Disclaimer: I do not own any part of this story, apart from the storyline.

Hating You, Loathing Him

You can pinpoint to the exact minute when your world, in all its ideals and morals, came crumbling down around you. You can remember it clearly, a cold grey November afternoon in sixth year as it had etched deeply into your memory. You had taken a stroll out in the grounds to clear your mind when you spotted a dark figure sitting at the lake's edge. Your lip curled.

Potter.

You wondered whether you should ignore him or not. No, you decided to use this chance to torment him just like you always did since the beginning of school. Potter deserved no less after what he did to your father.

You snuck up behind him and kicked his back hard enough to push him forward. Potter swung round, turning his red eyes to face you. Potter had been crying? Oh this was too good an opportunity to be missed.

"Oh, has little Harry Warry been having a little sniffle?" you sneered hatefully, "why so alone, Pottie Wottie, where's all your little fans?"

He glared at you, loathing you, hating you.

"Fuck off, Malfoy."

"Finally using big words now?"

"Leave me alone."

"And why would I want to do that?"

"Because!" Potter exploded suddenly, startling you slightly, "Because I just need a bit of peace. Without you or Ron or Hermione or anyone. Can't I have a moment of peace without people staring or bothering me!"

"No you can't, Potter!" you shouted right back at him, "Not after you put my father in Azkaban! I won't let you!"

Potter's eyes narrowed in distaste before spitting out, "I never asked for your scum of a father to be in the Department of Mysteries to try and kill me. That bastard deserves every minute he got."

Fury enveloped you. How dare he! How dare he slight your father like that!

You push Potter to the ground, winding him, and then pinned him down with your own weight. You held down his arms, your nails digging into his wrists as he squirmed underneath you. Your faces were close, your noses almost touching; your eyes gazed into his, hatred burning deeply in both.

"Never ever talk about my father like that."

Potter snarled, "Stop being such a self absorbed brat, Malfoy! You're not the only one who lost someone. At least you parents are still alive!"

At first you thought he was talking about his parents but the grief on his face was too new, too raw. Then you understood.

"Your doggy godfather," you spat, "deserved to die!"

Potter's eyes widened as if he was slapped.

"No, no, Sirius was a good man," he argued, "he never deserved to die. He's only dead because of what I…"

The sentence trailed off and he looked away. You smirked. You had found a new wound and decided to press on it further.

"It's because of you isn't it, Potter?" you whispered in the other boy's ear, "because of you Black died, because of you Diggory died, because of you your parents died."

Potter let out a small strangled sob. You carried on maliciously.

"And one day mudblood Granger and the Weasel going to die like all the people who you care about and you know what? It's going to be all, your, fault."

Tears welled up in his eyes, liquidising it, making it look like a pool of pure emerald. Silently the tears cascaded down his face, each tear a perfect raindrop shape, making perfect tracks on his pale skin. His dark lashes were wet, clumping together as still tears trickled through. Pain, anguish, misery. You could have drowned yourself in those eyes, those stunning eyes that showed so much sorrow, so much loss, so much anger. Looking back, you realise that they were the most beautiful things you ever saw, that you were frozen by their mere image. Until Potter shattered it by laughing.

You didn't know what was going on. Tears still streamed down his face but he was laughing like a mad man. It was weird laughter too, sinister.

"What the hell are you laughing at!" you screamed, shocked and frightened by it. Potter grinned with the same creepiness.

"I'm laughing because I just realised something. I realised how much I pity you! Isn't that funny?" he burst out with his eerie laugh again.

You stared at him. "You pity me?"

"Yeah, I know, hilarious isn't? I mean you were the one that was taunting me a second ago but suddenly, poof! I pity you!" he snorted like this was a huge joke.

"You wanna know why?" he carried on, "It's just the fact that you have absolutely no chance of ever becoming happy that does for me!"

"What do you mean, no chance?"

"Oh come on Malfoy! You surely must have noticed! Look, at least I have a chance, however small, of being happy. The way I see it, my life has two distinct routes. One, I defeat Voldemort and live happily ever after, and two, I get killed by him. End of. But you are completely different."

You resisted an urge to slap him for being so vague. "I don't see how that is, Potter. I see my happiness as a relatively simple goal."

