The Best Deceptions

AUTHOR: Bedspace

RATING: PG

CATEGORY: Angst

SUB CATEGORY: Drama/slight romance/slash

PAIRING: Harry/Draco

SUMMARY: Every hunter loves his prey. Every hunter, except perhaps Draco Malfoy, the apprentice Death Eater. Or does he conform to this when talking about his worst enemy, whom he successfully hunted down? First of ? parts.

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and any related insignia is the property of J.K. Rowling's brilliant mind and the copyright of Warner Bros., Scholastic books and Ms. Rowling once more. Some lines from TV shows, songs, or movies I have long forgot. "The Best Deceptions" is the property of Dashboard Confessional. The simple plot is mine, which is the product of boredom and the storm here at home. I'm not really the slash writer, so just bear with it. Reviews welcome, though. Tell me how I can improve on this stuff or what. Thanks. Cheers.

He was given strict instructions. "This is your prey, young Malfoy, which you caught beautifully," the cloaked skeleton-like man had whispered maliciously in his ear as Draco had looked over the scenario with his steely silver-gray eyes, "I will have to talk to your father for your excellent work. Watch over him. Do not let him go."

Do not let him go.

Draco's mouth twisted into his signature sneer, though when one looked closely enough, there was a hint of sadness and bitterness in the seemingly cool and composed, gloating even, sneer. Yet he coolly turned to his new master, remembering to display respect and reverence as he nodded. It was one of the many things he had learned against his will from his father. "Yes, my Lord," he murmured, bowing his head. Voldemort smiled menacingly, nodded approvingly at Draco, and was gone in an instant.

Draco quietly lowered the hood that covered his face, pale and pointed as it was. He looked appraisingly at his only other companion in the dungeon. An involuntary sneer and shudder dominated Draco's face and body respectively, quite the oxymoron. He was looking at a battered Harry Potter, glasses and all his clothes stripped from, with blood covering his slightly pale skin. His green eyes were hidden behind a curtain of stringy, damp, black hair. His head was bent down, his arms and legs shackled to two metal poles at either side of him.

The same shudder, Draco realized, was the shudder he had when he first saw Harry's body in the nude, back at Hogwarts. He never thought, with Harry being a Seeker, that his body could be a flawless glory. But it was.

Everything about Harry was a flawless glory. Everything he felt about Harry was no different. Flawless.

Flawless hatred, Draco thought amusedly. He started to take strides that were slightly less silent than his normal ones. His footfalls' soft pitter-patters resounded in the silent dungeon. Draco saw Harry's head look up. The black-haired boy shook the hair out of his eyes, and looked at Draco unflinchingly. For some reason, Draco stopped in his tracks, though not quite losing poise. That would be definitely the last thing he needed.

Harry's mouth curved upward in a twisted smile. "Well, congratulations, Draco," he said in mock pride, "not only is your dad proud, but all his friends are. Isn't that what you wanted?" If Harry was nursing some hurt, he definitely wasn't showing it.

For a moment Draco had nothing to say. What could he say anyway? But the Malfoy in him conjured a comeback as easily as you could get a glass of water. "Oh, it's just a part of what I want, Potter," Draco said in the same tone of Harry's voice, though not cracked and mingled with discomfort from the pain. Regaining his composure, he continued walking nearer to Harry. "You sure fulfilled me and gave my life meaning more than I told you that you did,"

"Oh, so you weren't kidding about that," Harry mused in a voice that feigned shock, "nice to know that your statement did have truths, despite it being twisted and screwed in a twisted and screwed way," he said in a honeyed voice.

Draco let out a soft, cruel chuckle. "You didn't seriously think that the crap I told you was true in a honeymoon type of way, did you?" he said in disbelief, "god, Potter, you really are more stupid than I gave you credit for,"

Harry's emerald green eyes flashed with anger and a hint of.. pain? Hopelessness? Disappointment?, but he kept his cool.

"After eight years of being familiar with you, Malfoy, I told myself from the start that you are a liar. You never did anything to disprove that to me," Harry said in a voice hinted with venom, "there may have been times where I was seriously considering to tell myself that you weren't one, but my instinct saved me on the spot. I never trusted you, except perhaps trusted you to give me the best sex of my life, and you did just that. What more could I ask for?"

For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy was at loss for words. He was desperate to give a retort that would shut Potter up, but nothing with sense popped in his mind like it normally did. Apart from that, a huge pang hit him. Hating himself for it, he heard Harry Potter's voice in his head. Harry's recent words will forever haunt him.

I never trusted you, except perhaps trusted you to give me the best sex of my life, and you did just that.

I never trusted you.

