Notes: It's been awhile hasn't it sweethearts? Sorry about that, I've been distracted by some other fics. But behold! A chapter and it is rather long (for me anyway) to compensate. Now we have the story being told from the point of view of the one and only Draco Malfoy. Just so you know: don't expect any nice thoughts about Harry from Draco.

Warnings: adult language, a little bit of violence and some heavily R rated slash now if that bothers you don't read the chapter, you have been warned.


This world is a cruel place


And we're here only to lose


So before life tears us apart let


Death bless me with you

'Join Me In Death'


I lie inside these green and silver hangings, covers twisted round my legs as my body writhes beneath my own hands.

"Come for me Potter..."

And he did. My hand slides over my chest: slick with sweat as I recall the way he pressed against me. The thrusting, the groaning and oh gods the heat of his hand around me. I try to simulate it with my own palm, the frantic fisting, and it feels good to lie here, imagining that it's him. But it's not.

I climax quickly, too quickly really. It's the thought of him that does it. The way his skin tastes on my tongue and the feel of him beneath my hands. There's something in the way his Avada Kedavra eyes try to see through me that is driving my wild.

He thinks he knows me. He knows nothing. I am addicted to the rush he gives me but somewhere in that little Gryffindor brain of his the lines of lust and love have blurred. How can he translate brief trysts in closets and empty cupboards as anything more than a primal urge between two people?

He wants me to admit that it means something to me. Well it does of course. It means release and fiery passion. An all-consuming pleasure that I crave and loathe in equal measure. That isn't enough for the boy-who-lived though is it? He needs me to feel, to love. I thought he would have known by now that Malfoys do not love. They take what they want and make it theirs. I cannot be blamed for Potter's ridiculous infatuation.

I turn over onto my stomach, velveteen covers slipping down my bareback. I let my eyelids droop heavily, the sound of Potter's moans acting as my lullaby.

I'm on my back, splayed across a plush mattress. The covers are red and gold, so disgustingly tacky it makes me want to set them alight. A body comes across the bed towards me. I can't see the person yet somehow I can. Bronzed skin, ebony hair and those forsaken eyes that send a person to heaven, hell and everywhere between. I can smell his sweat as he lies atop me. I am confused that I don't protest. His body moves in slow, deep languid movements against mine. He moans and whispers something that I can't quite make out. Then his lips are on my neck and I arch into the soft loving kisses. In an instant something new swims into my senses. A smell, like weak copper.

He pulls away and I can feel a trickling down the curve of my neck. I try to focus on his face but all my mind can fixate on is this liquid pouring down my neck and pooling behind my head. But it's not just pouring down my neck: it's pouring from my neck. I can see blood on his face as he brings it to mine.

He kisses me, softly and sweetly and I can taste my own life on his lips. My eyesight grows worse; everything grows lighter until nearly the entire room is bathed in white light.

Now there is only him before me in a blinding light. I can see every curve of his face and the planes and angles of his naked body. He smiles at me as he fades away. I feel weakened, my breathing is shallow and my back and shoulders are now covered in blood. My blood.

I can hear a buzzing but that isn't right. What could be buzzing? I turn onto my side slowly and my vision flows back into focus.

An alarm. My alarm. I sit up quickly, hand fastening around the side of my neck. A dream was all it was. Potter bled me to death in a dream, that doesn't feel like something I should analyse to deeply.

I scratch the back of my head and smooth my hair back down before I throw my covers of completely. Slowly I pull back the curtains to discover, to my great delight, that my roommates are still asleep. I hate dealing with people in the morning. Especially mornings when I've just been murdered in my dreams.

I stand up from the mattress, pulling my pyjama bottoms up from where they had slipped down my hips. I rummage around for a towel before making my way quietly out the dormitory to the showers. It is early enough for no one to be there for which I am thankful.

Slytherin house is often viewed by outsiders as not only a house of evil witches and wizards but also a house of perverted, overly kinky sex maniacs. They are right. Hence my joy at being able to take a shower alone without Blaise's eyes sweeping over my wet, naked body.

