Warning: Slash and bad words. If you can't tolerate them, don't read!
A/N: A H/D in Draco POV. I haven't written in direct POV before, so I hope it came out alright.
Hiding
=============
I really hate him. It's not just any type of hate, but the hate that can only be given to those you truly despise.
I loathe him too. Don't get me wrong. I also abhor, detest, dislike, and even execrate him. And that's not even the complete story.
He always looks to fucking sure of himself. Even when Snape sets him up for detention, he takes it in stride. How the fuck can he do that? Is it humanly possible to withstand that kind of shit and still stay calm?
Oh wait. It's Harry Potter. He's the fucking Wonder Boy. He can do anything.
And how do I, Draco Malfoy, end up sitting here, huddled in Potter's four- poster? What ever gave me the insane notion that breaking into Gryffindor Tower and waiting for him to come back from Quidditch?
I have to prove that I do hate him. I have to hate him. He rejected me before he ever knew me.
We could have been great friends. The only reason I pick on him is to get his attention. And who am I if I am not the Great Rival of Harry Potter?
But I could have dealt with any of his friends. I could feel his magic. That heady power which surrounds him like a cloak. Oh yes. He is powerful alright.
But this needs to end now. I abhor him. I do not even want to like him. It's not supposed to be this way.
And Harry is coming. I can feel the hum of magic growing closer. I wonder what he'll do when he sees me. I found his invisibility cloak. I always knew he had one. And those locking and various silencing and soundproofing spells are already in place.
Will he scream? Or will he just wonder why I'm here?
Potter is closer now. I can hear his voice. His footfalls make a shiver run through me. He's undressing. Wait. He's not supposed to be undressing. He's supposed to be fully clothed. Damn you Potter. Always messing up my carefully laid plans.
He's close now. I can smell the soap and open air scent around him. Now he's removing his glasses.
Potter has the most brilliant eyes with those glass lenses covering them. How am I supposed to be able to deal with them unadorned?
Harry, no, Potter is opening the curtains. What is it about that clean, hard, muscular expense of uncovered chest that takes my breath away? His mussed hair is wet, and is dripping down tiny rivulets down his neck, past the hollow of his throat, and down to map out the lean planes of his chest. His emerald eyes, breathtaking normally, almost glowed. His shorts are riding low. I have half an urge to pin Potter to the bed and shag him senseless.
Fortunately, my control is kicking in. If only anyone knew that the great Draco Malfoy almost lost control over Harry Potter.
But that's why I'm here? Isn't it? To prove to the world that just because he makes me want to lose my control it doesn't mean anything.
Who am I kidding? Harry is all of a foot away from me, and I'm seriously trying to decide if he likes it on the top or the bottom.
And since when do I allow myself to call him Harry.
He's Potter. Harry Fucking Potter.
Fucking Potter sounds right.
Shit. I need to get this over with.
So how do I tell him? Would 'Harry, you're almost naked, and I'm horny as hell, so why don't we lay back and fool around for a while?' work?
Or is that too direct?
Probably something more like 'Potter, about time you showed up.' It's Malfoy-ish. I'll take him by surprise, and I won't have a comatose Harry on my hands. Not that it wouldn't' be a bad idea...
Ok. That's it. Second route. Wait. I'm not wearing anymore than Potter is. And I doubt he'll understand the fact that I'm not exactly unexcited here.
So be it. I'll take off the Invisibility Cloak now. And drawl... Perfect. Not all the Malfoy arrogance, but not like I'm waiting to get some.
Ah. I startled him. He looks so confused. Maybe we should just shag. No. That's a bad idea. I need to tell him. I need to figure this all out.
Wait. I sound like a fucking angsty teenager. I'm not going to go all sappy, then angst about my "one true love" that doesn't put out.
I sound like a romance novel gone wrong.
But Potter is looking at me with hungry eyes. Who knew Potter is gay? Who knew I am gay?
Fuck.
Harry isn't saying anything. Is my hair messed up? Should I kiss him?
I vote yes.
Harry tastes like chocolate and cherries. And flying. Yes. Kissing Harry is like flying, with that tongue, and those lips. Oh god, those lips. Yes. He's on top of me. And he's hard. Fuck. I'm hard too. That feels so good. Yes Harry. More. Kiss me Dammit. Chocolate Harry. Hard and warm. I don't hate...
Harry has his eyes open. I think we broke for air. And his eyes. I don't hate him, do I? That's why I'm here.
Well, if not hating Harry is as good as this; I'll do it every night.
------------- [end of chapter] ----------
TBC.
