These characters do not belong to me. But I promise they're not doing anything they didn't want already ;)

Fair warning: violence, contemplation of suicide, and man sex. Sorry I'm not sorry.

Maybe I'll just wither away into nothing.

Pansy tried to drag me to breakfast this morning, but I couldn't get up.

I skipped lunch.

I skipped dinner.

I skipped all of my classes.

This isn't a meltdown. Everybody has off days. Tomorrow I have to face life again. But escape is nice to think about. If I could just disappear to some far off country and live life as a hermit—maybe I'd avoid the war. Draft dodger. I could be a stranger. Nobody would know me, or my family, or all the terrible things we've done collectively.

Then there's reality—nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I doubt there's a place on earth the Dark Lord couldn't find me.

I'm not entirely fucked. The Vanishing Cabinet worked. Even if it was just once, I know it's possible.

Still, I wonder if there's even a point in surviving. If I somehow manage to pull this off and kill Dumbledore, then I'm still trapped. Forever doing the Dark Lord's bidding—one mistake and I'm gone. Or he might just kill me on a whim. I've seen it before.

If I don't kill Dumbledore, I'm doubly dead. My entire family is dead.

I'm not doing any of this for me.

I stare at the green silk of my pillow, and I think about jumping. Maybe I could be the sacrifice. Maybe the Dark Lord would have mercy on my parents.

There's a knock at the door.

"Draco?"

The heavy oak swings open slowly. Blaise is standing there, looking down at me.

"You look like shit. What happened?" There are traces of suppressed laughter in his smile.

"I'm hung over," I lie.

I hate it when he looks at me like I'm a piece of meat.

I'm sprawled out across my bed, covered by a thin sheet. My hair is messy. I'm sure there are dark circles under my eyes. I've gotten pale. I've lost weight. I didn't bother to cast any of the Glamours I usually throw on before going out in public.

"Snape wants to see you in his office."

"Tell him I'm sick." I roll over so I don't have to look at him anymore.

"He said it was urgent. I think you'd better go."

I sigh. I'm so tired.

I sit up and run my fingers through my hair. Blaise is still watching me.

"I could stay here," he licks his lips, "if you want to hang out afterwards or something."

"I don't think that'd be a good idea. Pansy might drop by. She knows I'm cheating on her. At this point, she's just trying to figure out who it is I'm fucking."

I flick my wand. My clothes come sailing out of the dresser and land on the bed. He's still in the doorway.

"Well? Get out of here." The cold from my voice seeps out into my room.

Blaise opens his mouth like he's going to say something, but then changes his mind. He slowly backs into the hallway and closes the door behind him.

I dress quickly, and cast a few charms to make myself look presentable. It seems like a very long walk to Snape's office. Every step is one more than I want to take. But I'm already at the half-open door. Snape is sitting at his desk, scribbling away.

I walk in and take a set in the stiff-backed wooden chair directly across from him.

"You weren't in class today." He doesn't look up from his writing. "Now is not the time to make mistakes, Draco."

"I was sick."

"Then you should have been in the hospital wing."

"I know you didn't drag me in here to discuss the importance of academics. Who knows how much longer I'll even be in school?" I snap.

His eyes bore into me. I can feel him, tugging at the seams trying to get through the walls into my mind. I focus on emptiness.

"The Dark Lord is less than pleased with our progress." His eyes drop back down to his desk. "I'm afraid I've done all I can to help you avoid this."

The Mark starts to burn.

Snape is refusing eye contact.

We both know what's coming.

"Go quickly. I'm sure it won't take long." There is no emotion in his voice. He gestures towards his fireplace.

I take a small handful of silver powder out of the jar on the mantle.

"Malfoy Manor." My voice is shaking.

I throw the powder in, and take a deep breath. The metallic taste of fear creeps up my throat. The green flames spring up.

Into the darkness.

I tumble out of the fireplace.

Aunt Bellatrix is standing there, waiting for me.

"Hello, Draco," her smile is pure corrosive acid, "our Master is waiting for you in the parlor."

I stand carefully. Keep your head high.

This used to be my home. I still know all the rooms, but it feels oddly foreign. The high ceilings used to be beautiful. Now, they just make everything seem empty. One foot in front of the other, I follow Bellatrix into the parlor.

I feel him before I see him. The cold comes over me.

"Ah, so young Draco's decided to join us…"

He's standing by the window, looking out at the gardens. The chalky skin on his bald head makes my stomach flip-flop. I hate looking at him. He turns slowly, red eyes glowing, slit-nostrils flared.

"We've all missed the youngest member of the illustrious Malfoy bloodline, haven't we?" His voice is quiet, almost calm.

I'm so fucked.

I hear a small sob. I shift my eyes without moving my head. Mother is sitting in the corner. She looks worse than I do.

"So now that you're here, why don't you tell us a story? Entertain us. Explain exactly what you've been doing all these months? Where has that valuable time gone?" He approaches me at a measured pace. Then, he's staring down into my soul, only inches away from me.