"Oh, but it's not, don't you understand?" he chuckled, "I mean, your going to become a death eater right? And it looks like this war's gonna be a long and hard one so wave good bye to having a peaceful life with a good job, plenty of friends, a nice wife with kids, cause even you wouldn't really bring up a child in the middle of a war. You'll be spending your time killing and torturing innocent victims, even children, and after that you'll be bowing down and grovelling to your dark lord, though from what I've heard, you being a young pretty pureblood and all that, he'll have other uses for you, if not him the other death eaters will. But you were always good at kissing ass, I suppose."

You protested but he ignored you.

"You'll never relax or fully trust someone, seeing as any second Voldemort can do an Unforgivable on you. You'll live your life in fear. People will hate you, and you can never come up in the open. You're rich now but won't be for much longer."

He lent towards, it was him now whispering in your ear.

"Think where all your money's gonna go. Voldemort's diabolical plans to take over the world have to be funded by someone, you know. And think of your nice manor with all your pretty gardens being used to hold death eater parties with lots of muggles there to torture. It'll be completely soiled won't it?"

You began to notice a slight prickling in your eyes and the heavy breaths you were taking.

"It doesn't really matter who wins the war, for you. If the Light side win, then you'll be thrown into Azkaban to join your father, most probably get given the Dementer's Kiss if not worse. All your money and stuff will be used to rebuild lives. You'll be one of the most hated people in the world and the Malfoy name will be cursed for the rest of history. Your evil doer's line will most probably become extinct. If the dark side win, then it'll be fear and grovelling for the rest of your life. You'll marry a pureblood girl, or boy seeing as 'nice' pureblooded girls are scarce these days, and from all those generations on of interbreeding, your child would likely be born sickly, if not retarded. And they'll live in fear for the rest of their life too and so will their children and their children, because Voldemort's immortal isn't he? A never-ending era of terror. You'll kill more people than you can even dream of and those deaths will haunt you and eat away at you forever, Malfoy, and you'll be much worse than me now, because you'll be the one that actually did it, that actually held the wand, and muttered those irreversible words. That's why I pity you."

Potter's spine chilling smile widened as you bit your lip in attempt not to sob. He knew and he was enjoying it, the sick sadistic bastard. Like you were, so much like you were only a few minutes before.

"It seems the tables have turned," said Potter like he read your mind. As if to make the point more clear, he rolled you round, so he was now on top. You didn't fight it, you were too numb.

"Poor, poor, Draco. What's wrong?" Potter jeered, "I thought Malfoys didn't cry."

They didn't but you couldn't help it. It was like you were living a dream before and Potter had jerked you awake. Back to reality, to the grey depressing wait of your impending doom. Potter laughed harshly.

You glare at him, hating him, loathing him.

"I hate you," you murmured. He looks at you, humoured.

"And I you," he replied.

You were so close to him, so damn close. You wanted to hurt him so badly, you could feel fury's energy burn inside you. But physically hurting him was too easy, for you and him. You wanted him to remember it for the rest of his life, to feel ashamed by it, to be weak by it till he died. You wanted it to be with him forever.

Then suddenly, it comes to you. So simple yet so incredibly amazing. You grin, surprising Potter. He jumped off quickly off you, not knowing what you're thinking but still knowing something's wrong. You get up slowly, your silver eyes never leaving Potter's.

"You are a bastard, Potter," you said as you took a step towards him, "You took everything away from me,"

Another step.

"You took my father,"

Step.

"My mother."

Step.

"My dreams."

Step.

"My hope."

Step.

"My life."

You were right in front of him. Cornering him. He couldn't move, his back was against a tree. He looked at you with confusion laced with fear. Or maybe it was fear laced with confusion.

"So I am going to take something from you."

Your face was nearly touching his. You gripped his arms so he couldn't move. You could see beads of sweat trail down his forehead. You couldn't help but smirk. Potter licked his dry lips nervously.

"I, Potter," you said in his ear, liking the little shiver he gave as your breath ghosted over his skin, "am going to take your virginity."

He stared at you, his emerald eyes wide in disbelief. His breath hitched as you pressed your body against his and you could see the little hairs in his neck rise.

"You're gonna rape me?" he asked, his voice slightly tinged with amusement. A challenge, a dare. You smirked at him and put your foreheads together.

"No," you said slowly, "because you're going to enjoy it."

You crushed your mouth onto his with force. He made a muffled sound of surprise and his body tensed as if to fight you off. You licked his lips, making him sigh involuntarily, and parted momentarily.

