A section to comment on the Awakening series. You may find polls here, secrets answered, character bios–I’m not sure exactly yet. Please, if you have suggestions, I’d love to hear them!
SCENE #Evan returns to misery
Beverly was silent through the drive home and Evan was grateful for it. She had taken one look at him, turned the car on and just driven away. He wasn’t sure if it was because of Gilda or how he looked but he wasn’t going to ask to find out. His mind was a mess. He felt like he’d been turned upside down and the feeling was only growing worse the closer he got to what right side up had once been.
Evan couldn’t help but think just how easy it would be to step through a portal or cast a teleportation spell now that he had actually experienced the mirror portal at the Hierarchy. It would have been an instant instead of the hours driving. His world could open up so far beyond Beverly’s house and Stephan’s grasp.
Beverly really was a strange sorceress in a lot of ways. It wasn’t that she didn’t have access to all this magic. She had used it when she was younger. Not just when she had fought to protect the Arc Fault, but also before. She had been raised to be a magic user among family that had taken things like portals for granted. He couldn’t help wondering why it had all gone crazy for his cousin.
Sure, Beverly could say things like how a portal could be hijacked, but couldn’t a car be hijacked as well? Wasn’t it just as easy to cast a spell on a moving vehicle full of unsuspecting occupants as it was to target the interspace travel involved in moving through a portal? She didn’t have any magic on the SUV to protect them from such an assault; Beverly tended to avoid magic at all fronts, even the kind that could protect her.
Evan stared out into the dark as they pulled into their neighborhood. Beverly stopped at the corner, putting the car into park without a word. He pulled his attention from the window when he realized there was nothing to see, meeting the woman’s eyes through the rearview mirror as she peered at him. She looked tense, her gaze sharp, and Evan braced himself for what undoubtedly would be something about the woman’s boyfriend.
“Stephan knows,” Beverly said curtly, not bothering to elaborate.
“Right.”
“He’s had one of his moods.”
Evan nodded, his muscles growing tense even as he told himself to remain unaffected. “So?” He asked, his voice coming out too sharp. Beverly ignored his tone, her eyes continuing to pierce into his.
“He won’t let me clean it up,” the woman said blandly. “He said he’ll be home to ‘educate’ you. I wanted you to be prepared.”
Closing his eyes and exhaling slowly, Evan gave another nod. “Right.”
“Try to keep things quiet, Evanel. Edward has final exams to study for. I don’t want the house upset.” Beverly put the car back into drive, the black SUV gliding forward. Evan kept his mouth shut, stuffing his retort down so deep he couldn’t even fathom the words he wanted to say. His eyes caught on something white as the car pulled into the driveway, the headlights illuminating a mess strewn across the lawn.
It was his clothing and things from his room. His bureau was shattered, drawers pulled free and crushed in the dirt. The books he could see were torn in two, pages ripped out and fluttering in the light breeze outside.
No, Stephan had not taken the news well.
Beverly turned the car off, staring out the windshield at the mess as the headlights faded. “If you learned to repair things with magic…”
Evan blocked his cousin out, glaring Beverly’s way until she fell silent. She unbuckled her seatbelt and he followed suit at a slower pace.
If she hadn’t hooked up with a psycho, he wouldn’t need magic. He wouldn’t need to protect himself—He wouldn’t fucking need anything. She was just going to bliss out again, probably the second she got into the house. Fuck, she was probably already halfway there in her mind already.
Beverly could tell him a million way that magic could sneak its way in and fuck their lives but apparently it could never happen through the mind and emotion altering potions she downed like water. No, Beverly being poisoned to death never seemed to cross her mind even though the woman had grown shakier and more weak every time she drank the numbing shit.
He stepped out of the SUV, looking at the house he had lived in for years. It looked tired, as tired as Beverly and just as shaken, the beige paint peeling, shingles off the roof lost and unmissed. The driveway was full of cracks, weeds quick to come in and fill the gaps. The hedges were overgrown but maybe that was a gift to the neighbors down the street that never talked to the family. Sometimes Edward got a hello but never Evan. Edward was going to grow up to be a sorcerer while Evan had just been the weird science geek without any parents.
As he stared down at one of his torn textbooks, he couldn’t help thinking his previous principles had been proven. What use was anything beyond cold, hard facts? What use was this seething pit of emotion in his stomach? It wasn’t real. None of it was real. The soil was real he was standing on, the granite underneath. Metal and minerals were real. Atoms, protons, electrons. The cycle of the water that rained down and seeped deep into the ground. These things were real, not the pain trying to pry into his heart. Not the fantasy of waving your hand and having all your problems just disappear. What a joke magic made of the world.
He left his robe in the car, not seeing the point in ruining it as well as he bent to clean. Beverly left him to it but he didn’t miss her presence. His heart winced and then hardened with every article of clothing he pulled from the damp grass and mud, each ruined book, destroyed dream. It had all been destroyed with the letter from the Hierarchy, this was just the physical manifestation finally revealed. It wasn’t going to get better. He knew Stephan Grock and he knew the way the fucked up man thought. No, there was no seeing this better. All he could do was wait it out and hope he’d make it through.
As he crouched over his broken bureau, carefully pulling shards of wood free from his tangle of shirts, he considered going to Gilda’s, only to shake his head with a sigh. Who the fuck would want to put up with this sort of shit? Stephan would surely follow him. The man would not let him free so easy, not after years of trying to get even the smallest admittance from Evan that he had power. The man would make an ass of himself in the middle of a village of sirens, and make Evan would look just as bad in association. Stephan hated the fae possibly more than anything else because the beings were magic while the warlock fell short in every regard. Making friends with the fae was the fastest way to get on the man’s bad side. Hardly something Evan needed to do more of.
He felt a familiar numbing draining his anger and hurt away as he piled his scavenged belongings together and prepared to step into Beverly’s house. It stole the strange spark Evan had felt since meeting Gilda and the others. Maybe things had been interesting at the Hierarchy. Sebastian had always spoken of having so much fun and crazy adventures… But then, Uncle Seb’s idea of a good time was going off and murdering people so he probably wasn’t the best judge. Evan could only imagine he had experienced something of interest that weekend because now it was gone. He was back home. His days were back to being filled with the same mundane mixed with fear of what might come depending on Stephan’s mood.
Straightening, he exhaled slowly, his eyes sliding up to the dark, cloudless sky and the bright pale moon above. At least it wasn’t a demon, right? He could have been tattooed and waiting for some demon master to drain him until he was dead.
Evan took small comfort in the fact that he wasn’t Vesper Malice even while silently hoping the boy was well and unafraid.
SCENE #Asher baits Vesper
Vesper had stayed too long at the Hierarchy. With slow steps, the platinum blond boy made his way to the vestibule, the one area on campus where residents could teleport outside of the enchanted school. He had lingered for reasons he hadn’t wanted to admit, the main one being to catch a final glimpse of a certain dark-eyed, angry boy he could not stop thinking about.
His demon hellspawn had already slipped away into a foul puff of smoke, returning to its true master where it would undoubtedly become as talkative as it had been silent now that it was free of Vesper’s presence. Vesper had plenty of justifications for why he had stayed as long as he did and had little fear of being found out, especially since he had failed in his endeavor to actually say goodbye to Evan. Instead, he had spoken nearly two hours to Master Cantorous about apprenticing with the man, and he had gotten pulled into a deep conversation with Mistress Nox, the resident demonologist. The woman had been intrigued with his tattoo and the bond that would soon be activated. He would be more than happy to give the sorceress the information she wanted next year when he was forced to endure first hand the bond she had been gushing over in her excitement.
Demons were as alien to Earth as the fae were but they originated from one specific world in the outer realms while the fae had come from many worlds. It was the newness of their discovery that set the demons so apart, for there had been many fae with many different powers that could be just as unsettling. While the fae had populated the earth hundreds of thousands of years back, mixing with humans until they were at times indistinguishable, demons had only been discovered far more recently and through a magical means that few people agreed was acceptable. It was a one-way trip and no demon, to the best of Vesper’s knowledge, had been given a choice in being brought to Earth.
There was still a difference to the demons, one that made even fae avoid them when they crossed. They were all on some level essence eaters. While a fae could choose to consume a being safely of their superficial energy, demons were known to drain their victims of their life force, be it through blood, flesh, or even soul. It made them dangerous on a different level, one that for whatever reason had justified the absolute control of the demonic population as they came to arrive on the planet. Demons were supposedly too dangerous to be allowed free even though the demons had not had any choice in their arrival in the first place.
Most demons became slaves to the sorcerer or sorceress that summoned them. Being essence eaters still didn’t necessarily make them powerful. Demons were rare and some magic users made a habit of bonding the creatures to their own power, allowing them to exploit the creatures. Then there were demons like Vesper’s soon to be master. Beyond powerful, vicious, and with no known rival to defeat him, Heiden could have been a fae god, or so Vesper liked to pretend when he dared to try and comprehend how he had found himself in his dismal situation. Heiden was so powerful, he enslaved demons and when he fancied it, humans and fae as well.
Kruck, the flaming eyed, cracked face demon that had kept student and professor away from the blond’s allure was one of the few of Heiden’s slaves he had met so far. He knew the demon master had more even though he had yet to meet them. Vesper had a natural curiosity of the demons and, perhaps, an affinity seeing as he too was to be a slave. Knowledge of these rare demonic fae was of interest to many a magic user, especially to the sorcerers that would not dare to summon and enslave a demon to satisfy their curiosity. Because of his unique circumstances, Vesper had more than enough information to share with such magic users. He didn’t dare hope that it would one day free him from his demon master but he could at least dream the information might provide a way to free his descendants in the future.
The outdoor vestibule was alight even though evening had fallen hours ago. Beautiful trees framed the domed ceiling that opened up to reveal the clear, dark sky above. It could have been daylight in the area, except there was a quality to the glow that tinged everything a soft blue reminiscent of moonlight. Vesper stopped once stepping through a tall archway, his eyes drawn to the large fountain in the center of the expansive stone patio where a slender, dark-skinned boy sat watching him. It was Asher Vah, still and calm, his long black hair loose around his shoulders and shimmering in the light that bounced off the pool of water.
This was not the first time Asher had sought him out. Of all the peers that knew of his situation, Asher had been the least squeamish to be around him. It might have been companionable if Vesper didn’t have to wonder if the boy was looking for a way to slice his veins open.
The breeze shifted, Vesper’s skin tingling at the nape of his neck when he caught the scent of fresh blood. All his senses warned him of Asher. The boy was a predator, cold and calculating, and he viewed sentient being just as edible as mindless animals. But he could see the tanned boy had fed, Asher showing a slight daze to his pale leaf green eyes that spoke of being sated. The Hierarchy did not lack for anything, nor did the students that attended. He might not have fully trusted Asher, but he could trust that if fed, the boy would be less a danger to his health.
Vesper slowly crossed the distance, taking note of the few people in the vestibule that had chosen to give Asher a wide berth. Asher looked up at him calmly, meeting his curious gaze before looking him over. Vesper was used to Asher sizing him up but he had yet to figure out just what the intention behind it was. The short boy was difficult to read. Sometimes he was certain Asher was trying to figure out if he a worthy opponent, other times he could swear there was a sexual undertone to the boy’s stare. But most times Vesper thought Asher was just looking for a weakness so that he could slash an artery and feast from him.
Fuck, it was Asher Vah. He wouldn’t put anything past the little brat.
“I was curious,” Asher finally spoke, his clawed hands looking deceptively delicate as he braced the marble seat of the fountain on either side of where he sat.
Vesper raised a brow, waiting silently for the boy to continue. Asher was hardly a social creature. He was there for a reason and he’d figure out how to communicate it eventually.
Another moment stretched out, Asher Vah scratching lightly against the stone before speaking again in his lulling voice. “I was curious as to why you interfered yesterday.”
Scowling, Vesper took a gliding step forward, standing directly in front of the slender boy so he could glare down. “You attacked an innocent, Asher Vah. Did you expect me to do nothing?”
Asher tilted his head, a small smile twisting his lips as his hair fell across an eye. “You had to know I wouldn’t kill the boy. You exerted an unneeded amount of energy to save a young man that didn’t need saving.”
“Just because you weren’t going to kill him didn’t mean he didn’t need saving,” Vesper muttered, his glare burning into the tanned boy’s form.
Asher smiled wider, a fang peeking from between his lips. “It was very out of character for you.”
Vesper pursed his lips at the accusation, trying to deny it even though he knew it was very true. He was not the type to get caught up in the stupid games of others, especially of predator and prey. But he had the moment he’d seen Evanel Reed in danger and he couldn’t, for whatever reason, seem to stop himself even now in his desire to protect the boy.
“What was your intention, Asher Vah?” Vesper demanded lowly. Yes, he had been out of character, but so had Asher. The boy was usually controlled but he had given in to the draw of Evan just like the rest of them. Vesper had not been the only one to crack yesterday at orientation. “You risked your life. I have never seen you gamble so much. Why reveal yourself to some null and risk retaliation?”
“You think him null? Truly?” Asher shrugged the blond’s assessment away with a bored sigh. He adjusted the dark silks over his narrow shoulders, wrapping his neck idly. Asher’s tanned skin shone in the magical light, his dark hair and green eyes gleaming; the boy was truly beautiful. Unfortunately, he was a blood drinker, one demented enough to actually bathe in the life-giving fluid.
Vesper wasn’t sure if it was an intimidation ploy on Asher Vah’s part, painting himself in gore to combat his petite frame and sweet face. Asher seemed to take pleasure in fucking with people’s heads in subtle ways. A mindfuck of blood for those foolish enough to see him as weak didn’t seem beyond the boy. It was either that or Asher actually absorbed the blood through his skin. There were demons that had the ability, the djin among them. Except, Asher was only half djin and the rest of him very much human. He could simply eat a damn meal if he was hungry enough.
Vesper had been exposed to demons of all types in preparation for bonding with Heiden. Some of them had been so disgusting and cruel that to see Asher Vah was to know an invaluable jewel with sharp, deadly edges in comparison. The slender boy was a demon/human hybrid, rare and endangered the way anything with demon blood was. There would always be someone, be it concerned citizen, magic user, or more powerful demon that would think Asher better to be owned than allowed free. Vesper sometimes wondered if the boy sought him out as much as he did—little as that was—because of their shared fate.
“I heard you offered him an informal entreaty to court,” Asher finally said, a smile just teasing at his lips.
“You’re mistaken,” Vesper grunted, straightening his stance.
“I know you and the incubus had a rendezvous with the angry thing,” the slender boy countered lightly. “You risk battle and your master’s wrath for the boy. Surely you must have just as compelling a reason as I do for seeking the boy’s attention.”
At the mention of Heiden possibly discovering what he had done, cold flooded through him. Vesper’s eyes shuttered, his expression closing off, his chest clenching painfully tight. “I proposed no such thing. Devlan suggested there was a choice. There is not. I am not available, nor will I ever be.” That it was true only made it hurt more, something inside him rattling in defiance.
He went to turn, done with all reminders of the hell he had gone through yesterday but Asher moved. It was just a twist of one of the boy’s dangling bracelets but it was enough to freeze the blond, warning prickling through him.
“I have never known you to draw your sword, Vesper. Not among your peers. Not in the face of a being like me.” Asher paused, combing claws through his dark hair. “You were going to kill me. All for a boy you didn’t even know.”
There was a new tone to Asher’s voice, unfamiliar and tinged with regret. Vesper sought his gaze, confused. Had Asher been hurt by it? Had he somehow missed that this demented, vicious halfling might actually consider him to be his friend? “Asher Vah, if you hadn’t attacked—”
“Evanel ensnared you much faster than it took to get that tattoo carved into your flesh,” Asher interrupted smoothly, his voice back to its purr of before. “I would have expected far better from a Candidate.”
It was a slap in the face, the words coming from nowhere but stabbing deep and true in a way Vesper could not have prepared himself for. Gritting his teeth with a hiss, he whirled, his hands clenched into fists despite his efforts to control his anger. “Do not approach him again,” he warned, his anger darkening his words. “I will show you no mercy, Asher Vah, no matter how long we have known each other.”
Asher’s eyes glinted and his dark hair rippled in the night breeze as the blond stalked away angrily. “I would expect no less, Vesper.” Looking down, Asher caught his reflection in the water, blood spotting his otherwise clean cheek. He carefully wiped it with his thumb, licking the bloodied digit as he watched Vesper teleport home.
SCENE #Celestial Keep
Vesper seethed inside, a storm of emotion trapped in a place of darkness within. Cracking into awareness at the foot of the Sunfall Mountains just shy of the arctic circle in Canada, he kept his head down, ignoring the swirl of white and walls of rock around him and the wind roaring outside the arrival chamber of stone. It was daylight still near the Western Coast of the continent where he had teleported to. His home was above, a castle built and hidden into the highest peaks. The only way to access it was through the mirrored portal before him, but he hesitated, fighting to control his anger.
Asher Vah had dared to insinuate he was a Candidate—The boy had to be out of his fucking mind! Surely he was just trying to piss him off and get under his skin. A game. A game of predators that Vesper just didn’t have the fucking mettle for at the moment because he was facing his birthday, his exritus, and his bonding to a demon that would drain him dead.
Damn. A Candidate.
Sighing heavily, he tried to steady the drumming of his heart while running fingers through his long, nearly white hair. Why would Asher have said that? Did he know something? The Malice bloodline always held the possibility but the last time the Candidates had been called forth had been over a thousand years ago. There was no way it would happen in his generation and sure as fuck not to him. Not with the fucking tattoo. Not with Heiden looking to sink his fucking claws into him for a limited eternity of hell.
Scowling, Vesper strode across the rocky footpath, thin powdery snow dusting his way. The steeps around him rose up like the steps of giants. His mother used to tease him, saying the dragons had carved them into the land so that they could reach the sky. But no dragon could be large enough to use the mountains as a stairway. Vesper glared up at the banded rocky wall, bitterness he tried so desperately to keep at bay rising up in him. Another lie told to him as a child to dull the pain of life. He had grown up faster than his cousins. He had been forced to face reality at ten. Now even the suggestion of such childish fantasies made his heart clench painfully. Vesper had grown up faster because his death was already near and though he had accepted it as inevitable, there was nothing in him that would willingly welcome his fate.
Taking a dagger out, he sliced the inside of his palm, then pressed it to the surface of the mirror. Ancient magic, natural terrain, and hazardous weather protected the castle he called home for as long as the Malice line had lived, possibly even longer. They had little fear of losing their mountain fortress, but then, it had done little to protect any of them from Heiden in the end.
Vesper’s reflection rippled in the portal, his glaring face disappearing to reveal the familiar scene of his home on the plateau above. He took three calming breaths, internally kicking himself for having let Asher Vah get to him. His expression schooled again into one of indifference, he stepped through the portal and into the warm air of Celestial Keep.
The estate stretched out before him, a fertile oasis among an otherwise desert of rock, scrubby brush, and snow. Below in some of the valleys, thin trees grew, greenery dotting the craggy landscape. But at the top of the plateau where his ancestors had made their home, magic had been used to create a hospitable environment. Orchards dominated the majority of the land, gifting a bounty of fruit and nuts that fed the humans and animal alike that had been transported to the three acres of land. Sitting above, sturdy and oppressive with its tall towers was his family castle made of the magic imbued rocks of the cliffs around them. Some stone repelled magic, others enhanced. Celestial Keep was crafted from a stone that was fortified against magical attack. It truly was a fortress and Vesper breathed a sigh of relief to be home.
He rarely left his family estate. His tutors came to him and besides the few visits to relatives and the occasional party, he had little desire to leave Celestial Keep. His trip to the Hierarchy had been his longest away that he could remember. Stepping back into the magical boundary felt significant, some of his tension slowly unkinking from his muscles as he was engulfed in familiar scents and sounds. It was as if the magic that cultivated growth from lifeless rocks was trying to do the same to his otherwise numb existence. Something within him welled to see his home again. It was the one place he was certain he truly belonged and the place he would soon be leaving forever.
Heiden wouldn’t force the issue; the demon would be happy to move in. No matter how much he would miss his home, Vesper would never invite the monstrous creature to enter Celestial Keep and put his family at risk. It was just another sacrifice he had resigned himself to, another internal wound that would eventually dull and numb like all the others had. He was just the walking dead at this point. A ghost that had haunted his home long enough. Once he left, his aunts, uncles, and many cousins could finally return to the Clan’s castle. It would give his parents the companionship he had failed at no matter how hard he’d tried to smile if only for them.
Depression was not new for Vesper but he was surprised to be aware of his state of being. Something had changed in him, something unsettling and disturbing on as many levels as the mountains around him. His weekend at the Hierarchy had been worse than he had anticipated. Mostly because of one strange, confusing boy that he hadn’t been able to stop looking at the moment he had caught sight of him.
He could have easily named twenty men more beautiful than Evanel Reed, most of them from his own Clan. He could have likely named a hundred more powerful than the angry-eyed boy who had been able to avoid Vesper’s allure but not much else. But for whatever reason, he could not stop thinking of Evan. Even now, when back in the familiar surroundings of the Sunfall Mountains while standing in the shadow of his family’s castle, he could see the blond in his mind’s eye. He could nearly remember Evan’s scent and hear those damn near silent whimpers the boy had made—
Fuck. What the hell had the boy done to him?
He had drawn his weapon on a classmate. He had used his power to intentionally pull. Hell, he had agreed to let Devlan call Evan and feed off of him, just so he could have an excuse to see the boy again. It was unforgivable. This weekend had marked not only Vesper’s acceptance into the Hierarchy as his power demanded, but also his first test to see if he could control himself away from the protection of his family and home. He had failed. He had failed on nearly three separate occasions all because of that boy. How could he trust himself to keep the masses safe from Heiden’s possessive rage if he couldn’t even control himself over one damn boy?
Vesper had run the memory of orientation through his mind a dozen times, each recounting more damning than the last. It wasn’t that his actions had been questionable but that his emotions had been joined in them as well. He had wanted to use his power. He had truly wanted to kill Asher Vah. He had been damn near giddy with the idea of slicing the small, vicious boy to pieces. The feeling had almost been as exhilarating as the idea of fucking Evan after in reward.
Vesper raised his clenched fist to his mouth, resisting the urge to actually bite his own flesh as the same feeling rose up inside him unbidden. His hand was healed, the blood still wet from where the portal had sealed the wound. He licked it idly as he thought.
He was just some boy. That he had made it to the Hierarchy at all was a wonder because, for all intents and purposes, Evanel Reed was a null to his senses. He was weak, ignorant of magic and physical defense—An absolute victim too blind to even fear for his own safety. And if Vesper had only felt a need to protect the boy, that might have been acceptable. But it wasn’t protectiveness seething inside him when he thought of Evan. It was definitely something along the path of defilement and enslavement bubbling through his very core. He wanted to possess the boy at every level, kill any that would dare challenge him, and then be free to do whatever dark, delicious things he pleased to Evan.
Madness. Goddess, but he was going mad.
Scowling to himself, Vesper expanded his magical senses, seeking out his mother’s presence. She radiated from the direction of the library and he turned himself towards the imposing building, barely seeing the beautiful gardens as he passed.
Maybe it was the change coming. His birthday was upon him and his exritus was due. Vesper had been so focused on his upcoming bonding that he hadn’t given much thought to the possibility that he might end up becoming some barbaric, bloodthirsty fae. It was not as if his last name was a coincidence; there had been more than a few Malices in the past that had ended up more chaotic and destructive than anything much else. Was that why Heiden had chosen him? Had the demon sensed he would be a monster among his family?
He should have dismissed the invitation to the Hierarchy. Even now, Vesper was thinking of never returning. Exposing people to whatever the hell he was turning into had no useful value beyond his selfish fear of dying alone. Maybe a part of him had hoped the demon would choose to drain him less if there were people to see him falter, to see him grow weak and frail. Now he knew how foolish a dream that was. Heiden would want an audience to his slow death.
The castle was colder than the outside, the properties of the stone keeping the environmental magic from affecting the building. Vesper barely felt it even though his torso was mostly bare. They had personal enchantments and furs if they grew cold but, unlike his father, he rarely had to make use of them with his higher body temperature. His body had been born for the cold, as had all the Malices. They were descendants of the great Fae Ezella, the Celestial Dragon that had birthed his mother’s family. In the foyer was a mural depicting the fae goddess in dragon form, scaled and sinewy, her coloring like the pure snow that fell among the untouched mountain tops. She dazzled in the light, a creature of such power, even her own had feared when she approached. But Ezella was a mother, a protector, noble of heart and true to what was right even if the shadow she cast was dark and impenetrable.
The Malice line may have strayed too far for even Ezella’s mercy. The demon Heiden was a curse on their bloodline, one the goddess had allowed for nearly a thousand years. No one had intervened to save them and Vesper could not expect anyone to. Not after so long. Ezella had pledged her loyalty to the shadow faced god and with that promise, the lives of her descendants had been pledged as well. Neither god or goddess had stepped forth to repay that loyalty and no Candidate had been called. After a thousand years of silent deities, who could expect them to return?
Maybe that too was the way of the gods. Sacrifice the loyal so the weak had a chance to flourish. It wasn’t as if the Malice line had been decimated. No, they had just been culled in such a ghastly manner that many refused to continue the bloodline for knowledge their children could be the next victim. Vesper certainly had no interest in siring an heir.
He found his mother in the library, shimmering in the light from the large picture window that looked out at the mountains. Slender and willowy, Leandra’s white-blue hair reached down to her knees, the locks kept in perfect tight curls. She was pure elegance but Vesper would expect no less from a dragon queen even if she had no Clan to rule. His mother was clothed in a silky blue dress, the material draped straight down to accent her gentle curves. The sleeveless sides revealed the delicate silver tattoos that decorated her otherworldly pale skin from her biceps to the tips of her fingers.
Vesper regretted seeking her out once catching sight of his mother, pity and guilt hitting him in a familiar wave. Leandra looked weaker today than when he had left her Saturday. He knew it was his imagination; the baby growing inside the woman had yet to start redirecting her magic into its protection. Still, it was a reminder of the dangers facing his parents, especially when Leandra turned her pale blue gaze towards him, something mournful just beneath her beautiful surface.
“I felt your power. I was concerned.” Leandra placed her book on the windowsill, standing from her cushioned perch. At Vesper’s expression, she stilled, refraining from approaching her son just yet. “Was there a problem?”
“Potentially.” Vesper winced internally, hating to admit to it. But there was no escaping his parents’ ever watchful eye. If his mother had sensed his lapse of control, his father had as well. Goddess, what was happening to him?
Leandra’s gaze hardened, the woman straightening until she was facing her son not as his mother but as the queen she doubled as. “Your exritus is soon and your bonding sooner.” She swept forward, her dress swishing around her legs. “You lost control at the Hierarchy during orientation. You were hardly in the door. Can you explain yourself? Must we lock you away to protect the world from you?”
Licking suddenly dry lips, Vesper forced himself to stand taller and meet his mother’s disapproving gaze. He could see the concern beneath her stern exterior but it wasn’t important. She was very much right. If he had touched anyone at the Hierarchy, be it for fighting or saving, he would have doomed them to a terrible, unwarranted death.
“I believe I may be in the throes of a mating courtship,” Vesper answered carefully, silently cursing Asher for the boy’s choice to be cryptic when bluntness had been needed. “I did not see the reasoning behind it earlier. I was caught up with just… so much. But looking back, it seems to make sense.”
Leandra inhaled sharply, the warmth draining from her face. “Son, you know you cannot—”
“I know,” Vesper replied swiftly. “It is not a courtship of choice, mother. I was blindsided. I could not have expected such a thing but I will surely be prepared next time.”
She shook her head, a pinched expression of anxiety marring her delicate features. It made Vesper’s stomach twist to see. His mother was not one for emotional displays outside of flashes of anger. She had spent his lifetime pretending all was well while a demon waited at their door.
“We will speak with your father.” Leandra turned back to the window, picking up and holding her discarded book in hand like a shield across her chest. “Perhaps Ryder will know some way to curb the mating urge.”
“Mother, there is no need. Bringing more attention to this will only—”
Leandra shook her head sharply and he fell silent. “Your father sits beside me on a tarnished throne while a demon ravishes our bloodline. There is a great need.”
Vesper’s father was not a Malice. Vesper had inherited his mother’s name as all fae born did, along with much of her genetics. Ryder’s great fae ancestor was Avem, a lesser being compared to the celestial dragon, Ezella. Even still, his father had chosen to marry his mother after everyone knew that Heiden had been feeding on their line for centuries. Vesper had assumed it was out of some great love that his father had thrown all sensibility to the wind to stand beside Leandra. Now seeing his mother’s face, he had to fear that it had instead been a biological drive that had overridden his father’s rational mind.
Not that love couldn’t be called the same. A mix of chemicals that addled beings long enough to ensure that a mating occurred. Except the fae had magic to add to the insanity of the hormonal cocktail that was mating. Vesper gritted his teeth as an image of Evan flashed in his mind again, the boy’s bare torso covered in scars and old wounds, his eyes full of something dark and pleading.
Goddess, but he was such a fool.
It was more than just attraction, more than just the lure of the boy’s unique scent and defensive glare. Vesper had felt an underlying recognition the moment he had watched Evanel Reed huff into the orientation with his standoffish posture and haunted gaze. Curiosity had immediately turned to something else. He had wanted Evan to see him as much as he had wanted to know the boy. Had he turned one fucking moment into an absolute fantasy? Had he sought a companion in the only face he hadn’t known because all his other peers had already chosen to withdrawn from him in self-preservation?
There was a painful tearing inside him Vesper defiantly ignored. In the most unassuming of moments he had proven weak once again and a boy had nearly died because of it. He would not allow the mistake to occur again.
He knew what it was like to have been marked in life early on. Heiden had singled him out among his family and sealed his fate. Vesper had endured the endless whispers from his cousins as to why it had been him and not them. He had seen their unspoken relief, their pity, and never-ceasing fear every time they looked at him. Just because one boy had looked at him differently did not excuse his loss of control.
Vesper could not share his fate with anyone, even if he did see a kindred spirit in the angry blond. He was destined to walk his path alone, protecting all he could until death took him. He would hold out as long as he could so that his unborn sibling could have a chance at a life and not face the fate he had been given. It was his duty whether he had chosen it or not.
Leandra turned from her study of the mountains, her expression again controlled. She offered her son a small smile, leading them to the library door. “Your father returns later tonight. He’ll know the best approach in this, Vesper, I’m certain.”