I open the door to the showers and click it closed behind me, locking it in case anyone else happens to awaken early. My pyjama bottoms slide off easily and drop to the floor in a black, silken pool at my feet. I step onto the tiled floor, my bare feet slapping lightly against the polished ceramics.

I turn the shower on full, the room filling with steam quickly. I turn round to let the powerful spray connect with my back, working out the knots in my spine and between my shoulder blades. Taking a step backwards the water falls onto my head, soaking my blond hair.

I take my own shampoo from the shelf, pouring it on my hand and then lathering it up through my hair. By the time I have lathered and rinsed twice the smell of jasmine envelops the room.

Next I take a bar of silver soap from the holder, running it over my body as shimmering foam leaves long trails across my skin. I put the soap back, running my hands through the suds in order to remove any traces of lasts nights activities and the sweat from my dream.

I stand under the hot spray for a few more minutes, my skin turning red from the sheer heat of the water. Turning the shower off I walk back over the tiles, being careful not to slip. I wrap a thick green towel around my waist and head towards the mirror. It whistles appreciatively as me as I comb through my hair, making lewd comments when I dry off my chest. I roll my eyes: even the Slytherin mirrors are perverts.

I make my way back into the dormitory where my roommates are rolling out of bed looking decidedly grumpy and dishevelled. I sidestep them and their wide mouthed yawns and search my trunk for a pair of boxers.

The other inhabitants of the room leave for a shower, giving me peace to get dressed. A quick rummage through my trunk and I'm dressed. I throw my robes over my black trousers and shirt, stuffing my feet in my shoes and casting a drying charm on my hair. It falls loose and soft over my face, the perfect way as I've already seen Potter's reaction to it: the first morning I walked in the hall he bit his lip and blushed furiously. There is something so perversely erotic about having that much power over someone.

I sweep out the dormitory and down the stairs into the common room. The only inhabitants are three paranoid, work-a-holic fifth years. It is only eight forty-five on a Saturday after all.

I stalk through the common room, commanding attention as I make my way to the portrait hole. It swings open for me and then smashes closed behind me. Stalking through the dark corridors and up several flights of stairs I eventually reach the entrance hall.

May morning sunshine streams in the open double doors, a perfumed late spring breeze blowing in. Sweeping into the Great Hall my eyes automatically scan the Gryffindor table even though I know he won't be hear this early.

I've watched him for years now, assessing his weaknesses, monitoring his habits: trying to find anything to use against him. I don't need to do that anymore. I've got something so much more powerful.

I throw one leg over the bench, swinging the other round as I land gracefully on the wood. I pour myself a large mug of coffee (black) and sip the steaming liquid slowly. Within ten minutes the hall begins to fill steadily, some more Slytherin seventh years gathering around me. Crabbe and Goyle sit down across from me, Blaise taking up position on my left and striking up a conversation. The two oafs stuff their faces as I ignore Blaise, all my concentration on the doorway.

Finally, after fifteen minutes and two slices of toast he comes in, flanked on either side by the other two thirds of the Golden Trio. I keep my eyes focussed on him, willing him to turn round. As he sits down at the Gryffindor table his eyes dart subtly over to where I am seated. I drop my eyes and look through my hair at him, a look on my face that decidedly says 'Come hither'.

My body reacts appropriately (or inappropriately given the setting) to the way he flicks his tongue over his bottom lip. The beauty of Potter is his naivety. Every little sordid thing he does still holds an air of innocence that I would so love to remove. To be the one to finally break that golden side, oh the thought sends chills down my spine and heat to my groin.

I stand up from the table, stepping gracefully over the bench and making my way out the hall. I don't need to turn round to feel his eyes on me and there is no need to listen to hear him excusing himself from breakfast.

I reach the entrance hall and veer right towards the open door. I get half way down the steps before I am grabbed at the wrist and hauled backwards down the stairs and round behind a wall.

Potter pushes me against the wall, isn't this switch. He presses his hips into mine, hardness obvious beneath his robes. I raise an eyebrow challengingly at him.

"Eager are we?" I drawl. He smirks and grinds into me.

"No more so than you." Unfortunately true.

"Well sorry to disappoint you Potter but I have somewhere I need to be." His face drops but he brings his hands up, palms splayed flat of the wall above my head.

