These characters do not belong to me. But I promise they're not doing anything they didn't want already ;)
Fair warning: sex, drinking and violence. You know. The good stuff.
Someone should give me a medal. Pulling the shattered pieces of my life together and showing up to Defense Against the Dark Arts is a feat of epic proportions. So many vials of Pepper-Up Potion, so many fucking charms—but I look damn good. I'm sitting in the front row, staring Snape down, ready to hex anybody that tries to interact with me.
Maybe I need to sleep more.
Maybe I need to sleep less.
I probably need some sort of healthy outlet for the years and years of suppressed rage.
As of now, it's manifesting itself in vomiting at two in the morning and a general hatred of humanity.
I wonder if it's possible to perform a Memory Modification Charm on yourself.
If I could just forget…
"Class dismissed." Snape sighs disdainfully and begins to shuffle papers.
The crowd comes to life, and people are filing out the door. I stay seated, glaring.
The Three Musketeers shuffle by. Of course I don't expect him to look at me. Whatever happened last night must have been some sort of bizarre hallucination. After all, I haven't been doing too much of the whole eating thing. I've been living on two or three hours of blissful unconsciousness a night.
It had to be a dream.
There are probably plenty of other reasonable explanations why I woke up with dark purple bite marks all over my neck. The Glamours I had to cast to cover them.
Who the fuck am I kidding?
He's just the bright little light that everybody crowds around. He's standing in front of me for a few seconds. Then, he's out the door with all the other good people.
I'm still here, hanging onto reality by an ever-fraying thread, entrenched in the darkest parts of human existence. That's just how things are supposed to be.
"Draco, you are free to go." Snape looks at me for a split second before standing up and starting to gather his things.
"You really have nothing else to say to me?" I half raise an eyebrow, trying to keep the venom from seeping into my voice.
"There's nothing to discuss."
I hate him so much.
If he weren't so greasy, I'd be tempted to punch him in the face.
But a Malfoy is nothing, if not civilized. So, I hoist my bag onto my shoulder and slowly walk out of the room.
Blaise is waiting for me, just outside the door. He matches my pace. Even though I'm refusing eye contact, I can feel him staring at me.
"You free tonight?" His voice is soft, silky smooth. It sounds so beautiful, but so far away.
"No."
"What about right now?"
He places a hand on my shoulder and gently turns me towards a nearby classroom. The door closes and we're alone.
The quiet seems all encompassing. It's the dust on the wooden desks, the pale light streaming in through the window. Those huge, dark eyes, just staring at me—I remember how this used to be.
It was exciting. Thrilling. Something new, and entirely forbidden.
He was my big secret to smile about when nobody was looking.
Sure, it's been on and off. Sometimes I go weeks without talking to him. But he's always been there, just around the corner, demanding sex at the most impractical times imaginable.
I've never hated him. But really, I've never had any sort of strong emotions towards him other than the stress he can occasionally cause me.
Empty attraction and infrequent meetings—it's all we've ever really amounted to.
It's a bit depressing when I actually think about it.
Everybody remembers their first kiss.
Mine was second year, on Halloween.
Crabbe dared me to kiss a first year—Flora Carrow. I'm not sure if it really counted. There was no tongue. But she smiled every time she saw me for weeks afterward.
There were others. Daphne Greengrass taught me the fine art of sucking face. The longer I was on the Quidditch team, the more girls threw themselves at me. But I never went very far past kissing.
Perhaps, somewhere deep down, I knew why.
It was one of those cold November nights—fourth year. A large group of us all were out at the Three Broomsticks, drinking Butterbeers, laughing the evening away. I was sitting near the center of a long table, with Blaise on my right, and Crabbe on my left.
Everyone was tipsy, and giggling, and being more than a bit too friendly with each other. It was back when Pansy was still on the chase. She kept loudly announcing how she had an alcohol tolerance like a house-elf, and would probably need someone to levitate her back to the castle. Then, she'd look at me and flash that pretty smile of hers.
Blaise was the only one not participating in the conversation, or making a fool of himself. He calmly finished his drinks without ever cracking a smile.
