If You Loved Him You Would...

disclaimer: not mine, all the characters belong to jkrowling

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Lucius entered a flat and took a deep breath. Yes, he was finally home. The flat was nice and warm and comfortable filled with love so unlike his huge cold mansion. He bought this flat for Harry when he found out that the young man was pregnant with his child. After all it was the least he could do. He couldn’t marry Harry and he couldn’t acknowledge their child by giving it his last name no matter how much he loved Harry. ‘But do you really?’ his conscious asked him in a voice very much like Harry’s. ‘If you really loved him you wouldn’t make him go through this hell. You wouldn’t make his life still more difficult. You wouldn’t let him live in shame for the last three years. You would stand on one knee and ask him to marry you. You would watch, as his now so very sad huge green eyes would light up with happiness. You would smile when he’d throw his arms around your neck kissing you with all his love saying that he would marry you and would be forever yours as he always was. Only yours. You would take him to the mansion that would become warm at once. His bright eyes and wide smile would melt the ice. You would take him to your room and make love to him like you’ve never done before appreciating his sacrifice, every inch of his body and soul. You would treat him as he deserves. You wouldn\'t let Black and the Weasleys treat him like shit. You wouldn’t let Black throw him out of his house pregnant in the rain. You wouldn’t let him disown Harry saying that he wasn’t worthy of the Potter name. You wouldn’t let him close access to Harry’s vaults leaving him with no home and no money but with a round belly for everyone to point and laugh at him calling him names. You wouldn’t make him spend the best years of his life cooped in a cage, albeit warm and comfortable but still a cage he can’t break through. You wouldn’t keep him and your little daughter as a dirty secret in the dark visiting them only at night having a cup of coffee and Harry’s body and leaving with the first rays of a new day. You wouldn’t make him feel so cheap and filthy every time you leave placing money on the bedside table as if it was money for the night spent and not a monthly payment for the flat. You wouldn’t hurt him like that. You would make him happy. You wouldn’t make him cry. He doesn’t show you but you know that he cries and cries a lot. Especially when someone once again calls him your little pretty whore and his daughter a bastard child saying that there’s no place for the likes of them here or in any other decent place. You would murder them on the spot. But you don’t. You don’t do any of those things. But you could. You don’t love him. Or do you?’
You are brought back to present, to Harry’s present when he kisses you softly and lovingly on the cheek. So innocent and sweet. So warm and soft. It hurts. He is too good for you. But you own him and you won’t let him go. You will sooner destroy him than let him walk away. But then again haven’t you destroyed him already? Haven’t you ruined his life? And besides where can he go from you now, anyway? There’s no place for him. No one will take him back. No one will keep him. No one but you. You made sure, didn’t you? He takes off your coat and puts it in a wardrobe by the door. Then he takes you by the hand that is still cold from the outside but is getting warmer and warmer as his fingers lovingly caress it before he places a small kiss to your palm. He is leading you to the living room as if you don’t know the way. Hts yts you in your favorite armchair and quietly says that your coffee will be ready soon. You grab him by the waist and place him on your lap. His eyelashes flutter as you ferociously kiss him. Reminding him what he will never forget. You won’t let it happen. You let him go. He gives you one of his sweet smiles before walking away. You love the way his form is reflecting in the candlelight. You love his every curve. You love to kiss and lick and bite and nip his every curve. You like it when he squirms. He is ticklish. You like it when he writhes beneath you blushing like a school-girl and begging you to stop. You never do. You love to possess him and to make him scream. You love to love him. You love to torture him. You love his coffee. You feel it. The smell. The taste. You relish in it. You close your eyes. It reminds you of him. He says he will bring Isidora. He says she missed you and he promised to wake her up when Father came. You love Isidora. She is a gift Harry gave you. Just as innocent and sweet just as warm and soft as Harry. She is his sacrifice. She is his pain and his reward. He adores her. You know. You see it in his eyes. You know he wouldn’t change it for anything. He loves you too. He always tells you. But do you? No, you don’t. You only say ‘You are mine.” But he is, isn’t he? Yes he is. You were the only man to taste him and to have him and to own him and to break him. But he doesn’t complain. He knows it won’t change a thing. Or will it?
Isidora runs into the room and promptly jumps onto your lap. You kiss her on the forehead. She smiles. His smile. It breaks your heart. But do you have one? She tells you about her day. About a park Harry and Draco took her to. The only place wizards don’t attack them both calling them names. A muggle park. You grimace at the thought but what can you do? You can’t deny him of this piece of free You You know how much he likes to spend the time in the fresh air. You like how his skin glows after the day in the sun and wind. You won’t take it away from him. You owe him that much. While Dora chatters away he sits beside you on the floor wrapping his arms around your leg his head resting on your knee. With one hand you’re holding an over-enthusiastic Dora while with your other you’re caressing his soft hair your hand sng dng down his neck making him shiver and tighten his grip around your leg. He looks up at you and whispers in a broken voice so that Dora wouldn’t hear. ‘Don’t go. Stay.’ Your wife has a reception today. You have to go. But you don’t. You stay. As he asked. You love him, don’t you? So what would it take of you to make him happy? When Dora is asleep you take him in your arms. He is so light. You lay him down on the bed and watch him. Just watch standing high above. He is so beautiful and so wrong. He closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. You touch his lips. He shivers and kisses your finger. You start unbuttoning his shirt as he catches your hand. loo look questioningly at him. He opens his eyes and stands up. He stands on his knees his arms now wrapped around your middle. You wait. He lifts his head his chin now pressed tightly to your chest and asks ‘Can we just...’ He doesn’t finish but you know. Can you just hold him tonight. No lovemaking. You nod. You lie down taking him in your arms saying something sweet and silly so unlike you making him giggle. He was assaulted again. He always asks you just to hold him when he is. He once told you ‘I feel enough a whore as it is. Can we just…’ He doesn’t repeat the first part now but it is there. That’s how he feels. That’s how you make him feel. A whore. But he loves you no matter what. It doesn’t matter what they say. It doesn’t matter how it feels. He loves you and that’s all what matters.
You come home early today. ‘Home’. This is your home. Where your heart isn’t n’t it? So you have a heart after all. You hear voices coming from the kitchen. You stop by the door and listen. It’s Harry and Draco. Draco’s arms are around Harry rubbing circles down his back. Harry’s crying. Softly. Silently. Draco is always there for him. Unlike you. ‘I hate it. I hate it that they treat you like that. They have no right. I hate it that after all you’ve done for them saving their lives countless times they spit in your face. You deserve so much more. You deserve to walk in the Light holding your head proud and high. You deserve to see the World and to be shown to the World. You are beautiful in every single way the person can be. And they know it. They know that you are the Best. And they can’t forgive you for that. But most of all I hate my Father for not taking matters in his own hands and bringing you back to the Light. What will it take to make you happy? What will it take to shut them all up? A vow? A ring? A last name for Dora? Is that too much to ask of Him?’ You think not. After all you do love him. You walk away.
You come back as usually. There’s a small black velvet box in your pocket and signed papers in your hand. He takes off your coat. But your hand is occupied. You give him the papers. He takes them and reads. The papers fall down on the floor. He looks at you. You can see tears in his eyes. You take out a box and stand on one knee.


A/N: don’t be cruel. it just popped up in my head. I had to write it down and to share it with you. I would like to know what you think. very much so. thank you.