READ THIS DISCRIPTION BECAUSE IT IS USEFUL AND I AINT RE-WRITING IT INTO A CHAPTER FOR YOU LAZY PEEPS This is a somewhat TomxTord story! Don't like it? Leave. I have written their names a bit differently, but I hope you don't mind. If you do, go away! Tom - Thomas Edd - Edward Matt - Mathew Tord is just... Tord. •{WARNING}• This contains war, blood, maybe gore?, and most definitely TomxTord! I warned you.

Draco Malfoy, Head of Veela Affairs at the Department of Magical Beings, does not do people favours. Harry Potter, recently turned werewolf, is not "people" - not to Draco anyway. Does Draco plan to fall in love with Harry when he decides to help him? No. Does he end up falling in love with him anyway? Pft, what do you think?

Potter is panting moist puffs of air into his face and grinding what is now a full-on erection against Draco's own, glaring at Draco with the same mixture of confusion-exasperation-helpless-raging want that Draco feels for the git, day after day, coursing through his bloodstream, making him feel at once like he's flying and drowning.

Now Draco's cock is stirring, and he can't breathe because all he can think of is screaming Harry's name while Harry pins him down and mindlessly fucks him into total incoherency. Because hell yes, that would be sexy as fuck and Draco is officially in so much trouble.

They don't cuddle, they don't talk about their relationship (or lack thereof) and they certainly never fall asleep in each other's arms.

Potter begins to take me apart, each savage, pounding thrust peeling away layer after layer of everything that I am, reaming me open in a way that makes me wonder how I'll ever be able to let anybody else but him fuck me after this.

Harry's come is trickling out of my arse as I say 'I do' and promise to love and cherish Blaise in sickness and in health. The love of my life is preparing to leave the country as I smile for photographs. The excruciating agony of my heart shattering nearly brings me to my knees on what ought to have been the happiest day of my life.

"This person is so much harder to hate. And I'm supposed to hate Malfoy. How the fuck else am I supposed to limit this to just sex?"

Nobody kissed me like Harry did. He kissed like he flew; he kissed like he duelled - with his whole being, not caring about anything else. I had never felt as vulnerable as I did when he kissed me, seizing all and any control I had over myself. But when Harry kissed me, I felt free...