Gradually, people started getting up and leaving—mentioning homework or an early class. I'd already decided to skip Charms, so I kept drinking. By the time I'd gotten through another two Butterbeers, almost everyone was gone. It was just me, Blaise, Pansy, and Millicent.
Millicent was already standing, tugging on Pansy's arm,
"Come on, we have to go," she rumbled in that freakishly deep voice of hers.
"Don't you have class in the morning, Draco?" Pansy bit her lip hopefully. "You could walk us back to the castle."
"Fuck Charms. I'm taking a personal day tomorrow." I smirked.
"You're really going to let two vulnerable girls walk alone in the dark?"
"Don't worry, Pansy. I'm sure Millicent is better protection than Draco anyway." Blaise kept a total deadpan. I kicked him under the table.
Still, after a little more coercing, Pansy and Millicent left. Blaise and I stayed for another half an hour or so, until Rosmerta kicked us out.
We stumbled out into the cold, hugging our cloaks in tighter around our bodies. Before I could even think about which direction to walk, Blaise grabbed my arm and pulled me into the alleyway.
He produced a shiny metal flask from one of his pockets, unscrewed the cap, and took a swig. Then, he was handing it to me.
"What is it?"
"Firewhisky," he said, grinning.
I took a small sip and shuddered as the raw heat slipped down my throat. I'd never liked the taste of the stuff. But it did bring a pleasant warm feeling through my whole body. Even though the bitter wind was blowing, I didn't mind it so much.
We traded shots in silence and eventually meandered back into the street.
The village was beautiful. The sky was perfectly clear, with a waxing moon. Light splintered down through the treetops, creating jagged shadows at the edges of town. The snow on the ground sparkled like tiny carbon diamonds.
Blaise stopped walking about halfway up the path out of the village and fished around in his pockets again. He pulled out a silver cigarette case. After selecting one, he placed it between his lips and sparked it with his wand.
"Huh. Didn't know you smoked." I pulled my scarf in tighter around my neck, trying to ignore how numb my cheeks felt.
The walk continued. The alcohol was swirling in my head, making the world seem blurry around the edges. My feet didn't want to go in a straight line.
"So, what do you think of Pansy?" He gently flicked the filter of his cigarette with his thumb, tapping off the collecting ash.
"I dunno. She's all right, I suppose. Why?"
"It's pretty obvious she wants your dick." He shrugged.
I snorted, trying to suppress a laugh.
"What? You don't think she's hot?" He raised his eyebrows.
"Of course she is. Just… I don't want her getting weird about it. I mean, you know her. If we hooked up, she'd never leave me alone."
I had to refrain from rolling my eyes. How many times had I used that excuse?
"Yeah, I guess. What if we tag team her?"
"That's a terrible idea, Blaise."
"Probably."
Blaise stopped to light another cigarette. He was swaying slightly. Even in a drunken stupor, he still managed to look mildly dignified.
"You know, Draco, I've always wondered—how much time on average do you spend making your hair look like that?" The smug little smile started to creep across his face.
"Shove it." I folded my arms and gave him my best sneer. But that just made him smile wider.
"No, really, I'm serious. It must be a pain in the ass to make it look that fucking perfect."
"Actually, your mum does it for me every morning before she Floos back to your house."
"It's a good thing you're cute. Otherwise people probably wouldn't tolerate that god-awful personality of yours." He blew out a wide smoke ring.
I stood there, blinking stupidly, entirely off-balanced.
Take evasive action.
"Cute? Do you fancy me, or something? Merlin, Zabini. Nobody ever told me you were gay." I was trying to laugh, make it all into a joke.
But he just stood there, watching me.
The longer the silence became, the more disturbing it was.
"Are you, really?" I had this strange floating feeling in my stomach—something like anxiety. My heart was beating faster.
"No. I like girls. But I also like blokes." He shrugged as if it were the most matter-of-fact thing in the world.
"What?"
"I dunno. I've just never seen much of a reason to choose one or the other."
I couldn't quite figure out if it was my mouth or my brain that was malfunctioning. Either way, I couldn't seem to get a sentence out. I just stared at him dumbly, almost unable to comprehend the developing situation.
