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SCENE #The enchancubus
Harry wasn’t sure why Malfoy was up in the tree, wavering to catch some random piece of fruit amidst large, wide branches. He had left the boy behind, the Slytherin prefect called to deal with other duties. Which was fine, whatever, Harry didn’t want the distracting bastard around anyways. Sure, Malfoy probably could have tracked the bloodthirsty beast a hell of a lot faster, having spent months in a forest with his veela brethren, but he was fine on his own and preferred to work alone anyways.
He wasn’t sure why he thought Malfoys didn’t climb trees… It just seemed like something the Slytherin would say. Sure, Draco could. He was about as athletic as you could get without actually being a jock, his veela heritage having made the blond into a tall, toned slab of pale, sexy prat overnight. He was probably faster too, but Harry didn’t think Malfoy could be that fast to get ahead of him in the forest.
The journey had been slow, treacherous and eventful, Harry following the bloodied trail of the unidentified creature that had attacked a small group of first years at the edge of the castle. Remus and Padfoot were searching the East territory, Hagrid plunging deep into the darkest depths with Buckbeak. Harry had gone willing into the West territory, uncaring that he had no backup. Following what he was certain was the creature’s powerful, magical aura that had the taint of human energy clinging, Harry had come across the peaceful glade. That Malfoy had gotten ahead of him and up the huge tree just didn’t make much sense.
Harry skirted the perimeter of the glade suspiciously. He found the tracks he had been following north, leading a mangled, blood soaked path away. The rogue had not entered the clearing, may not have even seen it. Satisfied that no ambush awaited, Harry silently stepped into the glade and made his way to the base of the towering tree.
Malfoy was reaching precariously for a sapphire colored fruit just beyond his grasp. Fifteen feet above, it was difficult to see his face, but it did seem to look like the blond. His hair was still the same waist length white-blond locks, having grown exponentially when his veela heritage kicked in last summer. It was even in a ponytail, neat and immaculate as always. He was wearing his normal school robes, managing to not have torn or ripped them while Harry’s were already slashed from random creatures and thorns. The blond even moved the same as always, grace and agility refined with pure power just underneath the surface. But it wasn’t Malfoy. Harry couldn’t place what it was that told him, just knew it was something beyond the location and the boy’s activities that gave it away.
A frustrated cry broke Harry from his observations. He was just in time to see Malfoy wobbling to catch his balance, his desired fruit now plummeting to the ground. Harry’s seeker reflexes caught the fallen fruit, but inadvertently alerted the heedless boy to his presence. It wasn’t Malfoy. Not even close.
Harry waited for the creature to climb down, eying the egg shaped fruit absentmindedly. It was such an innate, intimate thing he shouldn’t even know. The boy scrambling down the tree did not have the same magical signature that the real Draco Malfoy had. In fact, the being’s aura was as foreign as his face was similar.
Harry scowled. Why the fuck had he memorized the prat’s magical essence? What fucking good would it be to know that Malfoy’s magic tasted cooler, darker, and dripping with sex?
“Thank goodness for you, boy. That was an amazing catch.” The blond jumped down the last few feet, straightening in front of Harry. He was exactly Draco’s height, a head taller than Harry, shoulder’s wide, jaw angular. “Thought I had lost my dinner for the day. The guardian only allows one fruit for every sunrise…” Harry glared, the stranger falling silent.
That settled it. Malfoy never would have thanked him. He sure as hell wouldn’t be looking at him the way the creature was, like he was the meal and not the fruit in his hand. Malfoy wouldn’t have the damn guts after all they’d been through. Harry relaxed slightly only because it somehow felt safer to be dealing with a doppelganger of some sort, than the real Draco Malfoy.
“Your guardian beast, is it vicious?” Harry asked, looking around cautiously as he absorbed what the blond had said.
Raising his brow in a very Malfoy like way, the boy shook his head. He took the fruit when Harry handed it to him, smirking secretively. “How many vicious guardian trees have you met, human?”