I open my mouth, but the words don't come out.

Pull yourself together.

"My Lord," I clear my throat, "I've been working on repairing a Vanishing Cabinet. It connects to the piece in Borgin and Burkes. The cabinet is in the castle. We could get people in without any trouble—"

"I see. So this cabinet works? It's fully functional?"

"Well… almost."

"It either is, or it isn't, Draco. There's not much in between."

"I got it to work last night. I know it's possible."

I can feel the panic rising in my chest. Maybe it shows slightly on my face, because he's smiling that cold lipless grin.

He's reaching for his wand.

"Please!" my mother cries out. "He just needs a little more time!"

"Oh, he'll have plenty of time, Narcissa. What he really needs is motivation."

I brace myself—though being ready almost never helps.

"Crucio."

Someone is screaming.

My skin is being ripped from my bones and dragged across a field of searing-hot needles.

I can feel my body convulsing. I'm probably crying.

Then, I'm on the ground, sprawled across the polished stone, dazed. He's standing over me.

"You know this is for your own good. You deserve this." He's toying with his wand.

There's really no choice but to agree, so I manage a small nod.

"Sometimes you're entirely too much like your father, Draco. It saddens me."

The pain surges through me again.

My blood is boiling. My organs must be exploding.

I'm being torn to shreds by poisonous claws. Dismembered into a thousand tiny pieces of fire.

My face is wet with tears and shame.

"Don't disappoint me again." The words are faint, almost background noise. "Next time, it will be much worse for you."

Inhale.

Exhale.

My breath comes out in tiny puffs of steam.

It's cold on top of the Astronomy Tower. I can almost see the wind in the ripples on the inky black lake and the shivering treetops of the forest. The moon shines, high in the sky.

I'm standing here, looking over the edge. The ground seems to get a little farther away every second I stare at it. The long drop, the last fall, the big hoorah.

I inch closer. There's an odd feeling in my stomach, like it's twisted itself into a knot.

You'll never do it, pussy.

I stick one foot out over the edge, stepping into thin air. It wouldn't take much. Human beings are such fragile creatures. Just one more step, and I'd get to find out if hell really exists.

A particularly strong gust of wind suddenly blows across the tower. Maybe it's the surprise. I'm teetering. I almost lose my balance.

But someone clutches the back of my robes and pulls me back. I'm in a heap on the floor of the tower—staring into green eyes.

"Potter? What the fuck! Why are you here?" I'm sputtering. God, I can't even think.

"I could ask you the same question." He's sweating.

"I… I just came up for a bit of fresh air."

"You were going to jump."

"No, I wasn't. I didn't think idiocy was catching, but maybe you've been spending a bit too much time around Longbottom." Mask on. I'm ice. I stand up quickly, brushing myself off.

"You nearly fell. You almost died." He lurches to his feet.

"So what? Why the fuck do you care?"

He grabs my shoulders and turns me towards him. He's assaulting my mouth with his tongue. I almost melt away into nothing.

This is so wrong.

I pull back. He's still hanging onto me like he's afraid I'll disappear.

"You do realize you just saved a Death Eater, right?" I look at the ground.

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Why?"

"I…"

"You don't know, do you? Typical Gryffindor. You always have to be the fucking hero. You should have just let me fall."

I try to step away, but he holds on. He wraps his arms around me and hugs tight.

It's relentless.

"Potter, this is ridiculous."

"So?"

"You need to let go of me."

"No."

"I hate you."

"Really? Then why are you hard right now?"

I was hoping he wouldn't feel that.

"I'm thinking about hurting you." I try my best to scoff.

"Yeah?" His tone changes slightly. His voice goes a bit lower. "What exactly do you want to do to me?"

"I'd put a gag on you so you'd shut the fuck up."

"Then what?"

"I'm not playing this game. Let me go."

I pull away again. This time he releases me, but he's still very close. He's breathing heavily. His cheeks are flushed. This is not good.

He reaches up and cups my chin in his hand. He brushes his thumb across my lips. I shiver. It's just not fair.

Why am I even bothering to put up a fight?

Oh yeah, dignity. That thing I used to have.

"You know it would be good." He's dragging me in again. He doesn't even have to move. I'm just trapped in his eyes.

"That's irrelevant, Potter. We can't do this because you're you, and I'm me. What's happened already is probably enough to destroy society. We don't need to make it worse."

"Who's going to find out about it?"

Eventually everyone. Secrets this big always find a way to the surface.

But he's already running his hands up underneath my robes. My cloak drops to the floor. He steps towards me.

How the fuck did he know?

He's biting my neck hard enough to leave bruises, and I can't hold it together.

I let out a small moan.

"You want it so bad." He's laughing into my skin.

"Stop talking."

"Make me."

I catch his mouth in a savage kiss. It's war.