Meeting his mother’s gaze, Vesper simply nodded in agreement. Something inside struggled to be heard but he pushed it down as he had been doing since he had first caught the eye of Heiden. He could only hope the caged being inside him would one day stop rattling, stop slamming at the bars for a freedom he had not been fated to have. Surely it would make it easier once all of him finally gave up.
SCENE #A tainted gift of two
Ryder, Vesper’s father, arrived late to dinner after his family had started. The large dining hall of Celestial Keep was mostly dim, only a few floating orbs illuminating the area of the main table they used. There had been a time when the entire hall clothed in pale blues among the white marble would expect to be near capacity to house the Malice extended family, the walls echoing with talk and laughter. If Vesper hadn’t been chosen, it would still have been the case. But Leandra’s child had caught Heiden’s attention and the queen’s family was now the outcasts, always spoken to so kindly while pity shone in every family member’s eye and vicious word was held in cheek for later when not face to face with the monster’s meal.
The dimness of the lighting made it so Vesper didn’t notice that the two individuals with his father were not the servants the Malices employed. It wasn’t until his mother suddenly stood, her eyes flashing, that he looked up, his gaze taking in the two huddled, slender forms.
“Guests?” Leandra asked, her eyebrow arched in the closest expression of confusion the woman would dare reveal.
Ryder offered a weak smile to his wife, stepping to the side and ushering the two young men forward. “Of a sorts, my love. Vesper, Master Heiden intercepted me with a delivery while I was away on business.”
“Father?” Pushing himself up stiffly from the table, Vesper met his father’s gaze. Ryder might not have been of Ezella’s blood but his looks complemented the Malice bloodline well. Having just turned forty with his smooth, straw blond hair, cool complexion, and gray eyes, Ryder fit in with his ethereal wife and son, even if the man insisted on dressing in heavy layers of clothing to combat the temperature of the castle. Although his father had his normal, casual smile in place, Vesper could see a tension to his stance, the man’s eyes sharp and full of warning as he tilted his head towards the two new guests.
A pair of red eyes peered back at him from beneath pale, purple tinted hair and Vesper inhaled sharply. Demons. His father had brought demons into their house. Vesper looked to his mother but her expression was as carefully crafted as his father’s. Still, he was certain this was just as much a surprise to her as it was to him. She would have warned him otherwise.
Vesper approached slowly, trying to gain as much information as possible with his eyes before he dared speak and say the wrong thing. Two, they couldn’t have been older than him, petite, slender, and eerily similar in looks. They were dressed in thin shifts, hardly offering much in protection from temperature or gaze, their legs and arms bare. They came up to his shoulder, their hair cut in identical fashion to bob silky around their faces. After a moment, he realized he was looking at twins, the only difference being that one was as pale as the snow with startling blue eyes while his brother was nearly gray skinned with a demonic red to his stare that could belong to no other creature. They were horned, a single small spire protruding from the center of their foreheads. Beyond their odd coloring, sharp fangs, claws, and pointed ears, they seemed far from hostile, the two of them huddled together possibly from the cold or maybe just in terror.
Vesper noticed it then, the frozen, thick black metal wrapped around each of the young man’s slim throats. They were slaves, their magic cut off from them along with any ability to flee.
The Malices did not deal in slaves. They did not allow them into their household, nor did they support the enslavement or trade of slaves in any way. Enslaving demons, fae, and humans was about as barbaric as one could get and Vesper’s family had no stomach for it. Yet there were two in his dining hall, eyes wide and full of misgiving as they peered back at Vesper with thinly veiled curiosity.
“Vesper, I would like you to meet Lilo and Draven,” Ryder said carefully, indicating the blue-eyed than red-eyed twin while beckoning his son closer. “They will be joining us at Celestial Keep until you find it time to move. They will then accompany you to your choice of estate. Space will be made in your set of rooms so that they can be near whenever you have need of them.”
A sickening wave of heat clenching in his stomach, Vesper nodded tightly. He didn’t dare ask just what sort of need he was supposed to have of the two youths, not when they were standing there staring at him like he was a step away from stripping the flesh from their bones. “They are from Heiden?”
Ryder nodded, his eyes downcast. “A very special gift for his precious one.”
“I see.” Forcing himself to breathe normally, Vesper took a small step back. “I imagine the three of you are famished after your journey. Father, if you will take your seat, I will have Gibbens add two more place settings for the evening.” The two boys were so thin, he had to wonder if they had been fed at all since arriving on Earth and just how long ago that might have been.
His mother sent him an approving look Vesper couldn’t fully feel past the ice moving through his veins. Heiden had gifted him with two slaves. Slaves. The demon had no understanding of his disgust of slavery—Or perhaps he completely did and that was why he had gifted them. All he knew for certain was that two very real lives had just been placed into his responsibility and he had little idea how to care for them.
He glanced back when he heard the two hissing, the pale boy having grabbed his gray skinned brother with a soft cry after seeing the tattoo on Vesper’s back.
“If he desires to bond with us—”
“Do not assume.” Red eyes glowed in warning, glancing Ryder’s way cautiously to see if the outburst had gotten them in trouble. They were speaking in their native tongue, Vesper recognizing it from one of the many demonic dialects he had studied.
“No one will force you to bond,” Vesper said bluntly in the same tongue, ignoring the wary glares immediately turned towards him. “I will not share my fate with anyone. As long as you are under my protection, you will have as much freedom as I can grant you.” He finally met the twin gazes, not sure if he could handle much of any reminder of Heiden at the moment. “I cannot promise it to be much in ways of freedom, given my own situation.” He crossed to the table, lifted the servant’s wand from the center, and signaled the kitchens for Gibbens.
The older man stepped in after a short wait through one of the hidden internal portals, gray-haired and stooped with age but still full of spirit. He took one look at Draven and Lilo and immediately summoned chairs and unfurled placemats that contained plates and bowls magically flattened and at the ready. In moments, the man had food steaming on the two new plates and both demons seated under their own respective fluffy furs for warmth.
Seeing Lilo and Draven were situated well enough, Vesper did everything in his power to ignore the two of them. He could feel their eyes on him, glancing at him secretively while they prodded their food. He couldn’t stop the feelings of resentment swirling within him. No matter how hard he had tried to avoid it, his home had been invaded by Heiden. It would take hours for his father and mother to be able to ensure that the two demons weren’t covered in trace spells or listening runes, or their fancy collars soaked in spying enchantments for that matter. And at the end of the day, Vesper would never be able to guarantee that either boy wouldn’t report any misdeed right to his demon master when his back was turned. The bonding ceremony hadn’t even taken place yet Vesper’s slavery had begun.
He couldn’t even talk to his father about what had occurred at the Hierarchy. Vesper could only hope his mother would relay the information to Ryder. If Avem’s genes were dominant to Ezella’s, Vesper’s control might be nonexistent when it came to the mating urge. After his exritus, he could potentially just off and decide to go seek out Evanel and mate the boy no matter that Heiden would kill the angry blond immediately after.
Vesper had done some reading that evening while waiting for his father’s return. It had not been encouraging. He could already identify traits that were strong in him from Avem. Many of the fae’s descendants had the ability to control prey with their eyes—An ability Vesper was certain a lot of his natural allure was centered in. When he wanted someone, he only had to look at them. Eventually, they would turn and meet his gaze, and he would simply pull them closer after that. It had seemed so insignificant at the time, just a different level to his already overwhelming allure. Now he saw it as the possibility that more of his father’s genetics would awake during his exritus with disastrous results.
Not that Ryder was a particularly aggressive man. Tall, impeccably dressed, and dignified, Vesper’s father was more a man of the world than the type of fae one would expect to lose his temper while seeking a mate. But Vesper had only ever known his father when the man had been past his mating days, married to Leandra and working as a long term investment banker. Vesper’s father had been well on his way to assuring the Malice line would never fear financial instability, along with the entire Celestial Clan. Even Heiden hadn’t been able to disturb Ryder’s financial plans, although it was clear the demon master preferred his victims to be completely reliant on him. Vesper had no idea just what type of man his father had awoken as when his exritus had come. Assuredly someone that had felt no fear to pursue a dragon queen and win her heart.
If anything had stayed the same, it was Ryder’s unfathomable loyalty and love for Leandra. Theirs was not a superficial relationship. Vesper had never doubted it because he had seen arranged marriages within his Clan. The contrast was startling. His parents were friends, confidants, and lovers; nothing less. Even if Leandra had been cursed with the Malice blood that had tied her family to the will of a demon, she had been blessed with a true partner. It only made the fate of their son more tragic, but Vesper knew his parents would persevere even in that. He would not deny them anything, including the replacement his mother was soon to birth.
It didn’t stop the bitterness still from twisting inside him. The world had compromised with his parents. Their love for each other strengthened the two and kept them going. He would never have that. He could never allow another human being to get close to him physically, never mind emotionally. He could not love or be loved.
Vesper didn’t know what fully compelled him as he sat there between his parents, the two exchanging simple pleasantries that held a warmth that revealed their happiness to be back in each other’s company. Maybe it was to distract from all the many things he wished to say but couldn’t because of the two demons that were failing to hide their dislike of the food before them. That night, as the walls seemed to close in and the shadows held a new darkness, he wished silently for a higher meaning beneath it all.
“Who was the last Candidate in our bloodline?”
His mother’s sharp look suggested the question was far beyond the scope of appropriate at the moment. More confusing was his father’s expression, a twist of anxiety on his lips that just as quickly dispersed when the man looked to the two demons.
Thinking a moment to soften the question, Vesper added, “The Hierarchy was riddled with visages of the Exault. Half their buildings were practically covered with the winged beasts. Yet I saw none of the shadowed Domin.”
“They’re beneath the observatory,” Ryder explained quietly. “There is a chamber equal in size. You know those traditional academic types; they have to have symbolism in all they do. They couldn’t just put His statues out in the light of day.”
Vesper nodded in understanding, waiting patiently. Still, it was a full minute before he got his answer, Ryder shooting Leandra meaningful looks until the woman finally relented.
“Over a thousand years, Dionys Malice was the last Candidate of our bloodline.” Leandra gave a small shrug. “He was not chosen but the honor to be selected as a Candidate for the shadow faced god was still great.”
Vesper didn’t respond. From what he recalled, the Candidates battled between three houses for the right to be chosen by the Heir. The remaining living survivor was chosen for the job. “How long ago was a Candidate chosen before Dionys?”
Her hair shimmering in a wave of delicate steel, Leandra’s head bowed forward, her eyes fixed on her plate. “Previously, no more than six hundred years passed between his coming.”
Vesper sighed, staring at his half-eaten plate of food. It would be extremely unlikely. It would be insane, really. Over a thousand years and no sign of the shadow faced god’s human incarnation? How accurate were the old records, truly? How much had just been fables and scare tactics to keep the people in line? He really couldn’t be expected to be called to serve the shadow faced god. It’s not like fae gods really just came down and fixed everyone’s problems. If it really happened, wouldn’t things just make more sense? Less? When there was something so much bigger in the mix, did anything anyone did actually have a value in comparison?
“We do seem a bit due,” Ryder said, his voice a low rumble. Leandra’s face was too impassive for words. It was her war face. Ryder was not a sorcerer to be crossed, by no means, but if there was anyone more dangerous than the dragon queen in the Clan, Vesper didn’t know it. She had upheld the Celestial Clan when even her own family had turned their backs on her. Her tense silence seemed word enough. Looking from his mother to his father, Vesper had to wonder how their world would change if an Heir was born. His parents had spent the last eight years preparing to lose their only son. Would they be happy or devastated to have to come to terms with a change of plans? Would it be another lost child they’d have to look forward to instead of just him?
He wondered dimly if he could reach Asher Vah, then dismissed the idea. The boy had been cryptic, not to mention annoying. Whatever the halfling’s price would be for any information was probably not worth the bother. Vesper had little interest in opening a vein. Either the little brat knew something or just suspected. If he was called to some ancient battle to the death, Vesper assumed he’d have his answer by then.
It could be decidedly more interesting than being fed off of by Heiden for uncountable years. Vesper kept that particular thought to himself. He had no desire to damn any of his relatives to his fate. Still, a battle to the death seemed far more fitting a way to die than being drained until there was nothing left of him.
SCENE #God Touched
Ryder surprised his son after dinner by suggesting Leandra show the two demons to Vesper’s quarter’s alone. Apprehensive with all the weapons in his rooms that could be turned against him if the demons felt threatened, Vesper would have preferred to have gone along. His father’s expression left no room for argument and with steady steps he followed the older man down the stairs and into Ryder’s personal study. He was confused to find Gibbens there, the stooped man casting the last in a list of charms on a magical device Vesper had not seen before outside of books.
“A Foure ward. For discretion,” Ryder explained tightly, ushering his son into the room and nodding to Gibbens in farewell. The servant lingered long enough to make sure the magical device on the desk was operational, then bowed out silently. A fire was roaring in the grate, burning a cool blue flame and committing no smoke but a great amount of heat. It cast the dark colored stone and wood in an eerie, ghostly glow. Most of Celestial Keep was as pale as the dragon fae that lived there but the basement rooms had a darker theme. More ancient traditions steeped in something Vesper couldn’t fully name because it was before his time. Something to do with honoring the earth magics and the night while so close to the stone of the mountain. He thought it more symbolism than useful but his mother dutifully kept with the theme whenever adjusting the decor of the rooms.
Ryder’s office was crammed with an array of books, half the bookcases dedicated to accounts and finances and the other half to magic, mostly focused on prediction and luck, two aspects that suited his occupation well. There were a few dark books but Vesper’s father kept those locked in his safe, the items too dangerous to be left out unsupervised. Like most things magical, they usually found ways of being discovered unless they were chained up.
Feeling decidedly unsettled, Vesper chose not to sit when his father offered him a chair in front of his smoothly polished walnut desk. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking around the room idly while trying to think of what he was going to do with his two new guests. It wasn’t their fault they’d been shoved into his life but it didn’t make him any less resentful to the fact. He had enough things to worry about without adding two lives to the list of things to keep from getting killed.
“Vesper, I need you to tell me what happened at the Hierarchy,” Ryder said. He leaned back against his desk instead of sitting, his stance suggesting he was dealing with his own level of nerves.
Shaking his head from his thoughts, Vesper looked up to meet his father’s gaze. “What part? Where I nearly killed Asher Vah over some boy I just met, or when I then nearly got the same boy killed by trying to pull him?”
“The entire incident will suffice,” Ryder said dryly, ignoring the huff sent his way. “I fear it is the reason Heiden has acted. Did you touch this boy?”
Vesper shook his head dully. His muscles were tense and he could feel a headache threatening just at the edge of his consciousness. Nothing was going right. “I never made contact… But it was clear to anyone that saw that I wished to,” he added with a heavy sigh. “Kruck had to physically remove Devlan and Ev—”
“No names,” Ryder interrupted with a sharp shake of his head. “Do not tempt things, Foure ward or not.”
Swallowing, Vesper nodded again while looking at the glowing device. “They had to be removed to keep me from making contact. Others saw.” Saying it aloud only revealed how much he had fucked up, Vesper inwardly cringing at the realization. Somehow he had managed to get home and not fully comprehend just how bad it had been. “Why did Heiden send me those two? What of that incident would make him think slaves were appropriate?”
Clearing his throat, Ryder straightened. “That would be revealed by what type of slaves they are.” At his son’s blank look, he added quietly, “When they were given to me, I was told they were to be your sex slaves. The two demons are your only allowable indiscretions, hand picked by Heiden himself.”
His breath stuttering to a halt, Vesper grabbed the back of the nearest chair. “Fuck, he knows,” he choked out. Would he kill him? Would Heiden kill Evan when he hadn’t even touched him? “His words exactly?” He asked, trying to keep the panic from his voice only to fail miserably.
“Draven and Lilo are the only two beings you are allowed to touch in a sexual manner without repercussions. If Heiden scents another on you outside of your immediate family or the two demon slaves, he will hunt down and kill the individual as stated in the terms of the bonding contract. You are for his enjoyment alone.”
“I’m not bonded yet,” Vesper whispered, knowing it was pointless before the words were even free.
“The tattoo was a sign of you acceptance to the contract,” Ryder reminded, his voice emotionless and steady. “You know he only waits for your exritus so he doesn’t impede your final growth.” He waited for Vesper to get ahold of himself, the boy shaken and pale. “I cannot say for certain that the two demon slaves will not be punished if you actually touch them. I asked him—I didn’t wish for anything to be unclear. Heiden’s only answer was to say that the two belonged to you in all sense of the word. I can only assume once you belong to Heiden…”
Vesper felt another wave of sick hit him. Once Heiden owned him, he owned nothing in return. No slave, no property, no title. He was a ghost from the moment the bonding started, allowed his name and nothing else, unless his master decided otherwise. If Heiden decided so, he would torment the two demons no matter what he said of them being safe.
“Tell me about him.”
Staring at the pattern of dark leaves and vines on the carpet, it took Vesper a moment to notice his father’s request.
“The boy,” Ryder prodded, grabbing his son by the bicep and guiding him beside him at the desk. “The one that caught your eye. What’s he like?”
Vesper looked at his father, biting his lower lip for a moment. “He’s cute,” he finally said, shrugging slightly. “Normal.”
“Normal?” Ryder raised a brow in surprise. “At the Hierarchy?”
Nodding, Vesper studied his father’s face a moment. “He was immune to my allure. I hadn’t seen him before and, well, I’ve known just about everyone that was going to be in my class for years now. So when I saw him… I might have tried to get his attention.” He flashed an awkward smirk. “I ended up pulling three kids that were standing in front of him while he barely looked my way.”
“Impressive.” Ryder whistled softly. “I’m sure that didn’t help matters.”
Vesper snorted softly. “No. By that point, I was ready to pull the damn room just to get the kid to look at me.” He sighed heavily, running his hand through his hair.
“Did you? Pull the room?” Ryder prompted when his son fell silent in thought again.
“No, I only wanted to.”
“I felt your power all the way from Asia. You did something.”
Gnawing on his lower lip again, Vesper gave a reluctant nod. “One of my classmates thought it would be funny to hit the kid with a feverlust enchantment. He over did it and…” He turned his gaze back to his father, something dark and desperate sparking in the boy’s crystal blue eyes. “I wanted to save him. I wanted to save him, and own him, and kill every single person that would dare to look at him. Still… I still want that and I can’t stop this crazy feeling inside.”
Silent for long moments, Ryder mulled for the right words. Vesper was certain it would be the same as his mother; the absolute insistence of what he couldn’t have, no matter how much he wanted it. Instead, Ryder replied with a question of his own, one that Vesper hadn’t expected.
“Does he return your interest?”
Vesper didn’t even have to think about it, the answer clear to him as most things had been concerning Evanel Reed. “Yes.”
“Beyond your allure?”
“He could love me if given a chance,” Vesper said fiercely. “I might love him now. When I reached my magic out to him…” He trailed off, a shudder of heat tingling through him. “He is beautiful. Fiery, angry, and damn beautiful.”
“Ah.” A smile teasing across his lips, Ryder leaned forward with a conspiring whisper. “Your mother was just about the angriest young woman I have ever had the privilege of meeting. She made it very difficult to look elsewhere when she insisted on flaying me alive with every word from her pretty mouth.”
Blinking, Vesper couldn’t help but return his father’s grin, a tension within uncoiling and melting at the man’s words. “Did you know with mother? Was it clear right away?”
“Gods, yes,” Ryder said with a laugh. “Don’t get me wrong; ultimately it was her choice no matter how much of an ass I made of myself trying to woo a dragon queen. But whenever our magic touched…” He sighed. “It was like a meeting of souls. To feel her fire was to help me burn greater. There is nothing else like it.” He gave his son an assessing look. “And I’m glad you had the opportunity to experience such a thing.”
Vesper shook his head agitatedly, abruptly pushing himself away from the desk. “I’m not. It has ruined everything. I barely know who I am anymore and I fear I’ve gotten him killed in just one meeting.”
“Vesper.” Ryder stopped him, grabbing his hand and pulling the boy back to the desk and the device it held. “You must hold on to every memory. Every moment. Do not deny your heart no matter how much trouble it wishes to get you in. It is rare to find someone you connect with. It is a true gift and you should cherish it.” He tilted his head, waiting for his son to meet his gaze again. “When things feel their worst, I can always count on my memory of your mother’s energy as it touches mine. It warms me when nothing else can. You now have his memory, brief as it might be.”
Swallowing back a retort of just how useless a memory was with the many things he was facing, Vesper just nodded. He felt close to tears, the hopelessness of his situation seemingly more concrete since having visited the Hierarchy.
“Is his energy warming?” Ryder asked softly.
Vesper shook his head. “His anger never reached his magic.” He furrowed his brow, turning away from his father.
“I did not mean to suggest he had to be like your mother,” Ryder said when Vesper seemed to shake before him. “When magics touch, it is a unique experience each time.”
“I told you, he was very normal,” Vesper whispered, his eyes glowing in the dim light as he stared at the ground. “Familiar. When I touched his magic, I felt despair. Beautiful despair.” The last words were choked out, something breaking in him to actually speak the words aloud.
His expression grim, Ryder pulled his son into a hug, silent as Vesper shook in his embrace. It took long minutes before the boy could get himself back into some control, tears streaking his porcelain cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” Vesper muttered hoarsely. “I don’t wish to burden you.”
“You haven’t. There is nothing you need to protect me or your mother from, Vesper,” Ryder said gruffly. “We’re adults. We’re strong.”
Vesper nodded weakly, his face pressed tightly to his father’s shoulder. “I just… I feel so alone.”
“I promise you, you’re not, no matter how bleak it seems.” Ryder gave his son a final, fierce squeeze, then raised his hand, magic swirling in a curtain around them. “I need you to listen to me very carefully. Do not speak, just listen. Even with the spells in place, what I’m about to say can still cause us harm if word is revealed.”
His eyes closed, Vesper let his breathing even out, turning his cheek so that he could hear his father clearer. He could feel the spell take hold, the magic forming a wall around them making his own breath bounce back on his skin.
“There was a prophecy concerning your birth.” Ryder’s voice was pitched low but his words were distinct. “This prophecy was so cursed that once it was foretold, Celestial Clan had no other recourse than to abandon your mother. You need to understand this, Vesper. They did not leave us because of Heiden. It was because of what the prophecy said of you.”
Vesper’s chest tightened painfully, the light fluttering of his lashes the only sign he was listening. He waited, not certain he wanted to know what could have ever been said that would drive his Clan away.
Ryder ducked down closer, his lips pressed to the side of his son’s head. “You are god touched.”
Breath hitching, Vesper didn’t dare move. Candidate. Asher Vah must have known. The boy had to have known about the prophecy or just that an Heir had been born or maybe just—
Ryder’s fingers brushed his chin, Vesper raising his face to meet his father’s solemn gaze. “By the maddened on, Vesper. The shining faced god has marked you.”
Jolting back as if struck, Vesper stared up at the man with wide eyes. “Father?”
Ryder held his finger to his lips. “Heiden must never know. Do you understand? If you bond with the demon, he will have an instrument of the gods. And by the goddess, you will surely be a destructive force. Your power far surpasses your mother’s already. No one in the Celestial Clan can match you, son, not even close. If your exritus is allowed to pass, what you will become…” Ryder swallowed, his expression pleading something his son couldn’t fully read.
His mouth going dry, Vesper found himself nodding to an answer that hadn’t been spoken. “I must die now.”
Ryder nodded as well, his hand heavy as it fell to the boy’s shoulder. “Soon. Your mother and I are brewing the potion together. It will be painless—A sleep you never wake from.” There were tears in the man’s eyes Ryder didn’t blink away.
“Why?” Vesper asked, his voice rough, his body shaking as he tried to comprehend the magnitude of it all. “Wouldn’t it have been better to have just killed me at birth?”
“We loved you too greatly. Even then, newly formed, you were perfect.” Ryder wiped the back of his hand across his eyes with a heavy sigh. “We were weak. We chose to sacrifice later to have the years we could with you. They were good years, Vesper, happy years. But I fear your short life was marked with only pain and loneliness. Our selfishness hurt you. Your mother and I chose to embrace the pain as consequence of the joy we did have together.” He pulled his son back into a hug. Even in his confusion, Vesper gripped him back just as tightly.
“We never would have let him have you. You had to have known that,” Ryder said with a swift kiss to Vesper’s forehead. “Death is better. Your mother saw two of Heiden’s bonded and they told her as much. They begged for death.”
“You’ll be punished,” Vesper whispered, burying his face against his father’s shoulder. “He might kill you for this.”
“I know. We all die, son. Only a few of us get to decide what we die for.” Ryder’s expression softened as he gazed down at Vesper’s bowed head. “You met a young man. Someone you could love. I am so glad you had a chance to feel such a thing. I… I was worried you might spend your entire life never having the opportunity to love.”
Vesper could not comprehend just how his parents had made it this far with all they must have known. God touched by the maddened one—How could they love him at all? No wonder the Clan had run from him. They likely feared he would kill them each, one by one. “Is this why you and mother waited to have another child?” He asked quietly. “Because of me?”
“We feared what you might become, yes,” Ryder answered carefully, meeting his son’s gaze evenly. “Out of all the records, no one has ever been marked by the shining faced god. Even still, all know…”
“He’s insane,” Vesper whispered, a cold shudder moving down his spine.
Ryder nodded silently, then tilted his head, tucking his son beneath his chin while holding him tight. “We will never let it happen. I promise you; we will save you from such a fate.”
Even though Vesper knew the only way that could be, he felt a warmth of relief at the words. Death would be better.
SCENE #Fate decided
Vesper couldn’t sleep. Before leaving his father’s study, Ryder had suggested he take something to calm him, but Vesper had refused. He didn’t want to be calm. He didn’t want to sleep, or dream, or forget a damn fucking moment. He had less than a month to live and rest was not at the top of his priorities.
Pacing the length of his bedroom, his gaze inadvertently strayed to the adjoining room where the door was left ajar. The twins were asleep, or at least, the blue-eyed one was. Draven, the red-eyed one, was likely pretending. Vesper wasn’t sure just how things had been told to the two demons about why they were there and what was expected of them. Heiden had likely scared the fuck out of the two. From what he could see, Draven was determined to protect his brother, Lilo, even if the both of them had very little capability in doing such. The gray-skinned boy was currently curled around his brother while the two slept on one of the two beds that had been spelled up for them, claws facing outward just waiting for attack.
Vesper didn’t bother to tell them that no attack would be coming. He had little interest in coupling with either of them. Not that they weren’t attractive—They were fine enough in a slender, petite way. They were also frightened, angry, and seemed to not wish to be in his house even more than he didn’t want them to be there. Vesper had spent years curbing his own innate desires. He wasn’t about to fuck it all up during his last month just to have the two demons end up dead when Heiden realized his pet had betrayed him.
Closing his eyes, he inhaled sharply and turned on his heel. This was not the first time he had faced his death, but it was the first time it had ever felt quite so real. There had been times too numerous to count in the beginning when he had thought to just end it all. To chose death over enslavement and draining. Heiden had been so terrifying, from looks to the disgusting feel of his magic. To think such a being would one day touch him had filled him with such dread, Vesper had dreamed of sharp blades enchanted to keep wounds from closing. Still, some nights, he would take down the Celestial blades passed down through the generations and consider the ease in which all of his problems would slip away with theflow if his blood from his veins.
He was not a coward. He had repeatedly chosen to live so another didn’t have to face his fate. Now… Now, having realized he should never have lived at all, he was at a loss.
God touched.
His parents would not fail. They did not fail. Not when it came to the gods. Celestial Clan had dedicated their lives to the shadow faced god. Candidates had been in their bloodline since the first time an Heir had touched down on the Earth. Even if a Candidate hadn’t been chosen in a thousand years, it did not mean that the clan had lost their way.
Vesper just hadn’t known how absolute his fate had been decided before he had even been born.
God touched by the maddened one.
He should have killed himself. Now his parents were risking their own lives for his curse—And fine, perhaps they were responsible for not doing what needed to be done at his birth, but he refused to see it that way. They had given him life, had stood by him when his entire Clan had turned their backs. His very existence had hurt them at every turn, and still, his parents had kept their loyalty to him. He did not wish to have them be sacrificed because of him yet again.
His pacing brought him to the adjoining door again, red eyes glinting at him from the dim room. Vesper huffed, stalking past while trying to ignore the shiver of dread that went down his spine from his thoughts. Heiden knew about Evan. He may not know the name of the boy, but he knew a boy existed and it would be nothing for him to find the rest of the information. It wasn’t like he’d been discreet about any of it. No, he had made a damn ass of himself, challenging Asher Vah, pulling Evanel, then scheming with Devlan just so he could have a chance to scent the boy’s arousal again.
It had been good, though. It had been fucking divine. If he had been allowed to just touch the kid… Just kiss him. Evanel had nearly demanded a kiss. The boy would be punished anyways…
Vesper shook his head fiercely, forcing the thought aside.
Goddess, he had fucked everything up. The one boy he had ever felt anything for, he had very likely just damned. The demon twins were proof of it. Heiden would find Evan and he would destroy him. Just because he could. To send a message to him and to every bonded Malice that came after him that the rules were not a suggestion but a law. Heiden would take glee in it, whether Vesper was alive to see it at the time or not.
He had to do something. He had fucked it all up and he needed to fix it before it was too late.
Vesper sighed, his paces faltering, his gaze drawn up to the high ceiling where carvings of dragons glared down from the corners of the room. Was he allowed to pray to the goddess now that he knew? Would she curse him for being god touched by the maddened one? What god would listen to him with such a monster holding power over his soul?
Could he pray to the shadow faced god?
Blinking back tears, Vesper took heavy steps to his bed, his hands resting on the decorative cover. He could not pray to the maddened one. He had heard of men that had before and all had gone insane. The creature was demented, cruel, and all powerful. He had no interest in such a selfish, chaotic god that would destroy all for his own wants. All the Children of the Light were like that and Vesper had been taught to hate them for the destruction they wrought on the world.
But his brother, the shadow faced god, was known for his mercy. There was none other like him. While the Children of the Light squabbled and fought, destroying all in their wake, the shadow faced god came down and healed. He restored the balance, brought magic back, and always peace. He loved the beings he saved, as well as the gods he fought. The shadow faced god was mercy incarnate, and fuck, he could really use some mercy.
Decided, Vesper turned to his wardrobe, opening the wooden paneled door and skimming his fingertips through until he found a robe the color of night sky. He wrapped himself in the silky fabric, realizing for the first time just why his skin might shine so bright. God touched by the shining faced god. Made to be beautiful in his image. Beautiful, powerful, and fucking insane.
