Notice: Any confusion left, ask in the comments and I'll do my best to provide suplimentary material to explain.
chapter 18.2 - chapter 1 - chapter 5.2 - chapter 4.1 - chapter 3.1 - chapter 6.1 - chapter 14.1 - chapter 5.1 - chapter 10 - chapter 11.2 - chaper 13.2 - chapter 2 - chapter 4.2 - chapter 3.2 - chapter 4.3 - chapter 7 - chapter 9.1 - chapter 6.2 - chapter 9.3 - chapter 11.1 - chapter 8.2 - chapter 14.2 - chapter 15.3 - chapter 17.3 - chapter 12.2 - chapter 15.2 - chapter 16 - chapter 17.2 - chapter 9.2 - chapter 12.1 - chapter 15.1 - chapter 13.3 - chapter 8.1 - chapter 13.1 - chapter 17.1 - chapter 17.4 - chapter 18.1 - chapter 8.3 -
September 1 - 2002 -
The tea was just beginning to scream and steam over as I sat down with a pile of notes to get some work done. The tea pot floated to the table and sat down on a tea cozy to await pour, which I did without looking up from the interview with some Muggle that had witnessed a Deatheater attack on a muggle hospital in Belgium. I jotted a note down while take a sip, but then spilled a bit onto the parchment when a knock at the door shattered the evening quiet. I set the tea down and dabbed at the parchment with a napkin as the knock came again. Not knowing who would show up at this house, I stood and went to the door, peering out the peep hole to find a bit of shock.
He was standing rigid on the doorstep, looking around with an arrogant sneer of impatience. Curiosity got the best of me and I opened the door just as he was about to knock for a fourth time. "Finally, what took so long? You can't be living in more than a box."
I leaned against the doorframe and rolled my eyes, "Is there a reason for this visit or did you just come to insult me?"
"I have something I need to give you. Are you going to show some manners and ask me in or are you going to leave me on the doorstep?"
"I'm tempted to leave you." I moved to close the door in his face, but he stepped forward to hold the door open, stepping rather close to me in the process. He smelled of his expensive cologne with a faint hint of coffee.
"I don't think so. Let me in."
"What if I don't want to?"
"You do." I was about to retort with something biting, but the words were lost on the way to my mouth. His hand had gone to my face, his thumb stroking my cheek, and his eyes were a bit glazed and searching. "When did you become the most beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes on? How could I have missed that?" His voice held a sort of reverent awe I didn't think him capable of, but I no more trusted it than anything he had ever said to me. He noticed my skepticism and closed his eyes with a sigh, his hand sliding down my neck to my chest to rest over my heart. "Please, just let me give this to you. I've been struggling with it for a long while now and it's time you had it."
I eyed him for a moment longer; then stepped aside. He walked in and looked around at the small living room Harry and I shared, but gave no comment before turning to me. "Would you like some tea? I just made some."
"Tea would be lovely." I nodded and went to get him some. When I came back, he was perched on the edge of the couch, fussing over a square box wrapped in silver that was almost the size of the coffee table, and he looked very much like an anxious bird. He smiled up at me and took the cup when I offered it to him. "Thank you."
I nodded and sat beside him, "So what is this?"
"Do you still have the chess pieces I gave you?"
"Yes, they're in the hall closet, why?" He didn't say anything, but handed me the present instead. I hesitated for a second, but the nervous look he was giving it convinced me that it wasn't hexed. I pulled the paper off to reveal a lidded box. Lifting the lip up, I was surprised to find a beautiful, ornately carved chess board sitting amongst the green velvet lining. I lifted it out of the box to take a closer look while he cleared the box and the paper away and watched me, still with that anxious look. It was made of the same materials as the pieces had been and looked more expensive than six months rent of the flat. "Malfoy…"
"Before you say anything, there's a reason I'm giving this to you and I want you to hear this before you respond." I looked up at him and he took a deep breath, looking more nervous than before. This was very unlike him. "I've been fighting myself with this for a long time, but I'm ready finally. I love you. I'm sick, and twisted, and I've done so many horrible things to you, and I know that I have no right to, but I love you. I can't… I don't want to spend any more time fighting with you or avoiding you. I just want to be with you. Just you. I've left my wife. She's given me a son and a proper heir and now she will live at the villa with the children and do whatever she wants to and I'm free of all obligations to my family. The proper family, proper reputation, proper partner, all of that is gone, doesn't matter. I want you and I want only you.
