Fucking Potter

Author’s Notes: I have left what I was trying to do with HP canon in the respect that Harry Potter was never as dark in the books as I have created him here. This is the last chapter in this story.
The poem and the chapter’s title are from Lord Byron’s perfect poem, “When We Two Parted”.
Thank you, MystressXOXO, for being a wonderful friend, cheerleader, and beta.

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Nineteen Years Later.

“I hear that Harry Potter is going to be at Platform nine and three quarters today seeing his children get on the train to Hogwarts.”

“Yes, isn’t it wonderful that a man as good and hard working as Harry Potter can take time out of his busy schedule to say good-bye to his children? I’ve read news articles about him and his family. He adores them.”

“The man is a saint….”

Fucking Potter.

It seems that everywhere I go, everywhere I turn, you are there. Well, maybe not you in person, but somebody is mentioning you. I can hear them talking about you – still– after all these years.

I have to close my eyes and pray that those ignorant bastards move on, away from me. I can’t stand them using your name as a synonym for saint. It makes me want to hurl everything I’ve eaten for the day.

Every praise of your name seems to cause a small rip in my very soul. After I’m dead, will I be nothing but tatters of a once existence?

My name, if it is ever uttered in public, is mentioned in dirty whispers or with a great big gob hurled onto the ground afterwards for good measure. My family used to be one of the most respected families in the wizarding community, and now, now we are vilified, hated, and rejected: the scourges of those whom we do business with or – Merlin forbid – socially interact with.

I still can remember the day the war ended. My parents and I sat huddled, terrified, and defenseless as you and your shameless sycophants celebrated in victory. Weasley came over to me and actually spit on my face. Did you know that?

Then, Minister Shacklebolt had Aurors escort us out of the school and place us under house arrest. We were mere squibs, each of us wandless, waiting for the knock on the door of the executioner to come. Every noise terrified us; every creak and moan within our once familial fortitude concealed the murmurs of murdered victims taunting us into madness. Our lifelong friends and allies turned away or chastised us like vile vermin. Even our house-elves abandoned us. I thought the end was surely near.

Finally, after two months, we heard it: a solemn knock on the front door. My mother was near mad with panic. She was certain the Dementors had come to inhale our souls.

“Draco, move away from the door. Let your father answer it. Whatever it takes for your survival is the only thing that matters to me.” She grabbed my arm and started pulling me behind her. She stood there, as stiff and formal as she had ever been, waiting for death to come and take her away. I felt like a child again, hiding under her skirts. How had I come to this? I was cowering like a dog.

From the entryway, I could hear a voice, a familiar voice. When I realized whom it belonged to, I felt relief, apprehension, and disdain simultaneously. It was almost too much to comprehend.

“Hello, Mr. Malfoy, I hope I am not disturbing you. I was wondering if Draco was home? I’ve come to return something of his that he might need.”

You sounded so cool and collected. Nothing like the scared little shit that had been in our home less than six months earlier, running for your life like a frightened rabbit. How times have changed since you were dragged in here in March. Who could have seen this ending? And now, in August, you strut in here like one of our arrogant peacocks.

Father was gushing with enthusiasm, eager to bring you into our home. Who would have thought Lucius Malfoy would be eager for Harry Potter to enter his abode? He was overjoyed, in fact. He’d welcomed you like the victorious hero.

Since the final battle, we had sat around and discussed what Mother and I had done to save your life. Father would always become excited, like a child anticipating Christmas. He’d want to hear over and over again what Mother and I had done to ensure Harry Potter’s victory. It was his hope that you would feel indebted to us and be inclined to cajole the Ministry of Magic to pardon us all.

Harry Fucking Potter was once again coming to save the day.

“Hello, Potter, what do you want?” I said, as I moved around my mother to face you. You may have defeated the Dark Lord, but I felt no greater fear of you for that. My mother, however, thought otherwise.

She hissed in my ear, mentioning something about manners, then sharply pinched the back of my arm as she asked me, in a much louder voice, if I would like to take my guest to the parlor for some tea and biscuits.

Guest, indeed.

I turned to give her a look, which expressed all the loathing that I felt for you at that moment. I may have had certain hormonal urges for you, but that didn’t mean I had to like you. There is a large chasm between lust, love, and admiration.

I certainly lusted after you; maybe, even one time I might have thought I lo—, but I never admired you.