Maybe that was the new presence rising up in him. Not some primal mating brain waiting for his exritus but whatever the maddened one had imbued in him during his creation. Maybe even a piece of La Lune himself, waiting for his fae awakening to take him over and wreck havoc on the world in a way only a ruthless god could.
He could not let it happen. He would pray to the shadow faced god. Pray to his Heir if the being existed yet, reincarnated on the planet. Pray for a merciful end. It was the best he could hope for.
SCENE #A dark prayer
There was no way to tell if the shadow faced god was listening.
Vesper had gone out into the dark, stepping past the portal of his home just in case Ezella took offense. He didn’t want to ruin his family name any more than he had already. Encased in black against the mountain wind, he stood silent at the cliff’s base where the family portal led to above. He didn’t have any token of the shadow faced god, nothing to show that it was him he wished to speak to among all the many fae, ancient and new. But like all the Malices, he knew Nox Amor’s symbol and with a steady hand he drew it in the thin snow beneath his feet. There was something meditative in the curves of the rune, an interlocking spiral of power that held the light within while the darkness grew complete externally.
Vesper had given up on the gods many years ago. Being chosen by Heiden had stolen most of his faith. He still wasn’t sure just how much he believed. Something more powerful than him had marked him and cursed his family before he had even had awareness. That this creature could be more dangerous than Heiden seemed impossible, but then, there was some comfort in that as well. Maybe there being something larger in the world did not make him feel infinitely small and worthless. It had sparked a hope within, one not fully realized but already felt.
The darkness seemed to close in even greater by the time he had made the last line to the shadow faced god’s symbol. His eyes fixed on the rune, Vesper ducked his head, hunching over in the snow as he whispered to the god named Nox Amor.
He prayed for his family; for Leandra, Ryder, and their unborn child. He prayed for the Celestial Clan and his many aunts, uncles, and cousins. He prayed for Ezella’s forgiveness in his betrayal of her name because of the maddened one’s touch. He prayed for himself and whatever indiscretion he must have committed to have been chosen by the shining faced god in the first place. He prayed that Devlan wouldn’t face retaliation because of his involvement at the Hierarchy. He prayed that Lilo and Draven would be spared when he died. He begged that his brother or sister would be spared the curse of Heiden.
Then, when Vesper could think of nothing else that required his attention, he prayed for mercy for one boy. For Evan, who had done nothing but see him, and ask of him. He hadn’t shut him out when their eyes had met each time. It hadn’t been Evan’s fault but the boy would surely suffer if Heiden had his way. Vesper had taken on so much, had sacrificed without ever a word of complaint even if inside something screamed and broke each time. Surely he was due one wish of mercy.
“Just one boy,” he whispered, a note of pleading in his voice. “Just one.”
Fae gods didn’t respond to words but actions, Vesper knew that much. He just didn’t have much he could work with given his limited time and being tied to Heiden. The tattoo wasn’t active yet, but it was there, ingrained in his flesh. Any that saw him would make the connection and the more Heiden’s name was made a fool, the more likely the demon would seek revenge.
He had a plan, though, tentative as it was.
“I will do what I must, Nox Amor. I will set what I can in motion so that your hand can guide. Save him and I… I will gift you my last loyal act.”
It wasn’t right that his parents had to take on such a burden. Yes, they might have birthed him, but he wasn’t some helpless babe anymore. His exritus was upon him. He was an adult and it was his life that had caused so much turmoil. He might not have had any part in the circumstances of his birth but he could make a choice on his death. In some ways, it had been the only real choice available since Heiden. Just one he had refused to take. Out of fear. Out of selfishness for the last few moments of a life unlived.
It was coming to an end either way. Staring at the shadow faced god’s rune, the darkness closing in like a wave of water, he could swear he could feel death teasing at the edge of his consciousness. Waiting. Calling. The gods were close and surely they would hear his plea.
“I will give you my death, Nox Amor. I pledge my death to you.” The shining faced god might have claim to his life, Heiden might have second claim, but Vesper could at least say his death was his own to give. To protect his family, his clan, and the world from the shining faced god, he would kill himself before the madness took him. It was the only righteous choice he had left.
SCENE #An unexpected visitor
I have no clue why Draco Malfoy is standing on my front steps. Well, the Dursley’s front steps. If I owned front steps of my own, I still wouldn’t expect Malfoy to grace them. Which makes this very surreal moment extremely confusing. Because he’s here. All pale, sexy prat.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” He asks, his eyebrow raised in his normal sardonic expression like he’s not on my stoop in the middle of summer.
“Fuck no.” If Vernon sees him, life is going to go to shit really fucking quick. I might not look like magic, but Malfoy does. All the time. I don’t think I’ve ever looked at him and not thought he was otherworldly. Even here in my boring as fuck neighborhood, he’s a damn hunky prince, flesh beyond glowing pale, silky white-blond hair drifting sexily into his shining silver eyes, lips lush, and red, and terribly tempting. No, he is not coming into my house.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair and glancing behind him. He’s got nice, broad shoulders and I can’t help staring at them. “Potter, I need to talk to you and I can’t do it out on the fucking street. This is important.”
Oh, I’m sure it fucking is. He’s at the Dursleys, on my steps, dressed suspiciously like a muggle. I say suspiciously, because Malfoy should know how to dress like a muggle, seeing as he attends school with plenty of muggleborns. But he’s managed to turn jeans and a t-shirt into something exotic. No joke. He’s in tight dark jeans ripped stylishly, tucked into buttery tall black leather boots. His t-shirt is tight, with a picture of—Yup, you guessed it—fucking Merlin, name and everything written in script. He looks like some sort of rock star, or model, or just Draco Malfoy. Hot. That’s his default. And prat, but that goes without saying.
I, naturally, feel like a goddamn pauper next to him. It’s actually really fucking annoying to get up ridiculously early in the morning in the middle of summer to have to feel like a pauper at your own front door. He’s not mentioning it, but he keeps staring at my bare chest—It’s really fucking early. Like, fast asleep, worried Vernon is going to come hollering down the stairs for breakfast and work soon, early. I’m apparently under-dressed. Too fucking bad.
“Listen, Malfoy, I don’t know what the hell you want but you’re not coming in here. My relatives are annoying enough without bringing a wizard into the house.”
He blinks at that, his crystal gray eyes focusing behind me, taking in the wall with the family portraits I’m not included in, the tacky paintings of flowers, mail piled up to the side and Aunt Petunia’s pristine floor. He huffs after a moment, meeting my eye again. “I don’t see anyone else.”
“They’re asleep. The thing I was doing—Do you even realize what time it is?” Dawn has only just hit the sky, turning his hair near gold in the morning light. He looks angelic, the damn bastard.
“I need to talk to you,” he repeats, staring me down like he’s offering some fucking solution to our standoff.
God, he’s annoying. I thought I had gotten rid of him for a summer, at least. “Wait here.” I shut the door in his face, turning and walking up the stairs to my small room.
I glare at my bureau, then at my mirror. Everything I have is going to look like shit next to him. It’s like a goddamn curse. I could suddenly become the neatest, most fashion forward guy out there, but next to Malfoy I’ll still look like a homeless person. Fucking prat.
I throw on jeans that actually fit, having gone shopping weeks ago once returning to the Dursleys. Fucking Merlin t-shirt… Where the hell did he find that? I want that shirt. It’s not fair that he can get a damn Merlin t-shirt when he never wears t-shirts. Grumbling under my breath, I pull out a black NIN tee—because it’s fucking classic, thank you very much—and pick up my sneakers. Aunt Petunia throws a hissy every time I walk in the house in shoes. Even with her asleep, I’m not risking it.
He scowls when I open the door, like he’s been waiting for hours and not less than three minutes. I ignore him, locking the door behind me, clipping my keys to my belt loop and sitting on the cement stairs to pull my socks and shoes on. I run my hand down my face, trying to get the lingering sleep out of my eyes. Nightmares again. Always nightmares. Waking up to him shooting sparks at my window sure as fuck didn’t help anything.
“Is anyone dead?” I look up at him, watching his face carefully. Nothing. He’s gotten better at hiding shit. If I piss him off enough, he’ll probably crack. But I don’t know if I want to play that game so early in the morning.
“No.”
I stand, starting down the stairs. He follows after hesitantly, glancing back at the Dursleys like it’s the one place he wants to be. “Potter, I need to…”
Yes, yes, talk to me. “Coffee,” I grunt. “There’s a place down the street. And my relatives won’t throw me out on my ass for bringing unsavory characters home.”
“Unsavory?” He huffs, catching up to me, mild annoyance flashing in his eyes. “People love me, Potter. Mothers think I’m the fucking ‘cat’s meow.’ Their words, not mine.”
It’s way too early. He’s also apparently a morning person. Of course. “My relatives are scared shitless of magic. That includes the people that wield it. They will not like you. They will bitch me out for you showing up. They will be reminded that I possess magic, and they will again question if I really should be under the same roof as them.” I don’t bother pointing out that he’s a total prat, and even if mothers like him, I find him annoying as fuck.
He falls silent, his lips taking on a tense edge. Anxiety, maybe. Anger. I really need to stop looking at his mouth.
It’s less than twenty minutes to the convenience store. For whatever reason, he doesn’t say anything. He’s not looking around, so I don’t think he’s worried about being followed. I don’t know. I still don’t know why the fuck he’s here and if I really care. The air still has that chill dew to it, and I turn my face up to the sun when I step into the patches of light through the trees. Warmth. Light. An absence of the unceasing dark and the nightmares it contains.
He stops cold when I walk up to the glass doors to the place and they slide open automatically with a ding. Holy fuck. He’s never seen—There are no words. Malfoy Manor must be located under a rock.
I let him stand there figuring out if he wants to chance the electronic doors, stepping in and heading straight to the back where there’s another morning person already full of caffeine to take my order for some cavity inducing donuts and coffee flavored sugar. I find him beside me after a moment staring at the menu curiously above our heads.
“Got any cash?” I ask, trying not to smirk when he shakes his head. Rich little prat doesn’t have muggle money. Of course. “Pick whatever you want. I’ve got it.” The girl comes over with my donuts in a bag, handing an egg on a bagel with bacon—or the damn near equivalent. It never seems like the real thing in these places, like they manage to slip some plastic in there somehow.
Malfoy orders a donut and coffee. Missy behind the counter drools. Yeah, I know. It’s actually kind of refreshing. If we were in the wizarding world, that look would be directed at me just because of the scar on my forehead. Out in the muggle world, I still get that look a bit, but it’s not assumed. And next to Draco Malfoy, I can disappear into obscurity among the rest of the people that don’t look like sex gods. It’s kind of nice.
“Is there something wrong with my clothes?” He mutters when we get outside, glaring at the people coming in that are looking him up and down. I just sip my coffee, refusing to address that fucking question ever. Maybe I could get him into my clothes if I say something. Maybe I could just get him out of his clothes.
“Malfoy, what the fuck are you doing here?” I ask, feeling it’s about time to address this fucking problem and send him on his way to stop tormenting me. Seriously, it’s way too fucking early. Early in the morning, early in the year—I’m not prepared for him. My brain and dick are very much fighting over how I should handle this situation. Never a good sign.
He looks around, scowling as he nearly burns his mouth on his drink. What is he, a fucking idiot? I mean really, hot coffee. Blow. Fucking wizards apparently don’t know shit about anything.
“Ugh, this taste like crap.”
That he can taste it at all is amazing enough after burning his tongue. We reach the park I’ve been eying and I put my stuff down on the merry go round. I snag his cup from him, popping the top off. It’s black. Fucking noob. I hand him mine—Ridiculous sweet shit I shouldn’t be drinking anyways. I sit with my food, sinking my shoes into the sand and watching him rise to the learning curve and actually blow on his coffee before trying it this time. The boy’s brilliant.
I eat my plastic egg sandwich, washing it down with the murky shit he ordered. Once the caffeine hits my system, I probably won’t hate him as much. Or maybe I’ll hate him more. Depends what mood he’s in.
“Well?”
He looks up at me from his donut, his lips covered in powdered sugar. Fuck. I train my features. If he sees me laughing, he’s going to wipe it away. And he cannot, ever, be allowed to do that. Fucking adorable, sexy prat.
“Why are you here? What do you want?” I wave my hand encouragingly when he doesn’t seem interested in answering. I fear I might have let a smirk free. But still, he hasn’t wiped it away.
“I need your help.”
Ugh, seriously? “Malfoy, it’s like 5 am.”
“I didn’t mean right this second. Well, sort of.” He gives me a haughty sniff, which also clues him in to the fact that he’s got powdered sugar on his mouth as he coughs. Sigh. I hand him a napkin, cus he can’t seem to figure out life without cleaning charms. The kid is damn hopeless in the real world.
“How did you get here?”
“Apparated.”
Right, because he lives in a wizarding household, and he can use magic when supervised. Unlike me, who has to wait for Hogwarts and a dozen teachers to hold my hand. Whatever. “How’d you find out where I live?”
He shrugs, making me immediately suspicious. Because, seriously, he shouldn’t be here asking me for anything. He should be here trying to get me killed. Luring me to my doom with those really gorgeous lips and cruel eyes.
“Malfoy, I’m not helping with shit until I know how you got my info.”
Looking at me bored as fuck as he wipes his mouth, he finally answers, “Snape.”
That’s a puzzler. Snape hates me. But he’s also a double agent working for the Order. He could have given up my info because he thinks Malfoy’s going to try to take me out and the potions master wants to see what he’ll do. Or he gave it up because he thinks Malfoy needs my help. Or… “Was this information given willingly?”
“Of course.” Like I’m being a crazy, paranoid person or something.
“Let me see your arm.”
“Potter, are you fucking kidding me? I’m not a fucking Death Eater.” He looks like he’s going to punch me. Good fucking luck. I glare and he eventually relents, turning his inner arm outward. “There’s nothing. Happy?”
Fuck, this kid is seriously pale. I bend closer, holding his wrist as I peer. I don’t trust him. For all I know he’s charmed it away. I rub my hand over where the mark would be, but nothing reveals itself. No feel of magic or evil. He’s chilly. And he smells really nice. I probably should let him go now.
“Where’d you get your shirt?”
“Solstice gift.”
Bastard. It’s a really cool Merlin shirt. The beard and hair have animals hidden in it, and it clings to him, showing off his tight, toned form. Right, time to let his arm go.
I run my palm over his bicep one more time, just to be on the safe side. His skin turns slightly pink from my touch and I do it again. It totally has nothing to do with me wanting to feel his muscles flex under my hand and slowly warm up from my body heat.
“Potter, I’m not a Death Eater.”
Yeah, yet. The thing is, I can’t remember ever touching Malfoy beyond the occasional fistfight. It’s apparently addictive. “Let me see your other arm.”
He growls in exasperation. “Potter, they only put it one place. Part of their fucked up code.”
Yeah, he’d probably know. I hold my hand out and with a loud huff, he turns and shows me his other arm. I wonder if I ask to see his ass, if he’ll let me. I bet he has a fucking perfect ass.
“Are you done, or am I going to have to strip?” He’s pissed. I’m considering it. He’d look good in the morning light. Fuck, he’d look good in anything, anywhere. Does he have tan lines? Like a different shade of pale under all those clothes?
I forcefully take my hands off of him, grabbing my bag of donuts to give me something to do. “Alright, you’re not a Death Eater. What the hell do you want?”
“Your help.”
Duh. “Need a bit more than that, Malfoy. Details.”
I glance over when he doesn’t say anything. He’s biting his lip. It’s wet, and red, and caught between his teeth. God, I want to kiss him.
“I’m in trouble,” he mumbles eventually, releasing a long sigh. “I sort of… Well, you looking for the Dark Mark might have had different results, if you get my drift. But I… I ran.”
“Holy fuck!” Whoops, might have said that out loud, given his expression.
“Snape told me you have some sort of protection from You-Know-Who. That as long as I’m in the same house as you, I’d be safe until getting to school next term. After that… Well, who the fuck knows?” He shrugs, like he’s not scared out of his fucking mind.
But he is. I can see it. He’s shaking.
He could be lying. It’s Malfoy. He lies all the fucking time. Over everything. Just to see if he can.
“Prove it.” There’s no way in fuck the Dursley are going to let me have a houseguest.
Scowling, he straightens from his slump, glaring at me. “How the fuck do you want me to prove it? Would you like a written letter from the Dark Lord himself? Dear Mr. Potter, I’m unhappy to inform you that Draco Malfoy, son to my most loyalest of servants, has pussied out after learning he’s to be my sex toy. Enclosed, I have sent all of his credentials, including a record of his escape, just to set your mind at ease. Fuck you, Potter. I’m not lying.”
I must have heard that wrong. Staring into my bag of donuts, I run the words through my head, slowly sifting through. Nope, pretty sure he said sex toy. Pretty damn sure. I pull out a chocolate frosted pastry of doom and take a bite so I don’t have to look at him right now. Sex toy? Voldemort can actually get it up? What is he, like a hundred now? Draco Malfoy as a sex toy…
I would definitely trade the Merlin shirt for that particular sex toy.
“So, can I stay with you?”
He could be hoping to get into my house to try and tear down the wards. He could be looking to gut me in my sleep, or drag me out into the night with Voldemort waiting outside. He could be crying right now, which I’m pretty sure he is.
Red rimmed eyes. At least he’s not bawling. Fuck. Fuck my life.
SCENE #Draco’s desperate escape
“When did this happen?” I hand him my other donut. Sugar’s going to help this. I’m not sure how, but I know it’s true.
“What part?”
I give him a look, then regret it. His eyes are watery and somehow fucking extra beautiful. I look out at the field. “Just tell me everything you can.”
He takes a deep breath that sounds way too shaky. “Um, so let’s see. I went home knowing this was the year. Father’s been hinting, trying to feel me out on it. He knew I didn’t want to do it, but, well, it’s not really a choice thing.”
Pretty sure it is. You either get down on your knees and pledge your loyalty to Voldemort, or you get a wand to the head. Not a great choice, but it’s a choice. I wisely keep my mouth shut.
“I found out just a few days ago…” He trails off, stretching his legs. “Bellatrix started asking me all these questions. Fucked up questions. Something you really don’t want your psychotic bitch aunt to ask you.”
“Get to the point.”
“Fuck you. About sex. About what I like, what I’ve done already. If I can suck cock. I thought she was just fucking with my head—She’s a total bitch.”
Can he suck cock? With a mouth like that…
“Then I find out that my mother’s off to St. Mungo’s. Just that night. The group of them had a little meeting and my mother’s in the hospital, my aunt is suddenly staked out in the mansion asking me questions about cock, and my father is nowhere to be found.”
“Dead?”
He shakes his head sharply. “He came back later that night. Hurt. Scared… Never seen him scared before. He wouldn’t tell me what happened, just said You-Know-Who has an ‘unhealthy interest’ in me.”
Fuck, I really can’t blame Voldemort. The kid’s a sex god.
“My aunt doesn’t leave, and suddenly my father isn’t allowed to be alone with me. She’s like some rabid guard dog or something. But she’s fucking cackling, like all the fucking time. Saying shit like how I’m going to be sucking snake dick until I’m dead, which will be soon because of what my mother did. But I don’t know what my mother did, I just know that she’s in the hospital and not responsive and things are getting fucking bat-shit scary and—”
“Chill. Breathe.” The kid is freaking out. “You’re in a muggle park. No Death Eaters, no bitch aunt, no snake dicks. Take a breath.”
Do snakes have dicks?
He nods frantically, tearing small pieces off his chocolate donut. His fingers are a mess and I can’t stop staring at them. I want to lick them. I really want to lick them. He’s worried about being raped and killed by Voldemort, and I can’t stop thinking about sex whenever I look at him. There’s something fucked up with me. But it’s early. Like morning wood, early.
He takes a huge breath, then another. His knee starts bouncing, shaking the damn merry go round and vibrating through my ass until all I can think about is him fucking me. There is no way he can stay with me. Maybe the Weasleys have a room. I’m going to do something stupid if he’s around me all the time. I know it. No classmates or house fidelity to keep me thinking straight. I get fucked up in the head whenever I’m at the Dursleys as it is. He really shouldn’t be around for that.
He continues, his voice empty, nearly numb. “My dad leaves me a portkey with a note to dress muggle. It dumps me in this back alley. Snape’s there. He’s blunt. My mother fucked up and my family will pay. You-Know-Who is going to ruin me, and it will be public. If I’m as loyal as fuck, he might let me live, but I’m still going to be screaming for years. Running will get me killed once I’m caught, and I’ll probably be caught. But seriously, Potter? Much as I don’t want to die, I don’t want the fucker touching me.”
I wonder if Malfoy’s seen Voldemort recently. I have. The dreams. The torture he inflicts. I’ve yet to see the guy ass rape someone, but I totally believe he’d do it. Even if he can’t get it up, I’m sure he’d have something handy to do the job for him. Voldemort likes to improvise.
“Snape tells me your location. Warns me that… Well, you’re going to be difficult as fuck.” He’s looking at me but I refuse to rise to the bait. “Says you won’t trust me. But that I’m going to have to do whatever I can, because you’re the only one with a house warded against You-Know-Who. I guess it’s a big fucking deal.”
It might be. I hate the Dursleys and I can’t stop the dreams, even at their place, but I don’t have to worry about Voldemort walking through the front door. It’s something.
I look up as he stands. He moves in front of me, replacing my view of the quiet field, back lighting him in that fucking angelic light again. His eyes are still red, despair clear on his beautiful features. Seriously, fuck my life.
“So I’m here. Willing to do whatever the fuck it takes, Potter. I have nowhere else to go. Nowhere safe from him. He’s probably going to kill my parents. Definitely my mother, if she’s not dead already. I promise I won’t be an asshole—Fuck, I won’t say shit to you if that helps. I can, I don’t know, clean or some shit. Whatever the fuck you want. I just really don’t want to die.”
Would he fit in the cupboard? Could I hide Draco Malfoy in the cupboard under the stairs? He’s taller than me now. I have the invisibility cloak. If Petunia gives me shit, I can always just hide him under the cloak… for a month. Huh.
Seriously? I’m actually considering this? I need to get in contact with Ron and find out if Narcissa Malfoy is actually in St. Mungo’s. There’s no way Snape will talk to me; it would jeopardize his spy status and his life. If I get an owl out now, Ron will likely answer it by, oh, ten or eleven, depending on when he wakes up. God I wish wizards would suck it up and get some fucking telephones. I think the Amish have more tech than they do.
He’s still staring at me, hope and fear in his eyes. Crap. “Sit down, Malfoy.” Vernon will be off to work in less than an hour. I’d rather talk to Petunia without the blustering bastard interrupting. And if she says no, well, there’s always the cloak. And the cupboard. Just don’t think he’ll fit.
SCENE #Meeting the Dursleys
Mothers do love Malfoy. It’s bizarre as fuck. I walk in the kitchen with him in tow and Petunia, usually frosty eyed and stiff, smiles like the sun. Wow. She doesn’t even say anything about him wearing boots in the house.
My goal is to play the guilt angle. Let her see his hunky face, mention the fact that he’s got nowhere to go but plenty of cash to pay for room and board once we get his galleons switched over to something actually useful to muggles. I won’t mention killer wizards unless things go bad. She’s terrified of Voldemort. She was terrified of Lily and James, and when something bigger and badder killed them, she got even more afraid. I sometimes wonder if she had a nervous breakdown when it all happened. They don’t talk about it, but she seems like the type.
“Aunt Petunia, I’d like you to meet my… friend.” Yeah, that sounds weird. “Drake.” He gives me a look I refuse to acknowledge. His name is way too wizard for the Dursleys.
Petunia actually steps around me to shake his hand. Like he’s a person. I can’t even imagine what the fuck that’s like. Pretty people get everything, I guess. “I didn’t think you had any friends.”
Ouch.
He smiles at me, 100 volts of snickering prat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Petunia—Do you mind if I call you Petunia? It’s a lovely name.” Gag me.
“Petunia is perfectly acceptable, dear. Have you had breakfast? I was just about to whip something up for my Dudley. I’d be more than happy to make you something as well.”
I stand back and watch the magic of Draco Malfoy charming my aunt. It’s disgusting. He’s amazing.
“Boy, did you want something?” Yup, I’m still ‘boy.’ But hey, a lot less frost than normal.
“I’m fine, Aunt Petunia. Thank you.” She gives me a look when I thank her. She knows something’s up. No point drawing it out. “I have a request. A favor.”
She turns to the stove, pointedly cooking and not looking at me. Off to a great start.
“Drake needs a place to stay for a few weeks. He can pay his way, he’s more than happy to, but it won’t be until right before school. His mother became really ill, and his dad works all day and spends his nights at the hospital by her side.”
She turns at that, sympathy flashing in her eyes as she looks at Draco. He gives her a crooked, hanging in there smile tinged with sorrow. My god, he’s good. I’m feeling totally played right now. If his eyes start watering, I’m going to know he was lying to me. I think.
“I understand it’s short notice. Pot—Harry always said if I ever need a helping hand, he lives with good people with strong values. He even told me how you’ve been trying to help him. Straighten him out a bit. Keep him out of trouble. I daresay you have your work cut out for you.”
I should just go hang myself. My fucking rival of seven years, and angry aunt of forever talking about straightening me out. And they don’t mean the gay. I don’t think they mean the gay. It’s not something that’s really come up in conversation because I don’t converse with these people. Ever.
“I’m afraid we don’t have much room.” Holy hell, she’s considering it.
Malfoy shoots a look my way, raising his brows like I’m supposed to jump in here. We could throw him in the bathroom. He could curl up in the bathtub and pull the shower curtain around for privacy. I’m sure it’ll be fine.
“He’ll bunk with me. I have that old sleeping bag.”
“Oh, but he’s so delicate. He can’t sleep on the floor. There’s hardly any room in there to begin with.”
Seriously? She just spent five minutes with him and she’s already giving him my bed. Talk about chopped liver. “I can take the floor,” I grunt, folding my arms over my chest. He flashes me a surprised look I also choose to ignore. I’m shorter—I’ll be more likely to fit. And fuck, if it gets too weird, I can always try the fucking cupboard.
“Your bed’s so lumpy, though.”
Fucking hell! If she buys him a new bed while I’ve been sleeping on that crap mattress for years—
“I’m sure it will be fine, Petunia. I’m just glad to not have to be home alone at night. I worry, and with my mother off in the hospital…” He gives another sad, surviving in pain expression that brings Aunt Petunia across the room to hug him. He shoots me a smug smile while I flip him off behind her back. Fucking deceitful little prat. Total skill.
“Oh, you’re all skin and bones! How long have you been without a proper home-cooked meal? I’m going to take care of that right away.” Malfoy is not skin and bones. He’s lithe, strong muscle and damn fine bone structure. She’s used to fat as fuck and she better not ruin his perfection. “You go sit out in the living room. Dudley should be down any minute. I’m sure you’ll be great friends.”
Like fuck.
I wait for him to leave, then stay to talk to her so we’re clear on a few things. “He’s underage and won’t be performing any strangeness,” Aka, magic. “He won’t be bringing anyone by, not even his parents. He’s on his own. He doesn’t understand everything, but he’s polite, and he’ll be quiet.”
“He has no bags,” she points out, like that’s all she cares about when letting a wizard into her house. Fuck, he has no bags. No clothes, no things.
“I’ll have to take him shopping. We can take the bus.”
“Don’t be silly. Dudley’s been dying to go out to the new mall. We’ll make a day of it.”
My god, she really likes the prat. “Vernon isn’t going to have any issue with all this?”
She waves her hand at me. “I think he’ll be thrilled to have some culture in the house. It’s good to know you’re not completely a lost cause.”
Fucking hell. I wonder how she’d feel if she knew Malfoy had been days away from getting a tattoo on his arm symbolizing his willingness to hurt, torture, and murder any and all muggles in the name of Voldemort? Hell, she’d probably commend him for wanting to kill me. Whatever. Fucking whatever.
I find him in the living room, looking around the space curiously, only the slightest of sneers on his face. Just wait till he sees where he’s sleeping. “I’ve gotta do some things. Feel free to look around. Television.” I point, then start up the stairs. Thirty seconds later, he’s at my back.
“Potter, don’t just leave me alone in all this… muggleness.”
I stop, turning on him. “Not a word you’re allowed to say here. My aunt knows what you are, and god help me, she likes you enough to let you stay. But my uncle and my cousin—They can’t figure it out or it all goes to shit, got it? No magic, no muggles, no talking about blood in general, or charms, spells, potions…”
“I get it,” he interrupts with a growl. “I’m not stupid.” Better. I prefer him angry to charming any fucking day.
I turn back, going to push into my room, only to pause when I hear the bathroom door open. Dudley comes hulking out, stopping cold when he catches sight of the two of us. I glare, watching his bloodshot eyes assess Malfoy, stupid running across his wide face.
“Whose the poof?”
“Lay a finger on him and I’ll fucking kill you.”
Malfoy looks between the two of us, eyebrow raised inquiringly. I’m not explaining Dudley to him. There are not enough words to explain Dudley. The kid’s mean, brutish, and likes to punch. I give as good as I get, but I’m not letting that shit happen to the Slytherin prince that never even saw an automatic door before. Without magic, Malfoy’s damn vulnerable.
“I’m Drake,” Malfoy says, holding his hand out to Dudley. Fucking ass. Dudley stares at him like he’s got five heads. Considering the kid’s eyes look like he’s already stoned, maybe that’s what he sees.
“You fucking the freak?” Dudley asks, ignoring Malfoy’s hand. “Seriously, you can do better. I could point out any bloke on the street, and they’d be better than my freak cousin.”
“Um…” Malfoy looks a bit lost. He brought it on himself, trying to make friends with Dudley.
“Hell, they don’t even have to be people. I think I saw a cow the other day that would be a better choice than him. Dogs. Plenty of dogs running around the neighborhood. They’re loyal. Probably drool less.”
I step into my room, determined to not get involved in the bullshit that is Dudley Dursley. I pull out some parchment, writing a note to Ron asking about Malfoy’s mother. By the time I’m done and rousing Hedwig, Malfoy’s back, looking at me almost sympathetically.
“Let me know if he hits you. I’ll deal with it.”
“He’s not going to hit me.”
Yeah, he fucking is, but I’m going to deal with it when it happens. If he wants to live in fucking fantasy land, so be it.
“I like your owl.” He steps up, reaching his hand out to gently stroke Hedwig’s breast. The traitorous thing coos at him. Fuck, I am never going to be loved if I have to compete with Malfoy for affection. My bird. My unconditional love. Hedwig hoots and rubs her face into his palm. Fuck my life.
