To Be Loved

The Torment

Two boys lay atop one another, kissing one another, loving one another. Yet, there was an awkward feel within the air, they were forcing their love.

The passing weeks had been odd and quite unbearable for each boy. They never spoke of the betrayal; they never spoke of much, truly.

To outsiders it appeared as it always had, the two were madly in love. As for their lack of communication, many explained it away with the fact they were so deeply in love with one another words were useless.

Each passing day Harry's brilliant emerald eyes faded a bit in color. His smile had ceased to make an appearance on his face willingly, as it had so many times before. Every grin, every laugh, every form of happiness he displayed, was forced, he could barely maintain a normal conversation without feeling a brick drop in his stomach.

Draco's torment was less patent. He, never being one to often smile, maintained his normal image of being the arrogant and mysterious man that he was. No one saw that within his stormy eyes lay excruciating pain, because few people were ever daring enough to gaze into them. His complexion had become more flaxen, which seemed highly impossible, yet paler it was. The beautiful glow that his skin once gave off, was no more, he was pasty. His appearance deteriorated, along with all else, he no longer possessed that Malfoy stigma, that had made him all the more desirable. Little by little the Draco everyone knew disappeared.

Guilt is a ruthless murderer.

And so the torment continued between the two, with only one other being noticing the pain. Blaise Zabini watched in the distance, waiting for their fraud to cease. He remained away from Draco, never speaking to him, only watching, and waiting. He knew when to make his move, and the time would soon appear.

Harry's small body was pressed to the cold stone wall of his dormitory by Draco's hand. The two kissed, their warm mouths joined together, their tongues linked. Draco pulled back from the kiss, leaving Harry's expressionless face alone. Draco's tired eyes looked into Harry's, but only shallowly, not wishing to search deeper within them. Without a word, Harry was commanded. He bit his swollen bottom lip, and turned his back to the blonde. He pressed his fingers into the crevices of the wall embracing himself, and tilted his body so that his hips jutted back towards Draco.

Draco glided a finger down the line of his back tenderly, barely touching the skin. He sighed to himself, he most desired to speak to Harry, to say something, anything, but his throat was dry, and he feared conversation.

The pink lips, which received their true color once more by those that they had previously been connected to, fell into the forest of black locks. His hands grasped the slender hips positioned before him, and drawled them to meet him.

Their bodies began to move at a steady rhythm, clashing together, slowly and tenderly. Draco loved the sensation of being inside Harry; it was amazing, unreal; so different from Blaise. Blaise was not even comparable to Harry. Harry was a god, and Blaise a mortal, there is no comparison.

He despised the fact that each time he even so much as touched Harry, he thought Blaise, not out of lust or love, but out of hate. He hated Blaise more than any words could describe. For he was the cause for his torment, he was the cause for everything that hurt, yet so was Harry. Draco suddenly felt something he had forgotten, his hatred for Harry. He had betrayed first, with not even so much as a second thought to the fact he would know, that he would experience pain. He didn't care, only wanted sex. Rage filled Draco's head, he couldn't think, he could only hate. He hated Harry with such a passion.

He then realized how hard and violently he was pushing into Harry, but he did not cease. The pleas and cries of the dark headed boy beneath him were suddenly audible to him, but he did not care.

"Draco! Stop! Please!" the boy cried in a high voice.

Draco failed to stop.

Harry's screams of agony reached a high volume, and then they ceased. The body before the silver-haired boy went limp, yet remained erect, pinned between the wall, and the boy.

Draco, suddenly felt the rage disappear, and he removed himself from within the untidy haired boy and, with that, his body shriveled to the ground. The flaxen boy fell to his knees, next to the other, and held his head in his hands.

"Harry! Wake up," he called, yet his voice lacked concern. "Get up now, please."

The eyelids of the boy opened, revealing the emerald that lay beneath them.

At the site of those emerald eyes once more, Draco's hatred came flooding back.

The boy sat up, staring horrified into the eyes of his supposed lover. "Why-" he stopped immediately. He saw the pure hatred ignite within the gray eyes before him; it infested everything, as if it were a wild fire. Yet the boy blinked, and it extinguished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with hollowness.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," Draco lied.

