Love on the Warfront IV

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IV. A Relationship in 8 Parts

"Scared, Potter?" you taunt; wand gripped in tight-clenched fist.

"Scared, Potter?" you sneer; spine held rigid, eyes steely, cold.

"Scared, Potter?" you smirk; gazes locked, poised to fly, to chase, to fall.

"Scared, Potter?" you blurt; wide eyes, trembling hands, war's demons on display.

"Scared, Potter?" you mutter; back-to-back, guard up, wands out, surrounded.

"Scared, Potter?" you whisper; eyes bright, lips soft, dripping confidences, a thousand possibilities.

"Scared, Potter?" you tease; lazy kisses, stolen glances, liquid sun and soft caress.

"Scared, Potter?" you gasp; bodies writhing, hands roaming, sweat-slicked skin and tangled lust.

Always, inevitably, he replies: "You wish, Malfoy."

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