I’m being a selfish ass, and I know it. He’s homeless and running from Voldemort, who has all intentions of fucking him up in more ways than one. If he wants some damn companionship from my owl, it’s not the end of the world.
“We’ll be going out tomorrow to get you some clothes. I’ll spot you the money for now… Or whatever. I have plenty, and who the hell knows what you’re situation is going to be like.”
He just nods silently, gently petting my beautiful snowy bird. They look good together. They could be related.
He looks up, meeting my eyes. “Thank you.”
Sucker punch, right to the gut. That’s what I get for being nice. Genuine appreciation. It’s going to be a long month.
“No problem.”
SCENE #Trip to the arcade
Ron’s letter is pretty damning. Narcissa’s in some sort of magical coma while also in excruciating pain. She’s dying. Voldemort knows his shit. Malfoy’s totally screwed.
I think a part of me was hoping the kid was lying. Because, really, who wants to consider that as the truth? Fucking sick fuck Voldemort. The kid didn’t even do anything; his mother did. But he’s going to be the one to pay. Voldemort has transference issues. Huge ones.
“Potter, is this all you do all day?” He’s sitting with Hedwig on my bureau, petting her ever since she returned. Traitor.
“Sorry, Malfoy. I didn’t plan an itinerary to entertain you.” I had planned on going down to the arcade today, but I really don’t want to take him along.
“Why don’t you own anything? You have literally three things in this room.”
Four, if I count him. “My uncle locks my trunk up during the summer. He’s scared I’m going to magic them all with my terrifying quills and ink.” I stretch my arms over my head, hitting the wall. My bed is actually really lumpy, but when someone wakes you up before dawn, you make do. I think he’s getting tired of watching me nap. Really don’t know what to tell him.
“Your relatives are kind of messed up.”
“Yup.”
“Where are your glasses?”
God, does he ever shut up? “Specialist spelled my eyesight.”
“Should have done something for your hair while you were being all vain.”
Fucking hell. “It wasn’t vanity, it was survival. You fight enough dark wizards, you start realizing that seeing without a flimsy pair of glasses is really fucking important.”
“Still should have done something about your hair.”
I’m going to kill him. “You ever been to an arcade?”
He looks at me, like he’s not sure if he’s going to sound stupid if he says the wrong thing. “No.”
“How do you feel about crowds?”
He shrugs. “I’ll be fine. Less likely to be spotted.”
“Exactly.” I sit up, running a hand through my perfectly fine hair while taking the time to look him over. “Any way you can pull your jeans down over you boots?”
He looks at his boots, tracing his fingertips over the leather. “But then you won’t see them.”
“That would be the point. You look like money. Fashionable money. You don’t want to stick out.” Last thing I need is him getting mugged or beat up.
Huffing, he fixes his jeans. “So we’re going to be around poor people?”
Fucking prat. “Normal people. People that don’t spend hundreds of dollars on a pair of boots.”
“Poor people,” he insists, giving Hedwig a final ruffle.
“Whatever.” Everyone is poor compared to him. He doesn’t know shit. “Try not to talk too much. I have a feeling you’re going to piss a lot of people off.”
He scowls but doesn’t deny it. He’s an ass. He knows it.
We take the trolley, me once again paying his way. It’s really fucking dumb, but I kind of like being able to buy things for him. I know, really dumb. Like stupid dumb. Even with his boots covered, everyone stares at him. He’s hot. Some chick even tried to pick him up on the trolley. His look of bored disdain was priceless. He wouldn’t be caught dead talking to a muggle.
I walk him into the darkly lit building full of flashing lights, loud noises, and crowds of kids of all ages. His hand keeps gripping my arm like I’m going to disappear. “What do you think?”
“It’s loud as fuck.”
It is. He’s very observant. I get in line for the nearest change machine, watching him glare at everything. He looks a bit like a scared cat, not sure whether to run and hide, or scratch the fuck out of someone. I hand him a cup of quarters. Then, thinking better of it, I cover my hand over the plastic cup before he can drink from it. Fucking wizards; his parents didn’t teach him any life skills.
“They go in the machines. So you can play the games.”
He looks at me like I’m the idiot. He was totally going to drink the fucking quarters. I saw it on his face. Whatever. I pull him towards a game without any lines. Simple fighter game. Boring. Skimming around, I drag him to a racer. He likes brooms; he’ll like cars.
“Come on, sit. Pedal gets you moving, wheel gets you steering, and buttons shoot things.” He is beyond reluctant, but he eventually sits in the overly padded seat. I point to the slots and he keeps popping quarters until the game starts up. He’s a fast learner. Swears like a trucker, but he picks it up damn fast. I watch him for a while. Once I realize I’m staring more at his face as he takes tight turns and races past other players, I figure I should probably look at something else.
“Hey, Harry!” I turn, eyes skimming through the crowd until I find him waving at me. Hello, Paul. Tall, dark, with a surfer’s tan and body. This was the reason I didn’t want Malfoy cramping my style today. Paul’s got his friends with him; Toby and Shawn. They’re not bad, just always in the way.
“Malfoy, I’ll be back in a few.” I don’t know if he hears me; he’s really into the game. I may have started an addiction. Good. He needs something to distract him from his shit life right now.
“Didn’t know if you were showing up today.” Paul slings an arm around my shoulders once I reach him, pulling me up against his side. He’s lean, hard muscle, and smells like sweat. He roofs with his dad, hence the tan and the strength.
“I’m with a friend.” He gives me a surprised look. Fine, I have no muggle friends. Whatever. Paul’s the closest thing, and to be honest, I don’t want him for a friend. He’s to make out with, not talk to. I’m not racist, I just don’t know how to be around normal people and still be me. Magic is a huge part of my existence and muggles aren’t ever going to be able to understand that. Especially when I have crazy evil wizards looking to kill me.
“Feel like ditching him for a bit? We can go play something, just the two of us.” His hand runs over my ass, pulling me closer against his side. Hell.
Paul’s not the subtlest of guys, which is fine by me. I’ve been unbearable horny today, likely because of being stuck in the presence of a sex god. But shit, I can’t just ditch Malfoy in some muggle arcade, even for a hand job… Mmm… Maybe a blow job. Paul’s mouth is on my neck, and he’s doing that thing with his tongue that says he’s totally in the mood to get down on his knees.
“I shouldn’t… He’s new to the area—Ah fuck.” Teeth scrape my throat, the sensation going straight to my dick. Fingers tangle in my hair—my hair is fucking fine, thank you—pulling my head roughly to the side so he can bite more of my neck. It makes me dizzy. Makes me hard, which he really wants to help remedy by grinding his thigh against my erection and squeezing my ass firmly. Hell… okay… maybe just a quick…
There’s a loud cough behind me, and Paul, god only knows why, takes his very nice mouth away from my neck. Groaning, I glare behind me, only to find Malfoy looking pissier than a wet bee. And seriously, why the fuck is he pissed? He’s not the one being cock blocked. “What? Run out of quarters?”
“Are you honestly letting some guy feel you up in a crowd of muggles? Do you not understand the gravity of this situation? Are you taking any of this seriously?”
God, give me strength.
“Paul, give me a sec here.” I don’t actually wait for his reply, untangling myself from his arm and grabbing Malfoy by the shoulder so I can drag him to a secluded area. “What the fuck do you want, Malfoy? I’m sharing my house with you. I’m giving up my bed for you—My fucking bird, apparently too. My goddamn privacy. Can I please have twenty fucking minutes to myself?”
He scowls, glaring pointedly over my shoulder where I can only assume Paul is staring at us wondering why I brought a whiny bitch with me. “You weren’t by yourself, were you? How well do you even know that guy? He’s covered in tattoos and has two holes in his face.”
“Eyebrow rings. Shit, Malfoy, mind your own fucking business. You shouldn’t judge people by how they look.”
“Well, if you want me to judge him by how he acts, I should point out that he looked about ready to shag you in front of everyone.”
Seriously, I do not need a big brother. “Sorry to disappoint you, but that’s a fucking good thing to me. He knows what he wants, and he’s not afraid to go after it. Now seriously, mind your own fucking business.”
Paul’s trying not to laugh in my face by the time I get back. Fuck him. Fuck them both. I’m horny as fuck and I’m not getting any. Cus Malfoy’s hovering over my goddamn shoulder like he needs to protect me from the guy I’ve been grinding on for the last three weeks. It’s bad enough dealing with Shawn and Toby, who seem determined to drag Paul to every damn game there is whenever we’re trying to go at it. What the fuck is it with straight guys? Don’t they like sex? Do I interrupt them when they’re trying to feel up their girls? No.
Paul’s suddenly on my back, hot mouth moving over my ear, hand pressing into my back pocket. “Ditch your pretty-boy guard dog and let’s go somewhere alone.”
I glance over at Malfoy, who’s stone faced and glaring at the nearest video game while trying to ignore the guy grinding his dick against my ass. Yeah, that’s not happening. “Another time.”
“Come on, Harry. You barely come around anymore.”
Another thing I can’t stand; whiny guys. I take his hand out of my pocket and step away. “Sorry, Paul, got plans today. See you around.” I tilt my head at Malfoy, who seems fucking angry and ecstatic all at once to get the fuck out of the place.
“Did you want to play anything else?” I ask, feeling a bit like an ass for ruining his first time in an arcade. We’re even. He ruined any fun I was going to have.
“Fuck no. It’s crowded as fuck and people kept trying to talk to me the second you left.”
I glance at him sideways. “They’re not contagious, Malfoy. Just muggles. Nothing scary.”
“Fuck off, I’m not an idiot. I’m just sick of being looked at.”
Well, good luck to that, hottie. Magical people have this thing where we all kind of know when we’re faced with another witch or wizard. It’s a small world and if you have any proper senses, you can read the magic on another person. Because of that, we tend to not stare blatantly at the very sexy people because we know that sexy person could also hex the fuck out of us. Unfortunately, this rule does not apply to me because I’m the ex-toddler that survived the curse that put Voldemort out of commission for many a happy year. I get stared at all the time in the wizarding world. Malfoy apparently doesn’t.
“We can get you a pair of sunglasses.”
He looks over at me, clearly not knowing what the fuck sunglasses are. Seriously? It’s the same fucking planet. Did his parents lock him up in that manor his whole life? Rolling my eyes, I change direction, walking him to a small line of stores.
SCENE #Never been kissed
Malfoy, surprise, surprise, has an eye for accessories. He finds the hottest, most expensive sunglasses they have, and dumb ass that he is, he manages to look even sexier in them than out. But they’re dark, so he’s happy to not be making eye contact with all the people drooling over him. I, on the other hand, am really starting to feel frustrated as fuck. The kid is at my elbow everywhere. I can’t even take a leak without him hovering. It’s actually starting to make my wonder.
“Have you ever been outside on your own?”
“With muggles? God no.”
Taking in his tense jaw and undoubtedly flighty eyes under those sunglasses, I add. “How about anywhere else? Diagon Alley?”
He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Holy crap. Never? Seriously?”
“My parents are very protective.”
“Right, that’s why you nearly got buggered by their boss and don’t know how to work a fucking cup of coffee. They’re fucking brilliant there.”
“Fuck off.”
Which reminds me that his mom is likely as good as dead and who the fuck knows about Lucius. I shut my mouth.
“Potter?”
“Hmm?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Nice. Really fucking nice. “Care to be more specific? Or would you just prefer to hurl a list of insults at me before we reach the Dursleys?” We’re right down the street. He could probably fill the void.
“That guy was sleazy looking.”
“What guy?”
“The guy with his hand on your ass, moron.”
Again, nice. “He works for a living. Try it before you judge.”
“He looked like a thug.”
“Malfoy, your father is literally a thug. Looks don’t mean shit.”
He falls silent and I breathe a sigh of relief. Finally shut him up. It’s short lived. “It matters when they’re touching you.”
My god, he’s annoying. “Here’s an idea; next time don’t look. If two guys together grosses you out so much, don’t fucking look at them. It’s not people’s fault how they look. How you talk to other people and treat them though; totally on you.”
“I’m not just talking about looks—Shit, you’re dense. What kind of guy just gropes someone in the middle of a crowd? How can you let someone like that just paw you in front of everyone?”
“There you go again: ‘someone like that.’ Paul’s an OK guy. Not a thug, that’s for sure.”
“But you let him touch you. In front of people. Lots of people.”
I’m actually starting to think he’s more than a little naïve. I stop walking, Malfoy nearly crashing into me before he catches himself. “Haven’t you ever wanted someone so much that you don’t care if other people are in the room?”
“No. I’m not some sort of heathen,” he sneers, like I’ve just asked if he’s a muggle.
“Shit.” I’m trying really hard not to laugh here. “How many girls have you kissed?”
“Fuck you.”
Holy fuck. The hunky Slytherin prince hasn’t been kissed. No wonder he has a fucking opinion about everything. “Here’s the deal, Malfoy. I’ll pretend to give a fuck about your opinion on my choice of guys once you’ve actually kissed someone. Till then, bugger off.”
His glare is fucking perfect. I think it’s the first time I’ve won an argument with him. It almost makes up for the Paul fiasco.
SCENE #Sharing a room
Malfoy spoke about five sentences of something I like to refer to as Wall Street mumbo jumbo, and Uncle Vernon became his best fucking friend. It’s disgusting. If I didn’t know the kid wasn’t allowed to do magic, I’d swear he was entrancing them or something. That said, that he can have so many people eating out of the palm of his hand, yet still infuriate the fuck out of me is rather amazing.
Dinner was oddly talkative, Vernon and Malfoy in a heated discussion about numbers that I don’t care to learn a thing about. Stocks, bonds, whatever. Uncle Vernon actually pats me on the shoulder as he leaves for the living room because he’s glad Malfoy’s there. Bizarre. Malfoy watches TV with the family for a bit, and I escape to my room to finally get some fucking alone time.
A whole day stuck with Malfoy and not once did I get a chance to wank. Talk about torture. That he’s apparently naïve as fuck doesn’t help anything. Because maybe he might have been conscientious if he understood just how hot he was. But no, he was practically clinging to me half the day, like Death Eaters were going to jump us or some shit. Or maybe he’s just really afraid of muggles. People seem to scare him. Like overwhelm him to the point of becoming defensive and clingy all at once. Maybe that’s why he always kept Crabbe and Goyle around—A human buffer.
Whatever. I really don’t want to be thinking about him while touching myself. I have to share a fucking room with him. Closet—it’s a really small room. Making things any more awkward is just going to be miserable.
He has a really nice mouth. That crack about cock sucking this morning has been spinning in my head all day. He doesn’t ever shut up once he starts talking, and doesn’t that just solve everything if he’s on his knees full of dick? Hell… Wasn’t supposed to think of that… Oh, but it’s a nice thought. It really is…
Messing up his perfect hair with my hands, holding his head tight and still as he opens those pouty lips of his for my cock. It could be his first kiss… Bad, Potter. Very bad… But yeah, it could be.
I wonder if he’d swallow… Mmm, maybe just let it dribble out those red lips of his, down his chin, onto his throat. The kid is smoking hot.
I buck into my hand, biting my lip to keep from crying out. Fuck. It’s not the first time I’ve come thinking of him. But it is the first time we’re sharing space. Whatever. Whatever gets me through this.
I’m actually really disappointed to discover he hasn’t even kissed anyone. It ruins my fantasy of him losing his shit, throwing me down and fucking me senseless. Oh, I’m sure he’ll ruin plenty of other things for me before he’s back to school, but this one was sort of special to me. Whether he’s gay or straight doesn’t seem to matter, just as long as he knows how to use his equipment. Damn.
I clean myself up with tissues, make the bed so it doesn’t look like I just jerked off on it, and then unroll the worn sleeping bag that’s been tucked under the bed for ages. It smells like dust and barely clears the space between the nightstand and the door. Hopefully he won’t step on me if he tries to get to the bathroom in the middle of the night. It’s seriously cramped.
I’m stripping to my boxer briefs when he knocks, and I have one of those oh shit moments. Am I going to have to wear pajamas? No AC, middle of summer, and I need to cover myself up for his modesty? This is getting annoying.
“Potter?”
Fuck it. I’m not doing it. He’s lived in a dorm for five years. I’m sure he’s seen worse. I unlock the door, turning so I don’t have to see his expression and sit down on the sleeping bag. It does nothing to soften the absolute hardness of the floor. I really wasn’t expecting it to, but I had hoped.
“Oh, you’re seriously going to sleep on the floor? I wasn’t really going to kick you out of your bed.”
Right. “I’m tired, Malfoy. I was up too early. So if you don’t mind…” I lay out, wiggling down into the sleek material and fold my hands under my head. I’ve slept in worse for much longer, and yeah, I do mean the cupboard.
“Oh… Alright.” He carefully steps over me and sits on the bed. Closing my eyes, I hear him pulling off his boots, the sound strangely sensual to my very messed up senses.
I’ve never had anyone else in my room. It’s intimate. Disruptive. His t-shirt is next, the sound of soft fabric moving over firm skin as he shifts on the bed. I almost expect him to sleep with his jeans on, then I hear the zipper and every nerve in my body sparks. So fucking glad I jerked off earlier or I would be standing at attention right now from that one sound. Or any of the ones that follow as he stands and pushes his tight jeans down his hips, thighs, then kicks them off the rest of the way. Then he folds them, and puts them with his shirt before settling on the bed.
“How do I make the light dim?”
And the moment is broken. He has no fucking idea how to work a light switch. Nothing sexy about that. I know he’s smart, I do, but it’s really hard to remember when he can’t figure out simple shit. I sit up, standing to reach the switch by the door.
“Light switch. Two settings. Up is on. Down is off.” I glance at him to make sure he gets it, only to really wish I hadn’t. Black briefs that cling and the rest is all pale, long muscle, eyes gleaming silver and heavy with sleep. He’s sprawled on the bed like he belongs there. My bed. And hell, I really want him to belong there.
“You have to walk in the dark to get to bed? Isn’t that counterproductive?”
“Amazingly enough, I manage the three steps.” I flip the switch so I don’t have to look at him anymore. I regret that as well, but I leave the light off and sink back onto the sleeping bag.
“It’s really dark.”
“Sorry, I’m not the night light type.”
“Night light?”
Sigh. Is he going to talk all night? “It’s a dim light you plug in. Usually for little kids. The Dursleys keep one in the kitchen so you don’t hurt yourself if you get up to grab a snack in the middle of the night.” Dudley had taken a spill once years ago when sneaking food.
“Oh… Think you’d want to get one?”
I know I shouldn’t say it, but I’m feeling really cranky right now, his voice hovering fairly close above my head, just the bed height away. “You afraid of the dark, Malfoy?”
“No. I’m afraid of not seeing whatever is hunting me in the dark.”
Touché. I get up, again, and slip out into the hall, padding to the kitchen. Dudley can manage to work a damn light switch at his age. I unplug the night light, ignoring the burn as I make my way back. I hesitate in the doorway, not sure if I really want to go back in there and feel suffocated in that small space with him, where his breath is right in my ear, every movement he makes on the bed almost on top of me.
I push open the door and close it behind me. There’s only one wall outlet in the room and I run my hands down the side of the wall where I know it is, fingers brushing over the plastic casing. Once it’s plugged in and switched on, I crawl back onto the sleeping bag, trying to ignore the way shadows have now taken over the room, rising tall and intimidating on the walls.
“Thanks.”
I grunt something to acknowledge I heard him, then turn to my side, facing away from the bed. I can still hear him, his breath too loud. Even with my eyes closed, I can see him. Long, glowingly pale, eyes heavy with more than just sleep. Floating just above me, stretched out, releasing soft sighs. It takes forever to fall asleep, and I think even longer for him.
SCENE #Harry’s nightmares
“Shit, what is it? What’s wrong?”
I fight the cold terror clawing up my chest as I watch Voldemort torture the remaining life out of what is no longer anything recognizable as human. The terror unfortunately claws back. I grab the offender, hissing when my wrist is twisted and pinned to the floor.
“Potter, snap the fuck out of it!”
“Shit—What the fuck?” I yelp, very much awake, my shoulder stinging from where Malfoy smacked me.
“You were screaming. I thought you were being murdered.” He releases my wrist to cover his face with his hands. He’s crouched on the floor, feet just brushing my right hip as he sits back and slumps against the side of the bed. “Fuck, you scared the fucking life out of me. Fuck.”
Blinking at his dim features in the warm glow of the night light, I relax back to the floor, letting the fear slowly drain from my body as I try to collect my wits. “Sorry. I don’t sleep much. He… he likes to pump visions into my brain when my guard is down.”
Pushing his bangs back from his face and gripping his hair, Draco sighs another weary sigh. “What the fuck does that even mean?”
“Snakeface. He uses my scar to feed shit into my head.” Once the words are out of my mouth, I immediately wish I could take them back. Malfoy’s spent a lifetime finding out anything he can about me and twisting it to sound the worst among our peers. I really shouldn’t be handing him information where it’s clear I’m fucking crazy.
“You’re telling me You-Know-Who tortures you in your sleep? Every night?”
Fuck, he sounds scared. “Yes. But It’s not me. It’s other people he’s hurting.”
“Real people? Did you see… Did he show you stuff he’s doing this very night?”
God, I’m like the biggest ass. “I don’t know. I didn’t see your mom, if that’s what you’re wondering. Or your dad.”
It is, and he gives another heavy sigh, rubbing his temples, his hair a perfect mess. His legs seem extra long from this angle, his calves strong, thighs muscular.
“Sorry I woke you. I’m used to having silencing spells for when I’m in the dorm.”
“Shit, don’t your relatives say anything?” He fans his fingers out over his face, eyes meeting mine through the opening. “How are they not knocking down the door right now to make sure you’re okay?”
Yeah, he’s more than a little naïve. “They don’t care, Malfoy. They all wear earplugs so they don’t have to hear me. They’re probably hoping one day they’re going to wake up and I’ll really be dead. Go to bed and stop asking so many damn questions.”
“Damn, you’re a surly bastard. Are you going to be pissed off at me the whole time?”
Probably. He’s hot as fuck, in my personal space, and I can’t touch him. Yeah, I’m going to be fucking grumpy as hell. “Go to bed.”
“It’s lumpy.”
Petulant prat. “What, you want to sleep on the floor?”
“Maybe.”
I open my eyes, finding him biting his lip while studying my face. “You freaked?”
He nods, another sigh escaping him. “Will you just… just talk to me for a bit? My heart is racing and the night just feels alive with terrible things right now and I keep wondering about my parents and if they’re…”
I hold up my hand, my arm feeling heavy with sleep. “I get it. But let’s talk about something that’s going to calm you down, not freak you out more.”
“Kay… What do you want to talk about?”
“Nothing, I want to go back to sleep,” I say bluntly. “You pick.”
“Oh. Alright.” He tilts his head back on the side of the bed, closing his eyes, arms resting on his knees. I close my eyes, hoping he’ll talk himself to sleep without needing me to answer. I don’t get much sleep, pretty much ever, and my body fights for it when it’s available.
“Tell me about your boyfriend.”
I snort sleepily. Fucking prat just won’t let it die. “Paul’s not my boyfriend. I don’t think we’ve ever had a full conversation.”
“Oh… So do you do that with a lot of guys? Just, what, casually…”
“If you’re asking if I’m a slut, no. I’m very selective in who I let touch me.”
“Can’t really tell… Unless you like ruffians covered in tats and piercings. You probably do. You have terrible taste in lots of other things as well.”
Probably. Compared to him, I’m always a mess. “Fine. You tell me what kind of guy I should like.”
“Hmm… That’s a good one. Well, for starters, someone you want to actually talk to. A wizard, naturally.”
“Nope.”
“No? You have to date a wizard, Potter, you can’t just date some clueless muggle. What the hell are they going to say when you start sparking in the middle of the night, screaming about all the blood?”
That makes me open my eyes. “I was sparking?”
He nods, blinking at me sleepily. “Green. Scared the shit out of me. You can’t do that to a muggle. It’s plain cruel.”
It’s really difficult to look away from his face. When he’s tired, his guard is down. Nearly sweet looking. “I’ll sleep in a different room. Wouldn’t be right to put anyone through that.”
“That’s dumb. You’d have to walk all the way to the other room just to be cuddled. Or you’d make him have to walk all the way to you through the dark to check up on you.”
Like I want to be cuddled? “Not if I put up a silencing spell. He’ll never know I’m—”
“You’re messed up. Why the hell wouldn’t you want your boyfriend to wake you up and hold you after dreaming fucking terrible things in your sleep? Why the hell do you always want to be alone all the time? I’m always alone when I come home for the summer, and I hate it. People make things better. Alive.”
The sound of his voice is lulling me to sleep, but it’s a question I really can’t ignore. “Life is pain… The less pain at this point, the better.”
He’s quiet. I think I may have fallen asleep because when he does speak, it seems far away. “How long have you been having those nightmares?”
“Long… Three years… Four.”
“That’s fucked up, Potter.”
It sucks, that’s for sure.
My silent reply is completely ignored. “You need to date someone that won’t let you be alone.”
I like being alone.
“Someone that can challenge you. Not just feel you up in some crowded room. You can totally do better,” he mutters.
I don’t want to do better.
“Someone that can appreciate just how much you sacrifice… Really, you give too much. All the time… and you won’t ever accept anything in return… I mean, the world is waiting for you to either win or die at his hands, and you sleep on a lumpy mattress. Tonight the floor, for someone you can’t stand.”
I can stand him… I really can.
“You let me rip on your shitty boyfriend and your stuff and your hair… and pretty much anything that pops in my head at the time cus I just have to fucking talk so I don’t think about shit. And you still sleep on the fucking floor even though you get terrible nightmares and probably can’t sleep even more… You even got me that light that probably keeps you up… Hell, me talking probably keeps you up… You’re fucking amazing. Seriously.”
I’m pretty sure I’m asleep. His hand on my cheek feels cool, fingers brushing lightly over my features. A thumb presses into my scar, running up the length of it and then slowly down, repeating in slow swipes.
“Sweet dreams, Harry.”
Yeah, I’m definitely dreaming.
SCENE #Jogging from doom
I’m taken up jogging. Starting this morning and probably lasting until I don’t have to share a room with Malfoy anymore. Waking up rock hard listening to him breathe nearly in my ear, his arm hanging over the side of the bed with fingers brushing my chest is great motivation. This is going to kill me. Being around him all the fucking time is definitely going to kill me. Running is going to be the escape I need.
It’s the same time of morning as yesterday, dawn just deciding to steal the chill from the air as I step out in sweats and a t-shirt. I keep my head down as I go, fairly new sneakers already scuffed by my time spent at the gym. I renewed my membership to the place three blocks away when I returned to the Dursleys this summer. I go there about three times a week. To lift. To convince myself that a couple extra pounds of muscle might make the difference between living and dying if someone manages to hit me with another killing curse. It gives me something to do besides watch my gray hairs grow in from all the fucking stress I live with. Also gives me something to look at—Not a ton of guys go to the gym when I do, but a few are built and worth looking at.
Every time I think of turning back and getting some damn breakfast in me, the image of him sprawled on my bed hits me. I pick up speed, run till my muscles are screaming at me, heat roiling off my thighs, sweat drenching my clothes. Can’t escape it. He’s in my fucking head—In my bed—and I can’t escape him.
I stretch on aunt Petunia’s little white picket fence, trying to get the pain I’ve inflicted out of my tight limbs. The stretch and heat feel good. Too good. Him touching me good. Second day. Second day and I’m already a fucking mess. Sleep was supposed to help, energize me enough to see things proper. But in the same way I woke up yesterday, gasping from those damn sparks hitting my window, today I’m just fucking sparking from his warm fingers curled ever so lightly on my chest. Second day.
“You’re up?” I am, but from out of Vernon’s mouth it’s definitely a question.
“Jogging.” I open the refrigerator, ignoring my sweat and likely funk to get some orange juice. No donuts today. I want a fucking donut but sugar is not going to help this problem. Pain and exhaustion are the only things—And a cold shower. I should go take one of those too. Hopefully he’s awake now and not in my bed.
“Petunia says we’re seeing the new mall today. I hope you’re going to be respectful. It would be a pity to embarrass that proper friend of yours.”
“Yes, Uncle Vernon. I’ll be a perfect saint.” That Vernon doesn’t know my Saint Potter reputation makes it mildly amusing. Because the idea of having to be respectful for the prat sleeping in my bed is just ludicrous. Death Eater. He was going to be a Death Eater.
Sure, they would have killed him if he refused… But I really can’t think like that. Desperate people do desperate fucking things. Like attempt to kill me. Repeatedly. He hasn’t tried it yet, but I’m starting to wonder if this is his plan. Distract me constantly with his hotness until I die of a heart attack… or fall down an open manhole or something while looking at him. I look at him too much. I think about looking at him too much. I really need a shower.
I rinse my glass and place it upside down on the counter, walking past Vernon and his newspaper. The halls empty, but the bathroom isn’t. Aunt Petunia usually doesn’t take long—She’s a no frills sort of woman. Except with the decorating. She likes lace. Curtains, table clothes. No ruffles, thank god.
Naturally, it’s not Petunia. It’s him, nearly jumping a foot when he steps out to find me standing here. Whoops. He’s in yesterday’s clothes. Slightly rumpled, but still damn fine.
“For someone being hunted by You-Know-Who, you sure leave the house a lot.”
Ah. Maybe that’s his plan. Forcing me out of the safety of the wards with his unbearable sexiness until Voldemort just comes up to me on the street and hexes me dead. It could work.
His hair’s different today. Softer looking, messy, like he wasn’t able to charm it perfect. He has the slightest of kinks in one of his locks, the strand falling into his eye, nearly brushing his long lashes. For some reason it makes me hyper aware of my own hair, curling from the run, drops of sweat sliding down my neck. But I’m staring at his mouth, not his hair anymore. Yeah, I should have run more. Like another five miles. Can you run yourself blind? I need to be blind if I’m going to survive this.
I really don’t feel like verbal sparring this early in the morning—hell, talking in general—and I push past him into the bathroom without another word. Then, because I’m an idiot, I turn. “If you need a change of clothes, feel free to go through my bureau. Probably not up to your standards, but…” Whatever. I close the door before he can say anything. Insults or thanks cannot be handled this early in the morning.
God, I want to do things to him. Bad, terrible, nasty things. Voldemort doesn’t have anything on what I want to do to that kid.
