Title: Graduation

Author: Crayons

Summary: Late on the night before his graduation, Draco thinks back on everything that's happened in the past seven years of his life.

Beta: Angel (thank you my sweet)

Pairing(s): HarryP/DracoM

Warnings & Blurb: Excessive use of bad language, sexual themes though nothing graphic, ghosts of violence and mention of uncomfortable subjects. As with most older HP FF's, this has vastly become an AU. Since this a reworking of an old story of mine, I feel no desire to tweak it to a point that would make it canon. I liked it and hope that you will too.

Disclaimer; I own J K Rowling. She is locked in my basement.

The question is, where can I possibly start?

I was always told the beginning was a good place.

Here goes.

My name is Draco Malfoy. I go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and I happen to be graduating tomorrow. Through the 'encouragement' of my family, I have concluded that it would be a wise idea to record this particular night down in the traditional Malfoy Graduation journal. Something eternal to forever capture my last night as a student. Being entirely honest here, I didn't actually have much of a choice.

Following a timeless family tradition, I sat in Malfoy manor this Christmas holiday and endured whilst my father read countless versions of what I am writing right now. Funnily enough most of them begin the same way, through the coercion of their father, it would not be entirely unfitting to suppose that perhaps the next person reading this will be doing so under my own gentle encouragement.

That is a bizarre thought.

I will note here that Lucius did not read me his however – I asked, perhaps even went so far as to plead, but he insisted he had urgent business to which he must immediately attend. Smelling something suspicious I hunted high and low for his copy but it had been charmed and locked, presumably until his death where my curiosity might finally be sated.

Perhaps it would be prudent to learn that enchantment.

Anyway, it took almost an entire weekend to hear all about what my ancestors had done on their graduation nights. They reached so far back in time, I seem to recall vaguely something about a virgin sacrifice.

All in the name of tradition.

Needless to say, my family could never be called dull.

I do feel sorry for anybody that is forced to read this, I can hardly compare to the interest of virgin sacrifice, especially since from my experience there are very few of those left in Hogwarts.

That is assuming the Malfoy line even continues.

I have been assured with a not-so-light-hearted threat on my life, that it will.

The past seven years have been hectic to say the very least. In my first year, I got to meet the infamous legend that is Harry Potter aka The-Boy-Who-Lived.

What a prat he was.

If you don't actually know the legend of Voldemort vs an oblivious toddler, then I congratulate you, tomes regarding it are probably tucked away in some library somewhere, though I wouldn't much waste your time going to research. It's anti-climactic at best.

Harry Potter refused my offer of friendship for nothing other than a slimy weasel. The redheaded git that is the biggest disgrace for a pureblood wizard the world has ever seen. Well – you can imagine I did not take that too well. This led to some of the most notorious fights of our generation. I believe, by the time this book leaves the hands of my father, Lucius Malfoy some of those fights should have made their merry little way onto the timeless pages of Hogwarts: A History Revisited, no doubt the mudblood Hermione Granger will be responsible for that.

If that however is my only claim to fame by the time this is read, then please strike my name from all copies.

Also if she doesn't mention my devilishly handsome good looks, I may have to hex her.

My whole life was in fact going remarkably well until late fifth year. I had minions aplenty, a rather close knit bond with my father and a head of house that would do very little to reprimand me. It was all going perfectly, until that year. Which was when the aforementioned boy-who-lived professed his undying love for me. I of course laughed in his face and told him that I was much too good for him. Right after I'd shagged his pale, Quidditch toned arse into the ground.

Several times.

Okay, so I didn't exactly tell him.

But I didn't profess my undying love either.

Well, not until early seventh year.

Hey, don't judge me. I didn't even admit I was gay until late in sixth year.

There is something to be said for the Malfoy talent of denial.

Of course, things like that are hard to keep secret.

Especially when your boyfriend has no regard for rules. Any rules at all, school rules, personal rules. He's terrible. I said, "Malfoy's don't sleep with people after sex" he whispered "That's nice" and fell asleep. In my bed. Bloody tosser.

Of course, I did spend a while questioning my sexuality. There was a girl, called Phoena who I did attempt to have a relationship with. Beautiful girl. Blonde hair. Gorgeous eyes. Amazing personality. It was just the breasts. They made me feel ill. What people find attractive about two balls of fat, attached to the front of somebody's chest I will never know.

Straight people are strange.

When it finally happened I firmly believed my luck had run out and we were doomed to go back to squabbling and fighting. A guy can hope. Alas, we were caught! By McGonagall no less. Came in right was I was balls deep in her favourite Gryffindor. Prat didn't even notice, just kept moaning away, rocking, my name falling off his lips. She was polite enough to wait until after we finished to draw his attention. For that, I was grateful.

I certainly wasn't going to stop the boy.

He was having far too much fun indecently exposing himself.

I was having far too much fun letting him.

Of course, after she gave us appropriate time to get dressed, and for me to snog Harry senseless again (can I help it if he looks so damn cute when he blushes?) she dragged us off to see Dumbledork, oops, Dumbledore.