"I'm going to make you moan, Potter, so loud the whole school can hear."

You kissed your way across his jaw and to his ear, where you sucked on the lobe. He gave a whimper making you smirk again, and you nipped it before you replaced your teeth with your tongue.

"I'm going to make you scream my name, wanting me, begging me for more."

His breaths were shallow. You move your way down his neck, licking the skin occasionally, and grazed his adam's apple gently with your teeth. Then you kissed it, kissing your way down again, to his collarbone, sucking it. Potter trembled.

"I'm going to make you want me, Potter, yearn for me when this is over, pine for me."

"Never," he breathed softly but defiantly. You pause just before attacking his mouth again and grinned.

"I'm going to make you love me."

You seared his mouth again, biting on his lower lip to make him gasp. In that opportunity you slipped in your hot tongue inside. You ran it across the back of his teeth before exploring further. It surprised you, how warm he tasted, like apple pie, and how nice it was. It was never supposed to be nice. That was never how you imagined it.

You moved your hands from their iron grip to start untying his tie, expecting him to struggle with his newfound release. He surprised you again by holding you, pulling closer; one arm snaked around your narrow waist, the other hand tangled in your hair. His tongue responded too, surprising you further, meeting yours shyly at first, then with as much force as you.

Your hand slithers up his shirt, meeting heated skin. He moaned with gratitude as you fondled his nipple, his body arching in response to your cold touch.

You whimpered when his hand touched your skin, tracing patterns on your back. You never expected to respond like that to a mere touch and found yourself scolding inwardly at your weakness. But all self loathing feelings soon disappeared when you stopped to look into his eyes. They were beautiful and bright once more, burning with desire.

They took your breath away.

He smiled and nuzzled your nose. You respond by kissing his chin. Such displays of intimacy, you didn't think about it then but they were beyond bodily desires. It was strange.

He sucked at that sensitive spot behind your ear making you sigh with pleasure. You skilfully unbuckled his belt and pulled down his jeans as Potter fumbled with yours. He gasped delightfully as you groped his backside, managing in the process to throw off your robes. He slipped in his hand through the waistband of your trousers to return the gesture.

You were on the floor again, you on top this time. You straddled him and he squirmed for a completely different reason. You took off his jumper and ripped off his shirt to give kisses on his bare chest. He tore off your clothes too but stopped to marvel your lovely body. You grinned ruefully causing him to growl and attack your neck. You turned your head to expose more pale skin while you fingered his boxers. You whisper in his ear and he twists so you can slide them off. He takes yours off too.

Potter moaned as pleasure coursed through him as you took hold of him. You slowly stroked up and down, teasing him. He gripped your hair as his eyes fluttered open and closed.

"Oh god," he choked, "oh god, oh god, oh god…faster, please faster!"

But you stopped and let go. You position yourself to enter into him.

"Get inside, quick!" cried Potter, "Please, I can't take much more of this!"

You chuckled. "As you wish."

You pushed in. His cry of pleasure and pain mingled with your own. You thrust in deeper and rocked with a rhythm.

"Oh, oh, yes, oh god, faster, yes, yes!" he groaned. You lent towards him, shining with sweat.

"Scream my name, Potter."

"Oh please, Draco!"

"Scream it!"

"Draco! Draco, oh god, Draco! Please!"

The pace quickened and you had to bite hard on his shoulder to refrain from screaming yourself. Not that he minded. But you felt yourself reaching your climax.

"Oh, god," you cried, "…I'm gonna…gonna…"

You came inside him, screaming his name, unable to help yourself. He came too, a few seconds later.

Both of you were still for a long time after you exited him. You lay there panting, unable really to think properly. If you were, then you should have been disgusted with yourself, with him and with everything, but you weren't. It was strange.

You felt more than saw him sidle next to you. You looked at him, wondering if he felt the weirdness that you were feeling. I mean, you just fucked for worst enemy and enjoyed it. When you were supposed to use this as a weapon, you ended up showing your vulnerability too. Your plan had turned against you, for you moaned, you screamed out his name, you wanted him, you yearned for him.

"Hey, you know I'm not gay," Potter said as he lent against you, "I was going to tell you but we kind of got a bit caught up."

"You have a funny way of showing it," you scoffed, "And for the record, I'm not gay either."