He grabs my ass. I grab a chunk of his hair and pull. He growls. The next thing I know, we're rolling around on the floor. Maybe it looks like we're actually fighting, except pieces of clothing keep getting subtracted from the situation.

He tears my shirt off. The buttons go flying everywhere. I throw his belt across the tower. He kicks off his shoes and quickly maneuvers out of his trousers.

Wherever we're going, we're getting there fast.

He does everything short of grabbing his wand and Vanishing the rest of my clothes. I can hear them ripping. I could give a fuck. I just need him to be touching me.

I'm completely lost. And then I'm naked, with Harry Potter lying on top of me. The magnitude of the situation is inescapable. It's like I've never done this before. If I weren't already horizontal, I'd probably be weak at the knees.

He's panting. I can feel his heartbeat.

There a few suspended seconds when we're just staring at each other. The whole world slows down.

Then, he's muttering something so faintly I can't make it out. Something cold and slippery is pressing against my asshole. I grunt. Two of his fingers pop inside me. He's scissoring them, trying to loosen my up. I want to relax, but I'm so on-edge it's nearly impossible.

That is, until he hits the sweet spot.

I hiss, and buck against his fingers. So good.

"Do you want my dick, Malfoy?" He's smiling.

I can't even talk. I just let out this vague sort of whine, hoping he'll take the hint.

"I want you to beg for it." He gently nibbles on my neck for a moment, before biting down harder again.

"Never in million years." Even I can hear the strain in my voice.

"Come on, beg." He adds another finger. He's hitting my prostate relentlessly.

"Uhhg."

"Say please."

Please fuck me. I want it more than anything.

"Just do it, Potter."

"Fine." He shoves his dick all the way in.

It burns deep. I'm a shell around that little center of intensity. It's too much. I've never had anything this thick in me before.

But he stays still, watching me. Waiting. My muscles start to relax slightly. I give him a curt little nod. He moves very slowly, barely thrusting. I get a tiny jolt of pleasure when he hits my prostate again.

He starts to pick up speed. The pain wilts. I feel incredibly full. I wrap my legs around him, and shift, trying to change the angel.

Suddenly, every thrust is hitting that magic place. He's really hammering me. I feel his balls slapping against my ass.

Maybe he's going to break me.

I'm determined to leave a few marks of my own. I dig my nails into the flesh on his back. I want the scratches to be there for days. I want him to feel them and remember exactly how he got them.

He pulls out so only the very tip is still inside me. Then, he slams back in. I barely contain the moan by biting down on my lip. He's playing dirty, but so can I.

"Come on, Potter. Is that all you got?" I almost can't get the words out.

But it seems to get to him all the same. He starts pounding me so hard I'm sure I won't be able to walk right for days.

He sinks his teeth into my shoulder. My head is spinning. I can't handle this. I'm tightrope walking over a lava-lake of pleasure and pain. The combination is addictive. I close my eyes just to avoid looking at him.

Maybe I'm losing my mind. I don't know how else something this depraved could feel so right. It's like he fits perfectly.

I feel the tension starting to build, boiling deep inside me.

I try to reach down for my dick. So close. But he grabs my wrists and pins them above my head.

I squirm slightly.

"Nope. You don't get to touch that," he grunts into my ear, "I'm going to fuck the cum out of you."

The heat blazes through me, devouring me. I'm staring at him, trying desperately to hate him. This is twisted.

Oh.

My.

God.

He kisses me.

I'm over the edge.

This is the point of no return.

The French used to call it the Little Death.

I let out a strangled cry. I can feel my muscles spasm around him. I'm exploding. He's grunting, still slamming into me.

Then, I feel the warmth inside me. He goes completely still for a few seconds before collapsing on top of me.

I'm trapped under the dead weight. It's a strange sort of anxiety. I never like to stick around after these types of things. Not with Blaise, not with anybody. And this…

"Potter, get the fuck off me," I snarl.

"In a minute."

"No, now. Are you planning to hold me hostage or something?"

"What's the big hurry?" He's nibbling the now-tender skin on my neck.

"I don't need to explain myself to you. Get off."

He sighs and rolls onto the floor. I Summon my clothes and start to get dressed.

"This can't happen again." I avoid eye contact by lacing my shoes.

"You sure about that?" I know there's an idiotic smile on his face, even if I don't see it.

"I'll hex you the next time you try to touch me."

"I can't wait."

"I'm serious. Stop following me around or I'm going to hurt you."

And I mean that on so many levels it's not even funny.

I stand up, straightening my robes. I probably look like a complete mess. No Cleaning Charm is going to fix the way I feel. This is ragged exhaustion.

But I make the mistake of looking at him one last time.

He's so perfect.

Messy hair, cheeks still flushed, the moonlight hits his skin and makes it almost glow. How can he be a total wreck, and it's the sexist thing I've ever seen at the same time?

I shake my head and start down the stairs.

What a fucking night.

Chapter four coming soon. Your reviews, favorites and follows make me happy inside :D