“Follow me, Potter, and let’s go to the parlor. It’s a new world and all, and I know a heavily pursued pioneer like you doesn’t have much time for lowlifes like us. You have to go out and challenge the world, find all the rouge followers of the Dark Lord and defeat his minions once and for all.”

As we approached the entryway to the parlor, I moved off to the side, made a mock bow, and swept my hand out in gesture of a formal entrance. You scoffed as you walked past me, giving me an uneasy look that said you didn’t want your back to me. I chuckled to myself at that. Since you had my wand, the worst thing I could do would be to hit you like some common Muggle.

Mother followed us into the room. I was glad of it. I didn’t ever want to be in a room alone with you. It unnerved me to think about all the possibilities.

“We feel so honored to have you visit us, Mr. Potter. I assume now that the Dark Lord is no longer with us, you don’t have a need to be in hiding as you once did.” My mother was a lady even under the worst of situations.

“No, I don’t. It’s a relief to be able to walk out in public again, Mrs. Malfoy. It seems so much has changed in just a few short months. I’m so glad to be able to try to move on with my life, if you must know. I just want to get that part of my life behind me and start fresh, which is part of the reason I am here, actually.”

“I see. Moving on with one’s life after such a turbulent time is always good for the soul.

“Good heavens, Mr. Potter, where are my manners? Would you like a cup of tea or coffee? Our house-elves are away at the moment, but I would be delighted in making some for you.”

“That would be great, Mrs. Malfoy.” Your obvious insincerity almost made me want to wretch right there. My mother had saved your life, and yet you didn’t have the decency to treat her with the respect she deserved. However, my Mother is no fool and realized when she wasn’t wanted in a private conversation, as she excused herself and went to ready the tea and biscuits.

“What do you want, Potter? You’ve made no real effort to be civil to my parents; I wish all those years at school had at least taught you manners.

“Since you’ve obviously come here to either gloat or bully me. How do you expect me to entertain you? Should I get down on my knees and kiss your ass?”

For a moment, your eyes looked eager when I said that, and I wondered what evil was contained behind such a mischievous look. Did my eyes betray me, or could there be a possible dark side to The Chosen One?

“Can you now?”

“What?”

“Entertain me.” You gave me such a dirty look then; if I had known any better, I would have sworn it was malicious and lecherous. What did I know, though? I was still a virgin and didn’t really know anything about how sex could be used as a weapon, as a tool for power. Some part of me actually wanted you to be the good person everyone said you were.

How was I to know that that particular illusion would quickly burst from my naïve view?

After Mother came with the tea and scones, you gave such an angelic look when you asked her if it was all right if you spoke to me alone. It was just a brief chat between two former schoolboys. You even promised on the sword of Godric Gryffindor that you would inflict no harm to me.

Liar.

“As you wish, Mr. Potter. It is always a pleasure to have you visit our home. If there is anything we can get you while you’re here, please let Draco know, and we’ll be glad to be of service.”

Once she smiled and turned to leave, closing the door softly behind her, you became the beast I knew you were. The Dark Lord may have lived with us for a time, but this was the first time I truly felt I had encountered a monster in my own home. The lion behind the lamb’s skin is the most dangerous of beasts.

“Tell me, Malfoy, do you and your parents always suck up to the biggest dog on the block, or are you trying to get in good graces with me so I’ll testify favorably once your trials come up?” Your voice slowly lowered as you drew closer to me.

“I don’t remember your mother being one tenth as cordial to me the last time I was here. You remember? That time I was so close to you that I could practically smell your poncey cologne. I blew into your face, and you closed your eyes and shivered. Do you remember that?” Your breath, once again, could be felt on my face. If it was even possible, you smelt better now than you did then.

“I was so close to death, so close to you. It was an interesting combination. I felt fear, but I also felt something else, something from you. Do you know what that was? I could have sworn I could feel your erection.” Your leer sent shivers down my spine. I didn’t want to think about it. I can’t remember what had happened. Was I that transparent? No matter, I must expose my fear now as you continue to talk.

“Tell me something, Malfoy. Did you want me then? Or more importantly, do you want me still?” You’re staring into my eyes, so close to me. I need to play a part to distract you. It’s the only way.

“What?!” I was outraged at your accusation. I almost wanted to punch you in the stomach and watch you keel over in agony. This was my secret, and I had to do whatever it took to keep it there. My life would be ruined if anyone found out, especially you.

