Rating: Hard R.
Summary: Draco Malfoy is tired.
There are something's that a person can only take for so long. Only so much that perhaps I I /I can take.
I'm tired of coming home to a house that's cold and without a breath of warmth. Without anyone to talk to, without any touch that can commit to my skin in the way that I so desperately need.
I'm tired of wondering if the man whose been in possession of my body and soul, is still the man that at my age of 18 is still around.
I've spent so much time in the dark. So many hours screaming in pain over my arm, family, life…
There is a note in front of me… on the kitchen table I barely recognize as the one that I've eaten my dinner, breakfast, lunch….
I I won't be home tonight. /I
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I receive no explanations, nothing, nothing at all.
Is life to be this cruel to me? Have I not passed some sort of atonement with the death of my father at my hands, my own lose of who I was?
Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, now merely a potions maker in the seedy part of Diagon Alley. Where no one but the poorest go for potions.
What am I?
Sometimes I wonder why I bother?
When I awake I can feel him, his warmth by my back.
I was awake when he came home, late at night or early in the morning. I cannot tell anymore, nor do I bother to find out anymore.
Really, is there any reason other than the one I do not want the answer to?
Sometimes when I stare at his lined face, his greying brown hair, and the way that the scar over his eye is so alike to the many scars across both our bodies… I think that I should believe in him.
I should believe that Remus Lupin is true to me, Draco Malfoy in that he would never forget where he laid his commitments to those small years ago.
Yet, should I believe? Should I believe that a man of his stature could have wanted anything to do with someone such as I?
I don't want to believe. I don't want to have to break that belief just as so many of mine were broken.
Shall I lean over the bed and check to see if monsters are putting these thoughts into my head, wilting whatever sort of happiness Remus Lupin's tried to give me?
Instead I'll just whisper,
I you've been leaving me alone. /I
We live in a town house in London. It's near both Potter and most of the Weasley's.
But mostly it's near I her /I .
Some day's I think that everyone in this life is playing me for a fool. Thinking I don't know about their affair before the day that Remus Lupin found me intoxicated with grief and vodka. Yet, I know. I know a thousand things that no one will say whilst I'm in the room.
She's a ShapeShifter. The actual name eludes me.
I'm not a fool though. Not in the way that all of these people think me. Laughing to my back and the undersides of my ears…
Sometimes I wish I'd never found the reasoning that people shouldn't die. Sometimes I wish I never met Potter in the field I buried my father's corpse. Sometimes I wish that instead of taking my memories and finding that I had some sort of soul, Potter just killed me.
But wishes never come true.
At least mine never do.
I remember the touches he used to give me. The running of his warm calloused hands over my skin, the way they would caress the scars.
Scars are all I have now.
Sometimes I wish I could touch him back. Just to remind him that I'm still here. That I still need I something /I .
But I can't. I can't.
I don't want to.
Words to an empty house.
Empty of another soul. The books still cluttering, the dishes I don't have the energy to even bother cleaning.
Sometimes I wonder if even the dusty shelves, stairs will miss me.
Is there anything to miss?
When has this been home to me? Have I ever felt anything but obligation to be here?
I can ask these questions over and over and the answer will remain the same.
I No. /I
Sometimes I wonder what I will do…
But then I realize what I've done most of my life.
Gone with whatever has been given to me.
Slytherin, Malfoy honours. None of it has been for what I wanted.
Sometimes I think it's because I don't even know what I want. That I have no plans of wanting anything in the future besides my own existence.
So once again I'll sign my life away on a piece of paper for a place to hide in my own world of existence.
"It's really a nice cottage if you ignore the little drainage problems and cover up the window panes before winter sets in." The woman has darkening roots that need to be touched up to match her apparent want to be a redhead.
Personally I've never liked redheads. However that may just be a matter of personal bias.
I nod. Stiffly, the only way I know how.
I can feel bags of unrest underneath my eyes. They weigh heavily as I don't even bother to acknowledge her concern for a stranger.
Perhaps here, in this desolate house of Mine I will discover something I never thought to exist.
I work alone on potions that very nearly no one buys.
I work in the silence I bought in my pride, with no one bothers me. I prefer to the noise I can no longer be comfortable in.
In this dark workroom I am able to think of anything and nothing.
Yet, the ring of the front door startles me.