"No you don't."

"Oh I beg to differ." He brings his chest against mine, lips only inches from my own. My well-practised self-control wavers considerably as his breath ghosts over my face.

His eyes flick down to my lips, eyelids fluttering closed. He lowers his mouth gently onto mine. This is not how this situation normally goes. He has never been so soft.

I kiss back, trying to strengthen it. He won't allow it.

He brings his hands down onto either side of my face, holding it in place and preventing me from crashing my lips fully to his. His mouth opens slowly, tongue flicking lightly over my bottom lip. I part my lips and he slides his tongue in.

He moans into the heat of my mouth as my tongue slips slowly over his. I will indulge this gentility for now and perhaps be more brutal later when the tables are turned.

His lips move lightly over mine, hips beginning to move gently against my own. He pulls away but not before placing another soft kiss at the side of my mouth. He keeps his face just above mine.

"Ready to admit it yet Draco?" I put my hands on his shoulders and push him harshly from me. So that's what that kiss was about.

"For fucks sake Potter," I spit at him "I knew you were thick but I thought even you would have latched onto the fact that you don't mean anything to me." Stupid Gryffindors.

He steps back towards me, anger burning in his eyes.

"Are you too scared to admit it Malfoy? Worried what people what say if they discovered that the Draco Malfoy had a heart? Haven't you been able to accept the fact that even though you may still have your fortune the once great name of your family means shit?"

Playing the rough card, how very Slytherin of him. I push him again, this time he loses his footing and falls onto the grass.

I sneer at him as I stand over him. Before I can pass comment about how easily he went down he has yanked the front of my robes and pulled me down on top of him.

I think I can already see where this fight is going to end up.

He flips us over and he straddles my waist, aiming a fist and the side of my face. It connects with a loud smack and I wince as my cheekbone throbs. I throw up my fist but he catches it easily and pushes it back onto the ground.

Leaning over me I can see the hatred on his face but there's something else, something I can use to my advantage.

Love.

Perhaps he thinks I don't know. It is plainly obvious.

I bring my head just a little from the ground to press my lips into his. He moans again and grinds his hips downwards. I lay my head back down and he follows as I nip his bottom lip and thrust upward a little. I groan as I bite down on his lip harder causing him to emit a low hiss.

His tongue comes from between his lips and I open my mouth eagerly. It slides inside once more, hot and tasting of mint as it caresses mine. I thrust harder up towards him, upsetting his balance. I take advantage of this and flip him onto his back, sliding easily between his parted thighs.

I move my lips to his neck, planting wet kisses up towards his ear.

"Malfoy…" I run my tongue around the shell of his ear as I roll my hips downwards. "Oh fuck Malfoy …no…wait…" I kiss back down to the hollow of his throat and dip my tongue inside.

"Oh gods …no, we need to …oh fuck do that again …we need to go somewhere else."

I stop my slow, rolling thrusts at the realisation that Potter is, for once, right about something.

I get (reluctantly) to my feet, dragging Potter up by the hips with me. I am addicted, that I can admit. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his lips painfully into mine as I begin walking backwards.

My back connects with another wall of the castle and I break away, turning to look round the corner that we have reach. As I peer round I feel Potter's lips attack my neck, hot and violent, nipping the skin a little as his head lowers.

"Oh gods." I moan as he slips opening the top fastening of my robe. I try to move us further from sight but he has me pinned to the wall securely by my waist. He pops open the first few buttons of my shirt and dips his tongue inside, running it along my collar.

He bites the skin, sucking on it softly.

"Potter …you're the one who oh gods …who said we had to move …oh fuck yes…" he opens a few more buttons and brings his lips down to ghost over my nipple. He laps at it with his tongue.

"Mmm, I know but…" he begins to say, his voice muffled against my skin "but I can't stop."

I don't want him to. He rips the rest of my shirt open, several of he buttons popping off. He drops to his knees in front of me, fingers gripping tightly into my hips. I groan as he runs his tongue down my abdomen.

"Oh gods, then don't stop…" He brings one hand from my hip to work open the top button of my trousers. It opens and he slides the zip down slowly, fingers then opening the slit in my boxers.