“Never mind – never mind,” you mumbled as you went to sit on the couch, motioning for me to share it with you. I knew you wouldn’t stop patting that damn cushion until I sat down there; so, I sat as far from you as possible. Then you did something that both elated and terrified me. You pulled out my wand from your back pocket and began to tap it against your thigh, halfway pointing it at me in the process. I felt my mouth fill with saliva; I was practically drooling. My wand hand began to itch, longing to hold it. If I could just get a little closer, I was certain I could just reach out and grab it.

“If you want it, you have to come get it.” Your singsong voice taunted me as you dangled my wand in the air.

I lunged for it, but you were always faster. You pulled your hand back and laughed as I landed across your chest. I kept trying to move up your body, but to no use. My hand was grabbing, reaching, trying so hard to take what you had. It seemed that that moment was to become the epitome of my life. I would forever be reaching for that which Harry Potter held out of my grasp. All the power, all the wealth, and all the influence I had at my disposal, yet all I wanted was what you held – just outside of my hand’s reach.

I didn’t even realize I was lying completely on top of you until you whispered in my ear.

“Anxious, Malfoy? I had suspected you wanted me, but I didn’t think it would be so easy for me to coax you to climb right on top of my lap.”

I started to protest, but your quick kiss to my mouth stunned me into silence.

“How dare you!” I pulled away, outraged by your boldness. I stared into those Machiavellian eyes and quickly licked my lips. I could still taste you there.

“Come on, Malfoy. You don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve looked at me? You’ve always watching me, always lurking and stalking me, trying to uncover some nefarious plan. Is that what you’re trying to do? Or were you just watching me, because you got off on it? Do you like to look at me, Malfoy? Is that it? Do I get you hard, Draco?

“When you stroke yourself in the middle of the night, after you think Mommy and Daddy have gone to sleep, do you think it’s my fingers, my mouth, or my ass that is wrapped around your cock?

“I bet you do, you slut!”

Then your arm reached around my waist as you thrust your groin against mine. I could feel your erection, and I had to bite my lip to keep from groaning aloud. Some dark part of me wanted this, wanted you to take charge, wanted you to consume me like a savage predator. I didn’t want to worry anymore; I didn’t want to think about what was bound to happen to my parents or me. I just wanted to be fucked, to thrust, and to come. I wanted nothing more than to feel, to know that I belonged to you.

You held on tight as you twisted us around. I quickly found myself under you as you began to open my shirt and open my pants. Your mouth moved to suck and bite at my neck and my nipples. Your hands were everywhere as you worked your way down my body. In those moments, I felt more alive than I had in over a year. I couldn’t stop the begging and desperate noises that were coming from my mouth. I needed this.

You sat up, and took my wand, and cast a silencing charm on the room.

Then you yanked my pants down; the fabric was tearing away from me. Then, you pried my legs apart as your hand grazed down to my ass. Your fingers began digging between my cheeks trying to open me up. It was all happening so fast that I started to panic.

I couldn’t release control to you like this. I didn’t want my first time to be with you or to be like this. My mind was suddenly cleared of the lust it had felt moments ago. I needed to stop you, to stop this from happening.

I sat up, trying to push you away. This is not what I wanted. I tried to kick you, but you grabbed my thighs and forced my knees to either side of my head, upending me and almost causing me to fall onto the floor. I was about to hit you when you cast a Body-Bind Curse on me to keep me in place. I was completely exposed and terrified. Even Saint Potter wouldn’t succumb to something as savage as this. Would he?

I couldn’t see what you were doing, but I could hear you spit, and I felt wet goo sliding down the crack of my ass down to my sphincter. I could only close my eyes in disgust. It felt so wrong. This couldn’t be happening.

More than anything, I tried to imagine I was somewhere else, anywhere else. I didn’t want to think about what you were doing or were going to do. I was trying desperately to crawl into my own mind, to escape, but I couldn’t. I was weak and scared. My parents were probably just on the other side of the door, and I couldn’t even call out to them for help.

Then you were on top of me, laying heavily on me. Your dirty leer, as I heard your hand opening your pants, filled me with terror.

“You know, Malfoy, this is a first for me, as I’m sure it’s a first for you,” you panted into my ear. I could feel your cock nudging its way down, down to my sphincter as you moved to force your cock into me.