A/N: My first POV fic. You like? Want me to continue? Please review!
A/N: A H/D in Draco POV. I haven't written in direct POV before, so I hope it came out alright.
Hiding
=============
I really hate him. It's not just any type of hate, but the hate that can only be given to those you truly despise.
I loathe him too. Don't get me wrong. I also abhor, detest, dislike, and even execrate him. And that's not even the complete story.
He always looks to fucking sure of himself. Even when Snape sets him up for detention, he takes it in stride. How the fuck can he do that? Is it humanly possible to withstand that kind of shit and still stay calm?
Oh wait. It's Harry Potter. He's the fucking Wonder Boy. He can do anything.
And how do I, Draco Malfoy, end up sitting here, huddled in Potter's four- poster? What ever gave me the insane notion that breaking into Gryffindor Tower and waiting for him to come back from Quidditch?
I have to prove that I do hate him. I have to hate him. He rejected me before he ever knew me.
We could have been great friends. The only reason I pick on him is to get his attention. And who am I if I am not the Great Rival of Harry Potter?
But I could have dealt with any of his friends. I could feel his magic. That heady power which surrounds him like a cloak. Oh yes. He is powerful alright.
But this needs to end now. I abhor him. I do not even want to like him. It's not supposed to be this way.
And Harry is coming. I can feel the hum of magic growing closer. I wonder what he'll do when he sees me. I found his invisibility cloak. I always knew he had one. And those locking and various silencing and soundproofing spells are already in place.
Will he scream? Or will he just wonder why I'm here?
Potter is closer now. I can hear his voice. His footfalls make a shiver run through me. He's undressing. Wait. He's not supposed to be undressing. He's supposed to be fully clothed. Damn you Potter. Always messing up my carefully laid plans.
He's close now. I can smell the soap and open air scent around him. Now he's removing his glasses.
Potter has the most brilliant eyes with those glass lenses covering them. How am I supposed to be able to deal with them unadorned?
Harry, no, Potter is opening the curtains. What is it about that clean, hard, muscular expense of uncovered chest that takes my breath away? His mussed hair is wet, and is dripping down tiny rivulets down his neck, past the hollow of his throat, and down to map out the lean planes of his chest. His emerald eyes, breathtaking normally, almost glowed. His shorts are riding low. I have half an urge to pin Potter to the bed and shag him senseless.
Fortunately, my control is kicking in. If only anyone knew that the great Draco Malfoy almost lost control over Harry Potter.
But that's why I'm here? Isn't it? To prove to the world that just because he makes me want to lose my control it doesn't mean anything.
Who am I kidding? Harry is all of a foot away from me, and I'm seriously trying to decide if he likes it on the top or the bottom.
And since when do I allow myself to call him Harry.
He's Potter. Harry Fucking Potter.
Fucking Potter sounds right.
Shit. I need to get this over with.
So how do I tell him? Would 'Harry, you're almost naked, and I'm horny as hell, so why don't we lay back and fool around for a while?' work?
Or is that too direct?
Probably something more like 'Potter, about time you showed up.' It's Malfoy-ish. I'll take him by surprise, and I won't have a comatose Harry on my hands. Not that it wouldn't' be a bad idea...
Ok. That's it. Second route. Wait. I'm not wearing anymore than Potter is. And I doubt he'll understand the fact that I'm not exactly unexcited here.
So be it. I'll take off the Invisibility Cloak now. And drawl... Perfect. Not all the Malfoy arrogance, but not like I'm waiting to get some.
Ah. I startled him. He looks so confused. Maybe we should just shag. No. That's a bad idea. I need to tell him. I need to figure this all out.
Wait. I sound like a fucking angsty teenager. I'm not going to go all sappy, then angst about my "one true love" that doesn't put out.
I sound like a romance novel gone wrong.
But Potter is looking at me with hungry eyes. Who knew Potter is gay? Who knew I am gay?
Fuck.
Harry isn't saying anything. Is my hair messed up? Should I kiss him?
I vote yes.
Harry tastes like chocolate and cherries. And flying. Yes. Kissing Harry is like flying, with that tongue, and those lips. Oh god, those lips. Yes. He's on top of me. And he's hard. Fuck. I'm hard too. That feels so good. Yes Harry. More. Kiss me Dammit. Chocolate Harry. Hard and warm. I don't hate...
Harry has his eyes open. I think we broke for air. And his eyes. I don't hate him, do I? That's why I'm here.
Well, if not hating Harry is as good as this; I'll do it every night.
------------- [end of chapter] ----------
TBC.
A/N: My first POV fic. You like? Want me to continue? Please review!