He leans his face forward, tongue flicking inside against my hard flesh. I arch my back off the stonewall and he does it again. He buries his face in me planting kisses on my hot skin but his administrations stop.

As I am about to protest when I hear the reason why.

Voices flood from inside the entrance hall and I swiftly kick Potter off. He falls backwards as I re-fasten my trousers and pull my robes closed over my exposed chest. I sweep round the corner, walking backwards as I smirk at Potter.

"You better get up and come finish what you fucking started."

He lets out a noise that sounds like a growl more than anything else as he springs up. That must be where the symbol of a lion for Gryffindor came from.

I turn the corner and dart away as fast as I can in my 'condition'. I reach a part around the back of the castle that faces the lake. There are no windows on the walls and I spot a cluster of bushes not so far away.

I make my way quickly towards them, the sound of Potter's running footsteps coming towards me. As I reach the edge of what appears to be some sort of secluded garden, arms wrap around my waist and knock me heavily to the ground.

Potter straddles the backs of my thighs and hebends his head down. He pulls my hair gently from the right side of my face, giving him access to my ear, which he precedes to nibble on. I try to turn over but his weight is too much on me and I'm stuck.

He slides down my back, placing kisses on the cloth-covered skin as his hands glide sensually down my sides. My spine shudders, every sense heightened.

He runs his hands up my back and cups them around my shoulders. He lifts himself up a fraction, allowing him room to turn me over.

I am not entirely happy about being on my back. He wedges one leg between mine, forcing them open and slipping easily between.

Robe and trouser-covered hardness meet and we both moan.

I lift my head to his and crash our mouths together, the force of his kiss knocking my head back against the ground. He grinds his hips down into mine as he slides his tongue in my mouth. I thrust upwards, hands running down his back to cup either cheek of his ass.

I grip him hard, pulling him roughly down into me. He breaks the kiss and groans, face dropping to my ear.

"Malfoy …oh gods yes Malfoy." I turn my head ever so slightly to meet his face, taking his bottom lip between my teeth. I bite down hard, the skin breaking and a few droplets of a metallic tasting substance dropping into my mouth.

He brings his back over mine but I keep my teeth locked securely around his lip. I pull his hips down again and he moans as he tears his lip from my teeth.

He presses his lips to my neck, frantically kissing and sucking at the pale skin. His thrusts grow just as frantic and one of his hands slips into my robes and past the material of my open shirt.

He pinches at a nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

"Oh fuck Potter yes …oh gods harder …faster …fuck." I begin to babble incoherently to him.

He willingly obeys. His movements grow hard and fast in just the way I asked of him. He groans and moans into the skin of my neck, murmuring incoherent words. I still want the control in spite of our positioning. I can feel my own climax building but in every one of our little meetings I have not given in first, today will be no different.

I try to get out the words I have already used a few times but my mind is left blank ashe licks the skin of my neck and bringshis lips to my ear.

"Come for me…" he whispers "Draco."

I surrender and give in to the sensations that have been growing. My orgasm hits me and I arch my back, pulling Potter as hard as I can into me.

His back stiffens as he moans and rides out his own climax. He collapses in a sweating, shaking heap on top of me. His voice is shaking but I can hear him whispering a mantra over and over in my ear.

I choose to ignore it. I push him off with what little strength I actually have left. I lie still, one arm over my face as the material of my robes absorbs the beads of sweat from my forehead.

I stand up slowly, legs shaking beneath me.

"Potter," I begin but he cuts me off.

"Yeah yeah I know 'this means nothing'," he snaps angrily as he gets up "what the fuck is your problem with actually admitting that you feel something?"

I roll my eyes as I straighten my robes.

"I. Feel. Nothing." I state as if speaking to a child "Why does it mean so much to you anyway? You fucking hate me, or did you forget?" he takes a step towards me.

"I don't hate you, didn't you notice?"

"Well you should."

I turn on my heel and storm away, smoothing my hair back down.

Potter should hate me. After everything I've said and done he now wants me to admit that I feel something. Well I don't and neither should he.

A thought strikes me and I smirk as I climb the stairs into the entrance hall. It shouldn't be too hard for him to hate me again…