"I've never had sex with another guy, or anything. But I've fooled around. You won't tell anyone…" For a moment he looked slightly nervous.
But I shook my head.
Who would believe me?
"It's really not that much different, in all honesty," he was smiling again, "a kiss is a kiss. And hell, a blowjob's fantastic no matter who it's coming from as long as they have a vague idea about what they're doing."
"You've gotten head from a guy?" I couldn't resist. It was like the question just jumped out of me.
"You know Cormac McLaggen?"
"The Gryffindor?"
"Yep."
"I don't believe you."
"Jealous?"
"Why the fuck would I be jealous?
"Don't lie. You want to know what it's like."
In retrospect, I think my mistake was not responding immediately.
Almost in slow motion, he let his cigarette drop to the ground. The ember extinguished in the blanket of snow. Then, he was stepping towards me, pulling me in by the front of my robes.
His lips were soft.
He tasted like smoke and alcohol.
His tongue was wide, and deep into my mouth before I really registered what was happening.
Maybe I didn't push him away because I was drunk. Maybe I'd always thought he was handsome.
It was one of those things you know you'll regret, even while it's happening. My dim awareness of the consequences, however, didn't stop me from leaping into the abyss.
The heat spread through my body, sparking something I hadn't felt before. I kissed him back. My head spun. It felt like time had stopped and there was nothing else in the world besides his arms wrapped around me.
Finally, we broke apart and walked back to the castle in silence. When we finally got to the dormitories, everyone else was asleep. I stripped to my boxers and lay down in bed. I felt Blaise climb in next to me, drawing the curtain around us and muttering a few spells.
I rolled over to face him. He captured me in another kiss.
I was capsizing in the waves of my own hormones—so nervous I could barely breathe. He was already naked, moving his large hands over every inch of my body.
I shuddered when his fingertips brushed over my growing erection. He smiled, and snapped the elastic waistband of the shorts against my stomach.
"I'm not gonna force you into anything you don't want to do…" He gently traced his fingers across the skin on my chest. It tickled slightly, but was also strangely arousing.
I looked at him helplessly.
Telling him I wanted something made me guilty.
Kicking him out of bed wasn't really an option at that point.
I bit my lip.
He grabbed my dick though the thin material of my boxers. Ever so slowly, he began to stroke it, squeezing gently.
Everything in the world slowed down and there was only him. Shallow breathing, erratic heart rate—this was the threshold. Once I crossed it, I knew there was no going back.
In a quick motion, he pulled down my shorts. My eyes rolled back into my head as my dick was engulfed in the moist heat of his mouth.
It was ecstasy.
I wished it could last forever.
Of course, it didn't.
He swirled his wide tongue around the head of my cock, and I was already starting to lose it. He took me in all the way, sucking hard.
After an embarrassingly short amount of time, I was groaning, the tension was boiling deep inside me. I didn't even have time to warn him before I was spilling cum into his mouth.
I watched him swallow it, with a tiny trickle running from the corner of his mouth, down his chin. It was the hottest thing I'd ever seen.
Then, he was kissing me again, and I could taste myself. It was nasty, and wrong, but somehow vaguely erotic.
"Do you think you could handle this?" He smiled slightly, grabbing a hold of his own dick and stoking it.
The thing was intimidating. But he didn't even wait for me to answer. He was straddling my chest, dangling it in front of my mouth. He traced it across my cheek, leaving a slimy little slug-trail.
Slowly, I opened my mouth and looked up at him. I stuck my tongue out and licked the tip of his cock. It didn't taste bad, though I definitely got a little of the musky liquid that was beginning to pool in his slit. I repeated this exercise a few more times, and was rewarded with a contented sigh.
Getting the whole thing into my mouth was definitely more of challenge than I cared to take on. I started with just the head, and managed to get about halfway down the shaft before I felt myself verge on choking. I bobbed awkwardly, trying to establish some sort of rhythm.
After a while, I felt him gently thrusting with my motions. I tried to relax my throat. He went deeper. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but at that point I wasn't controlling it anymore.
"Draco," he grunted, "you feel so good."