It apparently doesn’t matter how tired my legs get; my dick still works. Cold water is not a deterrent. My body makes enough fucking heat to fight it. I jerk off twice in the shower, and I’m pretty sure I can go again in about twenty. I’m totally doomed. I should just walk outside and send up a signal in the sky that looks like my scar. Voldie will know what it means. I give up. Totally losing to Draco Malfoy, and it’s only the second day.
SCENE #Magical hands
He’s wearing my shirt. I didn’t know my Metallica shirt was my favorite, but I know it now because he’s wearing it and he looks fucking amazing in it. Same jeans as yesterday, pulled down over his boots. Hair’s nearly perfect. He has a little bristle on his jaw, and I’m starting to realize just how much he depends on spells to do fucking everything for him.
It’s not until Dudley’s in the back seat that I realize just what hell I’ve gotten myself into. Dudley’s massive. It’s usually a tight squeeze when it’s just the two of us in the back. Now Malfoy’s going to be back here too. Fuck my life.
“Um, I can sit in the middle.”
“No.” No way in fuck he’s sitting next to Dudley. I get in before he can say another word, glaring warningly at my cousin. “What am I going to do to you if you touch him?”
“Fuck off, freak.”
“Dudley, language! We have a guest.”
“Sorry, Mum.” He punches me in the leg, but I’m used to it. I’ll be black and blue by the time the trip is over, but as long as he doesn’t touch Malfoy, we’re good. Draco slides in beside me and everything goes hazy by the time he shuts the car door. His entire right side is pressed up against my left. Dudley’s on my right just as tight, but believe me when I say, I don’t even notice.
“Do you think you could…?” Malfoy gives me a mildly pained look, wriggling his shoulder against mine. He’s nearly flush against the door and it probably hurts. Dudley won’t be moving, that’s for sure. I pull my shoulder back, extending my arm behind his seat so he’s now in the nook of my embrace and pressed tight to my chest. Fucking hell. Should have sent up that lightning bolt. Voldemort would have been way easier than this.
“Well, this is cozy.” Aunt Petunia. She’s funny. Really. “It shouldn’t take too long, boys. And I was thinking, since it’s a special occasion we might even stop at a restaurant.” There’s a round of halfhearted cheers, Dudley already turning on his handheld video game and turning the noise up obnoxiously loud.
About ten minutes into the ride, I start noticing that things are going to be going from bad to worse. Malfoy’s pale. Sweating, eyes closed shut, face pinched in an expression of pain or nausea—I have a good guess which.
I duck closer to whisper in his ear even though Dudley’s game will probably keep anyone from hearing. “You’ve never been in a car before, have you?”
He shakes his head no, a small whimper escaping him.
“You sick or just scared?”
He cracks an eye open, glaring at me in challenge. “Both.”
Of course. “Lean forward and look at your feet. It helps.” He looks like he wants to argue, but he’s also turning a bit green and does as I say. “Better?”
“A little.” His shoulders are shaking, and every time the car slows down and speeds up again, he groans miserably.
“Oh dear, he’s carsick.” Petunia clucks lightly. “Don’t worry, Drake, it’s not much longer. Harry, rub his back. That always helps.”
Dudley snickers, but I ignore him because I love my aunt and her many brilliant ideas. I’m probably an asshole for using him being sick as an excuse to touch him. Oh well. I press my palm gently to his back, then firmer when he doesn’t bitch at me. I soothe small circles, then larger, trying very hard not to notice just how good his muscles feel flexing under my hand. He sighs, relaxing slowly, leaning towards my leg by the time we get to the next traffic light.
It takes everything in me not to push his shirt up and touch his flesh. Instead I cup the back of his neck, his skin warming under my palm while I rub my fingers in. He makes the softest noise of protest when I drift away from his neck, moving down over his shoulder and breaking up the tension there as well. He has amazing shoulders. Strong, hard, fucking gorgeous. By the time I get to his other shoulder, he’s nearly limp, head lolled to the side, breathing much calmer. God, he’s sexy.
“Can you get my neck again?” He whispers hesitantly when I start moving up and down his back again.
Fuck, yes. I move my hand up his spine, pressing down hard with my palm, feeling him shudder under my touch. Has he ever been massaged before? Touched? Hell. It’s dumb, it’s just a fucking back rub, but I’m going to be the fucking happiest person in the world if I’m his first.
I stroke the back of his neck carefully, kneading the tension away, letting my fingers dig in deeper as he relaxes with every touch. I slowly drift higher, moving up the side to below his ear as I press in firmly with my thumb, reveling in the sensation of his cool hair brushing the back of my hand. He stretches forward, going boneless under my hand with a loud groan. Shit, I’m getting hard.
“Just a little more,” he mumbles when I try to pull away, his body pressing into my hand.
Hell, I can’t say no to that. I should, I really fucking should, but I can’t. What I wouldn’t give for a simple concealing charm right now.
Thankfully we arrive, pulling into the parking lot. Aunt Petunia gazes sympathetically while Vernon shuts the engine off. “Just relax and get used to the world being still for a bit, dear. It can take a little time. We’ll meet back at the entrance by five, then figure out dinner from there.”
I give her a look. I’m getting this growing suspicion that my mother might have gotten carsick, having spent so many years in the wizarding world. It’s not a question Petunia is going to let me ask though. Dudley lumbers out, head still stuck in his game, the car tilting from his absence. Malfoy doesn’t move, just continues to rest his head against the driver’s seat as I rub his neck with my thumb. It’s quiet, the Dursleys’ voices fading away as they walk to the mall. I should stop.
I don’t. I rub down to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, digging my palm in, making him groan again. God. He should really tell me to stop. Cus I’m not going to. I don’t think I can. Definitely don’t want to. I move to the same spot on his other side, digging my fingers in, squeezing until he releases a shattered moan and arches his head back. God, I want him. I grab the back of his neck again, firmer, possessively. When I pull him up, he lets me, his head falling back on the seat while I hold him by the nape and stroke my fingertips slowly over his long throat.
“Any better?” I ask, my voice too low, too rough sounding as I drink in his flushed cheeks and parted lips.
“Potter… do you know wandless magic?”
“What?” I’m not fully with it, but still. Where the hell did that come from?
“Because you have fucking magical hands.” He opens his eyes, glaring at me suspiciously.
I try really hard not to grin like an ass. I fail. “If I knew wandless magic, I could have just cast an anti-nausea charm on you. Sorry. Remus said he’d teach me this year.”
He just continues to glare at me, like he doesn’t believe me. I still have my hand on his neck. I cannot, for the life of me, bring myself to remove it. His lashes flutter on every down stroke of my thumb, his eyes growing darker and heavier as each minute ticks by.
“Let me know when you’re ready to go.”
“Yeah…”
His eyes are drooping, and even though the backseat is devoid of Dudley, he’s half in my lap. “You tired?”
He shakes his head no, bringing his face dangerously close to mine.
“Still feel sick?”
Another shake. His eyes are silver slits trained on my mouth. Dangerous, really fucking dangerous.
“You want to go?”
Another shake. God help me.
“Potter?”
“Hmm?”
“How many people have you kissed?”
Please don’t talk to me about kissing when all I want to do is kiss you. “Er, half a dozen or so.”
“All boys?”
“Nah. Took a bit to figure that out.” He has the prettiest mouth I’ve ever seen.
“How’d you figure it out?”
“Kissed a boy.”
“Oh.” Again he looks at my mouth. “You had to kiss one to know for sure?”
“No, not really. I had to kiss a boy to finally prove to myself that I wasn’t ever going to like girls the way I wanted to.”
“You want to want girls?”
“I want a family.”
“You can adopt.”
“Maybe.”
“Get a surrogate.”
“It’s not something I’m thinking about now. You-Know-Who keeps fucking things up. If I live, years down the line… maybe.”
“There are spells.”
“Hmm?”
“For gay wizards. So they can have kids that are genetic offspring of both. You just need a surrogate.”
“Oh… you just know a bit of everything, don’t you?”
His smile makes my mouth dry and head spin, his lips stretching lazily, eyes sparkling mischief. “About gay wizards? Yeah, I know a lot, actually. I never even had to kiss a boy to figure it out. Sure didn’t waste any kisses on girls.”
Son of a bitch. The goddamn fucking prat with his night light, and cock blocking, and fingers on my arm for nearly a day and then on my chest for the night. Taunting, teasing bastard.
“What’s the matter, Potter? Hit a nerve?”
I really need to get the fuck out of this car. I grip his neck harder, watching his face, watching his lips as they part in a soft groan. “Wasn’t a waste. I learned from it. As long as I learn from my fuck ups, it’s never a waste.”
“Yeah?” His eyes close for a moment, head tilting back into the touch of my hand. “Planning on learning something new?”
Shit. I really need to stop touching him. He really needs to stop saying sexy shit to me. I pull him until he’s resting against my chest, hot puffs of air heating my neck. “Malfoy, what the fuck do you want from me?”
I can feel him smirk, his lips pressing to my skin sending sparks jolting through my body. “Who says I want anything? Just enjoying your magic hands. They feel very, very good, and my head hurts since someone woke me up screaming last night.”
Yeah, I’m probably going to be ash by the end of today. He’s totally fucking with me, and he knows I know it. I’m a weak, weak man when it comes to Draco Malfoy. I trail my hand up, tangling my fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp and temples while he sighs into my skin.
“Better?”
“More.”
God, maybe now. With his lips on my neck, his gasps vibrating in my chest. Burn me alive now.
SCENE #Draco’s shopping skills
I’m not sure how I got out of the car unsinged. Not sure how I did it without kissing him or tearing his clothes off and grinding him until he finally relented and admitted he likes me. Not sure how the hell I’m walking with my dick at half staff, trying very hard not to stare at his ass while his fingers again grasp lightly to my sleeve.
He’s put his sunglasses on to block the interested stares sent his way. He likes shopping but the mall is tough on him. Lots of people, lots of noise and crowds. He’s used to having a tailor and going to small, vastly expensive places that schedule him in on appointment so he doesn’t have to fear being interrupted. I know because he keeps talking to me.
He’s chatty when he’s nervous. I don’t mind. His mouth fights his ass for my attention. Neither are really safe options, but I’m trying my best.
“What about here?” He asks, stopping us in front of one of those preppy, overly cologned modern-men clothing stores. The outside is plastered with half dressed, probably not even legal boys with their pants hanging too low on their hips. Hey, if he wants to dress like that, I’m not going to complain. He might have to go somewhere else for a shirt, though, cus I’m not sure they sell any if I go by the pictures.
I let him drag me inside while I breathe determinedly through my mouth. It sounds like a fucking rave in the actual store. I’d hate to work in a place like this—It’s like a war on all the senses. Except for the clothes. There are a lot of neutrals, the only thing really shocking about them being the price tag. Whatever. He’s happy. The sales guy seems ecstatic to meet one of the models out of their own damn advertising.
“Don’t forget shoes,” I remind him. I love his boots but he can’t wear them around muggles. They’re not even cow but some sort of dragon hide. He’s such a spoiled little prat.
“What do you think?” I turn to find him holding up a shirt. They do apparently sell shirts.
“Err… nice?” I’m really not the person to be asking.
“Would you wear it?”
Ha. Button down, white base with blue and white stripes of plaid. “Even if I was able to wash the smell of this place out of it, I still wouldn’t wear a collared shirt.”
He rolls his eyes and suddenly the shirt is being put on me like I didn’t just say that it smells and has a collar, and yeah, it’s white.
“It looks good on you.” Fine, it does when layered over my tee and not buttoned up. Still smells. Before I can say anything, he pulls it off me and throws it at the sales guy. “Three this style, different colors.”
“Malfoy…” He gives me a look like it’s not my money he’s spending on shit I’m never going to wear. Whatever. I’ll return it later.
Fine. I’m lazy, I’ll end up wearing it just to keep from doing laundry.
I slowly edge my way towards the doors of the store, hoping some fresh air might pipe its way in and he’ll stop trying to dress me. I am not a project. I like my clothes. I like my jeans… Oh, but these are really cool jeans…
Malfoy is very good at spending my money. It’s okay, I have plenty; still, it’s impressive. I exchanged half a million to muggle money and put it in a bank because I’ve been thinking about getting a house eventually. Half a mil apparently doesn’t scratch what’s left in my parents’ vault. I really don’t get how rich people make so much money but they do seem good at spending it. I think my debit card smoked when the salesclerk ran it through the machine.
“Where to next?”
“Err, the car to put those packages away.”
“Ha, they’re not going to fit, Potter. I’m having them delivered to your relatives’ house. They’ll be there before eight tonight.”
Hell, he’s good. Can’t work a coffee cup, but if it’s rich enough, he figures it out. I check my watch. Which makes him want to buy a genuine muggle watch. One track mind, this kid. I let him drag me through the mall. He’s never been here before either, but he seems to understand how things work better than I do.
While he’s looking at watches, I stare blankly at the people walking by, letting my senses expand. It’s important in places like this. The arcade, you can spot someone out of place pretty damn quick. In a mall, you get so many people from different walks of life, it’s a lot easier to be surprised by someone magical. Shopping is not exclusive to muggles, as Malfoy’s proven. I’m not expecting Death Eaters, or anything, but you never know when someone is going to recognize the ‘Great Harry Potter,’ say some shit to someone else, and then have it known that I go to a certain place. Now that I have to watch his back too, I’m even more antsy.
There are a few magical signatures floating around. Malfoy’s a beacon to me. I’ve zoomed in on him so many times at school, I can spot him out of a hundred other magical kids. The other two are weak, possibly squibs, they’re that unimpressive. Still, I keep my senses on them, making sure I’m not anywhere they are.
I seek him out, figuring he’ll probably need some cash sooner or later. It’s him, after all. He’s twitchy, some guy chatting him up that he’s trying really hard to ignore as he stares determinedly at the watches. It’s actually kind of funny seeing him around muggles. If he was with his own, he’d have no problem telling the guy to fuck off. But he’s not, he’s out of his element, and he just doesn’t know what’s the right level of bitchy prat.
I walk up to him, hands in my pockets, trying not to smile at his look of relief and annoyance as he sees me. His sunglasses are on his forehead and he looks ridiculously hot. Can’t blame the guy for trying. “Pick one yet?”
He shakes his head, glaring briefly to the right of him where the guy is still hovering, but now looking at me, sizing me up to see if I’m competition. Anyone ballsy enough to talk to a fine piece of ass like Malfoy is usually trouble.
“Why not? Nothing you like?”
Now Malfoy’s glaring at me. I’m not helping him. He wants to be a big baby around the muggles, that’s his problem. People are people and you got to deal with them the way you need to, or they’re just going to make your life hell.
“I had some questions about a few of them. The materials they’re made from. Durability. Apparently no one works in this store.”
Well the bitchy is making an appearance, but it’s not at the right target just yet. “How ’bout you ask your friend? Maybe he knows something about watches.”
If Malfoy was allowed to use magic, he’d hex me for that. As it is, he might still punch me. I just smile as he glares daggers at me. “Let me go find a clerk. I’m sure someone will be able to help.” He growls as I walk away. I feel sorry for the guy that doesn’t have the brains enough to leave.
It’s a department store, so I go to the registers to have them call someone for assistance with the watches. By the time I get back, Malfoy’s shadow is gone and he’s pissed.
“Potter, that was fucking assholic of you! He was badgering me since I got here, asking me for some fucking numbers or something. Don’t you ever abandon me around muggles again. I can’t understand half of what they’re even saying to me.”
Poor prat. It must be hard being hot, rich, and so fucking naïve. “Malfoy, you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself. He was just asking you out. Next time, just tell him to fuck off.”
He pauses, blinking in surprise. “I can do that?”
“Of course you can. You’re not going to be arrested for being an asshole. Everyone’s an asshole around here.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re an asshole.”
Yup, I’m still in trouble. Worth it to see him squirm. A salesclerk finally shows up and Malfoy grills the girl, taking his anger out on her instead. I step back, letting him do his magic. By the time he’s through he’s found the most expensive watch and he’s wearing it out, my debit card threatening to melt.
SCENE #Tormenting sex gods
“Muggles are rude.”
“Some of them are.”
“All they do is stare. It’s damn annoying.”
I shrug. “Everyone stares at me because of my scar. At least here no one looks at me.”
He huffs, glancing at me from beneath his sunglasses. “They’re all staring at you.”
“Only cus they’re trying to figure out what a guy like me is doing walking around with a guy like you, Malfoy. Believe me, I’m glad to not be noticed for a change.”
He just grunts, suddenly standing taller, the fingers once curled on my sleeve now wrapping around my bicep firmly. It’s fantastic feeling, and I turn his way. He’s suddenly broad shouldered and all confidence. I didn’t realize just how tall he was. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure they look at me.”
“Oh.” It must be working because I can’t seem to keep my eyes off of him.
“Potter, you’re going to trip.”
Right. Staring. He’s really hot and in my t-shirt.
“Potter…”
Ha, totally should have kissed him when I had the chance. Shit. How does he manage to get hotter? Is that even possible? Jerk. Really hot jerk.
I force my face forward, hyper focused on his hand on my arm. As my eyes move blindly over the storefronts, crowds of people, and sitting areas, I start imagining what it would be like to have him suddenly push me against a wall… or the side of the escalator, or down on that couch over there, and just snog me senseless. And, well, if we’re already there, why stop at a snog, right? He was definitely packing something impressive in those briefs of his last night… While lying on my bed.
God, I’m losing it. Really should have kissed him. Just to know for sure. Just so I could be certain he wasn’t fucking with my head about being gay. Cus god, I’m losing it.
“Are you okay? You nearly walked into a trash bin… Potter?” He stops, holding me by the arm so that I have to stop as well. His hand is cool against my flushed face, and I can’t help smiling like an idiot as he pushes my hair back to see if my forehead is warm. Seriously, he’s so dumb.
“Why are you all flushed? Did you eat something bad? You look just like…” He pushes his sunglasses up, glaring down at me. “Potter, are you perving out right now?”
“Err…” God, I want to climb him.
“Shit, you have issues. Seriously. Did some guy in tattoos walk by and fuck with your head? Don’t go talking to anyone until you stop being so… weird.”
I bite my lip, staring up into his beautiful gray eyes. They look a little blue in here. I really want to kiss him.
“And stop looking at me like that.”
“Hmm?”
“Like you’re going to eat me alive. It’s weird.”
Heh. He’s really adorable and absolutely frustrating as fuck. I turn and start walking again but his hand is still on my arm, keeping me from moving. “Malfoy…”
He growls, the noise making my toes curl. “Seriously, Potter. Don’t talk to anyone.”
He’s sure possessive for someone that refuses to show any interest in me.
SCENE #Second day and losing it
Malfoy managed not to eat or drink anything that wasn’t food while at the restaurant Vernon picked out. I had a brief wonder of if the ornamental fish tank was going to end up being raided by him, but he just walked by with only a curious glance. Running that morning apparently made me starving, and I ate a portion of food that actually rivaled Dudley for a change.
Then it’s back to the car for Malfoy and I to endure our own very different versions of hell while he gets nauseas, and I get hard. At least it’s dark. Less scenery for him to watch whizzing by, less likely anyone is going to notice just what rubbing his back does to me. We don’t linger in the car this time. I seriously consider a night jog, but aunt Petunia wants me to change the sheets because Draco’s a guest and deserves to be treated like one. Whatever.
After that, it’s all about taking his packages in and trying to make space in my little bureau for his new clothes. After a moment of ingenuity, I go out to the tool shed in the backyard and grab a 2×2 and make him a damn clothing rack. He’s happy his shit isn’t wrinkled, and I don’t have to listen about there not being enough space.
“You’re not going to watch the television?”
Malfoy’s become obsessed. Aunt Petunia actually warned me to not let him watch it during the day. I guess she’s seen this before. “I’m tired. You watch.”
“Yeah, but…” He’s fidgeting, like it’s actually important and not just stupid TV.
“You don’t need my fucking permission. Just go.”
“Asshole.”
Whatever. I’m exhausted and incredibly horny. Neither of which he can help me with. I shut the door behind him, my eyes lingering on the clothing rack. I placed it high enough so his things wouldn’t hit the floor and intrude in my sleeping area. Still, my room’s just getting smaller and smaller with him being here. I strip, throwing my clothes in the hamper. I hit the lights, then get down on my knees and start fucking myself on my fingers before I lose my mind.
God, I need it. So bad. Just want it inside me, stretching me, filling me, taking me. Want him. God, I want him to take me. I don’t think he’d even know how. Still want it. So bad. God, why’d he have to be all hunky and possessive in the mall? He keeps fucking with my head. Every time I try and put a wall up, he knocks it down.
Hell, if I straddle him in his sleep, would he fuck me? Just start kissing him, grinding him, stroking his cock until he just has to put it in me. It was just his hand on my arm. That, and seeing his fucking shoulders. But damn, it made me want him. I always want him, but that, that was just unfair. Like he was going to protect me from people staring.
I could blow him. Get him so hard he won’t care where he’s putting it, just as long as he cums. God, I want him to cum in me. Deep inside while I’m on my knees. I want him to dominate me. Push me down and just take me. Not even ask. He doesn’t have to. I’ll let him do anything to me. Except get me killed.
Not even sure about that last one anymore.
My breath is loud in the dark, the sleeping bag under my knees rustling every time I slam down on my fingers. I avoid my prostate because I don’t want to cum too fast. I want to feel it. I want to pretend that every stroke is his cock driving inside me, wanting me as much as I want him.
Just the second day. It’s just the second day and I’m totally losing it.
SCENE #Taunting scars and nightmares
This time he doesn’t hit me when I wake him screaming. He covers my mouth with his hand. I nearly bite him before I realize what’s happening. Then I melt, because fuck, he has his hand over my mouth.
“Alright there?”
I nod, my eyelids feeling heavy as I look up at him. He’s hanging over the bed, brows scrunched in concern. Finally he pulls his hand away when he sees I’m done screaming.
“Sorry.” I was asleep when he came in. I hope he didn’t stay up all night watching TV.
“No… Shit, Potter. You can’t help it. What did you…?” He trails off, and I wonder if he’s thinking about his parents again. Is that how this is going to go every night? I wake up screaming and he freaks about his parents? He should have gone to the Weasleys; they don’t scream at night.
“It was a muggle man. He got too close to where You-Know-Who is camped out. Kept noticing the lights. Got himself killed… eventually.”
He sighs, his expression draining of a lot of its tension. Because at least it wasn’t his father. “Hell. And you… you saw all of it?”
“Everything he did to that man. Yeah.”
“Hell.”
He shouldn’t ask about things he doesn’t want to know the answers to. “Sorry I woke you. You should try and go back to sleep.”
“What’s the worst thing he’s shown you?”
God. “Malfoy, it’s not something I like to think about.”
“You need to talk about it. You can’t just bottle this stuff inside. It just makes it worse to be the only one who sees it.”
“You really think speaking it aloud is suddenly going to make it less horrible?”
He rolls back over, his head on his arm as he looks down at me. “You ever tell anyone what you’ve dreamed?”
I shake my head. “I tried in the beginning but Ron and Hermione kept freaking out. Then I gave up because I realized the dreams were never going to stop. Why subject others? This is his torture for me. As long as he’s alive, I’m never going to get a night’s rest.”
“Tell me tonight’s dream. All of it.”
“Malfoy…”
“Not a request. You woke me up; you owe me.”
God, this is so much worse. I should have just told him it was his parents or something. That would have shut him up. “Fine.” I fold my arms under my head, studying the shadows on the ceiling so I won’t have to watch him freak out. Because it’s hell. Every dream is the slow, pain wrought dissection of a living human being.
“He doesn’t think they’re people. Muggles. He can’t figure out why they’re even alive. How they talk, how they walk. He thinks they mimic us, something magical hiding inside them that turns flesh puppets into people. So he goes looking. Between the skin and the muscle. Through the brain. He has a process, a procedure. It’s bloodless… in the beginning. When he’s in control like he was tonight. Uses his wand to magic away pieces at a time so he can look at them in the light.” It’s not a bright light, but it’s bright enough.
“Once the voice box is removed, it gets quieter. But I can still see. They get tighter, their muscles tense in pain, shaking, until those are gone too. And slowly, piece by piece, he hollows them out. I can list the order, I’ve seen it so many times. Every piece that ends up beside them instead of inside.” I don’t want to list the order. I don’t want to remember it. But, for some reason, my chest doesn’t feel so tight anymore.
“You see that every night?” His voice is rough, almost weak.
“No. Sometimes it’s bad. Sometimes he’s actually angry. It gets messy. Wet.”
He’s silent except for his breathing. I can feel him staring at me, but I refuse to look. “But not tonight? Just neat and ordered pieces tonight.”
“Right.”
“You ever recognize them?”
I hesitate. His hand drifts down, fingers pressing to my forehead, sifting through my bangs, thumb on my scar. Maybe it hadn’t been a dream. “All the time. But I don’t think I know any of them. They’re just faces… Could have seen them on the street. In a crowd. Maybe at the arcade. Sometimes I’m sure. Sometimes I just realize it’s a rerun.”
“Rerun?”
“Muggle television. Sometimes they’ll show the same episode of a show again at a different time. He sends me the same dreams once in a while. I guess he hasn’t killed enough to fill in every night… but he just can’t let me rest. So I’ll watch the same person die. That’s why I don’t know if it’s really happening or not. For all I know, he’s never killed anyone.”
He snorts humorlessly. “Fat chance.”
“Malfoy… You’re shaking.”
“Yeah, well, I have a very active imagination.”
I sigh, closing my eyes. His thumb keeps moving over my scar, but I can feel the tremor in his hand. “Don’t ask me next time. I don’t want to feel guilty on top of everything else.”
“Shut up. There’s nothing wrong with having a perfectly healthy physical response to some fucked up shit. That you’re not freaking out is more weird than anything.”
“Too tired. Seen it too many times… Hell, I probably wouldn’t freak out if it was happening in front of me at this point—Hey!” He only pulls my hair harder. I open my eyes, meeting his glare.
“Potter, you were screaming your bloody head off. You can pretend all you like that you’re all desensitized or whatnot, but that’s bullshit. Your body sure as fuck still knows how to be afraid, even if your conscious mind blocks it out.”
“If I agree with you, will you let my hair go?”
He smirks cruelly, tugging on my hair again. Something in his eyes makes my toes curl. “Maybe.”
Damn, he’s hot.
“Picking on you helps me not think about the terrible things you just described.”
I nod, my hair slipping through his fingers as he relaxes his hold. “Sorry. Feel free to beat me up if it helps.”
“Heh, don’t tempt me. Your relatives watched an action movie tonight. Everyone was doing martial arts—You know we have spells for that, right? I can’t wait to get back to school and learn some hand to hand combat. Maybe run up a wall. They were flipping all over the place. It was cool.”
“Why? So you can steal lunch money from first years and subdue them with only the use of your thumb?”
He smirks again and suddenly his thumb is back on my scar, pressing in and rubbing. “Oh, I dunno. Seems to work on you.”
Ah, I walked right into that one. “Yeah, well, I’m apparently easy. Got the spot marked out and everything.”
“I keep expecting it to hurt for some reason.” He turns his thumb, the nail suddenly sliding down the edge of my scar. I bite my lip, a shiver moving through my body.
“Oh. That explains it then…” He does it again and I have to close my eyes.
“I mean, you’ve had it forever. I’m sure it’s healed by now… just…” Scraping slowly, he traces down to the very bottom of my scar, then moves over my eyebrow, the flat of his thumb teasing through the short hairs.
“Malfoy…” He really needs to stop.
“It doesn’t hurt… does it?”
I exhale unsteadily as he moves down my nose. “No.” His thumb reaches my lips and I still, my breath hitching. He presses down harder until my lips part and all I can hear is my heart pounding in my ears.
“You bit your tongue.”
“Oh.”
“When you were yelling.”
“Right.”
His thumb moves over my lower lip, smoothing wet, his fingers curling on my cheek. “Does it hurt? Your tongue?”
It’s time to go jogging. Definitely time to get the fuck away from his damn innocent flirting. I should shut him down and put him in his place for trying to mess with me. Because whatever the hell he’s after, it’s not the same thing I am. But that would include him taking his thumb off my lips, and I really don’t want that. Not yet.
I open my eyes to find him staring at my mouth like he wants a kiss. As much as I’d like to give him one, I’m pretty sure it’s a bad idea. He’s going through a lot of shit with his folks, he’s sleep deprived—And I know how much that alone can make bad ideas seem really brilliant.
I think he’s just clinging to me, looking for the closest familiar thing to make the world seem stable now that it’s all gone to shit. I can’t be that, and not just because I’m pretty sure he’s hated me the majority of his life. I’m just more shit, and he’s been saving himself for a fucking kiss.
I close my eyes, blocking out his beautiful face. “Go to sleep, Malfoy.”
He sighs, his thumb moving down my lip, over my chin, across my jaw. He winds his way back to my scar, pushing down firmly like he’s pressing a button. “You’re grumpy at night, Potter.”
“Grumpy all the time.”
“Yeah, that too.”
SCENE #Draco’s paranoia
I hit the gym this time, hoping to wreck my body enough to stop fucking thinking about him. The pain’s good. Something to focus on. Something real, unlike his fucking mind games. I’m not even sure he knows what he’s doing. But he’s doing it. Playing boyfriend. Demanding all my attention. Touching me, looking at me, talking to me. Unsettling as fuck. Because I want him more than anything and I really can’t have him.
He’s pissed when I get back. It’s nearly noon and apparently he thought Death Eaters had gotten me. He really needs to calm the fuck down.
“It’s just the gym, Malfoy.”
“You were alone. Without wards. What if someone had caught you? You have no way to defend yourself!”
“What, like you being there would really make a difference?” I have to argue with him outside because it’s Sunday and Vernon and Petunia are inside getting ready for lunch. “You try to use your wand and every auror will know where you are—Meaning minutes later, so will You-Know-Who.” He’s also making it really difficult to stretch, growling and looking like he’s going to hit me.
“So? Still better to survive and run back to the wards, than just outright die! What the hell is wrong with you? Do you want to die? Are you just waiting for him to find you and finish you off?”
I roll my eyes, stretching my other quad. Third day. Third day and he either thinks he’s my mother or my girlfriend. I say girlfriend cus I feel like a proper boyfriend wouldn’t be quite so naggy about it all. I could be wrong. He’s also ridiculously hot when he’s angry and it’s very, very distracting.
“Are you honestly telling me the Order says it’s okay to just go running about all the time? The werewolf just waves his hands and goes, ‘Sure, go get yourself killed. Have a ball.’ You really don’t care if you live or…”
“So you don’t want to go to the movies today?”