“Er… none, I suppose,” Harry muttered, looking up at the large tree with new understanding. The glade was safe because the tree protected it, giving off a magical aura. It was the first time he had come across such a tree… It also meant the Malfoy lookalike had to be fairly trustworthy to be allowed in the glade and eating the fruit. “So, if you’re calling me human, I have to assume you’re not, correct?”
“That would be an astute judgement, yes.” Eyes sliding up Harry’s form slowly, the boy grinned wickedly. “Tell me; what do you see when you look at me?”
Harry frowned, not liking the more than interested gaze directed at him. “Don’t you know?”
The blond shook his head, hand touching lightly to his features. “My form never changes. But people view me differently. Usually they like what they see, but you have been glaring quite angrily at me. Am I familiar?”
“Yes… very fucking familiar,” Harry grunted, watching as Malfoy’s pink tinted fingers began to dig slightly into his pale skin, moving down his long neck and pausing at the collar of his robes. Up close Harry could see they weren’t school robes, just enchanted to shift as his eyes fell upon them. The boy’s flesh did not shift, not even when the creature began to unzip his robe open.
“What are you doing?” Harry asked, wishing he could step back even as his feet remained motionless. Malfoy’s eyes weren’t glowing silver—That was usually when he recognized the bastard was using his veela powers. But this creature wasn’t a veela. Wasn’t fucking anything he’d ever heard of.
“I want you to describe me. It’s always so interesting to see how the details are perfect. It’s my magic, you see,” the boy teased, head tilting as he unhooked the zipper at the bottom. “All enchancubi are born this way. Only our own species can see our true form.”
“Why?” Harry asked, feeling breathless as the boy that looked just like Malfoy began to push his robe off. He wore nothing underneath, revealing pale, luminous flesh and strong, hard muscle. Harry swallowed unsteadily, eyes unwilling roaming over the planes of said muscle and taking in Malfoy’s crotch with interest.
“Because we can’t feed off of our own, of course,” the blond whispered, taking a step closer, eyes intent on Harry’s face. “Tell me how I look. Tell me what you like about it. Tell me what you’d like me to do to you, pretty human.”
“Oh, hell,” Harry gasped, the blond touching his chest and gently pushing him back. He found his heel hitting the base of the tree, his shoulders quickly following. “Stop,” Harry whispered, wishing he sounded more convincing and wasn’t staring at the muscles of Malfoy’s chest and abs while he said it.
“No. You are far more delectable than that tasteless fruit. I wish to taste you. Will you let me do that? May I taste you, you angry eyed thing?”
Harry shook his head mutely, afraid if he opened his mouth he would have a very different answer. “I… I don’t like him. You, uh, look like someone I hate, and I… God, please stop touching me like that while looking like him.” Harry whimpered, the hand that had landed on his shoulder running down his side, sliding up his shirt and pressing to his flesh. It felt like Malfoy, his hands the same strong, slightly rough touch.
“Close your eyes. You don’t have to see this face if it bothers you so.” The boy brushed his lips lightly to Harry’s ear, his other hand braced on the tree, blocking any thought of escape.
“It does,” Harry insisted, closing his eyes slowly only to open them again, tracing over the blond’s handsome features. “I really can’t stand him.”
“I can tell.” Harry let his eyes fall shut to block the smug smile from his vision. A thumb pressed to his nipple, circling it, fingers pinching and rolling the sore bud. “You can’t stand this face so much, you’re determined to bludgeon me with your erection, I think.”
Harry growled, only to groan, a hot palm cupping his traitorous dick through his jeans. “S-Spell… I can feel it.”
“Yes, you have caught me, pretty boy. I have cast a spell on you to drink your passions down. But I cannot control who I look like. That is completely your fault,” the blond taunted, tongue licking out over Harry’s lips. “You were smelling of sex the moment I jumped down from the tree. I started my spell long after that.”