He hit the back of my throat, and I gagged a little bit. It was an odd sort of claustrophobia. My mouth was so full it was hard to breathe.
But he wasn't really paying attention. All I saw was his flat stomach, undulating, all the little muscles flexing. I was there. I was anywhere else.
Then, he let out a loud groan, and I was drowning. I swallowed because I had no choice. It was an obscure, salty taste. Almost musty. Not terrible, but not great.
We fell asleep spooning.
When I woke up in the morning and he was gone, I panicked. All sorts of questions I didn't want to think about flooded into my brain. I did the only logical thing I could think of—ask Pansy to the Yule Ball.
So, the terrible cycle was born. I didn't talk to Blaise for a month and I was pretending to fall in love with Pansy Parkinson. I put on a grand show for everybody. I did it so well I almost believed it.
Then, I ended up naked in a bathroom cubicle with Blaise. It was awful, and dirty, and horrifyingly sexy. It's my twisted little journey that's sure to end in some sort of split personality. There are so many lies, I've told to so many different people, I can't keep it all straight.
Standing in this dark classroom, just inches away from him, I know that none of it has meant much to either of us. For a while, I thought maybe I loved him. But how can you really love somebody with no personality? I know less about him than I know about my excommunicated family members.
He's reaching out for me, wrapping his arms around me. I let him, but I turn my head away from his kiss.
Usually, there's a distinct difference between using someone for sex, and being used. But maybe there's a point when you become so numb it doesn't matter.
He's undressing me. I'm a rag doll, draped across a desk. I'm still sore. I roll over onto my stomach so I don't have to look at him.
"What the fuck?" He gasps.
I look over my shoulder.
My back is covered in bruises. Sex on stone floors… it happens.
I sit up carefully and give him the emptiest expression I can construct. With a wave of my wand, the Glamours disappear. All the hickeys, bite marks, and tiny cuts are in clear view. Self-hatred.
I raise an eyebrow and wait for him to say something.
"I don't suppose Pansy did that…" He's staring at the inescapably huge bite mark on my shoulder. It almost looks like some sort of wild animal went at me.
"No."
"Who, then?"
"Whoever I want. It's not like we're exclusive or something," I snarl coldly. I can feel a vague sort of rage boiling just below the surface.
"Oh, of course not, but I mean… looks like you've been up to something interesting."
"You could say that." I've maintained my composure through more aggravating things, but still…
"Perhaps several somethings, from the looks of it."
"Could be." Do I really want to kill Blaise, or is the feeling unrelated?
"So, are you whoring around Hogwarts with random people, or what?" He has the nerve to smile at me.
"Yes, Blaise. I fucked the entire Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Is that what you'd like to hear?" My knuckles are white from clenched fists.
"Well, in all honesty, slut isn't a very good look for you. Bruises on pale skin aren't that attractive."
And that's all I need.
Calmly, I pick up my discarded trousers, and stand up. I slowly slip the belt out of the loops. He watches me, but I say nothing. I pick up my wand and barely mutter the spell. Then my belt is looped around his neck.
Before he can even struggle, it pulls tight and forces him down to his knees.
He's gagging, and I just watch.
"You should really learn when to keep your mouth shut."
When I loosen the belt slightly, he's gasping.
"Draco, what the—"
"Would you like to faint?"
He goes quiet. His eyes are narrowed, his jaw clenched, but I can still see the tiny trace of fear. There's a part of me that loves this. The control is intoxicating.
"I think you're forgetting who calls the shots here, Blaise," I say softly. "This only happens because I let it happen. I'm not your fuck toy. I'm a dangerous criminal. If you piss me off, I am capable of making your life extremely unpleasant. Understand?"
He nods.
The belt drops to the floor and I start getting dressed.
Maybe, at one point, he had me infatuated and tortured. Maybe, at the beginning, I was vulnerable. But that was a long time ago.
Just look at me now—ever closer to being a bona fide sociopath.
I give him one last look of disgust before I shut the door behind me.
My stomach is twisting again.
I take a slow, measured walk towards the nearest bathroom before I puke my guts out.
Drown me in the pain.
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