Drarry Oneshots (Angsty)

Intoxication

It took mere moments for Malfoy senior to surrender all information; to fail once was treacherous, twice it was idiocy. The Dark Lord laughed cruelly, coldly, viciously, before his red eyes locked onto mine. A sneer bestowed his snake-like face.

"You will bring me the Potter boy," he snarled, beckoning a cloaked death eater forwards, "I expect you to succeed, for if you don't, I'll make you watch as your parents die a long, slow death."

I gulped and nodded, I had no other choice than to agree. It wasn't an idle threat.

The Dark Lord gestured towards the death eater beside him and spoke again. "Severus will aid you in any way he sees fit, though I have instructed him to present you with this vial, which I order you to use to capture Potter."

My heart sunk as my godfather handed me the small bottle, and I spied the mother-of-pearl sheen. Removing the cork, I was hit with the now familiar scent—treacle tart, broomstick wax, owl feathers.

Amortentia.

"Don't fail me, Draco."

"I won't." I said determinedly, not knowing whether I meant it or not.

"Good." He said with an air of finality that signalled the conversation was over. I left the room clutching the potion tightly, desperately trying not to make a sound. To scream, cry, wail, what would be the point?

"Let's go, Draco."

I said nothing as Severus grabbed my arm and apparated us to Hogsmeade.

*. *. *. *. *.

I can't take it anymore. I think I'm going insane with desire. I've never felt this way about anyone before, but it feels so right, so pure.

"F-fuck me," I whisper into his ear, as he moves to kiss my jaw, "please, fuck me."

He stills his movements, I wonder if I said anything wrong. Maybe he was lying when he said he loves me too. Could he...hate me?

"You hate me, don't you?" I feel tears begin to stream down my face as I look into his deep grey eyes. I begin to sob as I stare, the weight of this revelation chilling me to the bone. My knees give way and I drop like a stone, curling into a shaking ball on the floor.

"You never loved me!" I wail, my breath coming out in hiccups in my grief.

"No, no, no," he says quickly, bending down to sit on his haunches, "you've got it all wrong, Harry."

"Really?" I ask him, looking up at him once more. My bewilderment at the ease in which I believe him disappears as soon as it could emerge.

"Of course." He smiles at me and I feel my insides turn to mush—it's weird just how much of an effect he has on me. Slowly he reaches for my cheeks and carefully wipes the tears away from under my eyelids. "Better?"

"I'd be better if you fucked me."

"Alright," he says, "but you'll have to come with me."

"Okay." I consent, and let him haul me to my feet. He picks me up bridal style, which takes me by surprise. I giggle—surprisingly uncharacteristic, but I guess that's what love does to a person.

As we make our way through the corridors, I can't keep a sappy grin off my face as I twirl his blond locks through my fingers. It's smooth, like silk, and smells amazing. I think about what shampoo he might use and whether he'd share it with me.

Of course he would, he's my boyfriend, isn't he?

"Dray?" I question.

"Yes, baby?"