Gritting his teeth, Harry let out a sudden, sharp breath. “Fuck, just stop talking.”
“You like this voice. It reminds you of him. What do you like about your boy?”
“Nothing!” Harry hissed, grabbing the hand gripping his hip. “I can’t fucking stand him.”
“Come now, I won’t tell. It’s only us here.” The blond brushed his lips to the corner of Harry’s frown. “Even with all your anger, I can feel your need.”
“I don’t…” Harry trailed off, the boy grinding forward into his hips with a slow, hard motion. God, he needed. He needed so badly.
“He’s strong,” Harry whispered. “I like how strong he is.”
“I can see that.” The blond held Harry tighter, pushing him back harder against the tree. “Like this?”
“Oh fuck, yes.” Harry moaned, head falling back heavily. “He’s confident. Never hesitates to—Yes, like that,” he gasped, his t-shirt torn up his torso, hands pulling harshly at his belt while Malfoy’s perfect mouth began to lick his nipple with hard, wet strokes of his tongue. Harry shuddered, tangling his fingers into the blond’s hair, tearing the binding tie loose so the silky locks brushed against his skin.
“Does he take you, pretty boy?” The boy asked, nipping up Harry’s neck, sucking a red welt on his throat, tongue slowly wetting after. “Does he fuck you?”
“Yes, he can’t stop. Can’t ever stop when he touches me.” Harry pulled the blond closer, hands wrenching at the warm, pale flesh. He opened his eyes, unable to keep them closed any longer, wanting to see Draco when he was touching him.
“He takes you hard?” Harry’s belt had finally come undone, his hips rocking forward to meet the fingers unzipping his fly.
“Yes. It’s always…” Harry trembled, fingers brushing over his dick through his underwear. “God, he’s rough with me. He knows I like when he… he can’t stop himself.”
The blond chuckled in Harry’s ear, slamming his hips forward, grinding them together, and then quickly tearing Harry’s jeans and underwear down. “Who could ever stop when you make such… oh, very needy cries, pretty one? He must fuck you raw every night.”
Harry whimpered, shaking his head fitfully while a hot, strong hand wrapped around his hard cock. “Never.”
“Madness. Look at you, so delicious and tight,” the boy said heatedly, free hand running down Harry’s hip, moving back to cup his ass and squeeze hard. “What a crime your boy has committed, ignoring one such as you. Shall I fix it for you?”
Barely able to comprehend the words over the feel of the rhythmic tugs on his dick, Harry nodded weakly.
“Oh, pretty one, shall I fuck you? Do you want me to take you?”
Gasping, Harry bit back another moan. “N-no,” he choked out, body arching on the tree as the hand on his ass began trembling fingers towards his entrance.
“Do you want him to fuck you?” The boy asked instead, smiling wickedly when Harry cried out in reply. “Tell me his name. Tell me the name of the fool who will not have you, my delectable boy.”
“D-Draco,” Harry whispered, something inside of him melting just to say his name while he was held by someone who looked just like Malfoy. Harry pressed closer, palms moving up the blond’s sides, fingers dragging in, wrenching closer.
“Open your eyes, beautiful. Open your eyes and watch his face drink you down.” Lips brushed Harry’s lightly, the brunette trying to press into the touch, only to have them withdraw. God, he wanted a kiss. A proper, wild kiss where Draco would devour his mouth like before.
Realizing he had again closed his eyes, his mind focused on the sensations running through his body, Harry pried them open. “Oh fuck… Draco you’re…” Harry let out a shattered moan, the boy sinking to his knees before him, hot hand replaced with an unimaginably hot mouth and tongue. It wasn’t a kiss but it was fucking fine and Harry was not complaining. He watched, gaze transfixed as the blond’s lips parted to the head of his cock, slowly engulfing him into wet heat. Pink lips held tight as his dick plunged in, saliva trickling down the corners of Draco’s mouth, his tongue rubbing the underside of his shaft.
