Epitome

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I am told that I am the Prince of Darkness.

Under different circumstances I assure you that I would have whole heartedly agreed with this brash statement. After all, I am a Malfoy and a Pureblood. The members of my family have successively been minions of the Dark Lord for most of our lives. Were it not for his demise at your hands in your first year of life, I would have no doubt been able to freely choose to walk the path of darkness myself. Yet the moment I released my inner self to you I have not been able to concentrate on anything else but your protection. What have you done to me?

Before I submitted myself to you I was perfect.

I know you and your friends may not agree. Not that I give a damn what they think anyway. I am the Heir of Slytherin and the epitome of darkness and I assure you, I am quite comfortable with this image of who I am. I am respected and feared and hated by my peers. This is what I want. Before you, there was no room for anything else in my life. Now there is you, and my life seems beyond perfect.

Believe me when I tell you that this is a very scary thought.

Pansy ambushed me a week ago after dark in my room. She was naked and waiting as she lay stretched out on my bed. It wasn't even like that was the first time since fifth form but it's been a year since she pulled a stunt like that. I guess she is becoming desperate. After all, before you it was her and no one else. She is my betrothed and she thinks she loves me. After last night I am sure she will never think that again. Since I've been with you, I have never wanted to get rid of her more than I do now. It's a pity that will have to wait for another time. Somehow you have stolen my heart and for a while I hated you for that.

In so many ways it always came back to hatred.

The moment you rejected me I hated you and you returned my hatred. For six years I was content with this arrangement. I almost came to depend on it. We may not have understood it but we had chosen to become a balance to each other. No matter how consumed I became from evil you would be there to infuriate me more. I was there to tempt you to the dark side. Yet the first time I truly saw your anger, it didn't turn out right. Did it?

Do you remember that first night?

I was so angry that I wanted to tear you apart. I wanted to watch as your blood flowed freely in the light of the moon. I wanted to bask in the knowledge that you are human like the rest of us. I wanted to prove that your blood was red and you were no hero. I did that didn't I? Yet somehow I did more than that. I got lost in the emerald of your eyes. The taste of your mouth against mine. The sound of your moans. And the silk of your hair. The clawing of your nails on my naked flesh. Somehow I basked in the feel of your warm, smooth flesh against mine. And your body beneath me. Your gasps. Your heat. And the way your eyes became glazed right before you came. I lost a little of my darkness that night.

I assure you that at the time I had no intentions of doing any of that.

I did not build up my reputation for you to tear down in single moments of pleasure. Yet if I am not carefully you just might make me end up doing that. I seriously doubt that I can be considered the same anymore. It actually surprises me now that no one has noticed. Slytherins are noted for their keen eyes and quick judgments but I guess we have played our game well.

Perhaps we have become experts at it by now.

It is so easy to hate you in the daytime. It is so easy for you to infuriate me. Your anger is my stimulant and mine is your poison and we both seem to like our morning dosage. In the mornings you are at my mercy and I am at yours. Our anger and hatred and need for violence are so overwhelming that sometimes I wonder how it doesn't consume us both in a whirlwind of fire.

I suppose the fire only ignites in the moonlight.

Then there are no boundaries to how far we may go. There is no one to tear us from each other's throat. We revel in our anger and frustration another way. At those times you are like a constance in my life. I can hurt you and heal you and break you and mend you. I could rip you apart Harry and you would let me and I find that power over you exhilarating. There are no limitations. Yet we always end up healing each other. Gently, soothingly, we glide across the other's flesh. Sucking, nipping, licking, healing, we become the other's strength. You like that part don't you? Then our anger is spent and our hatred is calmed and we become lost in the feel of each other's touch. We are truly lovers then. When we become one and our limbs become tangled together. We become lost. That is when I know that I seem to have become addicted to you.

You have consumed my thoughts.

Now everything around me is about you. Like the grass beneath my feet is your emerald eyes and the gentle breeze that I feel is like your breath. Even the silk sheets I lay upon as I await midnight are a promise of the texture of your flesh. Sometime you are all that I can think about and it hurts me when I see pain in your eyes. Perhaps that is why I have suddenly developed a habit of staring at you across the Great Hall. I realize that apart from Granger and the Weasel, your “friends” have no idea who you really are. Even that redhead do-gooder that you call your “girlfriend” seems lost when it comes to your feelings. It's amazing that I have yet to rip her apart with my bare hands.

Pansy once told me I was possessed.

Perhaps the word she should have used is “possessive”. I hate to have other people touching my things, especially if they don't know how to care for them properly. Your “girlfriend” is no exception to my rule. If she is not careful, one day she will suffocate you with her clinging and on that day I will strangle her myself. The only persons I can allow to be near you is Granger and her boyfriend and believe me I have only excused them because of how inseparable the three of you are anyway. I don't want anyone else hurting you unnecessarily. Perhaps I am more protective than possessive.

Sometimes I wonder if I could have helped it.

If I am the epitome of darkness then you are the epitome of light and I'm not sure that I can truly handle that concept. I have seen your anger and I've felt your hatred and I've seen evil reflected in your eyes. I can understand that. Yet it never matches with the image that you have. You are the Boy Who Lived against Evil and that means that you cannot be evil yourself. Not that you are. You are still Harry Potter, still the Heir of Gryffindor. You are still the epitome of light in the eyes of the wizard world. If I am black then you are white but nothing is that simple is it? How would that explain your anger? Or your obsession with bleeding sometimes? How would it explain my laughter? Or my need to protect you from harm?

You were the first to whisper that you loved me.

Did I tell you that it took a while to believe that? It's not that I don't trust you Harry, it's just that we hated each other for so long. When I told you last night that I loved you too, I could almost feel the doubt radiating from your body. Unlike hatred, love takes time to believe and for so long hate was all that we allowed ourselves to believe. I wonder sometimes if we can last though. If we don't, I wonder who will break first. What will happen next week when I return to Malfoy Manor for Christmas holidays and you're left here at Hogwarts? Will the pressure and anxiety be too much for you? Will you still believe in our love? What about next month? Or next year when we graduate? What about when the Dark Lord arise and the Malfoy's re-establish ourselves in the midst of the violence? Will you trust that I will not betray you? Or will your own magic be enough?

I am told that I am the epitome of darkness. Yet, how can I be when I revel so much in your light?

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