There are loves that kill,

Title: There are loves that kill, and loves even death can’t kill.

Disclaimer: I do not own is a work of fiction. I do not make any profit from it
Category: Harry Potter
Summary: Draco has a tough decision to make. Does he really want to see Harry destroyed, after all?

Ok, so last summer while I was writing this, I talked to a friend of mine about this little fic, and once I told her how it ended she absolutely refused to read it -- she was mad at me! She wanted FLUFF! and HAPPY ENDINGS! SO....HERE IS WHAT I MANAGED TO COME UP WITH....



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ALTERNATIVE VERSION 1!

There are loves that kill, and loves even death can’t kill.

When we first started going out together, everybody thought it wouldn’t last long. How could it? Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter had always been enemies, and too hot-tempered to be together for more than a couple minutes without arguing; but I knew better. I had settled my eyes on him, and I would have him, Saviour of the Wizarding World or not. A Malfoy always gets what he wants, and I wanted him, with his newfound calmness and quietly commanding presence.

What can I say about him? It’s been at least two years –I have lost the count, though I’m sure he has not. That’s one of the things I love about him, how he always manages to remember everything that can be important, and even a couple of things that aren’t.

And I love the way he opens his eyes wide when he is surprised, and the way they sparkle when he’s amused, and the way the pupil seems to take most of the green in them when he is overtaken by lust. I love the way he messes up his hair, as if it wasn’t horribly wild to begin with, making it stick out in every possible direction, and even some I’m quite sure are not possible at all. I love the way he flights, making twists and turns in the air as if he had been born to flight, cutting through the air at impossible speeds. I love...I love him, I guess.

But most of all I love the way he looks at me, adoringly, lovingly. It will make it so much satisfying to destroy him...

It almost makes me reconsider, and for a while I stood indecisive in the blade’s edge, my heart tugging in two different directions. I wanted him dead, destroyed, annihilated, so much...yet I somehow found myself content in his presence, amused by his incongruity, and sometimes even longing for the feel of him against me, sharing his warmth in the long, cold nights of winter.

And then it happened. We were at the Weasels, another endless afternoon at the annoying and utterly disgraceful place, but Harry had looked at me with those huge puppy eyes and I couldn’t muster the energy to say no. He was staring absentmindedly at his hands, wound tightly around a cup of tea, and then suddenly he looked up to find me watching him. He smiled, a sweet, little smile, and mouthed softly ‘I love you.’

And then I knew what I had to do, what my choice was going to be. After struggling so much trying to find a solution, once I realized what my choice was I was startled by it’s simplicity, and the soft calmness it’s knowledge filled me with.

So, the next morning I woke him up with a kiss, slowly and lovingly bringing him back to the world of the living, and lazily made love to him. We bickered in our way to breakfast, and once there I remembered our most common argument, the one about house-elves, and seeing his bright smile I couldn’t deny him the happiness he was feeling, so I just kept on walking until we reached the kitchens and quietly we both started cooking. We sometimes glanced at each other, sappy smiles hanging from our lips. Once we sat at the table, surrounded by a copious meal, I put my hand over his and started my confession.

‘Harry, love, we have to talk.’ His eyes found mine in alarm for a moment, and then turned calm once more as he waited for my words, holding his morning tea in his hands as if seeking its warmth, not sipping at it -yet. ‘There’s something I need to tell you. I’ve been trying to make up my mind about something for the last couple of months.’ I stopped, and drawing a deep breath I plunged right into my little confession. ‘Do you remember when we first got together? How everybody said it was just a ruse, some kind of evil plan of mine?’ I didn’t even wait for him to nod, because if I stooped now, I didn’t think I could go ahead with my decision. ‘They...’ I gulped. ‘They were right.’ I don’t look at him. He still hasn’t started drinking his tea. I don’t want to see his beautiful, open face, filled with pain and disbelief. ‘I...I wanted to destroy you. Annihilate you so utterly once I left you would never be whole again. I wanted revenge.’ His tea sits untouched between his hands. He must have been practicing that manicure charm, because his nails are perfectly polished for once, I note absentmindedly. ‘But soon I wanted more than that; I longed to feel you, to see you smile, to feel that warmth you always speak about enveloping me –that love, I guess.’ His face went through a myriad of emotions, changing so fast even I couldn’t tell them apart. When I took a deep breath and looked into his clear, emerald eyes, he once more settled for a calm attentiveness, his head tilted as he studied my own face. ‘I made up my mind yesterday. Maybe I’ve known all along, but I just couldn’t admit it to myself. I don’t want to see you destroyed, hurt, not anymore. I do not wish to see you weeping. I –I think I love you.’ I muttered, averting my own gaze as his eyes burned brighter. He extended his hand, reaching to me, emerald eyes full of love and understanding and suddenly I couldn’t do this anymore. Silently, while he was still fighting his own inner battle over my words, I banished the contents of his cup. I couldn’t poison him anymore.

What I had said was true, surprisingly enough.

I looked at his face again, almost afraid to do so. Because now that I no longer intended to kill him, I had to wonder about how he’d take the news.

Would he hate me now? Would he leave me?

For a moment his eyes stay blank, and I can feel the tears rushing to my eyes, threatening to fall. Then he smiles, slowly, until his whole face is lit by that inner fire of his.

He takes a look at his cup and conjures more tea, looking confused for a moment.

He sips it calmly, letting me stew in my own mental turmoil.

His eyes rise to meet mine.

And that loving spark is still there.

‘I knew.’ He admitted, his tone even. Forgiving. ‘I’ve known all along.’

And he loves me still? Or has he been playing me?

‘Don’t worry, love.’ He says, reaching softly towards me and grasping my hand in his. The fear must have shown in my face, because he leans over the table and caresses my lips with his free hand, my lips parting at the touch as his mouth approaches mine and kisses me. The kiss is slow, sensual, tender. A promise of things to come.

He leans back and takes another sip of his tea, never letting my hand go.

‘I know.’

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So, that's all. PLEASE LARA, CEASE THIS SILENT TREATMENT! (SHE'S NOT GIVING ME THE COLD SHOULDER, BUT MY FICS! THAT'S EVEN WORSE!) HERE'S YOUR FLUFF!