“That’s it,” Harry muttered, fisting the boy’s silky hair, fingers twisting tight as he thrust forward into the overwhelming heat. “That’s how you like it… On your knees, Malfoy… Fuck… Full of my cock.” Draco’s face was flushed, cheeks pink, sweat trickling down his forehead while Harry continued to hold the boy in place and fuck his mouth. Draco opened wider, hot, clear fluid dripping down his chin as he led Harry deeper inside. “Oh hell.”
Harry came with a groan, forcing his eyes to stay open, needing to watch Draco swallow him down, drink everything he gave the boy. He wasn’t disappointed, the blond greedily taking everything he had, lips and tongue milking Harry for more before eventually letting his softening length go. Falling back against the tree, Harry heaved for breath, eyes closed as he tried to hang on to the mental image of Draco, lips wrapped around his cock, face twisted in need.
“Delicious. You are the tastiest meal I’ve had in ages, pretty boy,” the blond said, pulling Harry’s pants up, tucking him in and zipping him tight. Standing, he rested both hands on the tree, trapping Harry in place. He breathed the brunette’s scent in, sighing deeply. “I have not fed on so much passion—I must thank you, human. Please, you must let me return such a gift.”
Seeing how Harry had just cum, he really didn’t think he needed anything else at the moment. Then, as if reality had found a way to creep back into his lust addled mind, he remembered where the hell he was and why he was there.
“I’m seeking something… A beast that attacked my classmates. His trail went by here, heading north.” Harry ran a hand over his face, rubbing his temples as he felt the spell slipping away that he’d been ensnared in.
“You mean the maddened one. I know of it. The creature is deadly and will taint all it touches.” The boy gently removed Harry’s hand, running fingers over the brunette’s face, lingering on his lower lip. “I will guide you, if you wish. I can lead you to its lair.”
Harry nodded, swallowing hard. The lust spell had slipped away, but he still wanted to kiss the boy badly. “What… What do I call you?” He asked, needing any name just so long as it wasn’t Malfoy’s.
“I am called Dren, my pretty one. But I will not be upset if you call me by his name.” He ran his palm along Harry’s jaw, grasping his cheek, fingers curling against his neck. “Meet me here tomorrow before noon. I will lead you to your monster.”
Harry nodded, making no move to leave, eyes caught on Draco’s silver gaze. “Dren, can I kiss you?”
“I tend not to, human. It can ruin the illusion if you’ve kissed him before.” Dren leaned closer to Harry, lips pressing to the corner of his mouth. “It is such an intimate thing, so unique to each person. And you have kissed your boy. I can tell. He’s taken you, pretty one. He’s had you hard and you are aching for him.”
Harry just nodded silently, unable to deny it. Eyes running over Draco’s features, he felt the familiar pang of regret. “Once. And it will never happen again.”
“Let me give you a gift, pretty one.”
“Harry,” he whispered, finding it difficult to hear Malfoy call him pretty all the time. Draco had called him beautiful once, never pretty.
“Harry, I have a gift. To help you find what you’re looking for,” Dren said softly, right before a wave of magic crashed down on Harry. The brunette started, jerking away, eyes wide as he fell to his knees.
“Shit—What did you do? You can’t just—You don’t just spell people, Dren! It’s not right!”
“It is harmless, boy, I promise,” Dren said, helping Harry to his feet.
Harry only glowered, not a fan of being spelled without consent, no matter what he had just done with the boy. Especially since he probably would not have done what he had done if not for a different spell. The damn enchancubus was as bad as the veela. Just fucking taking without ever asking. Without caring that they were faced with a damn person, not just a meal to enjoy.
“I have to get out of here,” Harry muttered, making sure his shirt was pulled down and he hadn’t lost anything important while being pawed at. He dusted his knees off as he stood, avoiding the blond’s eye. “You’re fed, right? I can trust you won’t pull any of this shit tomorrow when I return?”