You can read up on him too if you like. Waste of time but I'm not one to discourage history.

I had to say I was worried.

Father told me many a time you didn't fuck with Dumbledore's pets.

He didn't specific what would happen if you simply fucked them.

I was about to find out.

It resulted in a severe reprimand.

For me.

I'm sure secretly he gave Harry 'the talk', Harry wouldn't tell me anything about it though.

Unfortunately, that little habit of getting caught seemed to follow us around. I'm sure it has a lot to do with having a boyfriend that insisted on 'experimenting' around school. I was perfectly happy with one of our beds, but no, the brave Gryffindor trait appears to be equalled with an incredible thrill of getting caught.

One that I did not share.

I'm a Slytherin.

I found his behaviour practically indecent.

But you try refusing the-boy-who-lived when his very, very hot mouth is wrapped around you lower regions making you scream his name.

Just to clarify, I never have.

Screamed, that is.

Mostly it's more of a loud whisper.

Honestly.

Would I lie to you?

Of course, when you're snogging in the Potions class, ten minutes before your houses parade in for their first lesson of the day, you can almost guarantee you're pretty screwed.

Coincidently I came out to my father that same day.

Another great family trait.

Sarcasm.

Oh well, being the centre of attention for a few weeks wasn't that bad. For a while it even curbed Harry's desperate need to have public sex, what with his little fan club following him around consistently.

If you ask me they were far too encouraging of our little affair.

I kept finding lubricant spells and condoms all over my room and shoved in my books. I even had to chase Creevy out of my shower; he said some girls were going to pay him 30 galleons for a picture of me and Harry.

The scary part is, I do not think he was lying.

After the buzz died down, we went back to the old routine of being caught by teachers. I heard rumours that Professor Trelawney was even making predictions as to who would catch us next.

Unfortunately, if she had mentioned the fact that it would be the headmaster himself, I would have probably missed a night of mind-blowing sex.

Oh who am I kidding, there is no fucking way I'd miss it.

He warned us of serious consequences if we continued our actions. Even threatened expulsion. Well for me. Of course, Harry remained the innocent, seduced bystander

I actually managed to avoid Harry for a few days.

I was impressed, I mistook this for him having a growing respect for rules. Until he grabbed me in a corridor, pulled his invisibility cloak around our shoulders and told me that he planned to shag me senseless.

I was all game for that plan, until he told me where.

In the great hall.

At dinner time.

On the top table.

After a few minutes thinking, okay, after a few minutes of loudly voicing my disagreement as Harry working my hardening cock out of my trousers I gave in and followed him.

It didn't go too well, there was a rather uncomfortable incident involving a fork and soup bowl.

Would you say no to Harry Potter's offer for sex?

Well you bloody better else I'll Crucio you to within an inch of your life!

After that, his taste for public sex grew to an almost unbearable extent.

After I was bullied into sex on the Quidditch pitch I decided to put a stop to it.

Maybe bullied was a slight exaggeration.

Well – it's not exactly as if I wanted to watch the game.

Luckily, my belated confession of undying love put a stop to the madness. We actually managed to have sex in beds for a while. His passion for beds grew when he was told, yes him, not me, him, by the headmaster, that should he (I repeat not me) continue his liaisons all around school, he, would have to be removed from the environment.

Obviously, Harry was so stunned by Dumbledore actually reprimanding him in person, that his insatiable appetite for danger diminished somewhat.

Of course, now that Dumbledore was on-board, our heads of houses jumped on the bandwagon and said if we were ever caught in each other's dorm rooms doing anything more that studying ("No, Misters Potter and Malfoy, just because your naked NEXT to a book, does not classify it as studying. GET OUT OF THE GRYFFINDOR TOWER MISTER MALFOY BEFORE SLYTHERIN SEE'S ITSELF IN MINUS FIGURES FOR POINTS") we would be expelled.

Teachers are such killjoys

That brought a damper on our sex-lives.

At least my grades improved.

Slightly.

Well, midnight has gone and so I'm going to bring my account of a Malfoy Graduation to an end. If you put a wand to my head, I may be forced to admit that the thought leaves me with a somewhat empty feeling in my stomach. I guess I'll miss this place, it really has become completely familiar. More so than my own home even.

Father and Mother will be at the ceremony tonight.

I wonder what their reaction will be when I pull off a stunt that is going to be in the Daily Prophet for years.

Hell.

If I do it just so, it might even make it into Granger's Hogwarts Revisited.

The thought of what I'm going to be doing in less that eighteen hours and forty-three minutes is putting more butterflies in my stomach that I'd care to admit.

So it's for this reason I am now going to end this.

That reason alone.

Nothing to do with the dark haired sex-god that is just starting to open his eyes. You will never know how good he looks naked. Tonight I plan to ensure that nobody but me ever will again.

Didn't I say that he had no respect for rules?

He really is a prat.

If Snape catches us, I am sure we will not even graduate.

At this moment in time, as Harry is sitting up and the thin silk blanket is pooling at his waist exposing his pale, toned bare chest.

I could care less.

Draco Malfoy (1998)