I leave and go to the front entrance and find myself under the scrutiny of green and brown eyes. It feels like a thousand people are squeezing their selves into a closet with me. My air supply being cut off and forcing me to slowly suffocate.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Vulgar, crude language, but nothing else to be expected from the Boy- Who- Lived and his minions.
I don't speak many words these days. Words mean nothing to someone who can no longer hear their meanings. I wipe the back of my hand on the front counter in a vain attempt to clean the grime that's built up.
"You're a fuckin' prick!" The words are hissed. But I can't help but notice that there isn't that much venom…
Perhaps it means that Remus Lupin has finally gone back to what was his before? That now Potter and his family can rest easy to not have me there to darken the doorstep?
There is a resounding silence, one that I don't bother to break even though it is my silence to break.
Instead I'll continue to analyze these black specks on the counter. One's that could be burn marks or the rotting of the wood.
There is a draft in the cottage. It's autumn, so perhaps I should prepare for winter to come. Yet, at the same time I don't care of the cold. Even prefer to the heat of a fire.
There are blankets I've acquired and a wand for heating charms if necessary.
There are only three rooms. One for my potions work that need either to be researched with texts or kept with me until the potion is completed. One for the kitchen and eating area. The last for a bed and adjoining bathroom.
It is enough.
One day I'll find something else to fill these cold rooms.
Or one day this cottage will no longer be here and something else will fill this land and its unoccupied grounds.
There is a backyard whose soil is not good for growing under ideal circumstances. I'm sure if I work at it there will be possible life growing back there.
The front of the cottage is gravel and useful for nothing at all.
The trees surround this place giving no life other than darkness of forest.
Perhaps in this place I'll thrive.
After all, there is nothing in this place that reminds me of Draco Malfoy, Remus Lupin or life before The War.
It's been months. Months that will one day turn into half- years, before resounding into decades.
Yet, I feel a little better.
In some odd way, for nothing has changed.
I haven't bought anything for the cottage to line its walls. I haven't fixed drainage problem, and I seem to have become used to the coldness.
I've still made the Wolfsbane Potion and sent it off to Remus Lupin.
Some days I feel better. Like things that have happened never really did.
Or that I accept them as they are.
As I am.
It makes the thought of smiling just a little bit more like a possibility.
I read a novel last night.
It was about a woman who shot her husband because he asked her to.
However, the story isn't important to me.
I I read a novel last night /I
Do I remember the last time I sat down and read words seeing them as creators of images in the mind? Has that ever happened to me before?
I don't know.
To be honest I really don't know.
Yet it makes the day finer as the thought rolls through my head
I I read a novel last night /I
"So have you started seeing anyone?"
The question is so mild I would have not thought it was directed to me, if the store clerk had not been talking directly to me.
I still don't really talk. So by habit I shake my head. Wondering how a perfect stranger should know anything by me.
The man leans towards me. I've bought my supplies and wish to get out of there as soon as possible.
He smells like fruity musk. He has lazy murky blue eyes. His hair is shaggy in a supposed to be fashionable way.
I can feel my eyes go big and my body naturally leaning back and tensing up.
"How about a date then?" My cheeks go up in flames.
With my bags clutched in my hands, I don't know what to do.
So I laugh.
When I was younger I loved to whistle when I had nothing else to do. My fath—Lucius used to hate it. Would yell at me to stop. Only to have Narcissa berate him for yelling at me.
I never did learn how to whistle a tune.
Maybe it's time I learned.
After all I should start somewhere.
I listen to songs off the Muggle radio that I was given, left in the cottage when I moved in.
There are songs upon songs I love to hear. But mostly I like it when the music seems to dance in my ear without any thought needed to be spared on them.
Perhaps that is why I've cleaned this little shop and added to the décor. Though to be honest a vase with suckers in place of flowers adds nothing really, it seems to me to be something significant.
There isn't any dust gathering in tiny armies anymore. The black spots of the counter are gone and the music in the air helps me with my own tiny army of smiles.
Every little bit helps.
I "… A very good friend of mine told me something the day,
I'll pass onto you; for I believe it to be true… we're here for a good time not a long time…. And the sun is shining, in this rainy city…" /I
I love to move my shoulders in the mockery of dancing. There's no one looking. I'm allowed to do it.
Just as I am allowed to bottle the vials with no one to hear my voice cracking at the oddest times with the music. No one is hearing the words nor my ear rattling renditions.
Though to be honest it is rather embarrassing when one turns around and finds that there are indeed customers waiting to be served.
