want Draco marring his pretty little face – it would take all the fun out of it for Harry.
Just as Draco was about to try and launch himself at Harry again, the raven- haired young man lazily repeated some Dark-sounding curse, and Draco was knocked off his feet and fell forward, with a loud crunch which (Harry guessed) was a couple of his ribs breaking.
Draco, who was still bleeding from the first curse he had tried to cast on Harry, pushed himself up off the floor, a hand pressed to his broken ribs, and stood on shaky legs, an expression of defeat on his face.
"Why did you do it? Why did you kill her?" Draco whispered, sounding so pathetically forlorn that Harry just had to answer.
"Have you seenthe way she's all over you the second you come into a room?" Harry sneered. "'Oh Draky, you look nice today', 'Oh Draky, do you like my almost non-existent mini-skirt', 'Oh Draky, will you fuck me on the table'?" he put on a high voice as he imitated Pansy.
Draco's eyes flashed in anger, but then he frowned slightly.
Slowly, but surely, a small smile spread across his features.
Harry didn't like this. Harry didn't like this at all. What was Draco smiling about? And why didn't he know about it?
"You were jealous, weren't you?" Draco's voice was soft.
"What?" Harry snapped. "No I wasn't."
Maybe he denied it a bit too quickly.
Draco nodded.
"You were. You know you were, and don't try to deny it, Potter. You were jealous," the blonde's voice had an undertone of disbelief to his words.
"I was not jealous," Harry spat. "I just don't like other people laying their filthy hands on my property."
"Property? I'm not your slave, Potter!"
"Like fuck you aren't! Who the hell saved you from a life sentence in Azkaban? Me. Who the hell gave you a home to live in, food, and warm clothes? Me. So who the fuck do you owe your services to? ME!"
"'Services'? What are you on, Potter, I'm not your whore!"
"Crucio!"
That last comment seemed to have struck a nerve in Potter.
Draco let out a scream, but then bit his lip hard, not wanting to give Harry the satisfaction of seeing him scream. But Harry didn't get bored of the curse, and before long, Draco was writhing on the floor, screaming. It was pain, pain, pain all over, all he could feel was pain . . .
Please, kill me now . . . let it end . . . please . . .
Eventually Harry took the curse off.
"Maybe now you'll think before you answer back to me, Draco!"
Draco glared up at Harry, his lip bleeding profusely from where he had bitten it trying to stop himself from screaming out loud.
"Fuck you," he whispered. "You don't scare me. You're a murderer. Just cos she was my best friend, you had to go and kill her, didn't you?"
Maybe Draco hadn't learned his lesson after all.
"Friend? Friend?! She was your fucking lover, Malfoy, admit it! The way she was all over every time you stepped into the room like the hoe she was just gave it all away!"
"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT SHE MEANT TO ME!!"
"ALL I KNOW IS SHE MEANT MORE TO YOU THAN I DO!!!"
Draco's eyes widened.
So did Harry's.
Fucking fuck fuck . . . I did not just say that, Harry thought in shock. He didn't even realise that it was true until he had said it.
There were a few moments of silence.
"And you wonder why that is . . ." Draco whispered. He unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it to the ground. "You see this?" he asked quietly, pointing at his chest. Harry winced. It had 'Property of Harry James Potter' branded into it. Yes, branded. As in with hot iron. Harry had done this one time when he was feeling particularly vicious. After a few moments Harry realised that Draco was still bleeding. And that he had many purple- black bruises covering his entire chest and stomach.
"And this? And this?" Draco asked, pointing to each bruise and scratch and cut in turn.
Harry couldn't say anything for his life. He was too shocked. Too stunned.
Too horrified.
He had done this. He had done this to Draco. Marred his body.
Marred his life.
He was a monster.
The truth smacked into him as surely as if a truck had hit him.
No wonder he had spent so long hiding from it.
"Pansy never did any of this. All she did was love me unconditionally. And not in the romantic way, either. She was my best friend. She had been ever since fourth year. I could tell her everything. But then I got together with you. Fell 'in love' with you, you could say. Actually gave my heart away to someone I thought I could trust with it. And what did you do?"
Harry remained silent, still in a state of shock.
"You ripped it out, stomped on it, slashed it into five billion pieces, and then you spat on it. Not only my heart, but me too. You broke me, Harry. I'm admitting it. Whether I like it or not, you broke me. I can't do anything to change that fact. And I couldn't tell a living soul about any of this. Pansy . . . she was fantastic. Even though I wouldn't say a word to her, she knew that something was wrong. She talked to me, made me change my mind about committing suicide countlesstimes during the time I was with you. And now she's dead. Because of you."
Harry met Draco's steel-grey eyes.
"Why do you think she meant more to me than you do?" the blonde whispered.
He suddenly collapsed on the floor, the bubble still around him. And he started crying. Draco Malfoy. Crying.
Crying because Harry killed his best friend.
I'm a monster, came that thought again.
Without warning, Draco let out a loud howl like a wounded animal.
"She's gone!" he sobbed. "She's gone, she's gone and she's NOT COMING BACK! I don't care what you do to me anymore, I JUST. DON'T. CARE! She's dead . . . she's dead . . . I have nothing to live for . . ." Draco sobbed, still bleeding in countless places all over his body, all over the floor.
Harry swallowed. He muttered something, and the bubble around Draco disappeared. He sat down next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Draco flinched, but Harry did not remove his hand.
He leaned in so that his face was very close to Draco's.
"You could live for me," he whispered, the tiniest bit of hope he had ever allowed himself to feel ever since fifth year filling his heart.
Draco looked up at him, face shining with his tears, eyes incredibly wide in disbelief.
There was a pregnant pause in the air.
"I'd rather die," he choked out.
Harry's eyes narrowed in anger.
"Then die, Malfoy!" he hissed, muttering some spell under his breath and suddenly he had a knife in his hand, and suddenly he was stabbing Draco in the heart and through the chest and in his stomach again, and again and again and again and again and again-
And then Harry started crying too.
Sobs, loud sobs, sobs that wracked his body and tore his heart and soul. But he had no soul. He had no heart. He must have surely sold them to the devil at some point during his life.
Draco was dead. Draco died in his arms. Draco died because Harry killed him.
He truly was a monster.
End.