(no subject)
Title: It started with a fist
Author: magichamster
Rating: Probably R for a bit of language, violence and sexual situations
Summary: Draco becomes increasingly obsessed with Harry after a fight turns into something more.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter...sadly
It started with a fist.
Pain. Blood. Clinging to your clothes. Red painted onto your face. That familiar taste in your mouth: the taste of mistakes.
Teeth. On your neck. And you’re groaning, and it’s all so wrong, and it’s sudden, and it’s too fast, and it’s not fast enough, and you’re breathing so hard you can barely hear him murmuring,
“Fuck you. Fuck your father. God, I hate you. I hate you so much.”
Hands everywhere. The touch is rough. You sink a hand into his stomach, and you can hear your father now,
“You never think about the consequences of your actions, do you? You’re just a slave to your emotions; not even considering the effect it will have on the Malfoy name. And that makes you no better than a muggle.”
And you’re gasping the name Harry, and for a second everything’s perfect.
*****
“It was a mistake.”
You knew he’d find you. He’s always been able to.
“Of course it was a mistake, Potter. Do you really think I’d be interested in a mudblood-loving Gryffindork like you?”
Your mouth has fallen into that usual smirk, and as he mutters, “forget it,” and turns away, you think about hitting him again.
*****
His hair is the colour of shadows. You didn’t notice this and you certainly didn’t stare at him all day. And the Weasel is just being more annoying than usual today. It’s not that you’re jealous. After all, how could you be jealous of a poor, pathetic, ginger Gryffindor who has to put up with him all the time?
But he doesn’t look at you. To him, you don’t exist. He is focused on the Weasel and the Mudblood, and that Chang girl is smiling shyly at him, and this is not what’s supposed to happen.
A trip jinx. Just to get things back to normal. Life isn’t quite the same without him hating you.
“Having trouble walking, Potter? Didn’t your filthy mudblood mother teach you?”
All you want is for him to hate you. He just walks away.
*****
You grow hostile, and you watch him. You tell yourself that it is important to know your enemy, to find his weaknesses and exploit them. Father would be proud.
He had porridge every morning for breakfast. He laughs at things the Weasel says, though you doubt they could be funny. And his tie is always slightly crooked, no matter how much he fiddles with it.
You feel that you must have noticed all this for a reason, but you’re not sure how you can use it against him.
You keep watching.
*****
He is still abysmal at potions. You still sabotage his work when it could be a success. But he no longer turns to look at you with that glint of anger in his eyes. All you can see is the light shining off his glasses as Snape gives him detention once again.
At the end of the lesson you whisper, “Have fun in detention, Potter,” and lightly run your fingers across his hip.
Later that day, he punches you in the face.
*****
You fly. The wind stings your eyes and burns your face. It’s always trying to hold you back, push you away. You remember when you were a child - you’d hold out your arms and let the wind take you where it was blowing; you’d just float away without a care in the world. Now you know that you get nowhere like that, and you have to drive forwards; fight everything; just get somewhere.
You’re close to your broom and the world around you is blurring. There is nothing but that gold ball and you know that this time, this time you will catch it.
You never get the snitch, and you bump his shoulder as you leave, hating him more than ever.
*****
The oaf has brought yet more ridiculous monsters for his “lesson”. He is clearly an incompetent fool who is going to eventually kill the whole class, or at least cause you to fail. Not that you’re worried about the effect his so-called teaching will have on your exams. You expect you’ll be serving the Dark Lord before you even sit them.
Today the creatures are as disgusting as usual, and you try not to remember the incident in third year. You’re still not sure why you took this class, but you do remember the look on his face as he saw you in the very first lesson.
By some cruel, brilliant twist of fate, you and him are paired together (the oaf is too distracted by some Gryffindor girl sobbing into her friend’s robes to notice). When no one’s looking you lick his neck and tell him exactly what you want to do with him. At the end of the lesson he runs back to school, his face flushed.
*****
You have prefect duty that night. You tell yourself the reason you look forward to it is that you get to take points from other houses, especially Gryffindor. You tell yourself that he is the last person you want to see. You also tell yourself the dreams mean nothing. Then you wonder when you started to lie to yourself.
You go back to the scene of the crime. You’re not surprised to see him there.
“Malfoy?”
“Well, if it isn’t Perfect Potter. Waiting for me, are you?”
“You wish, Malfoy.”
You don’t you don’t you don’t you don’t you don’t.
You hear yourself laugh, harsh and cold.
“Like I’d want to spend time in the presence of an idiotic, self-obsessed Mudblood-lover. I already see you Gryffindorks far too much.”
“Well, if you don’t want to see me why don’t you just leave?”
Because you need the attention. Because he’s the one you could never have. Because you want him so much it feels like you hate him. Because-
And now you’re leaping at him, dragging him to the floor and you don’t know why but you have to hurt him, have to do something and it’s so much easier to hate him than to admit it all and there’s a voice in your head chanting, screaming,
‘This isn’t meant to happen this isn’t meant tohappen thisisn’tmeanttohappenthisisn’tmeantto-‘
And you punch him, watch as his head falls back against the floor and his eyes are full of that green hatred and you can see your father’s face, and it’s all still so unbelievably perfect, as the blood flows down and everything’s red again.
