Lullaby

A/N: I wanted to thank all of you who read this and reviewed. I’m really happy with the results that my work is having. Thanks!
And now on with the show!



PART I
Figured you out

“I like the freckles on your chest
and I like the way you like me best,
and I like the way you’re not impressed
while you put me to the test.
I like the white stains on your dress”
Nickelback.

That’s how it began; with me saving Potter’s life and him becoming unnecessarily dependent on my attention.
He regained consciousness four days after our little interlude to a mountain of sweets and “get-well” cards.
I did not visit him in the Hospital Wing simply because I didn’t want to. Yeah, we had sex; but that did not mean I had to go around pretending I cared.
He did not speak to me nor paid any attention to my being for two whole weeks since his recovery.
Then one afternoon he found one of his lame excuses to pick up a fight with me in the corridors, and shoved a small piece of parchment in my hand.

Astronomy Tower. Tonight. After curfew.

I met him there because I’m a Malfoy, and Malfoy’s have manners. He was looking out one of the windows and the moonlight created an angelical silver aura all around his figure that revolted me profoundly.

“In a nostalgic mood are we, Potter?”
“Malfoy.” He greeted me like it was the most common thing in the world.
“Back to second name basis I see.” I raised one eyebrow elegantly. He averted his gaze to the floor and played idiotically with the lace on his black cloak.
“Listen, I-“
“No. We are so not going to talk about it.” Because I didn’t want to hear his reasons to commit suicide, more so tell him my reasons to act as I did.
He looked miserable and a lot more younger than he actually was.
“It’s all said then?”
“All said and done.” I answered, putting up a show of inspecting my fingernails.
He walked past me and I ignored the fact that the air seemed to tighten around us, or that I seemed to hold my breath when his hand brushed mine.
“See ya.”
What the hell was he playing at? No second try, no tantrum… something was definitely wrong with Harry Potter. I knew him better than to walk away from the situation we put ourselves into without asking for an explanation.

During the following days I found myself thinking about him more than what was strictly necessary. Don’t get me wrong, not that I loved him or anything. A My woy would rather be dead than in love with a Potter. It was all about the control.
Ever since that night I had him I felt like something was missing, and it was Potter begging me to save him.

Christmas was close. I could smell it everywhere I went: the snow, the wood burning in the fireplace… I was reading one of the books that my father bought me last summer when Potter appeared in my bedroom. Literally.
“How the fuck did you get in here?” I asked, but not scared, just merely annoyed at the interruption.
He did not speak a word, just stood there looking at his bare feet. I tipped my fingers on the book cover impatiently and walked up to him. “You’re trespassing, Potter. I could land you in a very nasty detention with Filch.”
I realized he closed his eyes whenever my breath ghosted over skin. Seeing his lack of cooperation I waved my hand in front of his face and he looked up at me murderously.
“Look, you’ve irritated me enough. Now would you just tell me what the fuck do you want or walk the hell out of here?”

“C-could you…” What was that? Was he stuttering? How sweet… The-boy-who-lived at a loss of words. I must have looked so damn delectable in my silk pyjamas. “C-could you k-kiss me?” Ah. I certainly wasn’t expecting that.
I laughed and then felt something akin to regret when I saw he was serious about it.

“Why?” He blushed a myriad shades of red and shrugged. “You little whore… you came here for more, didn’t you?”
He nodded and I rolled my eyes at his stupidity “and what do I get?”

“Anything… anything yant.ant.” For a split second I wondered what kind of psychological abomination could have brought him here and made him said what he’d just said.

I laid my lips upon his slowly and carefully and he opened to my touch with an easiness that should be forbidden. My tongue slipped in his mouth and he tasted so gryffindor I thought I might get poisoned. His body melted into mine and I felt the tip of his tongue run experimentally along my lower lip. The he put his arms around my waist and it all felt way too romantic, so I pulled away.

I didn’t plan on fucking him at first -because I wasn’t in the mood- but in the end I did. I thought he could just suck me off and so I asked.
He went on his knees and took me in his wet little mouth, making me moan involuntarily. He was a bit clumsy at first but soon found a technique that made both of us happy.
Though I was enjoying myself tremendously, it wasn’t enough. I was lacking that feeling of fullness, that jolt of utter power running through my veins…
He climbed obediently on my bed and took off his clothes. I kissed him to keep him content while I entered his tight body.
Having Potter was like a drug. He would whisper my name over and over again, and beg me to go faster, to do him harder. Then we both came and he looked at me trough the eyes of a lover, with a sheepish smile plastered on his face and stroking my hair like I was his most precious thing. It made me want to kick him out of my bed. Now I’m glad I didn’t, otherwise he would have never come back…

So this is how it went. He would come to my dorm every Friday night and ask me to do stupid things such as: kiss him, hold him, study with him, go for a walk by the lake… and then he’d let me fuck him senseless. I just had to pretend that I cared and then he did as he was told.
One night, though, when the second term exams were near. He sat by my side on the couch and said:
“I want us to talk.”
“Pardon?”
“You heard me. I want us to talk.” What was I, his boyfriend?
“I don’t want to talk. Let’s get in bed.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“And how does it work?” I said in a mocking tone.
“You do what I ask you to and then you order me around.” So he was into rules now.
“So what if I don’t do it?”
“Then I’ll leave.” He sounded almost convinced.
“You know you won’t.” It was true; I knew he wouldn’t. Oh, dear… was he crying? I couldn’t believe him!
“This is not what we agreed to, Malfoy.”
“What we agreed to? We agreed to nothing.” I just wanted some sex! Why was he playing hard-to-get now?
“We may have not-“ he could not mutter a complete sentence without a sob interfering in it. “We may have not agreed verbally, but you know there are rules!” My, he was mad. I even thought he would actually leave me there with my hard on.
“And what if I break them. What will you do, Harry, call your lawyer?”
“Bloody hell, Malfoy! Can’t you just do something as a kindness gesture?\" Damn him.
So we talked. I heard him babble on how miserable he was, how he hated being the hero, etcetera, etcetera… He asked why was I doing this and I answered: “Why are you?”
“Because you care about me.” He was mental.
Poor foolish boy. I still wonder how did he manage to escape Voldemort all the time…
Then he mourned again about his insignificant life, making me sick with all his self-pity, and finally I got to get laid.

A/N: So how was that? Want more? Want me to abandon it? Please make me happy and leave a review :)