Draco cursed himself silently for being so affected, for allowing Harry Potter to bring him down. "What gives you the impression that I care about your trust? That I cared about you in the first place? I did what I had to do, Harry," Draco retorted, though his voice lacking a bit of his previous conviction and forgetting to call him 'Potter', "you would've been better off without expecting the fairytale ending you Gryffindors seem to have a knack for believing in,"

"So I would've been," Harry replied calmly, without missing a step, "but you also did what you had to do. So that obviously puts me in my place. In this place, at least. And like I said awhile ago, I never trusted you. So obviously, expecting anything from you other than the best sex and delivering me to Voldemort was out of the question, let alone expecting a 'fairytale ending' I never even heard of in the first place, now wasn't it?"

"Good of you to know that," Draco snapped, really running out of words to say now, and hating every pore of Harry Potter. Harry Potter, who stood completely naked and covered in blood and whiplashes all over his body. Harry Potter, who despite the torture he's been experiencing for the past twenty-four hours, without any food or drink, was smiling smugly, glaring at Draco intensely with emerald green eyes.

"Do you think I'm petrified by your presence, Potter?" he continued, his soft voice positively dripping with venom, "do you actually think I'm scared of you, when you're shackled to two poles like a male gigolo and could do nothing more than attempt to use your oh-so-scary tone and the most profound insults for your kind?"

"The concept never really crossed my mind, dear Draco, but now that you mention it, yes, I do think you are what you claim I think you are," Harry said thoughtfully and amusedly, "if you even understood what I said," He ran his eyes over the fully clothed Draco, making Draco feel that he was the one bound to chains, naked.

"Fuck you, Harry Potter," Draco growled in an altogether unconvincing way, "fuck you,"

"Ah, the famous Malfoy fallback," Harry said in a mystical voice, "when in the dark of the insults/retorts/comebacks to use on thine enemy, use profanity. Yes, it always has been music to my ears whenever you would shout out God-knows-what-kind-of-cusses when I was on top and.." Harry trailed off, leering at Malfoy, licking his bloodied and dry lips sensually.

"SHUT UP, Potter!" Draco yelled, his voice bouncing off the hollowed walls, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" he said in an even louder voice, which was a crossover of anger, alarm and an emotion Draco couldn't quite place at the moment.

Harry snickered, like he would when Ron would make a comment on Snape dancing during the Yule Ball. "There, there, Draco," he said in a mock soothing voice, "I would give you a shag to cheer you up, but under the circumstances, that obviously cannot be. Why don't you just take heart in the fact that I previously said I trusted you to give me the best sex of my life, and that you did?"

"How dare you, Potter," Draco snarled, "you have no right to even breathe when, as you can see, you're as helpless as a little baby and that you will die,"

"Allow me to enlighten you, Draco. This is called 'milking its worth'," Harry said pleasantly, "it was you who showed me the joy in this stunt. I thought you would be proud that I'm putting it to such good use. Because of this, because of you, I will die a happy death knowing that I milked everything for all its glorious worth, particularly from my worst enemy, and the one person I would hate to death and the afterlife,"

"You will never even get ten yards near the Dark Lord, let alone milk him, you unworthy piece of slime," Draco said triumphantly, his old demeanor slowly returning. But to his shock, Harry's cruelly amused face showed no alteration and Draco felt his momentary triumph vanish, like a small flame put out by a raging waterfall.

"Whoever said I wanted to milk Voldemort's worth? I've been doing that literally my whole life," he said amusedly once more, enjoying the way Draco seethed as he deliberately gave an accent to Voldemort's name, "I was talking about you. My worst enemy. You are the one person I will hate for the remainder of my life, the whole of my death, and the horizons of time in my afterlife. If death is the price of this, then I'm honored and thrilled to take and face death. If one thing was better than the experience you gave me in bed, then it would be the adrenaline of hate pulsating in my veins when I saw you," Harry finished, his last statement something of a growl.

For a moment, Draco forgot to breathe. His breath caught in his throat as he comprehended Harry's words. Specifically, Harry's words of hate. And Draco wasn't quite sure just what stirred in him.

No matter, Draco thought resolutely, you don't even care, he told himself.

Deciding he was in no mood to think of another retort, Draco realized he was feeling drained. But not drained enough to look at Harry in disgust. "Rant and rave, Potter, the worms that will crawl on your corpse are aching to listen to the last words you will ever be able to make," he drawled smugly, trying to bring up conviction. He apparated out of the dungeon before the other boy could give another comeback, which, judging by the look on Harry's face before Draco disappeared, was just what he was about to do.

Draco stood outside the spell-proof dungeon door, which, unfortunately wasn't sound proof. Harry knew this all too well and he had one last word for Draco before his truce. "Coward!" Draco's only consolation was that Harry's voice cracked, an obvious sign of weakness.

Draco walked away, the full impact of his conversation with Harry hitting him. He would rest on his comfortable bed just a few rooms away. He would regain his energy, and come back tomorrow for round two. And from there on, the match would belong to Draco. Harry may have had an edge on round one, but he was not fully weak yet.

But now, Draco had enough of being the weak one for one day.