I am not yet accustomed to smile neither to speak in front of people, so I blush deeply and take their orders and give their purchases trying not to see their soft amused smiles.
It hasn't bothered me that my solitude is not broken as of yet.
I'm not someone who likes many people around. Though the men and women who've taken to occupying the potion shop I work at is endearing…
But they are few in number and are rarely set on bothering me.
Winter is cold. Yet somehow warmth is felt from somewhere inside of me that I've never known to be there. In my own way I suppose I've always overlooked it.
Overlooked it in some odd way that in my self-analysis has never unearthed.
Christmas has come and past. Nothing to be given, nothing to receive.
Not that any of that matters. I've never been one to be even partial to that holiday. The shop is open and many potions of love and hate purchased at the last minute.
Even with Remus Lupin, I never made an effort, thus no effort made for me.
However, I do miss the kisses. Soft, hungry, sad, unknowingly given…
Memories. Whereas once I would have thought more on it, they bring a smile so easily given in this content mood.
I remember the days when I was younger and my parents doted on me with their all. Lucius in his own way, Narcissa in hers.
Oddly enough I don't miss it. Seems another lifetime ago, too far gone in the distance to miss.
But in their own way, beautiful memories that perhaps even Time cannot erase.
"Come now, it's not like you're a blushing virgin or anything… lunch at least." The man has auburn hair and a smile that is supposed to be kind but comes out more as a leer.
I really don't know how many times I can tell a man no.
"I'm not interested." How much colder does my voice have to go?
"A drink? One?" I want to shake this man and find out what is wrong with him.
"I said no." I want to shut him up. I want him to go away and never bother me with this ridiculous thing again.
"… Co—" He goes out to touch my left arm… coldness so old suddenly flares up.
He's knocked out against a wall.
"Don't touch me…" Sometimes I feel old enough to be ancient.
There are days I have when I'm not feeling good.
When I feel as though nothing has changed and my entire being is pointless.
Those days are few. So few in number I forget that I'm in this alone and no one is there to hold me.
Remus Lupin could at least do that for me.
Kiss me. Touch me. Allow body senses to flair up, as they never did before.
Did I love him?
No. I've never loved anyone. Not my parents, not my school romances.
So how could I have loved a man whose claim over my body was the only thing he had?
Would it be so wrong to say that even after I left him because of my fear of his leaving me first, he still holds my body hostage. That I dare not touch myself in relief because I don't feel the need unless he's there?
Does it matter? He can now have his family and his life to his own now. Without the burden I must have been.
Perhaps I should find some one to come home to. Perhaps that is the next step in this entire experiment whose name I don't even know what to call.
I'm sitting in a café, drinking coffee and reading a book of poems by a French writer I had no idea was a Muggle. Baudelaire. Narcissa used to read him religiously, just as all the pureblood wives did.
I've taken to drinking coffee rather than tea. I remember Severus Snape once saying that tea has a taste of watery bitterness, whilst coffee is bitter all the way.
I agree with this. Plus the smell of coffee is much more appeasing than tea.
There are people in the café talking of things I have no idea of. There are even two people at the small table I'm occupying, though I've paid no attention to them.
"Hello?" I barely hear this greeting… it's not that I'm riveted in what I am reading, lost to my own thoughts, as is my habit.
The young man has a happy persona around him. His mousy hair all over the place.
"You're Draco Malfoy, right?" I'm rather startled by this. But a cautious nod, as he does not seem dangerous.
Out sticks an eager hand that I slowly take.
"Dennis Creevey. You probably don't recognize me. I was a couple of years behind you at Hogwarts!" I'm still rather trying to give over to the fact others who know who I am still exist in the world.
"A Hufflepuff?" With such a happy face and easy smile for a former Slytherin, natural for me to say Hufflepuff.
He laughs and his companion chuckles, another boy with sandy hair, more my age.
"No, Gryffindor. You might remember Seamus though." He nudges the man right beside him.
I do sort of remember him. Though faces run over faces in my memories. It's hard to decipher whose belongs to whose.
"Never thought I'd see the great Draco Malfoy out with the Muggle's." It's not uttered rudely or any of the bad blood that might have been between us.
I offer a small smile.
"They know how to make coffee." With this I lean to take a small smell of the coffee I've allowed to cool.
We exchange quiet pleasantries until they leave.
There are nights I swear that are stranger than others.
Ones where I'm given over to paranoia that people are watching my every step. Though mind paranoia never leaves those whose life has been forfeit.
