Valued Sony Customer Normal irviners 3 911 2003-09-02T17:23:00Z 2003-09-02T17:26:00Z 3 1654 9430 78 18 11580 9.3821 1 1
CHAPTER ONE
A/N: Here's my first fic for portkey.org. This was originally posted on FF.NET, along with all my other fics. If any one wants to check them out, my penname there is Unknown Street Kid.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I don't own.
"I hate everything about you. Why do I love you?" Three Days Grace, I Hate Everything About You.
Weaken, but do not be weak. Strengthen, but do not allow others to be strong. Break, but do not be broken.
It was somewhat of a family motto. Total unadulterated shit, if you asked him. Those dull words had been drilled into his head all his life. Probably even before. Now Draco Malfoy stood in a circle of Death Eaters facing the Dark Lord. Eaters of Death. Lord of Darkness. Who came up with such fucking melodramatic names anyway? Eating death can in no possible way be healthy for you.
The Dark Lord moved forward to remove Draco's hood, which covered his eyes in the darkened field. The moon was the only source of light. The sickly pale brightness drenched the land in a cold, callous light, casting shadows but allowing no true sight.
With Voldemort less than three paces away from his face, arms (if you could call the bones with grotesque coverings arms) outstretched and Lucius less than five faces behind him; there was no where to turn. The worst part of it was that Draco was positively giddy. The seriousness of the situation was making his body quake and eyes water with suppressed laughter. His family being complete hypocrites worsened the situation. Here were men who presumably served one Dark Lord or another, speaking of standing strong and showing any weaknesses. Wasn't he by offering his unquestioning loyalty to someone, weakening himself? He was also being broken, forced to bend down to a servant's level-all in one fucking meaningless gesture.
No.
This was not the time to be thinking of such things, not at all. But then again (the Dark Lord was now reciting the Rites of Induction as he pushed up Draco's sleeve) why shouldn't he speak his mind?
Draco was greatly confused at his own confusion. It was all Potter's fault. It was his fucking fault that he had this terrible ach in the back of his head and a newly developed schism in his thoughts.
Damn him! After this was over, he was going to make him pay.
He felt the first pang of heat as Voldemort began to carve that disgustingly horrid tattoo in his perfectly sculpted forearm. Immediately, he pulled his arm away-not jerked, but pulled.
"You know what, Voldie? I don't think I really want to join your pathetic little club here. Why don't you kill-" he turned, searching for Severus Snape's head, only to get the Crutacius Curse cast on him as he did.
Why the fuck did I turn? What could have possibly possessed me to turn?
I blame it on your insatiable love for Snape.
Shut up, I'm supposedly being tortured here.
Oh, right.
"You know what Voldie? Fuck you! Get this damned thing off me!" But Draco wasn't really feeling any
pain. Nothing this night had been impromptu. It just wasn't his nature. Just as being a follower wasn't in his
nature. A Protection Charm, a powerful protection charm, had been cast on him by one of his newfound
followers. "Or better yet," he said, rising and blowing the charade. "Why don't I just do it for
you?"
Voldemort had been caught off guard. Draco's 'Army' moved from their positions, stunning the Death Eaters.
At the same time, Draco lifted his wand to Voldemort's chest.
"Fare ye well, old man. AVADA KEDVARA!" A jet of green light flew from the tip of his wand, instantly killing the man once known as Tom Marvolo Riddle.
The battle was still going on as he walked to the edge of the field. Draco looked up at the glowing moon and uttered the words he had wanted to say for six years. "I've beaten you, Potter."
All around the globe, the sound of maniacal laughter-Draco's maniacal laughter-was heard. For the briefest of moments everything stopped. Later, people (especially the elderly men) would swear that the Earth stopped spinning on its axis. All was quiet, the calm before the storm. Time began once more, after that brief second. No one seemed to notice, except the children who began screaming. It was they who would later tell of the Day Everything Stopped.
But Draco was not concerned with this. He didn't hear anything around him. All he heard or saw was the moon, which he grinned at. As he did so, he pulled a lighter from his pocket. It was made of pure silver, a small serpent engraved on the lid. Still grinning, he flipped the top and depressed the trigger. A small flame sprouted. The miniature fire danced before his eyes and within his eyes, only adding to Draco's look of madness. He dropped the lighter-magically charmed not to go out until bidden-on to the gasoline soaked field.
The grass erupted into to a giant ball of fire, surprisingly looking akin to a serpent.
He walked away, the screams of those caught in the flames ringing in his ears.
***
One week ago:
Draco was sitting in the library. Although Snape did favor Slytherin house, he did not exactly skimp on giving out homework. Draco didn't mind, though, Potions was his favorite subject, after all. Currently, Draco was researching the uses of Pure Black Roses in potion making, a somewhat… special... assignment to those in Slytherin.
"The true black rose is extremely rare. Some in the non-magical world refuse to acknowledge its existence, due to the extreme rarity. However, the black rose does, in fact exist. It is used for many reasons, the most potent, and illegal; use is in that of love potions." Very interesting….