"Everything I've ever done to you, every horrible thing I've done, was done because I had no other choice. You were not allowed to mean anything to me and, no matter how much I hated it, I had to get rid of you, for both our sakes. So I stood you up, hurt you, cheated on you, flirted right in front of you, made you do things I had no right to. I tried so hard to get you out of my head, but none of it did any good. Every time I did some horrible thing to you, you ended up with a little bit more of me until you had all but the shell. And now that I don't have father or Voldemort telling me they'll kill us both if I even think of you, I'm here to give you the rest, that last bit you don't have. The chess board to play the pieces you've had all along on." In my shock, I had set the board in my lap, and he took my hands and lifted them to his mouth, kissing each knuckle as he said the last sentence.
I stared at him, frozen to the spot. How was I supposed to respond? He'd hurt me irrevocably on more occasions than I could count and I had sworn to never touch him again, but I knew by the rapid beat of my heart that I still loved him, still wanted him above all others. But could I risk my heart again for such an unsure love? Could I rise above if he hurt me again? Could I live with myself if I denied him?
My silence made him even more nervous and I watched the frantic search of my face his eyes made. I was struck again at how un-Malfoy he was acting and wondered if it really was just an act. But that frantic panic doesn't come with acting, not in the eyes, and certainly not with someone that has never known an emotion like frantic before in his life. I found words once more, "What is your son's name?"
He studied me for a moment, his thumb absently rubbing the top of my hand. "Libertas."
"Does he look like you?"
"Yes, for the most part. For the parts that count."
"Blonde hair and gray eyes. You're little girl has dark hair, like Pansy."
"She has her father's features though, and my mannerisms."
I nodded and looked down at my hands ensconced in his hold. "Harry won't like you here."
"Potter? What does Potter have to do with anything?"
"He lives here with me. He's in Belgium right now, but he's due back later tonight and he won't like you here."
"Do you want me to leave, then?" Disappointment seeped into his stature like water to a sponge.
"No, just thought I would tell you." We sat in silence for a long moment and I watched the circles of his thumb, and decided that maybe it was worth the risk, maybe the possibility of a living, breathing 'us' was worth it. I tentatively leaned in to set my lips against his. I felt him relax into me, a hand sliding into my hair to keep me where I was. The familiar need fell over me like a warm blanket and I suddenly realized I'd been freezing all this time. Afterward, I lay curled into his side. He had been warm and gentle and needy and I had fallen in love with him all over again. His fingers were entangled in my hair and he kissed my forehead, and I waited for him to tell me that it was late and that he needed to go, but he only continued to stroke circles along my spine. The silence was soothing and comfortable, like a moist summer night, and I settled further into him as I closed my eyes.
There was a CRACK and I suddenly remembered that we were on the couch under a flimsy throw blanket and not in bed, tucked away from a work and travel-weary Harry. Draco's head shifted from its resting place on top of mine and I looked up to see him quietly watching Harry, his fingers still scattering circles against my skin.
"What the fuck?" came Harry's mottled voice, half-way between exhaustion and confusion. I steeled myself for the confrontation and turned my back to Draco so I could look at Harry. Draco's arms pulled me into the crook of his hips and he watched from over my head.
"Hi, Harry."
"What's going on?" He looked confused, a little hurt, and on the brink of extreme anger. He set his bag down next to his reading chair and sat in it, looking at us.
"Do you mind if Draco stays for a little while?"
"Yes, I do. I mind a great deal. He hurt you, what's the bastard doing here?"
