Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Bitter ❯ Bitter ( One-Shot )

"Would you taste like he does?" It was an achingly familiar voice, sibilant whisper though it was.

The events that had led up to this encounter could hardly be counted. Perhaps the first day they met had been the start. It was certainly likely that this could have been set into motion so long ago, the very day Harry had chosen him over Malfoy.

He hadn't expected it to end up like this, though. He had thought it would come to blows, to a duel even, but not to this. Not to Malfoy's hands pressing him back into a wall; not to Malfoy's knee shoved between his thighs; not to Malfoy's eyes and nose and lips so tantalizingly close to his own.

The question made his head spin with the gnawing ache he could sense in the voice, with the desperation lurking just beyond the glacier in those smoke-colored eyes -- but with the way his breath felt hot and spicy and inviting, mostly.

This shouldn't have happened. Both his worst enemy and best friend were full of enviable qualities, and somewhere along the way his jealousy had turned to a different sort of gut-wrenching emotion. Malfoy was rich, powerful -- beautiful, even, in his vulpine way. Grudging as the admittance was, he was a damned fine Seeker too, even if he would never be as good as Harry, even if he had originally bought his way onto the team.

They had more than a few things in common, as disturbing as that thought was. They had both been spectacularly jealous of Harry until it turned into admiration into fascination into infatuation.

They were also spectacularly jealous of one another. Ron had never seen Harry focus so much energy on a single person as he did on Draco Malfoy. There was more than hatred when green eyes met gray; there was passionate energy and heat -- boiling, seething, and volcanic.

But Ron had Harry's friendship, something most everyone envied -- especially Malfoy. That was the thing Malfoy had sought from the start, and Ron had received it instead. Ron took hope from that when he could, but sometimes he had to wonder: would Harry be his friend now if he had met Malfoy first?

Every one of Harry's decisions warped the lives of those around him. Without Harry, Hermione would be just another bookworm, another know-it-all. Without Harry, Ron would be just another Weasley. Without Harry, Malfoy would be... nothing at all. Everyone who came in contact with Harry inevitably began to be defined by their relation to him.

He had been drifting, but Malfoy did something then that snapped him out of it. He wrenched a hand into Ron's hair, drew his head down to the Slytherin's level, and swiped his tongue up Ron's forehead, exactly where Harry's scar would be. Ron trembled, mouth gaping open and eyes wanting to fall shut.

He worked his jaw until he found his voice, forcing his gaze to meet Malfoy's; the grays were glazed and dark. "Do I, then?" There was hardly a tremor, though it seemed his stomach was suddenly in his feet.

"Not at all," Malfoy told him, cool as ever while Ron flushed and sweated.

"And you would know?" he snapped, miffed.

Malfoy looked bemused, then licked the beaded sweat from Ron's upper lip. "You're too bitter."