Then there was nothing but pain. It was horrific and humiliating. I started to black out from its intensity, but kept conscience only from the steady rocking as you began to force yourself in and out of me. It felt like burning sandpaper being rubbed inside of me. I could feel my bowels being torn apart and the tears running out of my eyes.

“God, you’re tight, Malfoy. Are you a virgin?” you laughed as you continued to saw into me.

Until that moment in time, I had always thought that sex would be pleasurable. The way Blaise and Theo talked about it, the sounds they made in their beds when they brought girls up to our room – I couldn’t imagine it any other way. Now I know better. Those girls weren’t making noise because they liked it; they were making moans of pain.

It’s amazing how much those two noises can be so easily confused.

The pain I felt then was almost as bad as anything the Dark Lord ever did to me. I just wanted it to end. How could something so physical be so humiliating?

I was dry and unprepared. In hindsight I can see that you raped me. I wanted to fight you, wanted to make you stop and just leave me alone, but you were on top of me. Your fingers were gripping hard into my thighs, and I could feel your nails breaking the skin and causing me to bleed. But that wasn’t the only place were I was bleeding, was it?

No, you were drilling into me so harshly that I knew I was bleeding down there. I wanted to curl up into a ball and die. I couldn’t escape the fate I once wished upon you.

Your eyes were closed, squeezed tight, as if you were trying to memorize every part of my complete destruction. You began mumbling something, and then when you gasped for air, it became more like shouts. It was so clear, and I wanted to cover my ears as much as anything to keep from having to remember how you came.

“Oh, fuck! Oh fuck me... this is so good. So much better than I thought… oh, god! Oh Malfoy!”

Then you stiffened, and I felt both relief and disgust with myself. You pushed into me a few more times in the aftershocks of your orgasm; your come was the only lubricant, which finally was easing my beaten passage. The burn was ending. It was starting to feel good just when you pulled out, and I felt so ashamed because I had found even the smallest bit of it pleasurable.

You used me, Potter, just like you used everything else in this world. I was nothing more than something to get your rocks off.

How could people see you as a savior when you are nothing more than an animal – savage and dangerous? Did they see this side of you as well? Do they know who you really are? Do you ever show your enemies your ‘good’ side? Thoughts like these make me wonder how fucked up a world we live in anyway, where up is down and in is out.

After you were done and released me from the binding curse, we both cleaned ourselves up. You almost looked ashamed of what had happened. I was surprised you could feel remorse after what you had done.

I felt numb and just stood there ashamed of what had happened. Men are not supposed to be raped, neither are wizards, especially Malfoys. I could never tell anyone of what happened that day. I’d feel nothing but shame, if my parents ever found out what took place in their own home. I thought you would slink out as I saw you turn toward the door, but then you did something that sent chills down my spine.

You turned and looked me over for a moment. I couldn’t tell what you were thinking, but I was too frightened to move. Then you walked up and handed me my wand. I mindlessly took it. It felt familiar and yet not. It would never feel the same since you stole it from me. It seemed your imprint was all over me that day.

Then you – you hugged me. I instinctively stiffened at your touch. The words you whispered into my ear almost made me fall apart.

“Next time, Malfoy, it won’t be so rough.”

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After you had left, my mother and father came in to the parlor beaming and all agog. They had heard some of the noises, before you put up the silencing charm, and assumed everything that happened was consensual and that this liaison between us would be the very thing to bring our family’s name back into good graces within the wizarding world.

How could I tell them that I had just been raped when it was the first time I had seen my mother genuinely smile in over a year?

“Draco, do you realize that as Harry Potter’s paramour, you could indirectly yield the direction of future Ministerial policies? We could all be pardoned and free to reestablish ourselves within society. You have positioned yourself very well, my son. I am proud of you,” my father beamed as his firm hand came down on my shoulder.

My knees buckled from the weight of his words as well as his hands, and I was thankful I was in front of the couch when he said it. I sank down into the cushions, wincing from the pain that shot down my legs and up my spine. More than anything, I wanted to crawl into a dark hole and vomit all the bile churning in my stomach. I could feel your come and my blood oozing out of my ass as it slowly seeped into my torn pants. If my parents noticed anything amiss, they didn’t say anything about it. It was better if they overlooked certain problems in order to envision a brighter future.

My mother came and gracefully sat down beside me. She gently put her hand on my thigh and spoke so softly that I almost didn’t hear her.