"We both have a funny way of showing it then," he laughed, differently from that creepy laugh before, lighter, happier.

You laughed too. It felt good to laugh, even if the circumstance was a bit strange, you haven't laughed in ages. You took hold of his chin and brushed away his fringe to look at his scar. More like a brand, just as cruel and terrifying as the dark mark on your father's forearm. But better, cleaner, you supposed. With your tongue you traced its lightening bolt shape then kissed it gently. Potter looked shocked. You thought you did something wrong, upset him perhaps. You mumbled an apology.

"No, no, it's alright," he said shakily, "Its just people don't touch it often, not like that. They're afraid of it and me, I suppose…"

You cut him off with a tender kiss. He responds happily. When you part, you saw his eyes were shining bright.

He smiled and gave butterfly kisses down your chest and onto your navel. On the way he tongued your nipples, causing you to sigh and go hard again. When he reached your belly button, he licked it and went down further. Your breath hitched and he looked up and grinned mischievously. You gasped as a warm mouth covered you and as he sucked you grabbed hold of his raven locks, murmuring his name with passion. The pleasure was ecstatic, tingling through you, through every nerve, every drop of blood.

"Oh, Potter, yes, oh god," you murmured as you came in his mouth. He swallowed it and, still with his grin, he leaned back up to kiss you. His tongue tasted like you as it plundered your mouth, he pushed you back on to the ground.

It was different from before, slower and more intense. Dream like perhaps. You were submissive, you opened up to him. Soft whispers, loving caresses, tender touches. It was he who topped, with his beautiful eyes above you.

"My name is Harry," he spoke softly as he entered you, "Call me Harry, Draco."

"Harry," you hummed, arching your back for his touch, "Harry, don't stop."

"Never."

Your bodies rocked back and forth together leisurely, warmly. There was none of the roughness of before, only warmth. You warmed each other on that cold grey November afternoon.

It was over much too soon. As you both put back on your clothes, an awkward silence hung over you two. The dream had ended, yet again, but you feel different. It was back to the grey depressing wait but something had changed. Something in your heart had changed.

Neither of you could actually believe that you did it. That you two had actually had sex together, twice. It was weird and uncomfortable, and you hated it. Especially, the lovingness of the second. That wasn't part of the plan, for either of you. You weren't supposed to be affected by it. But you were, deeply, because, however much you denied it, it was apparent to you.

It wasn't just sex.

Something had happened. Something you never wanted. Something that will drain all the life out of you. Something that most definitely be the death of you.

You can never see yourself going back to hating him, loathing him. As you stared at him, you remembered his hands on your waist, his pale skin rubbing against your even paler one. No, never can you go back and call him your enemy, however much you want to.

You saw him glance at you, and thought you saw the repulsion and disgust in his eyes. He was dirty from the mud on the ground, as were you, his clothes all creased and rumpled. He picked up his glasses, which had been thrown off from very near the beginning, and cleaned it with his robes before he put it back on. You notice his hand was trembling. You thought wistfully that he'll always be there hating you, loathing you, no matter what.

Potter always had been the stronger one.

"Erm…Dr-Malfoy," he said unsteadily, "I think we should go back to the castle. It's getting dark and stuff…"

You stared at him, hoping maybe that there might be speck of something about what happened in his eyes. But Potter refused to look you in the eye.

"Fine, whatever," you said coolly, trying your hardest to mask your pain, "Go on. You don't need me to carry you there, you idiot. Or maybe you do?" you sneered the last part, desperately trying not to cry.

Potter bit his lip and clenched his fist, in an effort not to cry himself. Wow, you thought, being with you was so revolting for him. You felt as though you ruined his life, that you soiled him in some way.

"Well, anyway, I'm going. You stay here and die for all I care!" he spat hatefully. You watched his storming figure until you couldn't see him anymore. Then you cried.

That afternoon had been a war for dominance, the upper hand flitting from you to him to you. Ultimately though, it was he that won, because he kept strong. You were left with nothing, you were weak. You may have taken his virginity but what did that matter?

Because he had taken your heart.

Well, that was an attempt at writing in second person. It had started with me just randomly sprouting out the first line and carried on from there. Did you like it? Please review and tell me what you think and mostly save my self esteem!

There will be a sequel, with Harry as the 'you' person, called 'Loving him, Adoring you'