"Looking for more ways to become a Death Eater, Malfoy?" Potter was standing right behind him, reading over his shoulder.
"What the fuck do you want?"
"Tut tut tut, watch the language." Draco turned in his seat to face the incessant pest, only to find a mischievous grin on his face.
"Maybe I should rephrase that. If you don't have something worthwhile for me to hear, then get the fuck away from me. Maybe you can go buy Ron a whore or something. God knows he won't get any otherwise." That'll get him. He thought, but nothing-no reaction at all.
"Stand up Malfoy."
"No."
"Fine, I'll do it with you sitting down."
The next thing he knew, Potter was kissing him. Draco's first reaction was to push the other boy away, but by then Harry's strong seeker arms were around him, pulling Draco closer. His only defense at this outrageous violation of his personal space was to stiffen and shift his eyes from side to side. It was disgusting. Now Potter's tongue was licking Draco's lips, wanting to taste his mouth. When Draco continued to refuse, Harry finally pulled away.
"WHAT IN BLOODY HELL WAS THAT FOR YOU SODDING BASTARD MOTHER-"
"Shh, that's enough Draco."
And he was gone.
Draco tried to go back to his work, but he just couldn't concentrate. Every time the word love came up in the document, Draco's subconscious kept bringing back the feel of Harry's lips on his.
Frustrated, he slammed the book shut, returned it to the Restricted Section, and went to bed.
<><><><><><><><>
Sleep, however, did not bring relief of Potter. His dreams continually dwelled on being pulled closer and closer to Harry's lean, muscular body. In the dreams Draco did not resist the probing tongue.
At two a.m., Draco finally woke from these terrorizing and traumatizing dreams.
Shit. I'm falling apart here.
Yes. You are.
Shut up.
As you wish.
His mind was no longer a sanctuary, hadn't been in quite some time. Not just because of Potter, no. Draco was used to having other boys in love with him, so that was only the tip of the ice burg. Lucius had been pressuring him for a while now about getting the Dark Mark. It wasn't that he didn't want to support evil; he was mainly reluctant because of his personality. He was a leader, one to be revered; definitely not one to be led. This unnerved him for some reason.
Draco had been planning a revolt for quite a while. It would take place on the night of his initiation. And best of all, no one would survive to lay the blame on him.
But right now, it was three a.m., and he needed some hot coca. Dressing in his night robe, he climbed the stairs and tickled the pair. Four kitchen elves, headed by Dobby, came rushing forward.
"How can we help you, Draco sir?" his old house elf said.
"Oh, just a cup of hot coca please… and Dobby?"
"Yes sir?" Dobby said.
"Stop calling me sir. I'm not your master any more."
"Yes, Mister Draco." With that, the old elf scuttled off. Another pair of elves brought his coca and seated him on a sofa before the fire.
He sipped the drink in a thoughtful silence. He barely registered the fact that Harry had entered the kitchens and was now coming toward the couch with a mug of his own.
"Mind if I sit?" Harry asked.
"No, not at all, I was just leaving." Draco stood to leave, but Harry placed a hand on his arm.
"I need to explain to you." Draco thought this over carefully before he answered.
"You've got one minute."
Harry explained. He had been thinking in the library of how for six years they had been enemies. There was just no question about it. But, on Harry's side at least, there was something beneath the hostility. Every relationship he had been having was ruined because of Draco. Nothing active, but…. It was as if Draco was a permanent occupant in his mind. Something that was just there, he couldn't really concentrate on anything else, because there was this intruder in his mind. The equivalent would be someone reading. Someone else comes in the room. The person reading knows the other person is there; call it E.S.P. or just really good ears, but all of a sudden the person reading devotes all their attention to listening to the newcomer. Waiting, feeling them out, seeing what their going to do. And at the end, the person is really not there and no reading got done.
"Well, I guess that's all." Harry concluded.
"Alright. You're in love with me, I still hate you. Now, good evening… or morning, I should say." He stood and returned to the dungeons.
<><><><><><><><>
There were a few more close encounters with Harry, but Draco bushed them off, all the while slowly gaining an unwanted visitor in his mind as well. He only talked to her a few times; mostly to mock her, but it was enough to split his mind in two. The girl he thought shy and meek was hiding something. He knew it.
He kept thinking of the day in the library. Potter hadn't been wearing his glasses. Not in the library or the kitchens. That was a very curious thing, very curious indeed. But his thoughts grace fully did not dwell on Potter, having been sidetracked by whom he had come to call 'the intruder'.
This new intruder was the reason he Owled his father, arranging to join the Death Eaters on the first break of winter break, the reason why he chose not to be led, the reason he decided to put an end to Voldemort.
Ginny Weasley.
***
Blaise Zabini walked out of the shadows, greeting Draco at the edge of the field.
"So, what do we do now?" she asked her pyromaniac friend.
"Does coffee sound good, you?" he answered his gasoline field soaking friend.
"Just fine."
Blaise laced her hand in Draco's as they walked to Third and Eighty-Fourth Street, to the little Coffee Shoppe at the corner. Behind them, the fire blazed on and the screams grew louder before stopping altogether.