With You

1: With You

A kettle shrieked somewhere downstairs - I heard faintly, and opened one eye. The ceiling, colored luminescent silver, was dull without the morning light. Suddenly, I gasped, as I sat up in cold sweat. My dream - no, my nightmare, had come true.

The bare wood floor groaned as I stepped onto it. A numbness greeted me as I stared at my face in the mirror. Slightly pale complexion - made darker by the lack of light - small, delicate features, silvery-blonde locks sticking to my head by the sweat. And the eyes - so scary, calculating, dark & light at the same time, they could speak enormous amounts on their own, they wouldn't flinch in the face of death.

Or anything worse. I was numb from the shock of waking finally, realizing that which had only occurred to me now. Harry. It's over. He's really gone.

Even though you're so close to me,
You're still so distant, and I can't bring you back.

Graduation from Hogwarts was yesterday. I still remember it, in my mind's eye: All house colors strewn on banners and other miscellaneous décor, at every corner of the Great Hall. Never-ending confetti from the ceiling, enchanted to show a sunny, sky blue with absolutely no clouds.

"Your futures are bright and unlimited. You're wizards now. You've made it!" Dumbledore had said, eyes twinkling for the last time, to the seventh-year students. All the other students clapped, some politely, some quite rowdily, as one by one the teachers, and some of the students, presented their graduation speeches. Hermione, Head Girl, voice of the Gryffindors. Oh, the crying, and the promises to call, or talk, or even write. Hell, I was happy to finally see Crabbe and Goyle off - who wouldn't be? But there was someone else I wanted to end matters with. Even as Pansy was crying on my shoulder, I looked longingly at Harry, first coolly, waiting to see if he would look my way, then desperately, willing him with all my might to simply glance this way, and see the anguish on my face.

Well, it would've have helped even if he had looked. I was 'totally expressionless', as Pansy remarked later on. My mouth was fixed in a grim, tight line. And I'd glared at anyone who dared to come near me, she'd said. The other cowardly Slytherins simply sent me their contact address. And Harry? He never did look back. Just went straight to his new job, explored the new world with his new and old friends - and I was never included. Of course not, I'm Slytherin, he's a Gryffindor.

Any wizard from Hogwarts knows of the ancient Gryffindor-Slytherin feud. None of the other houses have such developed, deep rivalries, a Slytherin Cannot. Ever. Resort. With. A GRYFFINDOR. And, vice versa. For us, it's a matter of Slytherin Pride. For them - we're just more dirt to shove, except we are the only house who can challenge those 'courageous and strong Gryffindors'.

Well - I'm sick of it. Five years of insults and fights and hate was enough acting even for me - a Malfoy. It's practically predetermined, that we have to hate each other, and there may have been plenty of that. But I found something else, amongst the blood and pain and endless torture.

Love.

It all started with a look. Somewhere at the end of Fifth Year, I happened to catch him looking at me with something more than the usual, blazing hate. I smirked. Until I realized - it wasn't a negative feeling he shot to me. There was a glint in his eyes. I saw it just then, recognized it for what I'd thought it was.

Lust.

I must've betrayed some of my emotions at that point, for then it started. Snogging in an empty classroom, and soon we went much farther. I saw his face then, flushed, beautiful as always, eyes ever-green and bursting with pleasure, glazed & half-lidded, as if seeing euphoria for the first time.

He looked at me with those eyes, and I knew.

No matter what, I will always love him.

And I'm proving true to that. If nothing else, I have my honor. And I had my happiness. I should know now, that, it never lasts. For me, you see, it's not like Harry, I can't have anything. I always have it give it up.

Almost a year of secrets and clandestine rendezvous', and I'd ended each session telling him "I love you." He never answered, and I didn't question. At first.

I'm talking about Harry cheating on me, of course. It figures, I can't even have my lover to myself.

But what was worse, what he said. You're horrible. You're simply the worst person I have ever met, I can't imagine what I saw in you. You, you're going to be a Death Eater and follow Voldemort, like your father, and you'll probably kill me someday and never look back. His eyes burned fiercely, while mine bled salty tears. Standing over me, light behind him creating a halo effect around his head, he said, "Goodbye." Well, HE was the one who never looked back.

His words were, more or less, true. That was what bugged me. Hell, I'm famous for shrugging off those insults and punches alike, steady and cool. But I always had a thing for the truth.

My father tried to make me like him, an ideal heir for the family fortune to carry on the legacy, and to act on everything and all that is Malfoy. The looks - a curse sometimes, but an ideal weapon. The mind - sharp as the edge of a knife, wits that would never dull with age, and the rules, always in my head. A Malfoy never backs down, never loses, never tarnishes their reputation. A true Malfoy gets whatever they want, whenever they want it, and knows exactly what they want and why they want it.

I could practically her my father's voice in my mind, knowing I would be disinherited if he knew what I'd done. "But Harry, I love you..."

I hit you and you hit me back,
We fall to the floor - the rest of the day stands still.
Fine line between this and that -
When things go wrong I pretend the past isn't real.

"Slytherin Slut," he hisses.

I stand up slowly, hand to my cheek. A tear slides down my other cheek as I raise my hand to him. "Please," I whisper.

The look on his face is venomous. It's quick, the punch headed towards my guts. I choke down the bile in my throat, and spit.

Afterwards - him tearing off my clothing, chaining my limbs to the bedposts... I scream as he shoves inside me. The bedsprings seem to echo my cries, and my face is stoic, but covered with tears. I've long stopped feeling, it hurts too much. I barely notice as he unchains me and strokes my cheek before he leaves.

I lay there, feeling my lifeblood ebbing out. I've stopped crying, just staring dully at the walls, as the light falls over them and changes over the day. Bruises and bleeding slits on my skin throb, and I wince. I feel... used. And forgotten.

I remember when it was fun. When it grew boring. And when it hurt me, deeply, and I wished to change my fate. With change, good things come, but it may hurt to change...

I want to know what it takes, and then, if I have what it takes, I want to change the love. From lust to love. True love. Love where he can say, "I love you," back.

If that day should come, it will be my heaven.

So you see, no matter how much he may push me away, I will try and try again, until I can no longer try anymore, or until I get what I want.

I'm a Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. I will not be nothing.

I will find you and force the truth from your lips, Harry Potter.

But remember, no matter what, I'm always with you.