To Love is To Destroy A Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Love Story

Chapter One

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter sadly. I do however own the plot for this story and and outside characters I create! Please review telling me if you think this should stay a one-shot or if I should make it into a story! I have a lot of great ideas and a general outline done for this!

Radiant sunlight poured through Olivia's large room, rousing her from her restless slumber that had become normal for her in the past few weeks. She stretched, covering her eyes from this intensity of the sun's rays before gasping as her heart contracted painfully in her chest. She let out a small cry of pain as her hands jerked to clutch at her torso just over her aching heart. She'd become used to this, every morning started out the same: a single moment of bliss in the moment she moved from sleep to consciousness followed immediately by the flood of raw memories and that now-familiar shot of pain through her shaking upper body.

The accustomed sting of tears bit at her eyes as she relayed the same thought she had over and over, Draco cheated on me. He never loved me and never will. I've wasted years of my life on a man who doesn't even deserve it. She cursed herself internally for allowing her to be so incredibly naïve and stupid, it was Draco Malfoy for Merlin's sake! He was the biggest twat she'd ever seen at Hogwarts! But you love him, and you know that's not entirely true. The little voice of truth echoed in the back of her mind that she'd grown to hate with a passion as vast as her complicated relationship with the Slytherin boy said voice was so often directed towards.

She covered her face with her small hands, palms covering her eyes and slender fingers scratching lightly against the skin of her forehead and bloated cheeks, and groaned in agitation. The voice, as usual, was right. As angry as she was at him for what he'd done to her, she still loved him with everything she had. He'd been the highlight of her teenage life and now, in the thicket of an inevitable war, she had ripped him out of it. Olivia wasn't sure what upset her more, the fact that she knew how misunderstood and wonderful he was underneath his icy exterior, or that despite showing her these things and exposing himself in a way he never had before as she did with him he still proceeded to rip her still beating heart from her chest and serve it to her on a shining silver platter.

Because of Draco Olivia had learned not only things about him, but about herself as well. He was the only other man to truly accept her for who she was and have pride in his relationship with her. Draco had paraded her around the school grounds hand held firmly in his, showered her with kisses and affection even in the presence of his friends and, on one occasion, his father. He'd never shown even a sliver of embarrassment aimed towards her during her most shameful moments. Like the night when she vomited all over Astoria Greengrass at Crabbe's party he'd held at his parent's lakefront estate in England's vast countryside after one too many shots of firewhiskey and several butter beers. He'd simply helped her back to the lake house, with her stopping and vomiting along the way, and held her hair back as he pressed his chilly palms against the clammy skin of her face and neck until she'd wretched herself into pure exhaustion. Afterwards he'd brought her the largest bottle of water he could find, allowing her to change into the pair of pajamas she'd packed for the excursion, and cradled her sweetly in his arms as she cried drunken tears of mortification until she drifted to sleep with him whispering his love for her in her ear.

She sighed, a pang of longing coursing through her at the memory. Most men would've settled her in the bed and gone to rejoin the party leaving her to wallow in a puddle of humiliation, but not Draco. He'd stayed with her without a moment's hesitation and told her that there was nothing wrong with her, things like this happened at parties and it would all be forgotten in the morning. She shivered involuntarily. She could practically feel the whisper of his breath against her skin. The way him lips felt against her as their bodies pressed tightly together. His tongue, soft and gentle, entangled with hers as they roamed each other's mouths and bodies as if they'd been lions trapped without food for days finally free to ravage the pieces of meat before them—she stopped herself. Nothing good could come of this. Yearning for the past, the love and joy she'd felt until it'd all come crumbling down around her.