“…die like a—What?” He stops mid-sentence, blinking at me.
“Well, if you’re so concerned about my safety and all, you’ll probably not want to go, right? Too dangerous.” I release my leg, stretching my shoulder. “I mean, it’s just a muggle building with lots of people to hide among. Very dim lighting, a dozen films to choose from. Think they even have a few good action flicks playing.”
“Oh… okay.” He glances away like he’s not sure where he is right now. “Um, so, now? With them?” He nods his head towards the house.
“No, I don’t really feel like bringing them to the fucking movies.”
He brightens, smiling right at me. My stomach plummets somewhere around my shoes and I clutch at my arm, hoping that won’t fall as well. “Alright. Let’s do that then.”
I shake my head, trying not to smile at his 180. “You’re not worried about Death Eaters killing us?”
“Shut up.” He shoves me playfully. “You said it yourself. It’s not like they’re going to be hanging around a bunch of muggles. How far away is the place? Do we have to take the trolley again? Oh, I should get those sunnyglasses.”
God help me, the boy can talk. “I need a shower first. You do whatever the hell you want, just give me twenty minutes of peace.”
He glares, shoving me again. Only a little less playful. “Stop being a surly ass, Potter.”
Yeah, well stop being a teenage girl. I keep my lips firmly sealed, walking into the house after kicking my sneakers off. Don’t care what he does, I just really need some time alone in that shower.
SCENE #Setting boundaries
He’s waiting on my bed when I come out of the bathroom. I don’t see him at first, trying not to trip over the sleeping bag. Nearly have my towel off before he finally makes a noise, making me jump in surprise. “Shit!”
He just raises a brow like I’m overreacting. Maybe I am, but I’m not getting naked in front of him. Not when he’s dressed like sex in his perfect fitting new muggle clothes. I gotta say, there is nothing sexy about robes. It’s like everyone is in a damn choir at school. Seeing him dressed in jeans though—that definitely does something for me. Things I thought I had taken care of in the shower until he’s in the same room as me while I’ve got nothing but a towel and drops of water between us.
“Malfoy, get lost. I’ll be down in a couple of minutes.”
“Seriously? You sleep in your underwear.”
God, what the hell does he want from me? Am I supposed to just strip down in front of him because we’re both guys? It doesn’t help that he’s totally checking me out right now. More mind games with him. It’s really staring to piss me off.
“Your cousin’s down there with a friend. He’s creepy. Can I just turn my head or something?”
Ugh. “Piers is here?”
“Yes, and he’s beyond terrible. Was he dropped on his head as a child? Just how do you get that fucked up?”
“Drugs, I think.” I have no interest in leaving Malfoy with Dudley and Piers unsupervised. “Fine, turn around.”
He does, Indian style on the bed while I go rustling through my bureau. He unfortunately feels the need to talk. Like I’m not allowed to think that I could be alone, no, he has to make sure I know he’s there. Pain in the ass.
“So what’s the movies like? I thought maybe it would be like the television but it would be difficult…”
I tune him out because, seriously, he’s going to find out soon enough. It’s a movie theater; nothing fucking special. I only mentioned it because I wanted to shut him up and, well, I think he’ll probably really like it. It’ll be dark, so he won’t have to worry about people staring at him. And he’s totally in love with TV, so better to introduce him to something a bit more quality than whatever the Dursleys consider watching at night. And yeah, he’ll have to be quiet for a good two hours straight.
I’ve just thrown the towel to the floor and am stepping into my underwear when I realize he’s stopped talking. I refuse to look at him although I know damn well he’s looking at me.
This isn’t going to work. I mean, seriously.
“Malfoy.” I hear him jump, the bed squeaking. “You have to stop this.”
“What?”
I ignore his totally innocent sounding response, stepping into my jeans and fastening them closed. “I’m not a gay dress rehearsal. You want to play at chasing boys, go do it with someone else. I’m just trying to live my damn life here, and I don’t like being messed around with.” I pull my shirt over my head, tugging it down roughly.
I go over to the hamper to pull my belt from yesterday’s pants and thread it through the ones I’m wearing.
“Potter, I’m not—”
“Zip it.” I look up, meeting his frown. “Stop fucking with me. Just because I think you’re hot doesn’t mean you get to mess with my head. You can rip on me about my home life, You-Know-Who, my nightmares, my appearance—Whatever. Just don’t fuck with me on this one thing. I need some sort of boundary. We’re going to be stuck in this little room for a month, and I’d like to not be insane by the end of it.”
He’s quiet as I put my socks on, grab my wallet, and give Hedwig a few treats. By the time I’m at the door and he’s finally standing, I turn his way again. He’s got his mask on, all cool confidence. “We good?”
“Fine.” Frosty, but not bitter. He’ll survive. Hopefully, I will too.
“Don’t forget your sunglasses.”
SCENE #Cracking at the movies
So I’m worried I’ve completely ruined the movies for Malfoy. He’s been quiet ever since I set the one rule down—I don’t think he even understands how many rules I’ve been placing on myself while I just asked this one thing of him.
No more touching him if he gets carsick. No staring at his ass, or any other part of him. No fantasizing about him doing anything to me—very much the hardest one cus he’s been masturbation fodder for years. But I’m sticking to it because he’s fucking naïve, and hot, sleeps in my bed in his underwear, and if I touch him while he’s still crying over his parents, I’m no better than Voldemort.
He doesn’t touch my sleeve on the trolley. He actually stands a few feet away from me, staring out the windows. Hasn’t said much of anything to me since, and I’m wondering if he’s more fucked up about this than I first thought. But I’m a guy so I’m going to ignore it until he gets his shit together again.
Seriously, he’s running from a psycho looking to rape him dead. Does he really want to play house with me? Is that really the solution to his fucking problems? No. He needs a fucking shrink. He needs to hear that his parents aren’t dead—Or even that they are so he can mourn properly and deal with his shit. He needs to feel like he’s not going to be kidnapped and killed every waking moment of the day. That’s why he’s freaking out about me being off alone—because he’s certain that’s his fate. Alone and dead.
It’s Sunday so the theater is bursting. We haven’t hit the late crowd yet, still a bunch of screaming kids running around hopped up on sugar while their parents seek shelter in the air-conditioning. I ask him what he wants to see and he has no opinion. Doesn’t care. Fuck. I try to feel him out on what he might like but he’s completely shutting me out. Fine. Whatever. I pick the one with marital arts, fast cars, and muscular men, and hope he gets over it sooner rather than later.
While I’m in line, he’s looking at the arcade games. I get some quarters from the cashier, just in case he feels like playing. By the time I’m done, he’s gone. I find him eventually, the crowd of people making things difficult. Being chatted up by some guy. Which would be fine—everyone wants to chat him up—but Malfoy’s actually smiling back, pushing his sunglasses up for the full effect of his dazzling eyes. I’ve been seeing that particular smile a lot the last three days directed solely at me. Seeing it turned towards this random punk is decidedly upsetting on more than one level.
I know what he’s doing. He’s pissed I turned him down so he’s trying to make me jealous. It’s childish, petty, and right up his alley. The only problem is, it’s really fucking working.
I take a few deep breaths before I walk over to him. No way in fuck he’s going to see he’s getting to me. It’ll only make it worse. I smile at the fucking loser that thinks he stands an actual chance with Draco Malfoy, and hand the blond his ticket. “Starts in fifteen. I’ll be at the games if you’re looking for me.” And then I walk away without looking back while he glares because there’s no way in fuck he’s going to win this. A month of this shit if he wins today. Not fucking happening.
I’ve apparently underestimated just how fucking angry he is. The next time I send a stealthy look his way, he’s gone again along with his new friend. Fuck. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with him? Is everything a fucking game? He’s not getting food, he’s not playing games, not in the photo booth, not out on the stairs. Which leaves me with this sinking, fucking sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and I head to the bathroom nearest to where he was standing last.
Fuck my motherfucking life.
The place is almost empty. Almost. Two pairs of shoes, the stall door just about to close. I’m going to fucking kill him. But first, the goddamn loser.
He’s got a whole head on me and some muscle but it’s ornamental at best. I drag him out of the stall by his shirt collar and throw him against the sinks. He gapes at me. Like he couldn’t figure out that Malfoy was trouble the second he let someone as mundane as him speak two words all while glaring at me the whole time? There’s no fixing stupid.
“You can fuck off or I’m going to beat the shit out of you.”
“Potter, you’re—”
“Not a fucking word.” I don’t take my eyes off of the fucktard. The guy’s sizing me up, trying to figure out if I can back up my threat. I can. I’m more than happy to get bloody and bruised to do it. I’m furious and I dying to feel some pain. He must see it in my face because he raises his hands in surrender and walks out quiet as can be.
“Potter, why the fuck did you have to—”
I turn on him, growling. “What the fuck were you thinking? A fucking bathroom? Do you know what people do in these places? You don’t know a fucking thing about that guy and you were going to let him take you to a movie theater bathroom!”
He winces but his jaw’s pointed and he’s trying to stare me down. “It’s no different than what you did in the arcade.”
“Oh, you really fucking think so?” I step forward and he takes one back warily. “You think the guy I’ve been seeing for three weeks is the same as the absolute stranger that thought he could get in your pants after five fucking seconds of talking to you?”
“He wasn’t going to—”
“What? You think he was going to hold your fucking hand and give you your first kiss in here?” The motherfucking idiot.
“Fuck you, Potter! You’re not my fucking mother.” He tries to shove me, but I step into his push and he falls back against the stalls.
I slam my hands down on either side of him, glaring him in the eye. “No, I’m not. But I’ve been trying to fucking think about your mother every goddamn time I deal with you, Malfoy. You are fucked up right now. If you want to ruin your life, don’t do it in front of me. I will stop you at every goddamn turn.”
His face goes red and he’s beyond angry. Mentioning his mother was not the way to go. “Fucking son of a—What the fuck do you care!”
“I don’t. But you’re in my face, under my roof, and I’m not going to let shit happen to you. You don’t think a muggle won’t fuck you up? You don’t think they won’t shoot you up with something or hurt you bad enough to make you do anything they want? You think magic is the only fucking way to get something from someone?”
“Just back the fuck off!” He tries to shove me again, but I grab his arms. “Damn it—I don’t need your fucking Saint Potter bullshit! You’re so much worse than me. So what if I wanted to—”
“What? What the fuck did you really think you were doing in here?” He flinches from my venomous tone. “You were going to let an absolute fucking stranger kiss you. You waited till you had a fight with me to decide you just had to go get your first goddamn kiss with the first loser that showed an interest. You’re fucked up.”
“Not the first—Fucking ass! You could have! You were definitely the only fucking loser I was looking at! I’ve been looking at you for fucking years! But you didn’t want to so why the fuck should I wait? I’m probably going to be dead before the summer is through. God, you’re an arrogant ass—Let me the fuck go!”
I don’t let him go. I slam him back again, watching him growl in frustration. I shouldn’t do this. I’m pissed and he’s pissed, and I really shouldn’t do a goddamn thing but walk away. I release his arms and grab him by the face, pulling him down and kissing him hard. He gasps, tries to shove me again, except his hands cling to my collar, pulling me closer.
Damn it… Damn it to hell, he tastes amazing. Really fucking amazing. I let my fingers tangle into his hair, pulling sharply until he opens to my tongue with a groan. I push him back harder, grinding my body against his, wrapping an arm around his back. His hands are suddenly tearing at my shoulders and before I realize what’s happening, the world spins and I’m crashing through the stall door and he’s throwing me against the wall. Well, fuck.
“Malfoy—”
“Shut up.” He grabs me by the collar again, crushing my lips with his. He’s all hard muscle and angry mouth, and when he pushes flush against me I grab him by the belt and pull him closer, grinding our erections together. He groans into my mouth, grabbing my hip and wrenching me harder against him. God… God, he’s fucking tight.
I bite his lower lip and he hisses and grabs me hard by the neck, holding me still so he can do the same to me. It’s hot, wet, and sends shudders through me every time his teeth scrape my lip. He’s too rough, too angry, but it’s so perfect and I can’t seem to stop moaning.
He presses his leg between my thighs and grabs my ass hard, and the world goes dark for a second. Hell. Holy hell. I tear at his shirt, running my hands up his back the moment I get underneath and reach his skin. He’s hot, flushed with sweat, and when I grip hard enough, he growls and slams me back. Oh fuck. God, yes.
“Oh, harder, just… Yeah, like that.” I cling to him as he kisses down my neck, his teeth sinking in, sucking mean, desperate welts into my skin. It’s maddening, and I don’t think I’m going to be able to stand much longer, my knees trembling under his assault. “Malfoy… God, just… Oh hell…” I trail off with a loud groan, his hand sliding down my ass, squeezing tight, pulling me harder against his strong form.
“That’s it… God you’re fucking sexy—Hell, don’t fall.”
I grin dazedly as he wraps both his hands under my ass and pulls me tight against him. He’s fucking sexy. Everything about him. I kiss him again, slower this time, my lips wet and swollen and aching with every touch of his. When I run my tongue against his lips, he meets it, then plunges into my open mouth, determined to taste and explore every inch of me as we gasp for air. I’m unbearably hard, only getting more so with every rock of his body as he grinds his bulge against my hip. Before I can let my brain think and ruin this perfect fucking moment, I grab for his belt again, working on the buckle as fast as I can.
“Fuck… oh fuck.” He buries his face into my hair, groaning as I wrap my fingers around his cock and stroke. He’s big, feels silky hot, and I wish I was tasting him right now. But I shouldn’t even be doing this, shouldn’t be jerking him off in some dirty bathroom when a dozen men could just walk in the second a movie gets out. But I just want to feel him cum. That’s it. Then I’ll be good. Then I’ll leave him alone. Just so long as I get this one, really fucking perfect moment.
“God, don’t stop… So damn good… Hell.” He kisses my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair and pulling hard. I moan, trying to focus on my hand but so fucking lost in his mouth. He keeps thrusting his hips, keeps fucking my palm while rubbing his hot body against my dick.
“You close?” I ask, feeling so dizzy, so lost as he raises his head and meets my eyes. He cups my face, pressing his forehead to mine while he rubs his thumb over my lip.
“You’re beautiful… Crazy, fucked up beautiful.” He holds my face and kisses me softly, slowly. Small grunts escape him as he draws out his thrusts, his motions heady and growing more tense with every pump. I know he’s going to come, can feel it in every nerve ending, every muffled gasp. He’s going to come for me.
I press harder into his kiss, running my thumb over the head of his cock and feeling the slickness dripping there. He groans, his fingers digging into me as he crushes my lips hard and bucks in my hand. His seed is hot and slick in my palm, every spurt making me dizzy and more wild. For me. For this one heated moment he’s mine. Just mine.
“God, Potter… God, that was…” He’s lost, mouth trailing down my neck. He grabs my hand, pulling it up, growling as he finds his cum still wet there. Then he’s pushes it to my face and I can only whimper dizzily, opening my mouth, licking out when he presses my hand hard against my lips.
“Yeah…” his breath is hot against my cheek as he watches me clean his cum off my hand. “Get it all… Don’t waste it. Just like that.”
God. I can’t look away from his eyes. He’s staring at me like he’s never seen me before. Like he doesn’t know who he is, or where he is, just that he needs to look at me if he’s going to survive. I slide my tongue between my fingers and he groans, dipping close to run his tongue out across my knuckles, touching across my tongue when I lick again.
Kissing my fingertips slowly, he pins me in his gaze again. “Take your pants off.”
SCENE #Needing more
My hands are moving before my brain can tell me just what a bad idea this is. It’s a bad idea. Not just because it’s a movie theater bathroom. Not just because he’s definitely fucked up and transferring his issues into thinking he likes me. No, mostly because I really want him to tell me to do things, and the worse the idea sounds, the more I want to do it for him.
I unbuckle my belt, letting it hang loose as I get the button to my jeans. When I unzip, he pulls back, watching me push them down my thighs.
“Underwear too.” He raises his gaze to mine and I’m pretty sure I’m going to cum just from his expression. “Come on, Harry. Take them off.”
Aw, hell. Just hell. This is a bad idea. So bad. I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my boxer briefs and pull them down. He’s on his knees before I can feel the breeze of air on my flushed erection. He grabs me by the hips, holding me back against the stall wall of the bathroom while he looks me over.
I’m not the biggest but I’m thick, flush dark, keep things tidy. He’s not complaining, his fingers digging into my hips, his breath running heat over my length, my balls, between my thighs. One of his hands slides slowly over my ass, squeezing my cheek, feeling my tight muscle and smooth flesh while I gasp and buck.
I should stop this. Already stole his first fucking kiss. Probably ruined it for him, being as angry as I was. Took his first hand job… Pretty sure he liked that though. He looks up at me, his eyes intense and burning fire, and I lose my breath. God. I try to swallow, but my throat’s way too tight. He presses closer, his nose brushing against my heavy dick, breathing me in, sighing into my flesh. God, please.
He’s the hottest, sexiest fucking guy I’ve ever wanted. The rudest, meanest, most annoying ass too. But his parents were Death Eaters and he had to be one too, so it was okay that he was a total prat because nothing was ever going to happen. Except, somehow, his lips are pressing to the tip of my cock and the world just doesn’t make any fucking sense anymore.
I should stop him. He presses harder, his lips parting, tongue tentatively flicking out across my slit. Oh fuck. Staring at his face, I wrap my hands in his silky blond hair and pull him down. He opens to me with a groan, intense wet heat surrounding my cock. I can’t stop, pushing in until I’m grinding his tonsils and he’s trying not to gag. God. God, that’s it. Draco Malfoy, on his knees, choking on my cock.
Fuck yeah.
Both his hands grab my ass, squeezing me hard while I struggle to keep from crying out. I relax my grip on his hair and he pulls back, sucking air in just to quickly swallow me again, his tongue running all over my shaft as he slams me into him. “Fuck.”
I’m starting to get a little aware of the fact that although he says he’s never kissed anyone, he’s very good at not getting his teeth on me, isn’t gagging no matter how deep he takes me—and it’s deep. The boy has a fucking perfect, hot, nasty mouth. He’s lying about something but I really can’t care right at this moment.
He’s wet, loud—Really eager. His cheeks are flushed, and his lips are this fucking perfect swollen mess as he holds tight and drags down to my head, tonging my throbbing tip with a slow, sensual swirl. God. I hold onto his hair, fingers combing weakly, my head falling back against the stall heavily. I sound like a whimpering whore even though I’m trying to stay quiet, but god, he’s so hot, so tight. I can’t last. He’s working hard to make me come and he’s good. Too good. He’s been lying to me and I’m going to figure out why.
A thick finger presses against my hole and my knees give out the same second I shout. He doesn’t miss a beat. Suddenly my leg is over his shoulder and he’s holding me against the wall one handed while he drives into my entrance. I lose it. I’m a fucking slut for something in my hole to begin with, and it’s him, sucking me down, forcing a finger in and out with perfect, rough strokes.
“God, oh god… Malfoy, yes… harder… Oh fuck, yes…” I claw at his neck, tears in my eyes, pretty sure I’m going to die if he doesn’t let me come. He keeps building me up, bringing me to the edge, then letting me down again. He’s going to make me mad, going to make me fucking insane.
He pushes another finger inside me and I see stars, my head slamming back against the wall as my body jerks fitfully. “Fuck! God, do it… Oh… Oh god… I’m gonna…” I should warn him, so close. So fucking close. He drives his fingers deeper inside, stretching me, filling me so good, so right. I come with a cry, clutching his head hard, trying to choke him deep with my cum while he grinds his fingers into me.
Fuck. Holy fuck.
I force my eyes open, finding him with my dick still in his mouth, cum dripping down his wet lips while he tries to swallow around me. God. I press my palm across his bangs, letting my fingers drift down to caress the side of his cheek. He pulls his fingers out of me, my hole clenching at the loss and I moan weakly.
God. I’m not going to recover from this. What the fuck was I thinking? I have to share a fucking room with him.
He carefully extracts my thigh from his shoulder, his palm gripping my muscles and rubbing. God, everything he does is fucking me up. He grabs my ass again, like he doesn’t want to let it go for too long. And fuck, he shouldn’t. He should hold it all the time. Fuck me deep and hold it hard. God, I’m a fucking shaking mess.
While he gets to his feet, I try to get my trembling hands to pull my pants up. I can’t. I’m that fucked up right now, I can’t grip a fucking thing. So I lean against the wall doing my best to stop the world from spinning while my dick hangs out. He doesn’t seem to mind, wrapping his arms around me, holding me close, running his hand down between my thighs while caressing my sac and teasing fingers into my crack. God, he has to stop or I’m going to be begging him to fuck me.
“You lied to me,” I manage to rasp out, feeling damn near boneless in his embrace.
“I did?” He’s smiling into my neck and I have a feeling it’s smug. “I don’t remember lying.”
“Said… you never kissed anyone.”
His smile grows and it’s totally smug. “No. I said I didn’t need to kiss a boy to know I was gay. Didn’t mean I never kissed a boy.”
“Fucking prat.” I push at his gorgeous shoulders, but he doesn’t budge. My arms are still too weak. “You intentionally led me to believe you were some fucking virginal, innocent—Why? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
He stiffens, pushing me back against the wall, his body keeping me trapped as he glares at me. “Why? Because you’re a surly, suspicious fucker, Potter. Bad enough I had to come to you for help on your own territory. But coming in, liking cock when you do too? Snape told me to keep my fucking hands to myself, that showing any interest in you would get me kicked out on my ass faster than anything else. But I honestly don’t give a fuck what he thinks. I like you. A lot. I want to…” He trails off, growling at my expression.
Dread is worming in my gut and this time when I push him back, my arms work. Shit. Fucking shit. I pull my pants up while focusing on my magical senses, trying to take in the entire complex. Anything? Any fucking thing to suggest he set me up to be killed while he had his fingers up my ass minutes ago?
“Potter, you’re overreacting. Again.”
“Fuck off.”
I slam out of the stall, washing my hands quickly, patting my hair down so I don’t look like a complete fucking deviant. He grabs my arm before I can leave.
“Shit, just talk to me.”
“I’m going back. Stay for the movie if you want.” I hand him a crumpled wad of cash from my pocket and slip from his grip and disappear into the crowd.
SCENE #Return to paranoia
I knew he was fucking with me. I just hadn’t realized how much he could have been fucking with me. Fuck. Fucking hell!
No magical signatures. No one but him. But now I can’t stop thinking about it. Yesterday in the Dursleys’ car. I didn’t even think to fucking look around, just so caught up in him. I could have been swarmed by every Death Eater out there in the mall parking lot and I wouldn’t have realized what was happening because I was too busy thinking with my dick. Fuck!
Had Snape warned him off me? Or was that just another fucking cover? Maybe Snape was all ‘go fucking get him,’ and Malfoy’s bullshiting even having an interest in me. I could see Snape setting me up to fall. Malfoy came in here talking about being raped by Voldemort, and fuck me, I immediately start thinking about his cock. Intentional? Has everything been some fucking ploy to get me into him? Is it some deal with Voldemort? Bring me Potter and I’ll let your parents live?
I stop cold, my sneakers scraping on the sidewalk. He’s a real-world noob. His parents are everything to him. Of course he’d sell me out if it would save his parents. He would get me killed just to keep Voldemort from killing him. That’s what being a Death Eater is all about.
Shit, I’m so stupid. So fucking stupid.
I need to talk to Remus. Now. If anyone knows how to deal with this bullshit, it’s him. He knows betrayal firsthand.
I look behind me. Malfoy’s not there. I open my senses, seeking him out. He’s out of range. He either stayed at the theater, or he went to grab the trolley. I’m pretty sure he’ll be okay. Especially if he’s playing double agent for Voldemort to get me killed. Yeah, he’ll be fucking fine.
SCENE #Emotional imbeciles
It’s nighttime before Malfoy drags his ass back. I hate that a part of me was worried. He’s so fucking dumb about the world. I don’t say a word to him when he walks up the drive while I wait on the front steps. He eats dinner with the Dursleys. I lock myself in my room and wait for Hedwig to get back. It’s Remus; he’s got a lot of shit to juggle right now but hopefully he’ll be able to pen a damn letter and help me figure this hell out.
I never should have taken the kid in. I’m too nice, too trusting. I just have to save the whole fucking world while opening myself up to getting stabbed in the back. He said it himself that first night; he could see how much I gave while fucking myself over. And who the fuck is Draco Malfoy to not take advantage of such an obvious character flaw?
Stupid. I’m so fucking stupid.
There’s a knock on my door and I freeze, glaring from my bed. I get up slowly, hating him with every bone in my body. But it’s only Aunt Petunia.
“I saved you some dinner if you’re hungry.”
What? When the hell does she ever bother to do that? “Err, thanks. I’m not really in an eating mood right now.”
She doesn’t leave and I really don’t know how to tell her to get lost. So I just kind of stare at her, my eyebrows raise inquiringly.
“The two of you are fighting.”
Ugh. “It’s nothing. Just a…” I don’t know what the fuck it is. Misunderstanding? Is that what you call finding out that you’re being set up to be seduced and thrown into the clutches of the one and only Dark Lord Voldemort?
“You know how you get when you’re upset. You blow things up. The family can’t handle that. Not with two of your kind in the house.”
Fuck my life. “I’m in control, Aunt Petunia, I promise. No shaking the house, no blowing up things or people. I haven’t had a slip like that in years and you know it.”
“He’s very upset.”
“Yeah, well we fight all the time and he’s never exploded anything ever. You don’t have to be afraid of him.”
She gives me a look like I’m an idiot. Maybe I am. “He’s upset. He’s your friend. He’s obviously here for some terrible reason because one of his caliber doesn’t mingle with the muggles. I’m amazed he knows how to get his shoes on without a wand. Your father was just like him—Completely hopeless without magic. Couldn’t work a door handle half the time. Saw him try to eat a toad until he realized it wasn’t candy. The things that man tried to eat…”
“Err… Okay.” Aunt Petunia’s been, well, different lately. I thought it was because I’m getting close to the age where she expects me to move out and finally leave her family alone. But now I’m wondering if she just doesn’t know how to talk to kids and I’m not really a kid anymore. “Was there a point to all this?”
“Yes. His type are complete emotional imbeciles, and if you want to preserve any friendship you have, you need to be the one to repair it. He’s going to be here a while and I don’t want the two of you fighting.”
Petunia doesn’t seem to realize just how much bigger of an emotional imbecile I am. “No offense, Aunt Petunia, but I really don’t get why you care.”
Another look that says I’m an idiot. Whatever. “He’s a good boy. I don’t like to see him upset.”
I have to blink at that. He is? Aunt Petunia thinks the sun shines out of Dudley’s ass and now Draco Malfoy is a ‘good boy?’
She holds the door before I can shut it. “You’re a good boy too, Harry. Especially now that you’re not blowing up my house every five seconds. It’s okay to have a little happiness. He’s clearly smitten with you and it’s sad to see you two fighting.”
Holy fuck. I just stare dumbfounded as she shuts the door and leaves me with that fucking insanity. Either I’m now as bad as Dudley and Malfoy, or she actually doesn’t hate me. And never mind that, she thinks he’s my boyfriend. Aunt Petunia not only knows I’m gay, but let a boy into the house that she’s thinks I’m dating.
Did I hit my head recently?
It’s early but I can’t seem to think of anything better than falling asleep and forgetting this entire fucking day. I strip, tear the stupid night light out of the wall, and lie in my own fucking bed for a change. He knows where the sleeping bag is. I’m done playing nice.
SCENE #Night brawling
I’m woken quite rudely this time. Confusing because Voldemort was only just warming up, prepping his altar and taunting his muggle when I’m pulled abruptly from sleep by a knee on my hand.
“Shit—Potter! Here I was worried I was going to trip on you, and you’re on the fucking bed!” If the angry hissing wasn’t bad enough, he hits me too. I think. He might have slipped. It’s pitch black and he’s heavy as fuck as he tries not to fall.
He’s also just in his underwear, and as angry and suspicious as I am with him, I can’t help but notice as I try to throw him off the bed. “Fuck off. You can sleep on the floor for a change.”
“You angry, assholic, mistrustful fucking psycho.” He hits me again, this time on purpose, his hands finding my wrists in the dark and pinning them down. I bite back a gasp, not used to being overpowered. It’s doing something to me though, especially in the dark where I don’t have to worry about him seeing me. “So what, you think I’m a Death Eater sent here to kill you but the worst you’re going to do is let me sleep on the fucking floor? Do you even realize how insane you are! Kick me out if you really think I’m here to get you killed. Hurt me—Do something besides freeze me out!”
“Get lost, Malfoy,” I say as calmly and apathetically as possible. He’s got his chest pressing down on mine, his knees on either side of me, and his breath is fucking molten on my cheek while he holds me down. There is no way I’m going to be able to keep my shit together if he doesn’t get the fuck off me. Now.
“No. You’re going to fucking talk to me. You’re going to fucking listen for a goddamn change and stop being so paranoid and stupid.”
“Uh, no, I’m not.” I roll, but he’s got more leverage, stopping me halfway when he realizes what I’m doing and forcing me back. Fuck—That feels way too good. “Seriously, get the fuck off me.”
He’s quiet. It’s too dark to see what the hell he’s thinking. I figure it out quick though when his hips press down against mine and he rubs against my hard dick. “Shit, Potter. Does everything get you hard?”
Fuck him. I try to roll us again, but that only makes him press his entire body down to keep me still. Fuck. Oh fuck, he’s so nearly naked, all long limbs and hard muscle and sweet smelling sweat.
“Leave me alone, Malfoy. I just want to sleep.” God, I want him. Fucking hate him, but god, I want him.
I can feel him hardening against me, feel the change in the tension of his body when he grips my wrists hard and pushes me firmer into the mattress. “I’m not here to kill you.”
“Let go.” I can barely speak, I’m panting so much. He feels so good. Want him so bad.
“I could have stabbed you in your sleep. Could have smothered you with a pillow. Could have hexed you dead. I don’t want to hurt you, Potter.” His lips brush my neck and I shudder. “I need your help.” His mouth is hot, wet as he laps a small swatch of my skin. “You’re the only one that gives a fuck about me enough to help. I’ve always known it. Always wanted it but couldn’t have it. Not until it all went to shit and then the world got small and huge all at once.”
I can’t talk anymore. My throat is tight and I want to listen to every fucking lie he’s saying cus they sound so good in the dark. His lips are wet, trailing over my neck, moving up my throat as he kisses his words into my skin.
