credit to undesirable (666251) for the gif set and the inspiration.
I offered you my hand, my friendship so many years ago and you rejected it. I remember the sting, the bitterness, the anger that stirred within my chest that came with said rejection. I was appalled that you'd choose others so lowly over being friends with me, a Malfoy, a pureblood. You went making friends with the wrong sort, and became my rival, my enemy, the very thought of you existing, your presence, tormented me, upset me - the Golden Boy, oh-so-special Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Everyone always vouched for you, praised you somehow in one way or another. You got away with nearly everything, even when you were sticking your nose into business that didn't concern you. Nosy and always caught up in trouble, yet... you always got what you wanted, didn't you? Because the people around you were so eager to gift you with rewards for your insolence.
It wasn't fair, and I hated you for it. The jealousy consumed me and I couldn't stop myself from competing, from making sure that I'd somehow be equal or above you in some way. Yet, I found myself falling behind. Always. Every time. No matter how hard I attempted to catch up, to surpass you, just when I believed myself to be so close to the goal, to stealing your horrid light and shining much brighter than you... I never could. You were always the hero, the special one, you and the stupid bloody scar upon your forehead.
It was all I could ever hear everyone talk about since I was a child.
"Hurrah, hurrah! Three cheers for Harry Potter! He saved us all. The world is at peace now because of him. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, gone! Gone for good! Remember the name, young one, someday, you'll have to thank him for the time you get to live in; the world you get to experience and grow up in."
My parents would sneer at such remarks, and would tell me to pay no attention to such nonsense.
Ah, but as I grew... as I grew... I craved for praise, for greatness, to be the pride of my family... and what greater pride would it be to have Harry Potter as my friend? On my side? No... what a foolish thought. My father would never accept it. It was because of you that his great Dark Lord was gone. It was because of you that the Wizarding World ran rampant with those of tainted blood, filthy, dirty, traitors...
Even the mere mention of your name brought my father annoyance, yet... I couldn't help myself from speaking it. I couldn't stop myself from constantly bringing you up in my conversations, my complaints, my jealous remarks when I wished to have him buy me something that you have already required before I.
Surely, father began to tire of constantly hearing your name fall from my lips. But, why couldn't I keep myself from speaking it? Why couldn't I ignore your existence? Pretend that you just weren't there at all. Why couldn't I be blind to your presence and deaf to your voice? I had done it before with so many others that I considered below me. They were ghosts to me, passing through the halls of Hogwarts. Yet, no matter how hard I would try to make you a specter to my vision, I failed and you were always there.
Solid, real, as loud as ever.
And I couldn't stop myself from addressing myself to you. In any way possible, I'd ridicule you, insult you, spit my venom and lash you with my silver tongue. I wanted to torment you, I wanted to make sure that you knew that I was always there, ready to pounce at your every move - eager to make you falter and fall, watching and waiting.
If I couldn't be your friend, then I would be a scourge in your life.
I hated you. I hated you with every single fiber of my existence. I hated you so very much that when I got the mark I was so proud of myself. So proud to be part of the army that was bent on destroying everything that you ever loved, everything that you ever believed in. Proud that I got to stand at the side of the very man that promised us all that he would end you, destroy you...
I was so sure that that was what I had wanted. It was all I've ever dreamed of come true. The great Harry Potter, reduced to nothing but dust.
But there was something different that stirred within me then. Things that confused me, that shook me, that consumed me and filled me with fear and anger. They filled me with a sick feeling at the pit of my stomach. And what would happen to me if they knew? If He knew...
If my thoughts were laid out for all to see... the passing glances full of rage, frustration... tension. The fight, the brush of our hands, of our lips... the secret moments that we shared with each other that only managed to fill me with even greater confusion, even greater frustration, and dare I say, shame...
If they all saw, if they all could feel the things that we felt... what would've happened then?
Oh... like any of it truly mattered.
We were both caught in a war, standing on either side; our backs to each other.
Death was lingering heavily over our heads, all of our heads.
Yet... you prevailed.
And I... failed. I failed in so many ways. I felt remorse and regret and guilt, heavy upon my shoulders. Dread and panic. Shame - a new form of it filled me, and hatred crawled and wormed itself right back into my cold heart... and again, I swore to myself that I hated you; convinced that you had ruined my life. Didn't you? No... I'd be dead without you. Even though I was so sure that you had surely killed me at some point -- SECTUMSEMPRA!
I should've died. I wanted to, although I feared the judgement that would face me on the other side. Worse than anything that I could ever face while living.
So many things happened between then and now, and so many things changed since between here and there; and I was sure that my love was stuck in a permanent winter and that my thoughts of you would forever be full of hatred, confusion, bitterness... frustration that I somehow, in some way, owed you my life. Our forever saviour, Harry James Potter.
I never wanted to see those emerald greens looking into mine ever again. I never wanted to see that bloody cursed scar, or feel your fingers interlocked with mine, or steal away kisses in the secrecy, concealed by the shadows that comforted us, that hid us away from the eyes that would never understand, that couldn't... that wouldn't... and could you blame them for it? Even we couldn't seem to fully wrap our minds around it...
I swore that whatever that was, whatever we had, was done and over with. That it would be kept lost and secret in those shadows from the past, within the walls of that castle; dead and buried like those that fell to the war. I never wanted to feel that way again, not towards you.
Yet.... our paths crossed unwillingly, unexpected... and we felt heavy, and we felt that electricity, the frustration, the confusion, the tension that sparked within our eyes when our gazes met.
Everything came rushing back, like a wave of strong water that toppled down the stone wall that kept it from flooding. It pulled me under, it drowned me...
And again, we were fighting, our hands were brushing, our lips were pressed, and your body crushed me beneath its heated weight and I welcomed it... over and over and over...
Now I find myself here, laying beside your sleeping form, wide awake, thinking, watching you sleep soundly. You seem peaceful, stirring here and there, and I wonder what you're dreaming about? I wonder if somehow, I steal away your nightmares... and if I could, I would... and I would make them all mine. I deserve it, don't I? The mark still taints my flesh, slightly faded now, far from the dark intensity that it held when I was first given it. I was one of them. So ready and so sure that I wanted to snuff you out.
And I still hate you, Potter. I hate you for filling me with these emotions. For giving me a second chance. For making me feel like I am deserving of love, deserving of you. I hate you because you are still better than me, you still continue to shine brighter than I, and I would never become that.
I will never love you. I can't ever love you. No, at least not out loud.
A soft sigh escaped Draco's lips as he reached a hand towards Harry's bare back, his finger softly traced that forbidden phrase across his flesh - the letters magically appearing against his skin; bright, yet fading steadily. Draco watched them as they slowly disappeared, like a whispered secret, a shrouded sentiment, burning bright and fading softly into Harry's soul.