I felt Draco tense but placed a hand over his to calm him down. "We've worked it out."
"You've worked it out? You've worked it out! Do you remember the last time you 'worked it out'? Because I remember a fight and then him leaving you on the ground all but in tears while he went off and married some slimy, disgusting cow and you didn't speak for a month." He'd stood in his frustration and was gesticulating wildly, his cheeks flushed with anger.
"It's not really any of your business, Potter. Ron's an adult and he can do what he pleases, and already has, and there's no way you can stop it."
Harry turned from angry to seething and I knew it would only be a moment before his wand was out. "Not any of my business! I'm the one that picks up the pieces every time you break his heart! I'm the one that has to watch him whither into nothing because he can't eat. I'm the one that has to hold him while he cries until he can't breathe because you've left him. I have to watch him fall apart when he's my best friend and I can't do anything about it. Don't tell me it's none of my business because it's every bit my business. I won't let you break him again." I burrowed further into the curve of Draco's body and let them talk above my head, watching Harry's hand cautiously. These things needed to be said if either of them was ever to be in the same room with the other for more than a minute without some sort of violence.
"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I was trying to protect him by leaving? Did you ever think about my father? My place under the Dark Lord? Did you know what he did when he found out Zabini was gay? Did you hear about how he forced him to fuck his partner with a hunting blade and eat the entrails when he was done? Do you think I wanted that for Ron? Did you think about any of that? No, I don't think you did. I think you saw me as your arch nemesis, the selfish, cruel boy that never gave a damn about him at all. Never thought that maybe I loved him, but couldn't express it. That I'd give my life to make sure he was safe. Never thought of the possibility that I almost had to when I left." His last statement hung in the air like a droplet frozen to the tip of an icicle, always anticipating the fall, but never quite getting there.
Something changed in the way Harry's eyes shimmered, turning perhaps to weariness or guilt. But there was still anger and before I could stop it, his wand was at Draco's throat. "If you hurt him again, I will take it as a personal vendetta to hunt you down and have you drawn, quartered, and castrated." They proceeded to stare each other down. Not anticipating either of them backing down, I cautiously reached up and moved his wand to point at me. He looked down at me in confusion.
"This is the way I want things to be, Harry. If he hurts me, then that's my mistake, but please don't stop me from making it."
He searched my face for a minute before pulling his wand away and turning towards the hall. "It's late, I'm going to bed."
I watched his back disappear down the hall before turning back to Draco. "Are you going to stay tonight?"
He smiled and brushed fingers through my hair, "If you want me to."
I smiled and kissed him quickly before sitting up and pulling on a pair of boxers that had been lying near me. I'm fairly certain they were not mine. "Come on, then. I'm sick of sleeping on couches with you." I stood and waited for him to wrap the blanket around his waist before heading down the hall to go into my room, the sounds of Harry violently getting ready for bed coming from the door across the hall.
October 10 - 1996 - Sixth Year -
It was after Quidditch. Thanks to Voldemort's latest attempt at assassination, Harry was still under house arrest and banned from even watching the game, let alone playing in it. Ginny was a good seeker, but not as good as Malfoy, who, much to my and Harry's chagrin, was only second in the school to Harry. I had stayed back in the locker rooms, too depressed to speak to anyone, let alone the whole house. It wasn't my fault, really. Slytherin had only gotten one goal in, but we had only gotten three and that isn't nearly enough to win if you don't get the snitch. But still, Slytherin had won. Malfoy, bloody fucking ferret Draco Malfoy, had beaten us. I suddenly realized what Wood must have gone through after the Dementor's stormed the field third year.
And so I sat on a bench in the locker rooms alone, and wallowed in my own pity. Except that I wasn't alone. Malfoy was there, had stayed behind; I can only assume his reason was torture and humiliation. He did not operate on any other level that I knew of.
"Well, well, well, look what we have here. A sad, pathetic, little Weasel. Going to cry, then? Can't stand to lose to Slytherin like you were born to? Is that why you stay behind?"