“I asked Snape about you. He wanted to send me to Grimmauld Place. Guess the Order took over my cousin’s house and I could be watched by the best of the best. I tried to convince him it was about the wards. He saw right through me. He knows I’m fucked up over you, Potter. Hates me for it. Hates you even more for it because you’re definitely trouble. People die around you, and he doesn’t want me dead.”
“Not my fault,” I whisper, shivering as his lips tickle my convulsing throat.
“I know. You’ve had a really bad run of luck. Everything goes to shit around you and you just keep standing. You’re stubborn.” His teeth sink in, clamping on my jaw, and I gasp, whimpering. His tongue slowly soothes over the bite, my body melting with it. “Well, my luck just got a fuck ton worse overnight and I figured it was time to find the only guy that could possibly have it worse off than me. And kiss him because all I’ve wanted to do since third fucking year is kiss you.”
His nose brushes mine and I tilt my head up to reach him, finding his lips in the dark. He’s slow, languid, his tongue teasing over my lips, drawing mine to touch and taste and tangle. His hands loosen and I raise my arms so I can grab his hair and pull him closer. He groans, pushing me harder into the mattress, sliding a palm down my side, to my hip where he slips beneath my underwear so he can grab my ass. I moan, arching into him, my body so hot where he’s pressed to me, everything so dizzy and wild with the sound of our strained breathing, wet kisses, and the rustle of sheets.
He pulls away, his mouth out of reach, hands sliding up my body before leaving as well. I grab his nearest wrist, tugging him closer, finding his lips.
“I want to see you.” He again tries to pull away, but only after kissing me so deep that I’m dizzy. His words sink in and I hold his wrist tighter. “Potter?”
God, he just fucking ruins everything. “It’s late. Just…” Just let it fucking be and stop trying to make it more. But he’s stupid like that. Stubborn and dumb as fuck, and pulling from the bed to get the light.
Damn.
Damn it.
SCENE #Whispered confessions
I keep my eyes shut tight, wincing when the light hits the back of my eyelids. I’m not doing this. Not playing this fucked up game where he wants to make me crazy for him. I’m already fucking crazy for him. I don’t need him knowing it too.
He stumbles and against my better judgment and smarting eyes, I open, glaring at him. It’s a mistake. He’s practically naked, hard, hair mussed like a fucking human being and not even remotely a Malfoy. God, why is he here? Why is he here tormenting me in the middle of fucking summer among a sea of muggles with no magic, no fantasy to wrap myself in to protect me from him? Draco Malfoy does not belong in my cramped little room in this ordinary, boring-ass town in the middle of suburbia. I’m no one here no matter how sexy his is when he looks at me. I can’t defend myself.
“Potter, stop glaring.”
I glare harder, a frustrated sigh escaping him. Because he’s an idiot for thinking a few fucking words in the dark were going to make me trust him. There’s a fucking mountain between us, all centered around his parents and the monster they serve that killed my parents. Nothing is going to make that just disappear. Not even magic,
“I’m not here to fuck up your life.” He stands over the bed, fingers combing through his hair agitatedly.
Malfoy keeps glancing down at me but I refuse to avert my eyes for a second to see what he’s looking at. I know I’m hard, probably a fucking mess. I won’t let myself feel weak with him towering over. Fuck that.
“Damn it, Harry.” Brows furrowing, he actually fucking kneels next to me, eyes wide and full of something I refuse to acknowledge without a fucking school of wizards and witches to hide within. “I like you, you idiot. I just want to be with you—Why do you have to make this so fucking difficult? I know you like me.”
It has been a fucking crazy, shit day and this is the most I can take of it. My anger is stronger than my exhaustion, propelling me from the bed before he’s even back on his feet and stumbling away. “You think this is fucking easy for me, Malfoy? You think it’s easy to ignore every fucking insane thing my body is fucking screaming for with you being in the same fucking room as me?”
“Don’t ignore it—”
I hold my hand up, cutting him off, my teeth grit tight. “Do you understand what it’s like knowing I can have you? Knowing that even if you’re fucking lying, I can still have…” I shake my head, hating how my body is reacting even now to the thought. “I can’t trust you! I’m never going to be able to trust you. I’d have to be an absolute suicidal dumb ass to trust you.”
His eyes narrow. Draco is fucking gorgeous when he’s angry and I just hate him even more for it. “You’re doing this on purpose, Potter. You’re just looking for any reason you can to push me away. What the fuck can I actually do to prove to you that I’m not here to sell you out? Do you want me to tattoo your fucking scar on my arm? Will that finally do it for you?”
It’s a punch to the gut, heat rising over my skin in a sick wave at the thought of me asking that of anyone. Bad enough Voldemort’s in my head. Bad enough he’s trying to fuck me up every night until I’m as lifeless and monstrous as him…
“I didn’t mean it,” Draco whispers, grabbing for my arm when I sway backwards. “You’re nothing like him. Harry, please, I didn’t—”
“Go away,” I croak out, wrenching my arm free and nearly falling on the bed. I never should have let him in here. Never should have let him get to me when I’m defenseless and alone and a goddamn mess.
“No.” He grabs my arm again, trying to get me to turn. His hand is like fire on my flesh and I go to pull away but he won’t give. “I’m not going anywhere. Talk to me. I’m sorry I—”
I duck around him, pulling from his grasp again. “Fine, I’ll go. Whatever—What the fuck does it matter, right? You fit so much better with the Dursleys anyways.” He does. They fucking love him and I’m nothing besides an echo of what Voldemort feeds into my dreams, and I should have fucking left years ago. I step around the sleeping bag and tear at the doorknob, growling when the fucking thing won’t budge.
“Let go!” I hiss, pulling at the door again, his other hand slamming down next to his first and boxing me in.
I’m suddenly hyper-aware of him hot against my back, his bare flesh brushing my shoulders, breath tickling the nape of my neck. I close my eyes, my entire body tensing with want. Hate him. Fucking hate him for being here and doing this to me.
“Why are you doing this?” He sounds confused, maybe even hurt—If a lying bastard like him could ever feel, that is. “Really, Potter. Why the fuck are you doing this to yourself?”
God, he’s so fucking annoying. Hot, sexy, and so annoying. I grab his wrist, pulling it from the door, grasping it tight. Then, because I can’t stop myself no matter how much the voice in my head tells me to, I push his palm against my stomach, holding him against me, making his hand press lower as he growls in my ear.
“For fuck sake—You’re fucked. So fucked.” But he’s touching me, his fingers spreading, teasing lower with each huff of exasperation in my ear. “Potter…”
“Shut up. Just shut the fuck up already.” I push his hand lower until he’s pressing into my erection, gasping as I buck into his palm. Snarling, he slams me forward into the door. “God, yes.” His body covers my back completely, his dick grinding between my cheeks with only our underwear between us. It’s so good, my head spinning as I push back, rubbing up and down on his hard cock and urging him to hump against me.
“Do it… Do me,” I demand huskily, my head dropping back against his shoulder as I grind on his dick. I need him so bad. Don’t want to but I do and I just can’t think straight anymore.
His angry rumble sends fire tingling through me, my body tensing as he slams me forward against the door again. “No way in fuck. If you’re going to hate me, it might as well be on my terms.”
Fucking hell, he just can’t do anything right. Growling, I reach my hands behind and grab his hips, pulling him against me as I push back, wiggling until his dick is digging into my crack. “You want me.”
“So?” He grunts, his hips thrusting forward. I can’t stop my moan and I spread my legs wider as I push back. But he’s not giving in, his arm tight around my waist as he tries to hold me still. “Potter, you think I’m here to seduce you or some fucked up shit like that so I can hand you over to the Dark Lord. I’d have to be a fucking idiot to touch you right now. I have no interest ending up out on the street without your protection.”
“You mean the wards.”
He’s still, his breath steamy puffs against my neck. “Don’t be naïve. You can’t be a crazy, paranoid psycho bastard and also be naïve, Potter. It’s one or the other.”
Hate him. Fucking hate him so much. He knows I want him. Knows I want to be the one he runs to—not the stupid house but to me. He knows it and he’s using it against me so fucking good.
His hands rise to my shoulders and he tries to turn me. I resist, not budging. “Just go to bed, Malfoy.”
“Look at me,” he whispers. “You can’t face the fucking Dark Lord and then be unable to face me.”
“You’re such an asshole!”
“I’m aware. Now stop being a coward.”
Hate him, hate him, hate him… I turn when he pushes at my shoulders, my eyes resolutely closed. “Just let it go.” I feel exposed knowing he’s looking at me, but I can’t bring myself to face him. He shouldn’t be here. It’s summer and I shouldn’t have to be doing this right now.
“If I could, I would have already. I’m not a fan of making an ass of myself in my underwear, Potter.” His lips press to mine and I suppress a sigh, keeping myself still. His lips slide to the corner of my mouth, brushing over my cheek as he talks lowly. “I get it. You don’t trust me. You don’t trust anyone. You can’t even accept a fucking meal from your aunt without wondering if she’s about to stab you in the back. That doesn’t mean I’m not trustworthy, Potter, it just means all you can see is the world the way you built it in your head. Fucked up. A world where someone gets murdered every night while you rest and you can’t do a thing to stop it.”
His lips tease my ear, fingers curling around my biceps. “I get it, Harry.”
He does. He really fucking does and it just makes him all the more dangerous. “Go to bed.”
“Look at me.”
I take a deep breath to brace myself, knowing he won’t back down until he feels like I’ve heard him. I immediately regret it, his face inches from mine, beautiful eyes glaring so intense and full of something I can hardly bear to see. It makes my knees weak, my chest tight and I manage to find a little more hate to build up between us to keep him from getting to me.
His fingers are firm as they thread through my hair, combing slowly while he stares at me like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Maybe he does. Maybe his father taught him Legilimency. It doesn’t matter; I can’t ever let him close enough to hurt me.
“Take the bed.” He pulls away, his voice a low murmur. “You need to sleep a lot more than I do.”
I shake my head wearily. There’s no way I can stay in here with him tonight. I’m so hard, so wound up, my body and head a fucking mess. “I gotta go. Jog.” I turn to leave but he’s on me in an instant, holding the door shut again, body hot against my back.
“It’s not safe.”
I huff, trying not to laugh at the idea of him worried about me. “I don’t fucking care.”
“You’re in your fucking underwear.”
Damn him. “I can’t do this with you! This room is too small and hearing you breathe is driving me fucking crazy and I need to—Oh.” His arms wrap tight around me, a hand boldly cupping my dick through my underwear. “Fuck.” I sink against the door, his strong body keeping me from falling as he wraps closer, lips kissing up my neck, cock pressing against my ass. God, just once more. Need him to touch me so bad.
I fumble for the light switch, whimpering when his hand catches my wrist. I’m too tired for all this. Just too fucking tired. “Please.”
Sighing in frustration, he unwinds his fingers. I flick the light off, darkness descending, my eyes opening, senses expanding. I’m panting, his breath calm against my neck, lips wet on my ear.
“Not enough tattoos and holes in my head?”
What an idiot. If he only fucking knew. He’s always in the dark with me, behind my eyelids when I touch myself. Somehow this feels more real than him being in the light. Safer.
I turn, his body bumping mine, my back against the door. My hands find his arms and follow them up, over his shoulders, down his chest, past his abs and pausing at the top of his underwear. I pull them down, his breath hitching, body pushing up against mine as he steps out of the last of his clothes. His dick is bare and hot against my stomach, his hands grasping my ass, holding me tight against him.
“You’re fucking infuriating,” he growls against my jaw. I shift my hips, lining his dick up with mine. I try to push my underwear down but he grabs my hands, pulling them back to his body. “Insane. I haven’t been here a week and you’re driving me insane.”
I kiss him if only to shut him up already. I miss, my mouth getting most of his bottom lip and a bit of his chin. He’s got more of that bristle—the idiot still not daring to use a razor—and I rub my face into the rough texture. He growls, pulling me off the door and walking me toward the bed.
“Potter, I’m serious. There is nothing healthy about this—Fuck.” He’s found the bed, hissing when his leg slams into it. I push him down, straddling him with my thighs on either side before he can start bitching, seeking his mouth and kissing him deep. I reach between us, stroking his thick, hard cock, groaning when the silken flesh jumps in my hand. He’s breathing hard, small grunts escaping him with every rock of our hips.
Fuck, I need him inside me. So bad. His hand is on my hip and I grab it, moving it down to my ass. He slides beneath the leg of my briefs and squeezes hard, my hips grinding forward as I gasp.
“Fuck, do it,” I find myself practically begging when he slides a finger down my crack. It’ll stop if he fucks me. It has to. This fucking crazy need in me that makes me want the worst and fucking chase after it against my better judgment will finally stop if I just have this one thing.
I still my hips when I feel his fingertips at my rim, my face tight against his neck. “Come on, Malfoy… God, just fuck me.”
“Why, so you’ll finally have your proof that I’m here to get you killed?” Draco whispers hot against my forehead, his thumb teasing around my entrance, the tip slowly stretching me open. “Give me some fucking credit.”
Whimpering lowly as his thumb breaches me, I can only clutch him desperately. “More,” I gasp, moaning when he pushes into me deeper. I clench around the digit, his breath a low hiss as his other arm wrenches me up against his body, pushing my underwear beneath the swell of my ass, fingers finding my entrance and probing where his thumb is already buried. I half expect him to draw it out but he’s still angry, still determined to make me pay for using him like he’s just a pretty face and hard dick after all our years of dancing around each other.
“Oh… Oh fuck.” My voice is a low rasp when two fingers plunge into me, my flesh sore and slowly opening to him. It’s so good, the right mix of pain and pleasure, the perfect overwhelm as my passage stretches too wide, too fast to take in his driving thrusts. “Yes… Fuck, yes.” I slam back, grinning breathlessly when he growls and pulls me tighter to him, his dick smearing sticky precum against my inner thigh. He feels so good. Draco Malfoy finger fucking me in the dark while kissing down my neck; I might be in some sort of delusional coma right now.
Sweat drips down my face, my gasps so loud with every pump of his fingers inside me. I need his cock—need him to be fucking me. Releasing a groan, I fumble down his body, my hands shaking like crazy as I seek out his dick. “Please… Please. I want you so bad.” It’s dark. I can say it in the dark. “Draco, I want to feel you inside me.”
“Goddammit, Harry,” he hisses, his hips jolting up and rocking me so good. “I refuse to feed your fucked up delusions.” He’s a mix of bitterness, anger, and lust but all I care about is how his fingers are spreading, opening me wider, finding my prostate and stroking.
“Fuck—Yes… Again,” I sob, wrapping my arms tight around his shoulders, hooking my ankles around his back and moaning against his throat. He gives a warning growl when I try to position his dick between my spread cheek. “Come on… Need it,” I grunt back, nipping at the hollow of his throat.
“Not until you trust me,” he says hoarsely.
The fucking stubborn pain. Damn him, I refuse to fucking beg. Just… God, I need him. “Why do you have to be so fucking difficult?”
“Because you’re fucking difficult,” he mutters, his hips rocking up again, our dicks rubbing such perfect friction that I tighten, certain I’m going to come any moment now.
“You want me,” I breathe out, grinding on his fingers, needing it bigger and deeper. “Just fuck me already.”
“Damn, you’re out of your fucking mind.” Ducking his head, he growls in my ear while his fingers rhythmically thrust into me in slow, deep strokes. “You’re worried I’m trying to get you killed but you’re more than willing to let me fuck you raw. Is that what you want, Potter?” He hits my prostate again, my breath lost, thighs and ass tightening, my head spinning with heat. “Do you want me to use you? Take you however I want… get off ruining you… and then just throw you away when I’m done?”
I can’t stop my aching moans. I can’t help it—I want him to ruin me. To give in and fuck me so hard, fill me with his cum. I want him to use me so bad. However he wants just as long as it’s me. After? I don’t fucking care, I just want him inside me now. “Malfoy, just…”
“Not a fucking word, Potter,” he snarls, nipping my ear in punishment. The pain is a jolt of electricity, quickly followed by bruising bites as he moves down my throat angrily. “I’m not that kid of guy… And you, you deserve fucking better, you absolute tosser.” He ignores my whine of protest when he pulls his fingers out of me, my hole clenching on nothing and feeling so empty.
Sweat drips down my chest and our flesh slides together when he rolls me roughly, pushing me back on the bed. I can’t see his face but I’m pretty sure he’s angry as fuck, his fingers gripping painfully tight to my hips after he pulls my underwear down and off my legs and he lowers his body on top of mine. I don’t have it in me to care and I lift a knee up to feel him between my legs, groaning when his dick finally presses hot to mine again. I want him inside me so bad, my hips angling for just that until he pins me down with another angry growl.
There’s a familiar sound of sheets and springs shifting, my eyes flying open when the blunt, cool tip of a dildo pushes between my cheeks. “Oh, fuck.”
“Just so we’re clear, I wasn’t searching your fucking room for ways to get you killed. Your bed is just fucking lumpy and clearly this was part of the reason,” he taunts, pushing my knee up higher until I’m spread wide beneath him. Fuck, please. Please, please, please put it in me.
“Malfoy…”
“Quiet.” I hear his thumb click the cap open on the bottle of lube I keep wedged under my mattress with the dildo and I sink back, gasping beneath him in anticipation. He could do anything to me right now and I wouldn’t complain. Just as long as he puts something in me thick and hard and long. Maybe it is my fault—Maybe I’m a paranoid fuck because I know damn well just how easy it is for me to fall for him. Maybe having him actually inside me would be the stupidest fucking mistake I could ever make.
Fingers slick with oil push beneath my balls and I moan, arching eagerly. Fuck yes. Fuck, fuck, fuck…
“Damn, listen to you moan,” Draco whispers, his mouth fastening to my throat, coated fingers working into me, getting me ready, driving me wild. “You really want it… Like crazy, want it.”
It’s been three days and I’m ready to let him fuck me. Yeah… that seems about right. Usually fight with him the first two days of school because he’s always running me down like a rabid puppy with a mean bark and dull teeth. By the third to fourth day I have to avoid him to keep from jumping him and trying to get his pants off. This feels about on par to that. Considering he’s been in my face the last three days, I’ve done damn well to resist.
My hands are again a fucking uncoordinated mess but I manage to grab his hips and pull him tighter to me. I find his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip harshly and tugging at the firm flesh with my teeth. “Hurry… Want it so bad.”
“You’re still so tight.”
“I can take it… God, just…” My back arches when he brushes my prostate. I grip him harder, moaning lowly on my exhale. “Need you.”
He stiffens in my hold and I immediately regret my stupid, horny mouth. I really shouldn’t be allowed to talk when he’s touching me. Dumb. Really dumb. It’s a relief when he pushes the silicone against my hole, my gasp breaking the growing silence. It doesn’t stop him from biting my shoulder, his teeth digging in punishingly while he slowly penetrates me with the thick dildo.
I’m so close. Unbearably close. He barely gets two inches into my clenching passage when I can’t take any more, my body jerking. Crying out, I throw my head back, coming in a sudden blaze of heat and need.
His free hand runs between us, slicking over the streams of seed wet on my navel. Malfoy groans when he finds it but he doesn’t stop what he’s doing, the dildo wedging in deeper into my sensitive channel. I whimper when he gets as deep as he can, the base stretching me so wide as he fills me.
“Fuck… Fuck, it’s so…”
Leaning down, he wraps one of my legs around his hips, pulling and pushing the thick rod in and out of my aching hole. I can’t stop my cries. He’s relentless, filling me again and again and, by his breathing, he’s so close to losing it.
“Say it again,” he rasps in my ear, teeth nipping on my lobe.
“Fuck… I need you,” I gasp out, sliding an arm to his waist and wrapping fingers around his hard cock. “Just you,” I admit dazedly.
“God, Harry… You’re so fucked.”
I know. It’s the only way I’m ever going to be when it comes to him.
His movements slow, growing more erratic as he thrusts into my hand while trying to fuck me senseless with the dildo at the same time. It’s so good and all I want is for it to be his dick inside me, swelling, getting ready to fill me. I grab him by the shoulders, pushing him back, groaning from how deep the dildo is wedged inside me as I move. Sliding down his body, my gasps break free with every aching jolt to my clenching hole until his dick is hot on my lips. Tongue tracing out hungrily, I lap over his head, my ass high in the air and legs spread for balance as I lean down to take him deep into my mouth.
“Fuck… God, Harry… God.” His fingers grip my hair, twisting tight while he bucks up towards my tonsils and threatens to suffocate me. I relax my jaw, opening as far as I can while being as malleable as possible. He won’t stay still enough for me to properly deep throat him, but I can take his desperate thrusts and let him fuck my mouth how he wants.
He’s close, grunting softly, the underside of his large dick singing on my tongue as I feel him swell. I moan as he comes, holding his hips and dripping saliva down my swollen lips while I try to keep from choking on his sperm. Dizziness hits me, my ass clenching from just how hot it is to have him get off in my mouth.
I barely have a chance to swallow before he’s sitting up and pulling me towards him, his tongue plunging roughly into my mouth while I groan in agony from the dildo. It’s too big to be stretching me for so long without moving, my body clenching in attempt to push it out to no avail. I reach for it while he kisses me but he grabs my wrists, keeping me in place.
“Say it again,” he demands against my lips, holding me so I’m still leaning over the bed, body bent and aching as I rock my hips.
I don’t even consider refusing. “Need you.” My voice is low, rough from the friction of his dick and the absolute need I have for him. When he pulls me down beside him, I barely catch myself, just stopping from jarring on the mattress as I breathe heavily. He slides behind me, his hip pressed against the swell of my ass, fingers probing at the dildo filling me so deep.
“Again,” he growls, his mouth against my ear as he pulls the dildo out only to immediately slam it back in.
I sob, clutching the sheets, pushing back on shaking legs to get it deeper. “N-Need… you…”
“Fuck, Harry.” His voice a raw growl, he starts fucking me hard on the slick rod. My cries only spur him on as he drives into me unceasingly. I bury my face into the bed, gasping until the sheet grows wet under my mouth and teeth. I don’t know if he wants to get me off or just drive me insane for admitting I like him in such a way. All I know is I’m going to lose my mind if he stops.
“That’s it… You’re so close. Get there, beautiful.” Grabbing me by my hair, he kisses me hard, swallowing my cries down greedily while grinding the thick plastic into me so deep, so hard. My eyes squeezed shut, for a dizzying moment it’s like he’s actually inside me, his hot flesh melded with mine, filling me completely. Bucking desperately, I come the instant his hand touches my dick, surge after surge streaming from me as I moan against his lips.
He won’t stop kissing me, even when I collapse forward, groaning weakly when he finally pulls the dildo from my aching hole. Rolling me on my side, his mouth covers mine, tongue determined to memorize every part of my mouth as his large hands move over my sweat drenched, shaking form.
I’m so worn out, it takes forever for me to actually understand what he’s doing when he twists us on the bed, pulling me into his arms and kissing my throat and shoulders. I go to roll away and sleep on the floor, but he just growls and wraps an arm around my waist to keep me in place.
“Stay.”
“Bed’s too small,” I mumble, not actually able to find the strength to move at the moment. But he’s cuddling me like I’m his fucking boyfriend or some shit, so I really need to get away before he gets the wrong…
His knee sliding between my thighs, he pins me down with his hot body before I can break from his hold. Resourceful little prat. Teeth nip my neck and I moan, relaxing back against the mattress. I’ll move when he’s asleep. Totally. Just, right now I’m going to let him keep running his hand over my chest while he kisses and sucks on my neck lazily.
“Say it again,” he whispers, mouth wide and wet as he scrapes his teeth over my flesh.
Fucked up. He’s either luring me to my death or stupid enough to think I’m worth having. Either way, I’m not feeding his psychosis.
Teeth clamp on the side of my neck and I gasp, groaning weakly as fire rushes through my exhausted body. It’s dark. I can say it in the dark. “F-Fine… I need you.”
His tongue immediately soothes over the bite, fingers again tracing my form reverently. He sighs contently and I close my eyes again, trying to ignore just how comforting and secure I feel with him weighing me down and wrapped around me.
Sleep is determined to claim me and I don’t fight it. It’s better than thinking about what the fuck I just did.
SCENE #Stark reality
He has the most beautiful hands. Long, strong fingers that taper to glowing pink flesh and short manicured nails. Usually perfectly clean and immaculate, but this morning he’s got a bit of dirt under a nail and I can’t stop staring at it. It’s day four and I’m dirtying him. Tarnishing him. He’s more human today than I’ve ever seen him and I hate myself for it.
He doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t belong and once he leaves, he’ll never come back. It is amazing just how cruel Draco Malfoy can be by telling me he likes me.
I think I woke up to jog. My body is ready to run. I slept—I can’t even remember the last time I fucking slept like this—and now I’m awake, and hard, and sweating under his hot flesh and solid, strong form. There’s no darkness to hide away in and he is so fucking beautiful when he sleeps.
I want to touch him. His skin is a pale, golden cream in the morning light bouncing through the window, his hair a glittering gold as it tickles my cheek. I can touch him. God, I am touching him, his slowly moving chest half covering mine, his leg still pressed between my thighs and likely getting sticky with just how fucking hard he makes me. He has amazing shoulders and such a smooth, sculpted ass. Hell, Malfoy nude is fucking art. I’m sleeping with art.
Holy fuck, I’m sleeping with Draco Malfoy.
I have to be losing my mind. Like, full blown hallucinations combined with schizophrenic delusions. How long has he been here? Did I end up spelled by something? Am I in a fucking coma right now? I don’t know if I believe in parallel universes but I’m questioning it now.
Except, he is so quick to point out just how fucked up I am, and I am still just so totally fucked.
I didn’t even really realize just how fucked I was until he said it. Do I not see the world right? Have the nightmares from Voldemort fucked me up that much that I can’t even tell the difference between what’s real and me being a paranoid fuck?
It doesn’t mean I wrong. It doesn’t mean Voldemort wouldn’t kill me in a second. Or Malfoy’s parents. Or even fucking Malfoy.
I lick my lips, trying to glare at his gorgeous face, but I can’t find the anger when he’s asleep. I need him to open his mouth and say something stupid first.
It doesn’t mean I’m wrong.
I don’t live a fucking normal life no matter how mundane it might seem during the summer. It is so fucking insane for me to come back to the Dursley’s every summer break and live in this world. Playing muggle. Playing teenager. It’s all make believe here.
I once thought magic was freedom from this boring place. Whimsical. Really fucking cool. But that all changed when I realized how my parents had died, why I was going to die, and why every fucking person I’m around or dare to care about is going to die. Little Whinging is a fucking illusion and every time something magical strays in, it cracks the facade a little more, breaking me with it.
I am a fucking crazy person. Ask any muggle that wants to know my opinion on magic. Oh, so you think it would be super cool to just do things? Fly or become invisible or turn back time? Sure, except it’s not just you. It would be lots of people doing those same really cool things but they use it to control people like slaves and murder the ones they can’t control. If magic were real, you’d need to learn as much as you could as quickly as you could, otherwise someone with more power might come around and kill you.
Why? Fuck, because they can. They can do magic; what did you think they were going to do with it? Make the world a better place? How many fucking people do you personally know are bothering to put their own selfish needs aside to help a stranger? Why would a person with magic be any different? They can just do all the things they want with no one to stop them or tell them they’re wrong.
Oh, you’re sure that if you had magical powers, you’d be the next Jesus? Pretty sure that guy died in the end. The normal people killed him because he was trying to make their lives better. I know, what a dick. Who’s to even say that guy was real? You know who was definitely real? Hitler. Pol Pot. Kim Jong Il. Stalin. Mussolini. Genghis Khan. The Crusades. Genocides from 100 million Native Americans to the Holocaust to Nigeria—Name a fucking continent and I can name a genocide committed by people that didn’t need magic to do horrible things.
How many times do you hear about people joining together to feed the homeless or welcome them into their country after a natural disaster? Most of the time they’re too busy bitching about not having enough for themselves. You really think magic is going to help this world? People are fucked and there’s no helping them.
They tend to stop talking to me after that. Apparently I’m a depressing asshole. Whatever.
Having magic and knowing Voldemort forces you to think about this shit. Most people are in the middle of the selfish meter. They’ll help a little until it gets to be too much of a hassle for themselves. You get a few that will give up their homes for a stranger but they never outnumber the monsters that would destroy and take everything they can.
Destruction is so easy. So satisfying. Primal. And fuck, when you try to help, it never really solves a problem, it only ever seems to pick away at it for a bit. Destruction succeeds where healing just puts off the inevitable death of the decaying all around us.
Magic is real, I am fucking crazy, and it doesn’t mean I’m wrong in thinking Voldemort would send Draco to kill me.
It doesn’t mean I’m wrong, but god, I really want to be wrong.
I’m never going to be able to have anything I want until Voldemort is dead. This man—No, monster. This monster has decided my life just by existing. He took my parents away and every other good thing I could ever hope for in life by his constant threat to destroy me. I think I finally understand Sirius in some ways. The seemingly arrogant death wish he had walked around with. But it wasn’t arrogance, it was fucking desperation. The last straw in a life stolen from him. He wanted to live the second his life was handed back to him. He wanted to finally have a choice.
Yeah, I fucking get it. But he’s dead and I’m the one that lived to see the lesson of trying to take control of your life. You just end up fucked. It doesn’t matter what you do, you’re just fucked. Nothing matters.
I want to go back to sleep. I am a depressing fucker. That he’s just lying on top of me, completely oblivious to how fucking miserable a person I am is beyond surreal. He’s only going to get worse around me. Cynical, angry, bitter. I’m fucked in the head and he’s a fucking idiot for looking twice at me. Maybe it’s the scar. Maybe he really is just another stupid fanboy underneath it all.
He smells amazing. His lips are gorgeous, and he smells like sex. Looks like sex. I wonder if he’s ever bottomed. He has a fucking smooth, tight ass and I would totally fuck him if I didn’t want him to be inside me every time I think about his dick. But if he wanted to bottom, I would totally do that for him.
His breathing doesn’t change when I slide my arm out from under his body, carefully cupping his ass cheek. My fingers fan out and I give him a small squeeze. He really has a nice ass. Firm. Fit. He is fucking tight all around. Fuck, the things I would do with him. Nasty shit. Really, really nasty shit.
But he’s a naïve idiot. An enemy. His parents could also be dead and I’m a total selfish fuck for bringing him into my shit of a life. Should have pawned him off on the Order the second he showed up. Should have kept my hands to myself and slept on the downstairs couch and just stayed the fuck away. Should have never ever ever fucking told him I need him.
God, I need him.
