Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: James Potter/Lucius Malfoy
Rating: PG 13
James slammed a fist into the wall. He cringed as his knuckles impacted against concrete, a hiss escaping his lips. He shook his hair from his eyes and continued towards the Gryffindor tower.
Fuck Salazar. Why couldn't it be like he wanted it, just once? Lucius hadn't done his bad mood any justice at dinner. One of the Slytherin boys had tipped an extra cup of boiled willowbark into his cauldron during his final Potions exam that afternoon. He was already stressed with the effort of balancing the study for his N.E.W.T.S and Quidditch practice as it was. He knew that he was fucking up. He just tried his best to ignore it.
He didn't react to Lucius Malfoy's comments anymore, they no longer affected him the way they had done in the past. It was a hard time convincing Sirius not to seek revenge on the trio of Slytherins. They were in Seventh year. He was leader of the Marauders, a school Prefect, even fucking Head Boy.
Lately, nothing had been enough. Everything was too soft, too easy, and too delicate. The taste of sugar made him ill, the scent of perfume made his stomach lurch. He'd begun to feel angry when he'd realised. Everyone had been surprised the day he had broken up with Lily Evans. Even he had been; he just realised he didn't care for the red hair, the fragile build and the delicate touch. He didn't care for her like he had a couple of months previously.
He wanted to hurt Lucius Malfoy for being so fucking gorgeous. When he realised he wanted to run fingers through sweaty blond hair and lick the heat from that pale skin, he hated Malfoy even more.
He hated Malfoy like he always did, like he was expected to. He hated Malfoy even though everything else told him otherwise. He hated Malfoy for the way he teased him. He wanted to hit him for making his life as miserable as he could.
He hated the way Lucius always made body contact with him in some way. When he brushed shoulders roughly with him whenever they passed one another in the Quidditch change rooms. He hated those little things that got to him the most. He hated the way those seemingly inconsequential actions replayed in his mind at night.
Whether he meant to or not, Lucius drove James mad. And whether he knew it or not, he was tearing the Gryffindor up inside.
He wanted to surrender to Lucius, collapse on his knees before him and beg him to take the empty feeling away. Whatever the feeling was, he wanted it to go. It made him feel guilty; it made him hungry and twisted up his control. He wanted to hurt something for it sometimes. For all the hurt he felt when he knew it would never be his way.