I was once a Death Eater. As such there are people out there who would rather me dead.
Thankfully though, those people are few in number and have never set out to revenge him or her or whatever they would have preferred to have done.
Sometimes though I wonder if it will not happen.
The forest bothers me. Looking so dark. Darker than what it used to look.
Fear sometimes sets in. Though I usually take a Sleeping potion to get me through the night.
Which is what I do this night.
"So how about coming for a pint?" Creevey says this as though its obvious I'm going to say 'yes'.
I shake my head going back to the list of potions he's given me. He says that they are for Hogwarts, the potions masters not feeling up to the workload that's been handed down to him. I highly doubt it as I remember most of these potions from when I was with Remus Lupin and Potter had me preparing them.
"Come on." I don't like being forced to do things.
"I don't drink." I say this sharply. Remembering suddenly the morning I awoke to Remus Lupin draped over me slowly driving his arousal into my hip. He was asleep, but the evidence of our activities had me paralysed until he awoke to make a more clear memory.
I don't like how these memories suddenly come randomly. They stop me in my tracks wondering why they even exist, whether they happened that long ago when it seems that I feel his warmth on me still.
"Oh. Well, what about dinner? You do eat right?" He says this jokingly. His mirth still there though more hesitant than it was before.
I make an estimate on how much the potions will cost, prices rise if they ingredients are hard to get.
"I don't date." I prefer not to. Some day yes. Just not today.
He laughs. "Haven't I heard."
I raise my head sharply and look at his with narrowed eyes. He's uncomfortable standing there underneath my stare. He's not telling me something.
I don't like secrets.
There's this I movie /I thing in the Muggle world. They have a huge canvas with a light projecting onto it. From this they use moving paintings to have people act out a play for them. Only thing is the canvas background is able to change scenery very fast.
I quite like going to these things.
Sometimes when I walk to the Apparation Point I think about what I've just witnessed. I get lost in these thoughts as they build up and I try to figure out what it is that I've learned, or what I've come to understand.
Learning and understanding are too different things I find.
Learning is when you take something and create with it or never repeat it.
Understanding is acceptance.
This particular movie was about a retarded man who couldn't take care of his child. A little girl whose intellect far exceeded his own. She's taken away even though her father tries to take care of her in ever way possible…
It was a movie that has me thinking the cruelty of man. But as the quotation from Hamlet says
I I must be cruel, only to be kind /I
Is that it? That we are cruel to others and ourselves because we are trying to be kind?
Perhaps that is the message Death Eaters were trying to make. That we are cruel to Muggleborns because Magic and Muggle's cannot be put together that is not something that fits together –
Needless to say I nearly jump out of my skin. I'm on the ground and staring up at a crowd of redheads and Potter. My heart's stopped and I've no breath to spare.
Creevey shows his face. Smiling that irritating smile.
"Piss off Harry, looks like you nearly gave him a heart attack." He offers me a hand.
One that I pointedly ignore.
I continue walking with as much dignity as I can with a sore backside.
Their laughter bothers me.
Where we they to mock me when I left?
Alas, don't fight with Gryffindor's, like children they just break the nerves.
There is a certain degree of knowledge that I have.
I certain degree of knowledge I pertain. I am not the intellectual elite that Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore or the Dark Lord was.
I do know things. I can learn things. But I am only able to know so much.
Perhaps it's better this way. Without the Knowledge to Change the World. Knowledge to drive oneself insane.
But as the books become numbered, I wonder what is it I'm trying to achieve?
Before it was to be past the state of nothingness.
Before it was to make it to days where I would smile and laugh. To days where talking I was /I an option.
But something's missing.
It feels more silent. More empty than it was before.
I love to listen to the Muggle radio. There is something to be said about the music one hears in the tiny speakers. Music that I would have never heard if I stayed with the Wizarding World.
Sometimes I even listen to the debates on politics, world events that I never knew took place.
I've bought books on WW2 and diagrams on the human skeleton.
There are posters in the shop where one man is singing, another man is painting.
I love to laugh at jokes that no one but me is around to hear.
I love to smile when there no one else can see.
I love to whisper secrets that only I know.
I love to think I am happy. When I've never known what happiness is like.
Perhaps I am happy.
Night times are hard for me. I feel the eyes all over the cottage and I don't like it.
It's driven me out of the house and down into a pub, where at least the drunkards can keep me company before they pay for their beds or whores.
I don't like to drink. Though I enjoy being drunk.