Author: magichamster
Rating: Probably R for a bit of language, violence and sexual situations
Summary: Draco becomes increasingly obsessed with Harry after a fight turns into something more.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter...sadly
It started with a fist.
Pain. Blood. Clinging to your clothes. Red painted onto your face. That familiar taste in your mouth: the taste of mistakes.
Teeth. On your neck. And you’re groaning, and it’s all so wrong, and it’s sudden, and it’s too fast, and it’s not fast enough, and you’re breathing so hard you can barely hear him murmuring,
“Fuck you. Fuck your father. God, I hate you. I hate you so much.”
Hands everywhere. The touch is rough. You sink a hand into his stomach, and you can hear your father now,
“You never think about the consequences of your actions, do you? You’re just a slave to your emotions; not even considering the effect it will have on the Malfoy name. And that makes you no better than a muggle.”
And you’re gasping the name Harry, and for a second everything’s perfect.
*****
“It was a mistake.”
You knew he’d find you. He’s always been able to.
“Of course it was a mistake, Potter. Do you really think I’d be interested in a mudblood-loving Gryffindork like you?”
Your mouth has fallen into that usual smirk, and as he mutters, “forget it,” and turns away, you think about hitting him again.
*****
His hair is the colour of shadows. You didn’t notice this and you certainly didn’t stare at him all day. And the Weasel is just being more annoying than usual today. It’s not that you’re jealous. After all, how could you be jealous of a poor, pathetic, ginger Gryffindor who has to put up with him all the time?
But he doesn’t look at you. To him, you don’t exist. He is focused on the Weasel and the Mudblood, and that Chang girl is smiling shyly at him, and this is not what’s supposed to happen.
A trip jinx. Just to get things back to normal. Life isn’t quite the same without him hating you.
“Having trouble walking, Potter? Didn’t your filthy mudblood mother teach you?”
All you want is for him to hate you. He just walks away.
*****
You grow hostile, and you watch him. You tell yourself that it is important to know your enemy, to find his weaknesses and exploit them. Father would be proud.
He had porridge every morning for breakfast. He laughs at things the Weasel says, though you doubt they could be funny. And his tie is always slightly crooked, no matter how much he fiddles with it.
You feel that you must have noticed all this for a reason, but you’re not sure how you can use it against him.
You keep watching.
*****
He is still abysmal at potions. You still sabotage his work when it could be a success. But he no longer turns to look at you with that glint of anger in his eyes. All you can see is the light shining off his glasses as Snape gives him detention once again.
At the end of the lesson you whisper, “Have fun in detention, Potter,” and lightly run your fingers across his hip.
Later that day, he punches you in the face.
*****
You fly. The wind stings your eyes and burns your face. It’s always trying to hold you back, push you away. You remember when you were a child - you’d hold out your arms and let the wind take you where it was blowing; you’d just float away without a care in the world. Now you know that you get nowhere like that, and you have to drive forwards; fight everything; just get somewhere.
You’re close to your broom and the world around you is blurring. There is nothing but that gold ball and you know that this time, this time you will catch it.
You never get the snitch, and you bump his shoulder as you leave, hating him more than ever.
*****
The oaf has brought yet more ridiculous monsters for his “lesson”. He is clearly an incompetent fool who is going to eventually kill the whole class, or at least cause you to fail. Not that you’re worried about the effect his so-called teaching will have on your exams. You expect you’ll be serving the Dark Lord before you even sit them.
Today the creatures are as disgusting as usual, and you try not to remember the incident in third year. You’re still not sure why you took this class, but you do remember the look on his face as he saw you in the very first lesson.
By some cruel, brilliant twist of fate, you and him are paired together (the oaf is too distracted by some Gryffindor girl sobbing into her friend’s robes to notice). When no one’s looking you lick his neck and tell him exactly what you want to do with him. At the end of the lesson he runs back to school, his face flushed.
*****
You have prefect duty that night. You tell yourself the reason you look forward to it is that you get to take points from other houses, especially Gryffindor. You tell yourself that he is the last person you want to see. You also tell yourself the dreams mean nothing. Then you wonder when you started to lie to yourself.
You go back to the scene of the crime. You’re not surprised to see him there.
“Malfoy?”
“Well, if it isn’t Perfect Potter. Waiting for me, are you?”
“You wish, Malfoy.”
You don’t you don’t you don’t you don’t you don’t.
You hear yourself laugh, harsh and cold.
“Like I’d want to spend time in the presence of an idiotic, self-obsessed Mudblood-lover. I already see you Gryffindorks far too much.”
“Well, if you don’t want to see me why don’t you just leave?”
Because you need the attention. Because he’s the one you could never have. Because you want him so much it feels like you hate him. Because-
And now you’re leaping at him, dragging him to the floor and you don’t know why but you have to hurt him, have to do something and it’s so much easier to hate him than to admit it all and there’s a voice in your head chanting, screaming,
‘This isn’t meant to happen this isn’t meant tohappen thisisn’tmeanttohappenthisisn’tmeantto-‘
And you punch him, watch as his head falls back against the floor and his eyes are full of that green hatred and you can see your father’s face, and it’s all still so unbelievably perfect, as the blood flows down and everything’s red again.