Harry's eyebrows created a crease on the skin in between them, his mouth opened; he tried to understand this hatred.

Draco was aware of the boy's search, and quite angered that he did not realize the reason. His face, however, remained empty, he was expressionless, emotionless. "I must leave," he muttered.

He lifted himself from his crouched position, redressed himself, and left the boy, crumpled beside the wall.

Once outside the room, he snuck along the corridor, making certain that Gryffindor eyes saw him. Everyone at Hogwarts knew his relationship with Harry, it was no secret, and so all would know why he would be paying him a midnight visit. Homosexuality in wizardry society was viewed no different than in muggle society. Yet neither boy felt it necessary to hide what they were, it was a waste. For they had attempted this at the initiation of their relationship, but found it futile, for prying eyes were every which way they went, and so the only way to get a moment alone with one another was to let everyone know they were together.

With that single announcement, controversy erupted. The Daily Prophet delighted in the new story they had on Harry. They enjoyed making puns out of his sexuality and the fact that he was with his ex-enemy.

They both had an incredible amount of publicity as many magazines confronted them and exposed their sex life to all, adding several interesting details, some including love triangles with Hermione or Ron, most were absolute malarkey and had both boys in hysterical laughter. Yet Harry failed to let any of it affect him, he loved Draco and that was all that mattered, and soon the publicity died.

Draco smiled to himself as he remembered Harry's calm face as he brushed a side all of the crude comments and questions, and would whisper into Draco's ear that all of this was worth it. Draco longed for those days again. He longed for the sweet feeling of a fresh relationship; he missed the days that he could trust Harry with his life.

His thought was interrupted by a chocolate headed boy, who stepped in his way.

He gasped in shock, and then realized whom the boy was. "You."

Draco had left Gryffindor House, sometime ago, and now was wandering senselessly throughout the dormant castle.

The boy smirked, and tilted his eyebrows upward, as though his feelings had been hurt, "Why Draco, dear, is that how you greet me?"

"No, you don't deserve a greeting, Blaise." His eyes immediately began to attempt to take notice at where he was, and he saw that Slytherin House entrance was only a few steps away.

He stepped side ways to move past Blaise, yet the boy moved in front of him. "Let me by," he spoke, with no emotion.

"No."

"I'm in no mood for your petty games, Blaise."

"Petty are they? Well, then no more games, let's get straight to the point, but not here, join me in the common room will you?" His dark brown eyes flickered with amusement.

"No, I will not," he said in a cold voice.

"Oh, Draco, surely you can spare a moment," he said as he took a tight grip on the flaxen boy's arm.

Draco's cold eyes stared into Blaise's with hatred, showing no reaction from the pain Blaise was inflicting on his arm. Yet, he went with Blaise anyways, saying nothing.

When they entered the Slytherin common room, he sat down upon a large arm chair, and crossly stared at the boy who stood before him. "Alright, you have my attention."

"I have mercifully not spoken to you, since that day at Diagon Alley. Yet, now I feel is the appropriate time to address you. I see your hate for Harry is protruding. I saw you two together, I saw you hurt him, and now I can see you have no regret," he said slowly and maliciously.

"How, how did you see us?" Draco said in an oddly calm voice.

"My dear Draco, an invisibility cloak of course."

Draco shook his head. "You don't have one. They're rare. My father has one, of course, but he has many artifacts and such within his possession. You lie, you do not own one."

The boy reached into the bag that was strapped to his shoulder and removed a beautiful cloak that appeared to be very old. He wrapped it about his body, and disappeared from sight.

Draco chuckled to himself. "So this is how you've been stalking me."

Blaise tossed the cloak to the ground and revealed his smirk. "Why do you fight me? You hate him, I saw it!"

"Well, maybe you should look deeper into me now! Yes, I hate him. But I hate you as well. And that will never change, keep away from my sight! Your very presence repulses me," he spoke slowly, perfectly articulating every word released from his lips.

Draco stood up and sauntered away, not looking back at Blaise for a reaction, he just walked, walked away.

"Draco," he heard being called from behind him. "Draco!"

But he continued to walk to his room, where he shut the door, went to his bed, and lay dwelling the darkness about him, incapable of sleep.