The vodka tastes strong on my tongue, and is burning my stomach.
I drink until I feel that state of fuzziness that can only mean that I've almost reached my goal of being drunk. However, it's that final hurtle that is hard to get over.
My glass is gone!
I can't find it anywhere!
I even fell over my seat looking for it!
The ground is warm though. And my body feels too lazy to sit up anymore. Perhaps I should just sleep here and go home when I wake up again…
"I thought you don't drink?" I awoke in a strange room and wanted to get out of there and into my own house with my blankets to curl up against.
I squint against the glare of the morning light.
I hazard a guess at who the hell these people are.
I mumble something I don't even pay attention to.
"You're a lousy drunk."
I have a headache and feel sick. Besides it's information I already knew.
I find a closet and a bedroom in my hunt for either the front door or bathroom.
Finding neither I decide to throw up in the houseplant tree… it was tasteless anyways.
Remus Lupin is the last person I would expect to clean me and put me back in the bed.
Though stranger things have happened to me. I suppose.
However I curl up against the blanket and will this sickness to be gone. I've never liked to be sick which is why I've always avoided it.
Somehow I will myself to sleep.
I don't like being put under the eye of a dozen people at once. It bothers me. I'm not a social person so I shouldn't feel obligated to stand here as they rudely stare at me.
I've decided to leave.
Besides I'm sure I have work to be done anyways.
"Not even a I Hello /I ?" I roll my eyes.
Merlin, they are annoying.
Moments pass in tense intervals. Before I realize I'm supposed to say something.
"Thank you?" I'm a little confused. I think it shows on my face because the looks that I'm getting are just as confused.
So I awkwardly leave.
Remus Lupin has taken to coming for Potter's potions and his Wolfsbane potion himself.
Once again I think they think me to be a fool. Only this time I'm not even going to bother playing the part.
"How's business?" His smile is forced. Always had been.
I shrug. Trying to look bored and uninterested.
"You look good. More hap—" I cut him off.
"Look. Don't bother. Just because you're bored with I her /I doesn't mean anything to me." He looks rather shocked; I roll my eyes but then turn my attention to the buzzer for the next step in another potion.
I turn the radio up when I hear the front door finally close.
I ignore the way I drop runes poor ruining the potion.
I've decided to take care of the problem with the eyes myself.
Wards all over the cottage. Black heavy curtains for the windows and a wand underneath my pillow.
I played with the idea of somehow getting a Muggle gun, but to be honest I don't want to accidentally shoot myself.
I have once again taken to the Sleeping potions.
"What exactly do you think is going on with me and Tonks?"
Honestly, what is with people and creating awkward situations? This is why I was a Slytherin… didn't have to deal with this shit.
I shrug. Expecting him to leave well enough. The buzzer goes off again, impeccable timing.
I can feel him follow me into the back room.
I turn sharply to say that no one but me is allowed back here.
He's leaning in close, where I can smell the chocolate on his clothes, the smell of trees he's always smelt of.
"Why did you leave?" He barely even says it. His eyes are dangerous.
I feel cold with recognition that Greyback's eyes were like that either when he was angry or ready for the hunt.
I jump back trying to get away but he's suddenly holding tight onto me and gripping painfully. I'm scared. Remus Lupin never once manhandled me. Not even when he fucked me just before the full moon.
From what I know the full moon was five days ago, so there is no chance this could be because of it.
I don't want to say it.
Because there was no reason. I was tired of being lonely and having no one to talk to.
I refuse to look at him. Instead staring at the place on his cardigan where there is a hole. His grip tightens,
"Draco…" He's hissing it to me. Like my name is a curse that's going to turn me inside out. Revenging him.
The grip on my arms is suddenly gone as my body is against the wall to my left. My back painfully crashes against it and my head bumps just as hard. I barely notice his teeth biting hard against my neck, until I can feel the pain and I'm fighting to get him off me, but his growls and strength have me pinned whimpering and crying aloud when he breaks the skin…
I'm slumped against the wall when he lets go of me and just leaves.
Five minutes later the potion is ruined.
There is a bloody mess of my neck. The skin was broken and huge teeth marks are all around it. Scars that will never fade and bruising that doesn't have a change itself.
I cleaned it as best I could. With the best healing potions I have. But werewolf bites rarely fade. Even if they are in their human form.
It's high up into my neck, close to the front for all to see. It looks as though it's a mark of ownership…
I don't understand.