“Your father was the Dark Lord’s fair-haired boy long before he formalized his followers. It is not something that your father is overly proud of or that we have ever discussed with you, rather it was a means to an end. His time and special relationship with the Dark Lord ensured that we, as a family, would garner certain privileges during and even after his time of power.

“If you are able, my son, to garner a similar position with Harry Potter, then it would be in your best interest to pursue this. I know there may be some unpleasantness with it and that you may be asked to do things that you might not otherwise appreciate, but the benefits of your position in the future of our world may compensate for it.”

She raised her arm and wrapped it around my shoulders as she nudged me to lay my head on her shoulder. She hummed a soothing tune as she carded her fingers through my hair. The familiar smells, sounds, and touches reminded me of when I was a child and she would comfort me after a bad fall off my toy broom. As I closed my eyes, I could feel my body relax into her embrace. It was secure and loving. Her voice was warm as she spoke again.

“Sometimes, Draco, we must do things we don’t like, but we do them for the Greater Good.”

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If I had any illusions that my parents didn’t know what had happened in the parlor that day, then they were short lived.

Over the next few days, I would go to my room only to find books left on my bedside table that were nothing more than sex manuals, wizard spells for improving one’s love making, and brewing certain potions to enhance physical pleasures. Even though I had left school, my mother would occasionally ask if I was keeping up with my reading, leaving little doubt about what she was referring to. There was a general understanding that now was the time for me to bring a new specialty within my education, and I should take this time to become the best student I could. A new education implied a new vocation.

I was to be Harry Potter’s male concubine.

It was about two weeks since our last encounter before you came back to the manor. I began to fantasize that when you did it would be to ask for forgiveness for what you had done. That you were out of your mind or had been cursed with the Imperious curse and that you were forced against your will to rape me, but when I heard your voice as you entered our home, I knew I was wrong.

One of my father’s newly acquired house-elves escorted you to our parlor and then informed me of your arrival. With my wand in hand and a whole arsenal of newly learned spells at the ready, I steeled my nerves and braced myself for what was to come as I walked through the ornate doors.

You were relaxed as you walked around the room, looking at the various knickknacks and portraits that hung in the room. Most of the portraits were either empty or sleeping, but one or two were walking about. I watched you as you wandered about the room and waited for you to look up at me. I knew the house-elf had announced my arrival, and I couldn’t understand why you didn’t look up or even acknowledge that I had entered the room. After a few more minutes, I cleared my throat, expecting you to turn around and address me, but you continued to wander the room as if you were alone. I felt my anger rising and couldn’t help myself. I rushed to where you were, grabbing your left arm and twisting you around expecting you to be surprised. Someone needed to teach you some basic manners.

“Potter! If someone comes into the room, you should have the decency to ackno—“

What I didn’t expect was for you to have your wand ready in your right hand as you pulled yourself from my grip and pointed it straight at my chest. The sudden movement scared me, and I could feel my heart beating hard and fast as I began to sweat. The fear of what had happened the last time began to overtake any sense of control I thought I held and made me want to desperately flee, but you grabbed my arm, holding it so tight I knew there’d be bruises later.

“Alright, Malfoy, this is how it’s going to be. For starters, I will acknowledge you when I’m ready to and not when you’ve become impatient. That’s always been a problem for you, hasn’t it? You’ve always expected me to come running when you’ve called, but we both know the truth, don’t we?” You leaned into me, and I could feel your breath warm against my face.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t look away from you. I swallowed the lump that was in my throat as I waited for you to finish. You were right; I wanted you to want me, but it was always me following you. Wasn’t it?

“I will come here when I want to be with you, and you will service me. In return, when you or your mother or father come before the Wizengamot, I will do everything I can to ensure that you are all properly released. That’s not so hard, is it? You do what I want, and no one gets hurt,” you said as you let go of my hand and stepped away.

It scared me how familiar this scene was. Less than two years before, the Dark Lord stood in this room and said almost the same thing to me. If I killed Professor Dumbledore and could get his followers into the school, then he’d ensure that my parents weren’t hurt. The similarity between these two moments and these two persons before me frightened me.

Is that what my life was to become? Was I to go from serving one master to another?

“Of course, Lord Potter,” I replied in a quiet submission as I lowered my head. It was the tone my former master expected me to use. I hoped it would please you as well.