I sighed and rubbed at my temples, not looking at him, "Why are you here, Malfoy? Shouldn't you be with your house? Celebrating? Sacrificing Muggle children or whatever the bloody fuck you do?"
He smirked, and then pretended to pout, "I would be, but sadly there were no Muggles around." His pout turned into an evil grin. "Besides, what do you think I'm doing? Watching you look like they've just killed your fat cow of a mother is like my own, personal party."
I'd risen when he insulted Mum and I began to gain on him. "You watch what you say about my mum. Your goons aren't here and I would have no problem rearranging that pointy little face of yours."
"Tsk, tsk, Weasley, resorting to violence over a simple truth? What would your mother say? Oh wait, that's right, she only moos, doesn't she? Terribly-Bloody Hell!" As soon as it had come out of his mouth, my fist landed on his nose. He glared at me, clutching the obviously broken cartilage as blood oozed down his hands and chin.
I smirked at him, "What was that about my mum?"
He let go of his nose, which was still dripping blood down his chin, making him look as though he'd just eaten raw flesh right off the bone, and wiped his hands on his robes. "I said that your fat cow of a mother can only moo." As if to punctuate the statement, he returned my punch with one of his own.
Pain seared through my face and I clamped one hand over my wounded eye. Before I'd even put any thought into it, I punched him again, in the cheek. He staggered back a bit before growling and lunging at me, shoving me against a set of lockers. I prepared myself for another punch, but it never came. There was a pause in which we glared death threats at one another, but then one moment, a glint of something in the grey, and his lips were smashed against mine. I tasted his blood on my lips, salty and almost addictive. I found myself licking at it to taste more, but no, this was wrong, perverse, unbalanced. Bloody Fuck, this was Malfoy!
I shoved him off, or tried to, but he had me firmly pinned to the wall, so I kneed his bits to get him off. He groaned and cowered away from me, doubled over in pain. "What the fuck was that, Malfoy! You fucking pervert!"
I heard him inhale a breath before he stood straight, dabbing daintily at his nose with his sleeve. "Nothing, Weasel. It was nothing. Now if you'll excuse me," He tried to push passed me, but I would not let him leave.
"No, you don't get off that easy. You just kissed me, you sick fuck! You need to explain yourself before I kick the living shit out of you."
He growled and pushed at me chest, but I didn't move, "Get out of my way, fucking Weasley."
"Not until you explain yourself."
He sighed and ran a hand impatiently through his hair, "I was testing out an hypothesis. Simple as that."
"What hypothesis was that? How far you have to go before you make me puke in disgust?"
"None of your concern, actually. Now move before I lose all patience and really hurt you." I didn't move. He growled and shoved me again. "Unless you want me to do it again, move!"
Rage had slowly been building in me during our exchange and once those words left his lips, it bubbled over. I had knocked him over and was pummeling ever square inch of his face before I even realized what I was doing. He fought back, punching me in the stomach and chest, but I didn't stop. He finally made contact with my groin, causing me to keel over, covering it protectively. He sneered and slammed me onto my back, straddling me, grabbing my hands and holding them above my head to keep me from accosting him again. His eyes looked badly bruised, his lip sliced a few times and starting to swell and his nose was bleeding even more. I glared up at him, panting from exertion.
"That was severely unnecessary."
"You're severely unnecessary."
"Brilliant, Weasley, bloody brilliant. It's a wonder you don't get higher marks."
"Let me go, Malfoy." I struggled against him, but he only leaned more weight on me.
"So you can destroy my face further? I think not, Weasel."
"You deserved it, you fucking pervert."
He smirked maliciously, "Pervert? That's the funny thing, I'm fairly certain I felt your tongue licking my blood off. Bit passed perverted and into the cannibalistic, don't you think?"
