Right and Wrong

"Mudblood," he says, inclining his head.

He knew I'd be here. He knew I'd repeat his offer, over and over again in my mind until the line between right and wrong blurred, washing my morals away with it. He knew, and I hate him for that. Though, to be fair, I've always hated him, from the moment he glared at me and denounced me as worthless, and I still hate him now.

"Stop staring. Don't those filthy muggle parents teach you manners?"

Then he kisses me. It's all force and tongue and saliva, and I almost choke. I'm drowning, and Malfoy's holding me under the water, sneering while I struggle to breathe.

He's not gentle. He pushes and I push back. Anger and lust crash through the dam I spent years building. All my defenses are shattered in one moment. His hands are deft and cold, sliding under my clothes, clutching my body. I'm spinning, falling, hitting the bed with him on top. I'm his prisoner. He's so satisfied I can almost feel the smirk. This is what he's waited for. This is what he's wanted for such a long time.

I dig my nails into his back, purposefully drawing blood.

I may have lost myself, but he's just as lost as me.

I roll away from him, panting, expecting the hate to be gone so I can finally have peace. Then Malfoy tells me to get out because he can't have a mudblood soiling his bed, and everything's the same as before.

I slap Malfoy across the face, wanting to hurt him, kill him, wipe away that constant look of superiority. "You're no better than me! You call me this dirty name like I'm nothing, but why are you fucking me? Why do you fuck me if I'm dirt to you?"

He doesn't have an answer to that. He shuts me up by pulling me across the bed and fucking me again.

"I've been thinking," I say.

He rolls his eyes and buttons his pants. "How extraordinary."

"About right and wrong," I continue. "I think this is wrong."

"Your point, Mudblood?"

"It's wrong and I'm doing it anyway. I'm supposed to be good. I'm the good one. I'm not like you."

"Why's it wrong?"

"I hate you. I've never hated anyone the way I hate you. It's more powerful than anything I've felt before, and I keep letting you use me."

"And you're not using me? This is cathartic for you, Granger. All the resentment that you have ... well now there's a way for you to take it out. My back's probably scarring by now. Maybe we're more alike than you want to believe."

"And you do it for the power," I say. "In spite of all the pureblood shit you spit out, this is the only time you actually feel superior to me."

"10 points to Gryffindor, Mudblood."

"I never wanted this, Malfoy. The hate, any of it. I thought things like this were supposed to be about love," I say, trying to stop the tears that are already stinging my eyes.

"Maybe love and hate aren't that different. The basic foundation is the same, anyway. There's passion, intensity. It can consume you if you're not careful."

I gape at him, shocked. "Are you saying you're in love with me?"

He laughs derisively. "No, I'm not. I'm saying it doesn't matter if it's love or hate. Our relationship is based on hate, but there's passion that comes from that, and that passion is just as strong as the kind that comes from love. It's like right and wrong. The only thing that matters is how you look at it."

"How you look at it," I repeat. "However you look at it, this is still wrong."

"You think too much."

His hand tangles in my hair. He kisses me so roughly my lip starts to bleed.

"It hurts," I mumble.

"Good," he responds.

All thoughts about right and wrong, and love and hate vanish. There is just this. Just me and a boy named Draco Malfoy who turned my world upside down in the worst way. We hurt each other. We want each other. And at every chance we get, we break each other.

I'll regret this. I'm certain of that. Eventually, I'll redraw the faded, ambiguous line between right and wrong and loathe myself for what I've become. But now, Malfoy's insistently tugging at my skirt, and it's time to give in again.