“’Lord Potter?’ Oh, Draco, I think you’ve got it all wrong. Please, call me Harry,” you said as you came and put your arm around me then lead me to the couch. It was the same place we had last been— intimate.

“I don’t want you to be my slave or my follower or even my submissive. I want us to be able to come to a mutual understanding, if you will. If you don’t want to do this of your own free will, then I’ll leave right now. Just remember that once I leave, anything that I could have done to help you and your parents will also leave with me. Do you understand, Malfoy?” Your arm came down, wrapping around my waist as you pulled me close. You whispered those last words to me as your face began to nuzzle my neck. I tilted my head to the side to give you better access to what you wanted as you chuckled and began to nibble down my jugular vein and along my collarbone.

“Yes, Harry, I understand you.” My voice sounded dead in my own ears as I felt your hands begin to pull out my shirt and wander over my skin.

“Good, then why don’t you play the gracious host and take me on a little tour of your home. I’d especially like to see your bedroom, where you’ve slept and played your childhood wizard games. Maybe we can go there and learn some new games. What do you say?” Your hand was between my thighs now, as you rubbed along the inside, coming close to, but not touching my groin. I think you were waiting for me to give you permission although I wasn’t sure why. You knew I had acquiesced, that I didn’t have a choice, really. Why not tear my clothes off again and be done with it?

I made a courteous effort to show you some of the main rooms of the manor. After the third room, I could sense you were becoming impatient, and I changed directions and led us to my rooms. Why had I not see that being a gracious host meant nothing more then being a convenient shag?

When we got in there, you began to pace about the room like an anxious, caged lion waiting to be set free. I waved my wand and two tumblers and an oak matured mead appeared on the small coffee table in my personal study. As a host, it seemed only proper to offer you an aperitif before your main meal.

“Pot—Harry, would you like something to drink before you ruin the carpet? Sit down and relax. If you’re in no rush, we could relax and talk a bit before we finalize this arrangement.” At that comment, you stopped pacing, slumped a little, and took a seat.

It’s funny, but your sudden nervousness somehow calmed me. You may have wanted to be the one in control of our arrangement, but I realized that without my willing participation, you wouldn’t try to force me to do anything again. You dictated the terms, but I was in charge of each interaction. I wonder what had happened that made you become less aggressive, less animalistic?

I poured us a couple of drinks, as I came to sit beside you. Taking your drink, you relaxed into the cushions as you wrapped your arm around me. After some light, but stinted, conversation and a few more drinks, we adjourned to my bedroom to further our more intimate relationship.

This time, it wasn’t exactly rape, but it wasn’t as easy as I had hoped it would be despite the amount of studying I had done in those few weeks. It still hurt, but with a little bit of patience, a large amount of lubricant, and a little more willingness on both our parts, it was mostly pleasant. You were more willing to give as well as take, although not in the way you expected of me. This time was different because I eventually came as well, even if it was by my own hand.

And so that’s how it began, that first time for us. For that’s how I wish to remember our times together. We had an arrangement, you came to my home, and we would be intimate together. I was to be your male concubine, and in turn you would help my family out when you could. No one outside of the manor needed to know a thing about it. This was an arrangement between the two of us.

The time before, back in the parlor, didn’t count for me. I didn’t want to see you as the heartless bastard who took what you wanted without any remorse, without any regret. I wanted to think that this meant as much to you as it did to me. I need to feel that, in some way, we were on even ground. I hoped we could work our way to be more to each other, even if it was only within the confines of my bedroom. I had fantasized about that for so long. Was it wrong for me to hope for even that much?

You would come at different times of the day and night. At first, you would come straight to my rooms, and we’d make love. Then you’d find some excuse to leave almost immediately after you were satisfied. I felt like such a whore then, not even fully human, just an object for your sexual needs.

Then as the months turned into years, your visits would last longer and longer. There were times when you would visit without the need for sexual release. You just seemed to need a good listener, someone not part of your adopted family and friends, someone who would hear your side of the story without argument or debate. Sometimes, it seemed you needed to get away from the challenges of your new roles and responsibilities, and you needed someone to play with you, to laugh with you, and retreat with you. I could provide that comfort to you as well as the other. I could have done more, if you had let me. I found myself wanting to be there for you. Was it because I realized how much you meant to me?

After your first few visits, Father told me that the wards were recast to allow your entrance whenever you visited. They would notify me of your arrival and your withdrawal.

