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Falling
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
3,538
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
3,538
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
6
***** This chapter I think needs just a little explaining. I realize most of the story has been primarily from Harry’s POV, but I sat back one night, and after fighting with myself for a while, decided Draco needed to have a say. I mean, he was pretty well rejected, and in light of that, we get to see a little side of his madness to the situation.
PART 6
‘I’ll kill him,’ Draco thought, idly running his hands down over his smooth naked flesh. There were scratches on his chest, down his back. Marks from Potter. ‘Damn him!’ The blonde thought savagely. Slowly he put on his clothes. His body ached. Half from shame. Half from need. Wholly because of Potter.
There was a touch of madness in the heavy mercury depths. Madness, desperation, confusion and utter loneliness. Why had he given himself so freely? Like some wanton whore. Drinking in Potter’s abuse and odd sense of gentleness. Oh, he had seen the gentleness there, even if Potter had tried to hide it. Deep in those emerald eyes. He felt the caress of those lips fighting total surrender.
And he was Harry’s. Yes, Harry. Not Potters, not Golden Boy of Hogwarts. Not the saint everyone believed. Harry. Who hurt and hated. Bled. Lusted. Potter was cold, detached. Needed no one’s help. It was Harry that Draco was coming to need...did need. Potter he hated. Harry that possessed him. Could break him. Could love him.
Love. Yes that word was addicting. But what did Draco really know of love? He recalled no gentle moments of his mother holding him. No smiling memories of lovers past. No sexual past at all. Sex was impersonal, business like, and only for productions of heirs. Not for pleasure, as muggles and mud bloods believed. Purebloods knew the right way. The only way. Malfoys loved no one. They had their pride to keep them warm in the long winter nights. And pride, sadly, was a unforgiving bed partner.
But there were some things that Draco knew especially well. He knew how to hate. How to hurt after being hurt. Potter would know this talent. Would come to regret denting Draco’s pride.
After straightening the last strand of hair on his head, Draco nodded at his perfection. The skin under his eye was still slightly yellow, his lip still partially swollen, but he looked beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.
***okay, I know this one is really short too...but I'm having trouble with this story, or I'd update another chapter right after this...hope you enjoy...
R/R?
PART 6
‘I’ll kill him,’ Draco thought, idly running his hands down over his smooth naked flesh. There were scratches on his chest, down his back. Marks from Potter. ‘Damn him!’ The blonde thought savagely. Slowly he put on his clothes. His body ached. Half from shame. Half from need. Wholly because of Potter.
There was a touch of madness in the heavy mercury depths. Madness, desperation, confusion and utter loneliness. Why had he given himself so freely? Like some wanton whore. Drinking in Potter’s abuse and odd sense of gentleness. Oh, he had seen the gentleness there, even if Potter had tried to hide it. Deep in those emerald eyes. He felt the caress of those lips fighting total surrender.
And he was Harry’s. Yes, Harry. Not Potters, not Golden Boy of Hogwarts. Not the saint everyone believed. Harry. Who hurt and hated. Bled. Lusted. Potter was cold, detached. Needed no one’s help. It was Harry that Draco was coming to need...did need. Potter he hated. Harry that possessed him. Could break him. Could love him.
Love. Yes that word was addicting. But what did Draco really know of love? He recalled no gentle moments of his mother holding him. No smiling memories of lovers past. No sexual past at all. Sex was impersonal, business like, and only for productions of heirs. Not for pleasure, as muggles and mud bloods believed. Purebloods knew the right way. The only way. Malfoys loved no one. They had their pride to keep them warm in the long winter nights. And pride, sadly, was a unforgiving bed partner.
But there were some things that Draco knew especially well. He knew how to hate. How to hurt after being hurt. Potter would know this talent. Would come to regret denting Draco’s pride.
After straightening the last strand of hair on his head, Draco nodded at his perfection. The skin under his eye was still slightly yellow, his lip still partially swollen, but he looked beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.
***okay, I know this one is really short too...but I'm having trouble with this story, or I'd update another chapter right after this...hope you enjoy...
R/R?