Remus Lupin has never once done something that cruel to me before.
I cover it as best I can, with the hope of never seeing the man again.
It's been what seems like hours, though really it's been two days.
Remus Lupin was never a man who could take a hint.
"Harry would like these two potions to be ready by Thursday, if not he can wait 'til Saturday." I nod, taking the paper making sure not to even touch my finger's to his.
His hand goes up to touch me, though I jerk back and move to get the other potions that are ready,
"Show it to me." He hasn't changed his voice or his tone. But the cold command is there.
I don't bother to move my collar so he can see. I pretend as though I don't hear him.
I see his hand shoot out and jump back, but not fast enough as he rips my shirt and looks satisfied at what he finds.
"You're as pale as snow."
I know that the bruising and scar stand out grotesquely against my pale skin. My hair is just as pale and does nothing to hide it.
"Get out." I get out get out get out--- /I
He's right beside me and touching my neck, humming pleasantly.
I'm not a fool.
I knew that it couldn't have possibly just been the paranoia. But he's there. I know it's him who's been watching me at night. Just as he know watches me in the day.
He's not afraid of hurting me.
I don't know what to do. I'm terrified because he's going crazy, lost his mind.
The full moon is in a couple of days.
I could ask Potter to lock him up. Say that the batch of Wolfsbane potion I made was faulty. But there is nothing I hate worse that talking to Potter.
Besides when the moon is over, what's to say he'll be happy with me?
I can very nearly hear the crunch of his boots on the gravel.
"What do you want?" I'm scared to even look at him. Afraid of seeing some sort of monster.
"Look at me." I shake my head. There is a warmth at my said as he forces me to turn to him, forcing my chin up.
I close my eyes tightly. I whimper when he softly growls.
"I want you to know that there is nothing between me and Tonks." I try to nod only to find that I can't.
"Ok. I believe you." I want him to let go of me.
He looks very stern at me. As though I'm not saying what he wants me to say.
His thumb traces my lips and part them.
"Take down your wards tonight. Leave them down." He digs his thumb into my bottom lip.
I open my mouth to say 'I can't' but he's suddenly in my mouth. Claiming me with a thrust of his tongue that is so forceful it knocks the wind out of me. Crushing my body and my lips in a pure lustful state.
He has his fingers digging into my hip and back… holding me in place as I try to keep some balance.
The buzzer goes off. And Remus Lupin backs off. I don't know how to breathe anymore, I really don't.
"Harry needs those potions." He's whispering in puffs and his eyes are still wild…. I nod.
Even though he told me to take the wards down. I'm afraid of doing.
In the shop he can't kill me. People would notice I'm gone. Creevey seen the mark he left on me and hazarded a guess. One which I didn't answer but it seemed answered enough.
Remus Lupin's eyes were golden…. Not hazel. He lusted after me, but never to the point of hurting me.
But he's pounding against the wards.
And I'm afraid.
I want to call Potter. But what will Potter do? I don't have Creevey's information. I don't have anyone to turn to…
I have to take down the wards. Otherwise he'll break through them and get through.
He's mad. I can tell because he's just standing there panting against the doorframe.
His greying brown hair is wild and his clothes looks like he's been climbing trees in them.
I don't know what to do. He looks like a wild man who cannot even speak.
"Have you taken your potions?" I don't like how my voice squeaks this out. I don't know what to do.
I don't know what to do. He's not answering me.
There are growls coming from him. Feral growls that grow louder in volume.
I tighten my grip on my wand.
Then he's on me.
"He needs a mate."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Werewolves need a mate. Life partner whatever."
"And… this is why you've been allowing to nearly kill me for the past few weeks?" I cannot believe these people.
"He wouldn't have killed you Malfoy. You are completely monitored." Potter says this so calmly.
"What!" I'm being monitored?
"You're a former Death Eater and the lover of a werewolf. Of course you're monitored." Potter says this with a roll of his eyes.
I purse my lips. This isn't telling me anything.
"OK. Whatever, why the hell right now? Where was this whole mating thing three years ago or however fuck long it's been?" This is why I shouldn't speak. I like to swear and be crude.
"We don't know. There's never been a witnessed Mating between a human and a werewolf." I hate him right now.
"So we're the experimentation? Great. Thanks a lot." Potter looks slightly irritated.
"So what now, fuck the werewolf hoping he doesn't rip me to shreds?" I can't keep the snarl out of my voice.
Potter goes absolutely red, "Shut UP! Malfoy!"
"YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Remus Lupin pines away like a caged animal when I'm not there. Like a wounded beast. They say that it might be acting now because I changed pheromones duration our time apart. That the smells that attract Remus Lupin to me might have become accented as time went on. They were certainly there in the beginning, when Remus Lupin first became attracted.
I apparently have the same problems but to a way lesser degree. Human senses are not like werewolves and can also be ignored.
But the problem is a werewolf can die without the mate, and Merlin knows Potter can't possibly have that.
The other problem is that I'm terrified of Remus Lupin because he's a mad beast that will tear me to shreds the moment I get in that fuckin' cage.
Besides these people want to watch, and I have no plans of being a showcase porn freak.
"It would be the first documented Mating in the history of the world." I don't know who the hell raised the Mudblood but they did a shitty job.
"Scarface, I don't know how the hell you think you're going to get away with this—"
"Shut up Ferret, Remus is not going to die. Not even you want that."
"… fuckin' moron…"
I'm in the dark trembling. I'm trying to pretend to myself that those growls are soft lustful pants that Remus Lupin is making. The ones he makes in the morning when he's been gone from me for a few days. That the nails that are going to be clawing at me in only a few moments are really his fingers softly stroking.
I wait. I take my shirt off. My pants and my underwear—
He is on me. Forcing me to the ground and panting on top of me like some sort of wild beast. His body is grounded into mine as though I'm fighting him like I usually am.
"Remus! Stop hurting me!" and it does hurt to have his knees dig into my hip, his fingers clawing my hip and teeth biting my wound.
I try to move my neck from his teeth, he lifts his head to growl blowing air in front of my face. But I lift my head to try and capture his lips in some sort of kiss… which I get in a fierce knocking out wind and huge tongue all inside my mouth.
He's still hurting me by the way he's laid, so I try to move my body so that I'm still compliant with what he wants but also not in pain.
I find that's he's not wearing any clothes himself. That there open wounds all over his body and blood dries quickly… it occurs to me that there is no lubricant. That it's been so long that I forgot that we used lubricant…
I can hear his growl at the smell of my fear.
I bring my knee to caress his side, to which he instinctually leans to just like he used to. With that he moves his knee from my hip and my other leg is caressing his other side.
Fierceness is still prominent as continues to plunder his tongue in my mouth. I try to wrench my mouth away but he won't let me. I arch so I may somehow touch his harsh arousal. Finally his mouth is off of mine and he's howling.
I swallow as much air as I can. My arms still trapped.
"I need to touch you." I wonder if he understands a word I'm saying.
I don't think he can, as he doesn't let up on the aggression.
An aggression that begins to numb my body as I try to force my mind into some place other than this place I seem to be stuck in.
I wish that it wasn't like this. I wish for something different… if in order to have Remus Lupin, why does it have to be like this?
His fingers are like claws of the beast he is….
My body is aching in places it has no right to ache. There are flairs of pain in my backside and I don't know what to do about it. Remus Lupin had torn a new wound into my neck right where the other wound is.
I can hear the echoes of his growl in my ears, though I've long been out of his presence.
Two hours of harsh abuse on my body. The screams that ripped through my throat as he took me hard without lubrication of any kind.
He did it more than once.
I wish it had been different.
The moon is in a week, from what Potter's told me Remus Lupin wishes to see me. He's feeling better and apparently looks better than he was before the Mating.
I'm not ready though.
I think if I were to look at that older man I would see the crazy glint of his eyes and feel the bruising grip of his animalistic tendencies.
My fingers trace over the marking on my neck. The way that it dips down into smooth scarred skin.
I can see on my body old scars from days when I made mistakes, when I was Draco Malfoy, Slytherin and Loyal Servant.
Potter's apologized for causing the greatest one with that curse he sent my way.
I don't care for apologizes.
Maybe that is why I do not wish to be confronted by Remus Lupin. With his apologetic sad hazel eyes.
Perhaps I think too much.
"Draco…" I don't want to hear his voice. The low softness of it boils blood in me.
I don't care if it means I am his Mate.
I left him long ago.
Or rather he left me. I don't want to go back. Just as I don't want to go back to the way my life once was when I was younger and never want to go back to those days.
He's standing in my cottage.
No one else's. I don't have to share my solitude.
"Go away." My voice is raspy; I haven't bothered to talk since the Mating.
He holds onto me as though I'm anchoring him to the ground.