“It would not do to have Mr. Potter waiting on you, Draco. Just remember to be careful around him. Don’t let him use you without some equal benefit in return,” my father had told me. Did he know more about this kind of arrangement than I did? Had his relationship with the Dark Lord been like this? It was too much to realize. Were we just the next generation repeating the same sins, the same mistakes as the last?

I can see now how right he was. How he was trying to give me a warning. I was growing too close to you, too emotional, and I couldn’t even see it. Mother and Father had begun formal negotiations for me to marry Daphne’s younger sister, Asteria, and I barely paid attention to their plans. They would arrange dinners and visits with the Greengrasses to give me time to get to know her, to court her.

I went of course; it was what I was good at – obeying others – but I performed in the most minimal way necessary. My mind was focused on your next visit, our next time together, however brief it was to be. I paid the role of obedient son, but secretly, I wanted to somehow be officially courting you, instead. Looking back, now I can see how naïve I was even though I thought I was so experienced.

The worst part of remembering all of it was the tender moments, the moments when you would come and fall asleep in my bed on a rare, lazy afternoon. I watched you while you slept. I bet you would never have thought that. That Draco Malfoy was a romantic at heart.

How pathetic.

You looked so peaceful and happy. The years of worry and responsibility that seemed to be etched into your face would disappear for those brief moments, and you looked as sweet as a small boy taking his nap. Then, you’d wake up and look up into my eyes. Your eyes were still warm and cloudy with sleep and dreams. They glistened, and for the briefest of moments, you’d look at me as if you were in love. Every fiber within me still aches for those moments.

My heart would be beating hard and fast. I thought I had certainly died and gone to heaven. Nothing could feel as wonderful, or as magical, as that brief moment before you realized where you were and who you were with. For those few seconds, it felt like we were equal, together, a couple— and in love.

I was a fool to hope for it, but sometimes even a fool can reach for and achieve more than what they are.

Then came that brilliant, and yet horrific day. It was the same day your first, James, was born.

“Draco, it’s a boy! It’s what I’ve always wanted: a family of my own!” You picked me up and swung me around before you put me back down, giving me a grand, enveloping hug.

You came to me soon after the baby arrived. You were so happy and excited. You glowed with the pride of finally having the family you always wanted. That excitement was contagious, and I was truly happy for you. We celebrated, laughed, and danced together. We opened some of the best champagne and other liquors in the cellar. We toasted to a fine son, the next generation, and a bright and happy future.

I thought we would build on this moment. Even though I knew we could never truly be together, that we might be able to have something more than stolen moments for sex to keep us together. Love is built in moments of tenderness, just like trust is built in moments of terror. This could be a foundation for years to come between us – exclusive – separate from the world.

That night, after all the wonder and celebrations, we made our way back to my rooms. You held my hand and really smiled at me; your eyes were glazed and beautiful. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to have it, to have you. I became drunk from that look. I felt I could drink it in forever. We would always have our families, always have our wives and friends, but it seemed possible to always have each other to share the things life brought us.

That night, you made love to me. You were tender and considerate, the consummate lover. You brought me to the brink of orgasm so many times, that I almost started crying in frustration. When we finally joined together, your cock sliding in and out of me, filling me with desire, you called out my name. Draco.

I laughed in joy from hearing you finally say my name in a way that could only be love. I came so hard then, telling you that I loved you… that I would always love you. You laughed then. I thought we were finally able to cross that boundary that made us lovers.

I should have known better, though. Your laugh wasn’t happy or contagious. There was something about it that was dark and sinister. I couldn’t hear it as I was caught up within my own private fantasies. I felt like I had reached out my hands to give you my heart, but I waited in vain for you to take it. It was a lesson I never seemed to be able to learn. I gave what you rejected, while you held what I desired.

After you feel asleep, I stayed awake and watched you, keeping a silent vigil while the darkness of the night brought with it a new day for the both us. I made plans within plans. I pictured a new beginning for both us. I could see how our lives would play out. How we’d show one face to the world while we kept all the things we wanted to share – these intimate moments – private between us.

The darkness of the night was losing strength as the morning surged onward. A glow from the sun’s rise brought forth a new day, and the life surrounding the manor began to come to life. The birds outside were starting to sing out to their mates, the dogs were barking as they chased after a stray rabbit, and the peacocks strutted about, looking magnificent as they displayed their full plumage.