I snarled and arched up to try to squirm away from him, but apparently that was a bad idea because before I knew what was happening, his mouth was attached to mine again. Disgusted, I struggled further, but that only fueled him further, fighting to gain entrance with his tongue. I bit down on his already bleeding lip hard, trying to hurt him into releasing me, but he only groaned and rolled his hips into mine. I gasped at the unwanted pleasure his hips moving against mine sent up my spine and then directly back down to my groin. His tongue was violently plundering my mouth, moving against mine in what could only be described as an attack. The thought of this made things a little clearer. Nothing had changed, we were still fighting, and viciously, but just using a different outlet to do so.
Not one to allow Malfoy to get the best of me, I pushed up against him, mashing our teeth together in my impatience to best him. His groan reverberated inside my mouth and he became more insistent, his fingers working at my trousers' opening. Realizing that because I had not taken the time to fully dress before settling to mope, he had more clothing on than I did, I ripped at his shirt, snapping off a few of the buttons in my haste to divest him. He let me push off the damaged clothing before jamming his hand into my open trousers, pulling rather hard against my beginning erection. I groaned and arched into his hand, pleasure like I had never felt engulfing my body like flames to parchment. He continued with his vicious stroking, nibbling on my lower lip hard enough to draw blood before sucking it away. I scratched fingernail marks down his spine, feeling the gashes ooze thick liquid beneath my fingers. His lips trailed down my neck, biting hard enough to leave instant marks, before grinding my collar bone between his teeth.
My head dropped as my mouth opened in a silent cry, my eyes wider than I thought possible. My hands moved underneath his trousers and pants to clench his cheeks, nails digging into the baby-soft skin. I heard him groan into the conclave created by my collar bone as he ground his hips down into mine, his hand having abandon my length in favor of twisting a nipple rather hard. I strangled curse left my lips only to be silenced by his lips. I devoured his tongue, sucking on it as hard as I could. He gasped into my mouth and fought against me, forcing my head to slam against the cement floor. Pain shot through my skull, but I ignored it in favor of dragging my already imbedded nails up his ass cheeks, creating gashes along the skin.
He yelled a curse and raised up to glare at me, "I fucking hate you, fucking Weasel." Before I could retort, his lips were attached to mine again and I was being ground into the floor. Pain shot up my spine as his grinding began to bruise my tail bone and I bit his tongue in retaliation, causing him to groan and only push harder. I felt one of his hands slide underneath my trousers again, moving over my erection to rub against my opening. Without warning he'd pushed two fingers into me and began to viciously thrust them. I cried out, my exclamation lost in his mouth, but he ignored me and continued to rip me open. He abandoned my lips in favor of biting my earlobe before a harsh, rasping whisper filled my ear. "I'm going to fuck you so hard into the floor that you'll forget your own name and you'll be begging me to make you come, you pathetic fucking poor boy."
I'd gotten lost somewhere in these new sensations and it took a lot of will power to pull myself back out of them, but when I did, I shoved him off, catching him off guard enough to force him sprawling on the floor a few feet away. I sneered at him and sat up, fumbling to find my shirt in the bag I had left open earlier. "You are one sick fuck, you know that? I don't know what you're playing at, but we are not fucking, ever. And even if we did, which we won't, I am not about to let you… do that…" A shudder ran through me and I stood up, having been successful in my hunt, and tugged the shirt over my head. He just sat there, staring at me, looking slightly in disbelief at my having shoved him away. "I can't believe you would… I mean… Eww… That's low even for you."
He growled and struggled to stand up, righting his trousers as he straightened, "Fuck you, Weasel. You liked it and you know you want more." He took a step toward me and his glare had somehow turned predatory. Unnerved, I took a step back, picking up my bag as I did so. "Admit it. You loved it. You're a dirty little whore and now you want nothing more than to be my dirty little whore." He took another step.
Infuriated, I punched him right in the nose again, ensuring that if it hadn't been broken before, it most certainly was now. Before he could recover, I stormed out, disgusted and going to desperate mental measures to excuse what had just happened.
fin -