I give his ass a final squeeze and shift my hips so I’m not humping his leg. Sleep has not helped my head. Nothing is going to fix the life I’m living in. I tilt my head on the pillow, my eyelids heavy as I take in his sleeping face. He really is beautiful. I could get used to waking up beside him in this cramped bed. I could get used to a lot of things when it comes to him. All the more reason he needs to go.
SCENE #Surly and horny
I feel when he wakes, the bed shifting, his breathing changing as he yawns shamelessly right next to my ear. I keep my eyes closed even when his fingers brush my face, his lips quickly following to press against mine.
“You are the lumpiest bed I’ve ever slept on,” he whispers hoarsely against my mouth like he’s afraid to wake me. “Sexiest, too. My god, you are one sexy psycho.” He kisses my jaw, his lips brushing softly over my bristle.
Idiot. He is such a naïve idiot and if I wasn’t pretending to be asleep I’d be kissing his stupid mouth raw.
“Try not to wake up an angry fuck today, scarhead.” He pushes himself out of bed before I can growl at him and reveal I’m very much awake and already angry and fucked up. God, but he fucks me up.
I keep my eyes closed and listen to him grab some clothes and a towel. My bedroom door clicks shut and the bathroom fan goes on a moment later. The tension leaves my body and I sink down into the bed, not having realized how tight I had been.
I don’t want to get up today. I don’t want to see him at breakfast or listen to him bitch about muggle things. I don’t want to see him because if I see him, I’m going to remember all those fucking crazy things he said to me yesterday about him wanting me and my resolve is going to fucking break. I gotta let him go. For my sanity. For his own fucking good.
I roll over onto my side, staring blankly at my dingy bedroom wall. It feels very real today. I think the sleep must have done something to me because I feel a little more solid than I usually do, a little more aware of gravity and just how real the wall looks. I might actually be here today in the Dursley’s house and not in some in between dream before school starts.
My sheets smell like Malfoy and sex. My ass is sore, a dull throb that makes the rest of me feel kind of warm and fuzzy and a whole lot of stupid. God, I already miss him. Miss the feel of his arms, the weight of his body. I never should have let this happen.
SCENE #Grim revelations from Remus
It’s not the doorbell but Petunia’s tense voice that catches my attention. It’s after noon. I managed to fall asleep—It’s amazing how much sleep I can get when I’m feeling fucking pathetic about my life. I dressed after a needed shower and was heading for the kitchen to throw a sandwich together when I hear my aunt choke on her words. Warning bells ring in my head and I’m heading for the front door without even pausing.
“Remus!”
“Harry, I got your owl.” Remus looks at Petunia with an exasperated nod as if my beaming smile is proof enough he’s allowed to be here. But I can see her expression now. She’s stiff, her face pale with thin lips set in a flat line.
Aunt Petunia is fucking terrified of wizards. She might have learned to tolerate me but she is freaking out to be faced with a full grown one on her front steps. For the first time, I feel a wave of guilt for not having thought of her when contacting Remus. I hadn’t expected him to come down but still, she’s really freaking and it is her fucking house.
I finish crossing to the door and nod my head in the direction of the street. “Aunt Petunia, Remus and I are going to go for a walk. I’ll let you know when I’m back.” Thank god Vernon isn’t here. The last thing I need is him taking one look at a freaked out Petunia and feeling the need to play angry guard dog against a werewolf.
I close the door behind us, Remus giving me a quizzical look I don’t feel like answering until I’m out of sight of Petunia’s glare through the curtains. I feel like I’m fucking everything up today. She lost her only sister to one of the evilest wizards around and I’m just parading wizards through her front door. Stupid, Potter, really fucking stupid.
Once I’m down the street and out of sight of the house, I relax and finally take a good look at Remus. He’s worn, his hair touched with gray, warm eyes looking tired. Losing Sirius—Fuck, getting Sirius back and then losing him was hard on Remus. The most on him. He’s the last one left of his friends to carry on. I sometimes think he’s putting the whole Wormtail thing on his shoulders, like he needs to set it all right.
“Should I be worried that you’re here?” I finally ask, seeing as he hasn’t offered to tell me yet if we should be checking the street for Death Eaters or shit.
“I had a moment. I just…” He sighs, his arm coming up to rest on my shoulder. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay in person. That’s all. I spoke to Snape and he pretty much backs up Malfoy’s story. He got a message from Lucius after the thing with Narcissa happened. Draco ended up portkeying in to their arranged meet up, confused and afraid. It doesn’t mean someone didn’t get to him before Snape.”
No, it didn’t. “He asked to stay with me?”
“Snape’s still pissed,” Remus says with a wry grin. “He’s been arguing with the Order, demanding Shacklebolt be stationed here until your summer break is over.”
I raise my eyebrows, Remus just shaking his head. Yeah, wasn’t really expecting an armed wizard escort around here. There’s too many people that don’t have wards against Voldemort to worry about.
“Is his mother going to be alright?”
His expression goes grim and I sigh internally. Great, Draco’s mom is as good as dead and I just totally molested him last night. And at the movies. In the bathroom at that. Fucking great. I don’t believe in hell but I’ll probably end up there anyways.
“There are rumors that Lucius is in hiding,” Remus says softly. “He hasn’t shown up at the Ministry since Draco left. They’re talking about him possibly being dead, but Snape is certain he’s just holed up somewhere. Then again, Snape’s been wrong before, so I can’t say for certain.”
Fuck. Dear fuck, how the hell can I tell Draco any of this? “Remus, I need to ask you something and you gotta just answer me flat out, okay? No bullshit.”
Remus’ eyes sharpen and I know he’s wondering if I’m going to ask something secret oriented. But it’s not a secret, it’s just one of those really fucking shitty things that people love to soften the blow of.
“Fine,” he finally says, his face guarded.
“Is Voldemort really looking to rape him?”
His eyes widen before he immediately looks away. “Damn it, Harry.”
“You promised. I need to know.”
“Why? Why the hell do you need to know something like that?” His growl is so low, I’m wondering if the full moon is soon. “The last thing you should be thinking about is the kind of fucked up shit You-Know-Who is into.”
“Remi, fucking tell me!” I grab him by the arm, his eyes flashing warningly at me. I don’t fucking care anymore. “What is Voldemort going to do to him? If I make him leave here with you today and the Order fucks up and he gets captured, what the hell is going to happen to him?”
His jaw is grit so tight, it’s a wonder he can speak. “Harry, it’s not your responsibility to take on every—”
“Fuck that! Fuck! Say it, and stop trying to protect me!” I snarl, going to push him back only to have him grab my fist with impossible speed. “He came to me. Crying, Remus. Fucking crying. Tell me the truth.”
Exhaling angrily, he abruptly lets me go. “I can’t say for certain.”
“Do not bullshit me, Remus Lupin. Do you think I’m so dumb that I don’t know why you’re here?” I hate him for pulling this shit right now, hate him for having to give an actual fuck about me when I just want to know how bad I’m fucking up Draco’s life. “Yes or no? Is Voldemort going to rape the fucking kid until he’s dead?”
Growling loudly, Remus ducks his head and glares right into my eyes. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s your responsibility to save him. This isn’t your fault, Harry. There are plenty of fully grown adults that can watch over him and they don’t have to fear being set up and handed over to Voldemort if it turns out the kid’s a spy. Let me take him to Grimmauld Place.”
I shake my head before the words are fully out of his mouth. God. Dear, god, I am the worst kind of fucking person. Maybe I will be telling people to get my fucking scar tattooed on their arm by the time Voldemort is through fucking with my head. The Dark Lord is going to rape the kid and I keep trying to get into his pants.
“Remus, thanks for answering my owl.”
“Harry…”
I hold my hand up, shaking my head again. “Make sure no one fucking knows he’s here. The Order might not turn on me, but everyone hates the Malfoys. I don’t want to have to worry about someone thinking they’re doing me a fucking favor by getting rid of him.” I give him a hard look, one he readily returns.
“Sirius told me, Harry. I’m not blind.” His gaze moves over the red marks on my neck. “You’re not thinking clearly—”
“I know right from wrong,” I snap back flatly. “Having a fucking crush doesn’t mean I don’t know when bailing on him is as monstrous as it sounds. His mother’s dying.”
Sighing, Remus eventually nods, his expression closed off. “Within the week, very likely. Her life force is draining fast. And no, I wouldn’t recommend him visiting. I wouldn’t tell him at all, just in case he’s the type to run off to try and say goodbye.”
God, I don’t want this. I turn and start walking towards the house, my head stuck on having to hide the condition of his mother from Draco. The kid still has hope while I’m once again crushed by the reality of the world.
Remus makes a sound behind me and I force myself to turn back. He’s got his wand out, ready to disappear and today I’m just feeling all the ‘what if’s’ that could happen. I quickly run back, Remus pulling me into a one-armed hug, my hair ruffled into a flying mess.
“Be careful, Harry. Don’t be reckless like him. You’re too alike. Too much like your father, too, and your mother was nearly as bad.”
Fucking Sirius. Selfish, bullheaded Sirius Black.
“I’ll be fine, Remus. I’m always fine. I live, remember? It’s kinda my thing.” I give him a cheeky smile he doesn’t return, his eyes full of such impossible sorrow. He knows I’m fucked up. Everyone fucking knows. It’s not like I’ve been hiding it.
I give him a small wave, watching as he disappears, the sound dull to my ears.
Left alone, I’m stuck with just my messed up head and the memory of everything I’ve been fucking up the last four days. Damn.
Need him. Never should have fucking told him I need him.
SCENE #Stoned and wanting
I step reluctantly back inside the house, not sure if I want to face Malfoy right now. Not sure if I can without saying something wrong and having it all spill out. His mother dying, his father missing. But then, unlike him, I don’t need to talk. I’m perfectly fine being silent for hours—sometimes days—without anyone thinking it’s weird. I can do this, and I will to protect his fucking heart from another damn blow.
I just don’t know how I’m going to protect mine.
Petunia’s in the kitchen slamming around pans. When she hears the door shut behind me, she immediately comes walking, her face still drawn. She sees I’m alone, but I feel the need to speak up.
“He’s gone. Won’t be coming back, so… yeah.”
Her shoulders give a slump like all the tension is draining out of her, and I’m again wondering how I missed this before. At every turn, I’m just a selfish fuck. Terrorizing my aunt and uncle, keeping him, wanting him to leave. Nothing I do is right, even when it’s the only right thing available.
“I’m making lunch.” Petunia straightens after a moment and turns back to the kitchen. “Drake’s with the boys in Dudley’s room, if you’re looking for him.”
“What?” I jolt and my eyes go wide. Why the fuck would Malfoy be in Dudley’s room? There is no answer in my brain that doesn’t end with Dudley turning the hot and currently magicless Malfoy into a bruised mess. I take off and run up the stairs two at a time. Not pausing to knock, I slam open the door to Dudley’s room.
The most confusing sight greets me and I stop cold, trying to figure out if I’m hallucinating. Malfoy is sitting at the foot of Dudley’s bed, his face red from the laughter spilling from him in uncontrollable giggles. Piers—obnoxious fuck that he is—is staring at him from his perch on the floor, his eyes rimmed in red, eyelids heavy as he grins creepily at Malfoy. Dudley’s fucking around with the television, but seems too stoned to actually know what he’s doing. The blinds are drawn, and the AC is running. The thick smoke of incense isn’t fooling anyone but my out of touch aunt.
“Are you high?” He’s totally high, but I just can’t get my fucking head around it. Malfoy seems to think I’m fucking hilarious because he takes one look at my face and bursts into more laughter.
Fuck. Fuck, he’s seriously high.
I step into the room and shut the door behind me. I can’t just leave him in here, although I want to. I fucking hate Dudley, and Piers creeps the fuck out of me.
I turn on Piers, the only one who seems coherent at the moment. “What the fuck did you do to him?”
Piers tilts his head, a languid grin stretched wide around his face. “Heh, do? I didn’t do anything, man. Drake here is just flying.”
“Because of whatever the fuck you gave him.” God help the stupid fucks if they gave Malfoy more than just pot. I will fucking break something if I gotta bring that naive as fuck prat to the ER and risk being spotted by Death Eaters in the process. I quickly shut the door behind me and cross Dudley’s messy room, hating how damn helpless I feel when Malfoy looks up with me with glazed eyes and snorts into his hand.
“Potter… Potter, your face. You are sooo pissed off right now.” Malfoy seems to find my anger hilarious, and he nearly falls over sideways on the floor as he cackles.
God damn it. “Malfoy, what did you eat? Was it pills?” I have no fucking clue if someone as damn dumb to the world won’t just have his heart explode if he’s hit with a dose of acid or something. I leave him alone for five fucking seconds, and he has managed to find himself in the mini drug den of Little Whinging. Shit, why is he laughing so much!
“Dudley, what the fuck is wrong with you?” I demand tersely as I crouch beside Malfoy, whose face is bright red as he struggles to breathe around his laughter. “What did you give him? So help me if you fucked him up in a bad way…” It’s like talking to a blinking wall. Dudley is so fucked up, I’m not sure he can even hear me right now. “Hey, fucking listen to me, dickwad! I’m supposed to be taking care of him.”
“Will you chill?” Piers drawls, his voice slowed by whatever is in his system. I whirl on him and glare. “The kid’s fine.”
“He’s not—” I fall silent when Piers reaches over, his fingers smoking from the joint in his hand, and Malfoy quickly grabs it. Son of a bitch. I swoop down to intercept, but I’m too late. Malfoy sucks down a hit like a pro, and I freeze, gaping at him.
Who the fuck is this kid? He doesn’t tell me he’s gay, he’s never been out in the fucking world alone, and he’s a pothead too? Just what else is Malfoy hiding from me?
“Come ‘er.” Malfoy snakes a hand out and grabs me by the wrist. Before I can resist, he pulls me down into his lap.
“Malfoy—watch it!” I nearly tip sideways, and by the time I right myself out of the awkward tangle, he’s got his hand around my waist and me trapped between his thighs. “You’re losing your shit,” I growl and try to push up. He snorts as he grabs me tighter around the waist and pulls me back against him. I gasp and freeze when I feel his erection grind hard against my ass cheek. “Shit,” I breathe out, trying to get my stuttering brain to start working again.
“Much better,” he murmurs against my ear. “Relax. Everything isn’t always life and death, Harry.”
I blink stupidly, trying to understand just what the fuck is going on. His dick grinding against my ass if not helping me process. “Malfoy, have you lost your—?” I turn when his fingers slide along my chin, only to jolt when his lips suddenly cover mine in a deep kiss. Hot air fills my mouth and I jerk away as my throat burns and eyes water.
“What the fuck!” I rasp as I shove him away and break down into coughs from the dry, cottony feeling. It’s like my head is full of the pungent, acrid smoke.
“Shotgun,” Piers calls approvingly, but I don’t have the energy to yell at him. I can only stare in bafflement at Malfoy who is snickering like he just played the biggest fucking joke on me.
“You are such an asshole,” I whisper. My anger feels like a stone in my gut as I push up from the floor. The last thing I want is to be fucked up. Malfoy should know—he’s running for his life just as much as I am, and he just went and put us both at risk with this shit. I realize the extent of how bad it is when I wobble once I get to my feet, and the room tilts unsettling. “Fuck. I am so fucking done with this shit,” I snarl. I push through the too heavy air and head for the door.
“Harry? Damn it, Potter, stop running away from me.”
I blink dumbly when something stops my leg. “What?” I feel hot, fuzzy, and I glare down and try to understand the confusing fingers wrapped around my ankle. It clicks, and I push forward. “Malfoy, let… go!”
The world slows when I tumble forward. I can see it happening, like it’s an eternity anticipating hitting the floor. But my arms refuse to move in time to catch me and when I do hit, I’m not sure if I actually make contact. I stare down into the dark beneath my bangs, feeling my entire body vibrating, waiting for the pain I can’t find. A throb on my chin, the palms of my hands, the leg Draco’s fingers had grabbed, but the feeling is elusive, a phantom tingle that only stings with my heartbeat.
“Shit! Are you okay?” Fingers claw at my back and light floods my vision as I’m rolled. I blink up at Malfoy, trying to understand if the ceiling is spinning, if he’s spinning, or if I’m the one spinning. Everything is dizzy, hot, and I might be sinking through the floor. “Harry? Harry are you hurt?”
“Did you just…?” My mouth is dry as fuck. I lift my hand to touch my face but give up half way, distracted as understanding dawns. “You fucking dropped me!” I accuse. My outrage is deterred by the sudden, unexpected laugh that escapes my chest. I gasp, but I can’t stop it. It’s funny. The whole thing is so funny. “You knocked me on my ass!”
Draco’s eyes are full of mirth as he stares down at me. His fingers brush my chin, and for a moment I feel the memory of a bruise. “I knocked you on your face, actually.”
My eyes go wide, and I howl in laughter. “Same fucking thing!” I choke out.
Draco jolts, and a blast of laughter escapes his lips. “Shit, ha!”
I watch it all, feeling my body shake and eyes blur with laughter. He’s beautiful. A golden glowing angel burning in torch light. The wisps of smoke in the air blend with his hair and edges as if he’s merely a projection of light and fire. I reach up, wanting to be sure, wondering if my hands will pass through him like they would a specter. His neck is hot, firm beneath my finger tips, and damp with sweat. Before I know what my arms are doing, I pull him down and capture his lips with my own.
It is the sweetest kiss, full of his light and laughter and smoke. His mouth melts against mine, yielding until our teeth scrape and his tongue finds mine, each movement full of languor. My fingers tangle into the cool strands of his hair as I explore the planes of his mouth. The hunger that rises up is like a damn breaking, sweeping the both of us away in a wave of wild need. He gasps for air even as he grasps me by the chin and his teeth torment my lips until they’re puffy and numb. I try to chase him when his mouth escapes mine, but he’s persistent, desperate as he sucks the flesh of my cheek, my chin, the spot beneath where my throat vibrates when his mouth wets the skin and his teeth scrape.
The ceiling is definitely spinning. I blink up at it, trying to comprehend the assault of his hot mouth and hands on me along with the buzzing of all my senses. I might be halfway through the floor. I’m not sure I feel my body where it’s touching… or maybe only where it’s not touching… I grasp at his shoulders, seeking something solid, and groan when his teeth sink into me again. It’s as if I can feel his mouth, how wide it must be stretched when his tongue slides over my flesh, how swollen his lips must feel, how firm my flesh feels to him whenever he digs in too hard.
It’s too much. I don’t know where I end, if my edges have blurred into the smoke, into him, into the floor. “Malfoy…” I rasp, my fingers twisting at his nape.
He leans above me at my call, and his hands cup my face, strong fingers curling me close. I’m lost in his eyes, stormy, gray pools awash with torment. His lips are flushed red, and the skin around his mouth a softer pink streaked with saliva. His lips part as his tongue sweeps out to wet the swollen flesh.
It’s like words are welling inside my chest, growing larger and larger the longer he stares down at me. I grasp harder at his skin, trying to see if we fit, if he will melt into me and I won’t have to voice whatever madness is building in me. His lips dip near and I hear his inhale, like his last breath before diving into me for good…
“Fuck, that must be some good fucking shit.” Piers’s caustic laughter tears through the smoke like a saw into bone. “Duds… Shit, Duds, your cousin is fucked. He has no clue where the fuck he is.” Piers’s face floats into the corner of my vision and I furrow my brows in confusion. “You are so stoned, Potter.”
Draco snickers, and I jolt at the puff of hot air against my chin. “You really are. Do you think you can even sit up?”
I don’t want to sit up. I want to melt into the floor with Draco coating me like a blanket, but Piers’s stupid face won’t go away from my view of the spinning ceiling.
***
SCENE #?
***
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DEMON ARMS
THE PARANORMAL ACADEMY FOR TROUBLED BOYS #1 (ORIGINAL VERSION)
Just dodging jail, dragon shifter Wylie ends up in the Academy, an institution for out of control paranormals. He falls for a sexy, troubled sorcerer whose magical infliction makes him too deadly to touch. Convincing Dorian to be his might just get them all killed.
X 101,000+ wrds, paranormal, dragon shifter, sorcery, first time, NA. Published: April 1, 2016
I’LL TELL
A BLACKMAILING STEPBROTHER ROMANCE
PC Version ♥♥♥ Mobile Version ♥♥♥ Audio Version
Jayce has been doing everything to get his now official younger brother settled in to his new home, all while fighting some very unbrotherly feelings for the angry, isolated brat. After things get weird, Declan decides to turn the tables, blackmailing his older brother into greater heights of depravity. Can Jayce keep from getting sucked into Declan’s twisted games?
XX56,000+ wrds, contemporary, stepbrother psi, new adult, blackmail. Published: January 23, 2016
THE DEMON VIRUS
AN INTENSE PARANORMAL SHORT FICTION
A sexy thank you for joining the Newsletter. <3
This is a rather intense, dripping wet, XX–XXX rated MM fic featuring a naïve main character, his manipulative best friend, a very sexually aggressive incubus that finds his victims through the Internet, and his big monster cock covered in ridges. Like many of my erotic stories, it features dubcon and is intended for 18+ readers.
PATB Serial
NEW ADULT PARANORMAL MM ACTION ADVENTURE ROMANCE WITH SHIFTERS, SORCERERS, WEREWOLVES, DEMONS AND GANGSTERS
Wylie's bio & reference last updated 1/27/20A section in progress where you can find character bios, fun facts, reference for magic, tech, and lore of the PATB world, quizzes and Q&As. Will be added to as the series is written.
AWAKENING
NEW ADULT PARANORMAL MM EPIC FANTASY ROMANCE WITH FAE, GODS, AND ANGSTScene #25 last updated 2/16/19
FUNDED BY PATREON
Everything found here will have been funded by supporters on Patreon. This includes the Demon Bonded serial where you can get updates before it publishes.
Demon Bonded: Coven Saga ep 12: Scene 2 last updated 8/10/20
This is an experiment with Patreon to find a way around the rabid censorship and discrimination of certain erotic subject matter. I’ve had books banned without explanation or direct proof of Content Guidelines being broken while straight books with the same ‘taboo’ content is allowed to sell on Amazon and other platforms. This shame based censorship not only tries to suppress the creation of certain books, but also punishes authors, and sometimes readers who seek to read these subjects. I’m calling bullshit on these discriminatory practices, and I’m looking to find a way to fund taboo reads outside of mainstream platforms.
If you’re interested in supporting me and the Demon Bonded serial, please donated to my Patreon. Thank you!
HARRY POTTER FANFICS
REMOVED BECAUSE JK ROWLING IS A HATEFUL TRANSPHOBE
So… I thought I could compromise with these Harry Potter fanfics. They were supposed to be fun, but they can’t be anymore. They can’t be anything more but a show of support of hate.
I think I was naive when it started, hopeful it was another out of touch celebrity who was bumbling through a complex topic. You know how those billionaires get, just saying things without research, thinking they must be right because their echo chamber insists they’re right. Don’t we all just hate to point out to the powerful how they’re abusing their power — surely it’s a mistake, surely they don’t mean it that way? Surely conflict avoidance is the answer, and the monster they have become will go away if we don’t acknowledge it? Just hide under the covers and Voldemort will go away.
JK Rowling has created an army of transphobes. She is the leader of a hate movement. She is emboldened as companies continue to profit off of her intellectual property and enrich her. She is not going away.
I first truly realized this shopping around the holiday season after I was starting to feel better, only to stop in front of a display with Potter merch and feel the sickening twist in my stomach as I watched people browse the contents. Were they fans before JK Rowling went full out TERF? Or were they “new” fans, people who bought the merch because they wanted an easily recognized symbol of hate to display but they could play dumb if anyone called them out on it? Was the store itself even safe when everyone knew JK Rowling was spreading misinformation and lies that were leading to violence against transgendered people? Did it matter anymore when anything connected to JK Rowling was a symbol of hate?
I can’t claim this is the first time I had to let go of an author, but it was never to this extreme. I didn’t really get into Orson Scott Card until right before he revealed his bigotry against LGBTQs. I never wrote fanfiction for his characters. Instead, as an adult, I was able to look at his work and see his struggle, see in his books how he was losing to the twisted memes his religious community instilled in him until he couldn’t see beyond it. But I also acknowledged that he was an adult making choices, choices that were spreading hate and bigotry against a marginalized community, and I, as an adult, had to make a choice in response.
It was a learning experience for me. I didn’t want to learn from what was happening to JK Rowling, which is why I fought it as long as I could. I wanted to stay a child and play make-believe.
It doesn’t matter what I want it to be; JK Rowling is a celebrated transphobe in 2023. She is making money off her intellectual properties to fund the hateful bigotry she puts out into the world. And her transphobic followers use her work to fund her hate, and they use her work to terrorize transgender people. It doesn’t matter the intentions of when those books were first written. It doesn’t matter the intentions of the fans who are not transphobes, who just want to be entertained by a story of an orphan boy who discovered he was “special”, deserving. Harry Potter and all other works created by JK Rowling and her other pen names fund hate.
The nazi symbol once represented peace until Hitler got a hold of it. It doesn’t mean it’s no longer only the nazi symbol of hate today. Things change, and I’m not so stuck in my ways that I’m going to pretend that it doesn’t demand I change as well.
There are better stories out there. There are far better writers out there. And the ultimate majority don’t have their works symbolize hate. I’m letting go of Harry Potter because I don’t support hate, and there is no compromising with a transphobe. JK Rowling is an adult making adult choices. Choices to say and do things things that exclude and outright harm transgendered people. She is not intellectually impaired. The color of her skin, perceived sex, and the gender she identifies with does not provide a justification for what she’s doing. She is not a victim, but a protected harasser who self justifies by hiding behind a story of victimhood to prevent facing the repercussions of her actions. Her class — her billionaire status — does not mean she is magically smarter and more correct than anyone else. She is capable enough to write a story, one that understands what is good and what was bad. She is not ignorant to these things. She is making a choice to target, harass, and create an atmosphere of violence against one of the most marginalized, at risk communities in the history of humanity. And she does it while claiming she cares about women, just so long as woman is defined by her limited, bigoted viewpoint.
JK Rowling doesn’t care about women. She doesn’t even know what a woman is.
For those who looked to Harry Potter as a hero, as someone you wanted to be when you grew up, to be such a hero you need to fight against the evil JK Rowling is spreading in the world. The hardest thing children must do when they grow is to become individuals separate from their parents’ and society’s antiquated and biased views, but it is the only way to bring needed change in a broken world.
JK Rowling doesn’t know what it’s like to be an orphan, to be an outsider to the accepted class — that’s the irony I have always felt when I see so many of these 2 dimensional stories of child abandonment when I grew up in foster care and was later adopted. It’s a trope; few writers understand how complex abandonment is. How complex and devastating growing up on the outside of society is, having to negotiate with a world that will never fully see you as belonging just because you don’t have parents.
And if you think that sort of discrimination doesn’t exist, you have never lived it. Humanity doesn’t need a good reason to trigger their xenophobia; just like some see a spot on an apple and assume it’s bad, some see a child without parents and assume the same. Some see a presentation of a gender role that doesn’t match their expectation and are triggered. A tic of a hand or a stutter and some people are triggered. Some see tattoos or a style of clothing and are triggered because they don’t feel surrounded by the familiar, and therefore justify lashing out. Humanity is innately broken, and it is up to us to fight the rationalization of xenophobia if we ever want a better world.
And beware those who are already safe, are already protected by the world we are in, because as much as they might say they want “better”, human nature promises they will fight equality if it feels like they lose their privilege. We are flawed, a mashup of what evolution spat out of a species that conquered a globe and claimed ownership while causing mass extinction. Within us is understanding, but not without these deeply rooted instincts to hoard, to control and kill what we can’t control. And we’ll say it’s to be safe, to be organized and to have things make sense. But it’s because we are cowards who don’t want to be uncomfortable in an uncertain world.
When JK Rowling wrote a book about fighting against a system of injustice, she wrote a single villain and his henchpeople to defeat, instead of demanding change of an unequal system, because she has never lived being in a marginalized community. Instead she writes what she knows, protected, superior in her community, with special powers to control and harm others, in a secret world in the shadows where normal humans will never hold these special people accountable, only ever be victims. She doesn’t have the experience — the basic human empathy — to write a true hero of the people, never mind to be one, because she is too insulated by her class. She can’t even see the darkness in her own cowardly self.
And those who support her hate — for the fame, for the memes, because they like to hate and to feel sheltered by a righteous fandom that will protect them from the repercussions — they are very content to never grow as well. A society perpetuating the weakest of human character, insulating from change, attacking anyone who would demand they grow up and be better. That’s what the Harry Potter fandom has become. Pretending otherwise is just a fantasy. All you have to do is go online and see how this fandom harasses and attacks anyone who stands up against their bigotry.
This is who they are now. This is who JK Rowling is, and this is her fandom, comprised of tranphobes and bullies.
Yeah, it’s a shitty feeling being asked to grow up, to be a better version of yourself. Especially when most of the Harry Potter fans are of an older generation who is so certain they are grown. A generation catered to with all the toys, nostalgia, and petty, pretty little things consumerism can spoil them with. I’m of a generation so defined by marketing that we can’t even get a new movie out that isn’t full of some 40 something’s childhood fantasy to be a superhero.
Do you even understand how infantalizing that is? How pathetic that we are stuck playing childhood games pretending we have no power because these companies control us best this way? The world doesn’t ask us to be better because there are entire economies thriving on keeping us childlike and docile. So when a villain shows up — when someone in the real world is causing real, actual harm — it becomes about how to keep having the toys and childhood fantasies we love instead of telling that person to fuck off and stop causing harm. It becomes a negotiation of how to compromise with violence and bigotry, and I’m done playing this sick game.
Fuck off, JK Rowling. You don’t understand the bullshit you’re claiming to be science because you’re not a scientist. You aren’t qualified to talk on the human experiences you talk about because you have not experienced them. You don’t have the life experience to know anything about complex social situations because you never face the consequences of complex social situation, but instead fuck off to whatever castle you’re living in at the moment and have brunch with leaders of hate groups while you let your fans bully and harass anyone who calls you out. Your input is not wanted in regards to transgenderism. You are an outsider here, thinking you’re an insider because that’s the privilege you have lived your entire life with as a wealthy, white, cis AFAB, and no, that will never change. You don’t get to be the center of this conversation, no matter how much you think you should because “special”. The transgender community is not here to coddle you the way everyone else does. We don’t negotiate with terrorists, not even the ones holding our childhoods’ hostage. Fuck off; humanity has some growing to do.
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