His breath is in my hair and on my neck. I can feel the wetness of his tongue licking at the wound.
I wish he would go away. Leave me alone and to my own devices, just as he did for so long.
But he doesn't. Just like every Gryffindor in existence he breathes and just holds me.
I lean back.
Everyone's forgiven me. Every single person I hurt, every single pain I cost.
They forgave me.
Remus Lupin even tried to forgive me before he went against himself.
His touches are softer on my skin then I remember.
His warm fingers somehow bleed into my body and touch parts of me that weren't there before.
I let out a sigh and hope that he is even gentler that the thousands of times before.
A hand on my thigh rubbing the naked skin as it heats to the feeling. The wet kisses on my pale-scarred chest are even more breathtaking than they were before. The tightness of my nipples are hurting as I cry out when his mouth lathers them nipping slightly.
I touch his back and feel new, old scars that somehow engrave in my memory.
I feel his heat. I can touch every part of him, and feel heat. The only heat in this little cottage of Mine.
His arousal is prominent as it grazes against my knee. I groan a loud guttural sound that covers his panting.
I move my body restlessly underneath his as I try to cause more feeling.
His big warm hands move down my sides as they reach underneath my lower back to lift my hips. My fingers curl into his greying brown hair.
His fingers questing to rub against my secret place.
I breathe loud enough for it to nearly worry myself. I'm still so sore right there. Memories of painful taking on an angry organ break through my pleasure.
Closing my eyes tight I hold onto Remus Lupin as best as I can. Hoping to drive memories away.
He's wrapped one arm around me as his other one goes to dip into the slick lubricant that he's left by my hip. I don't watch him do that; it makes me more anxious than I want to be.
I wait and stroke his aging face as his hand goes back to where it was before. Spreading my legs ever farther to give him more room to move around.
It hurts the sore skin as the fingers breaks through barriers of my body.
More and more pressure is put on the finger and it goes deeply in. I shake as it numbs in my body.
"Touch yourself." His voice is strained as though trying to keep control. I nod and touch my leaking cock with a hand that hasn't had the need to touch it for so long.
When there are three fingers in stretching me, I'm able to relax. Though I know that his cock is bigger than his fingers are, and it is going to hurt the once torn skin.
But I move with his fingers and my hand as his pants turn slowly into growls.
When he lifts my legs and slowly eases himself into me, I do let out a slight cry of pain. One he doesn't bother to echo as he lets out a moan of pure pleasure.
I'm biting my lip.
He's only somewhat in before he pulls out again. Reminding me of that weird sucked out feeling I've always gotten from this.
In. Out. Deeper and Harder.
I shift as he moves my hips. My eyes wide open as he stares at such fierceness into my grey ones. The set of his lips is barred across his teeth as he goes deeper in and harder.
He thrusts hard and finds that place inside me that arches my back and has a cry ripped from my throat. I close my eyes and feel him hunch over me to drive even harder.
I move my body with his as best as I can. Feeling his hard cock against that place more and more. My hand has already left my own cock and I'm holding his upper arm and the sheet just above my head. My eyes are closed and my neck is left naked and bare for his feasting.
I cry out and nearly scream in pleasure when he goes to bite onto my neck, our bodies still driving at each other.
I scream. I scream.
I don't even realize when I come because the thrusts become deeper and harder and more than I can handle and I don't know whether or not to die or to sleep…
He's too big in me, but I feel it when he comes, deep liquid inside of me and his chest sticking out as he throws his head back and howls.
I'm held hard and tight against his chest as we both come down from shaking.
My air is being sucked from my lungs as he kisses me.
I awake to his mouth on my cock. Sucking as I moan and try to get him off of me.
I don't like to be woken up like this. Too much feeling in too little time.
He holds onto my hips as his tongue continues to stoke me in relish. I try to get up to look down at him and tell him that it's enough that he can stop, but then there is an even more pleasurable feeling forcing me to stick out my chest and cry out.
When I can finally open my eyes, he's still licking the excess whiteness of my cock and his lips. Smiling at me with a smile I think is happiness, but I can't tell.
I let him take me again. Just watching him as he receives what seems to be the greatest pleasure of his life.
I think I've forgiven him for not making me happy.
I Finis. /I
A/N: The working title of this piece was originally 'Realizations' where Draco realized some parts of himself. Where Remus realizes Draco's parts as well. However I thought 'Mine' reflected that a bit more.
It was a long read I know.
Thanks for doing it!