It was a new beginning.

You woke up, and for that moment, your eyes were full of love. I smiled at you, but then something unexpected happened. You didn’t smile back. The look in your face changed, from content to confused. I looked at you and could see a growing panic in your eyes.

You bolted upright and looked around desperately for your glasses, I handed them to you and watched you as your eyes bulged impossibly huge. You looked out at the rising sun and then turned to me. The alarm in your face and voice was unmistakable.

“Malfoy, what are you … where am I? Did I fall asleep here? Fuck! I need to get out of here and head back to St. Mungo’s. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! Why didn’t you wake me up? My family is probably going crazy looking for me. I have fucked this up good!”

You were rushing around the room, going in and out of the en suite, trying desperately to wash your face while putting your clothes back on.

“This can never happen again, Malfoy. Do you hear me? Never again. I have a family now, someone who will look up to me and expect me to be an example to them. I cannot let them know this has ever happened. It was all a mistake – all of it.”

You stopped all your frantic motions and then made a straight line toward me. For a moment, I braced myself, expecting you to punch me or pull out your wand and kill me. I tried to stand still and brave, but my knees were shaking so much, I’m certain I looked like a frightened weakling.

You were a scant few inches away from me. Even though you are slightly shorter than me, I felt so small standing in your presence.

“Do you understand me, Malfoy? It’s over, and I’m never coming back. Never tell anyone about this or I swear that I will kill you. Do you got that?” You stared into my eyes, looking so menacing and angry. The meaning was clear; you were ashamed of me, of us.

I couldn’t look away from you, and I couldn’t mask what I felt. I had let you into the center of my being, willingly unlocking all the doors to my heart. I allowed you to stroll in and burn everything I held sacred to the ground. My eyes began to burn from the salty tears that welled up and then streamed down my face. All that I hoped was burning around me, and all I could do was stand there and watch you glower at me.

“I said, ‘Do you understand, Malfoy?’” You were waiting for an answer so that you could leave, so that you could leave me – the mistake that you had made. The ashes of my heart were floating and blowing away in the wind. You were destroying me from the inside out, and I should have hated you, but I couldn’t open my mouth, because I didn’t want you to leave. I gave a slight nod, even though it would destroy me, because I knew it would make you happy. My crushed heart exchanged for your happiness.

“Alright, err, thanks, Malfoy. I’ll – I’ll be seeing you around,” you muttered as you turned to walk out the room. I nodded again, even though you couldn’t see me, even though you were almost out of our home. Then, when the wards notified me that you had left the grounds, I was finally able to collapse on the floor and lament from the pain.

Harry Potter had walked out of my life.

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“Scorpius, I expect at least one letter a week from you telling me how things are going in school. Your grandfather would have been so proud of you; you look just like him,” Asteria said to our son as he looked at the Muggle train bound for Hogwarts.

“Yes, Mother. I will do the best I can.”

I watch as my wife gives our only child last minute instructions. This little talk between them reminds me of the first time I boarded the train to go to school. I had been so certain, so sure of what my life was going to be like. Everything had been laid out before me. That was before I knew what a cruel bastard you were and how the world loves black-hearted heroes such as yourself.

It was years ago, yet the wound has never fully healed for me. My deceiving heart still hopes you will return. My body longs to feel you again, even after all these years, to share those stolen moments. I find myself having to kill that hope again and again.

That time we spent together, those times we were intimate, do you still think about it? Did you ever tell anyone of our affair, of how you use to come inside me, whispering my name? Or am I nothing more than your dirty little secret, some black patch in your pristine past that you never allow yourself to think about?

I look up then and can see your eyes looking at me. All of your clan is watching us. What are you talking about? Are you laughing, even now, at your malicious joke? I nod at you and then look away, just like I did years ago. I have to close my eyes to keep from letting all those emotions well up inside of me. If I allow myself to think about it, I know I’ll become nothing more than a blubbering idiot. This is neither the time nor the place to do that. I must keep my composure until the train is gone, the children are sent, and I am alone. Then I can allow myself to reflect on it all, to reflect on you.

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder they kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow—
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is they fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o’er me—
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met—
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.

That time in the past is nothing more than my eternal anguish and your eternal error. I never truly knew what it meant to hate someone until I allowed that person into my heart to be loved first.

Fucking Potter.

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