“I will be perfectly behaved. Unless you wish me otherwise,” the blond teased, again reaching for Harry’s face as if he were going to caress it. Harry ducked away, scowling.
“Stop it. I can’t be distracted tomorrow and I need to focus now and I wish you would just… just stop looking like him.” Grumbling, Harry checked again to make sure he had his wand still tucked away in his tattered robes. “I will meet you mid-morning. Be ready.”
“I will be, but understand I do not battle, pretty Harry. I am not a warrior no matter how I may appear.”
Harry suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Of course he wasn’t. No, Dren was the other kind of predator that wove spells and enchantments to manipulate his prey right into his lap. And if it hadn’t been sex—if it had been blood or flesh—Harry probably would have killed the arrogant thing. But it had been sex, and with a particular Slytherin, and Harry had not been willing to pass that up no matter how bad an idea it was. Sex with Malfoy equaled death. The last time, seventeen deaths, to be exact. This was certainly a safer compromise.
Harry left without another word, stalking forward into the dangerous forest with his wand drawn. He was in a fighting mood and there was plenty on the way back to the castle to terrorize.
SCENE #A confounded spell
Night had fallen and Harry was exhausted by the time he got back to the castle. He had owled his report to Sirius, unwilling to search for his godfather and actually have to talk. He was hungry, he was tired, and he was feeling fucked up in the head. Limping slowly, Harry made his way to the Great Hall where he could hear the distant roar of students. He had made it just in time for dinner, and after eating he was planning on bed.
Grimacing in pain, Harry tucked his damaged left arm closer to his body to keep from bleeding all over the floor and made his way towards a well deserved, hot meal.
“Shit, Potter, did you walk into every beast in the damn forest?”
Harry froze, glaring dully at the floor. Un-fucking-believable. He didn’t bother looking up, just started limping again. “Get lost.”
Huffing, Draco walked into Harry’s view, coming up from the side corridor that led down into the dungeons. “Believe it or not, I’m not here to bother you. I’m hungry.” He tilted his head down the hall, Harry raising his gaze to stare in growing dread. The Great Hall was full and Malfoy was going to walk in with him.
“Did you catch the bastard?” Draco asked quietly, his eyes roaming over Harry and thankfully not glowing with need. “You look like you went a few rounds with him… Potter, your arm is broken.”
Harry shrugged, eyes slipping over Draco’s leather boots. The boy was always dressing in leather now, something to do with his veela heritage. “I’m going out tomorrow. I found someone to lead me to its den.” Shaking his head as he thought of Dren and his fucked up afternoon, Harry tried to walk faster and ignore the boy. That Malfoy just felt the need to chat with him after what had happened in the forest was just icing on the damn shit cake for Harry’s nerves. He could feel his anger rising, his jaw tensing almost painfully.
Draco stood still, watching the boy struggle to walk. Eventually he strode forward, getting ahead of the brunette and forcing him to stop. Harry still refused to meet his eye, staring stubbornly at the floor. “Potter, there’s food in the infirmary. I’ll help you. Just… just stop bleeding everywhere.”
Eyes snapping up, Harry glared the taller boy down. He could see it, just beneath the blond’s guarded surface. Concern. “Fuck off, Malfoy. I don’t need your fucking help, so just get the fuck away from me.”
Nostrils flaring, Draco inhaled sharply, his face a stone mask of restrained rage. He stepped to the side and Harry limped forward, ignoring the Slytherin once again as he made it to the long Gryffindor table. He didn’t acknowledge anyone, just sat at the closest empty seat and began pulling food towards him with his one usable arm.
“Move the hell over.”
Harry kept his head down, trying very hard to ignore the asshole of a Slytherin that was shoving some poor fourth year Gryffindor off his bench just to sit across from him. It was difficult, said asshole slamming his fists down on the table once he sat and pointedly glaring at him. Malfoy didn’t even bother eating, the damn prat.
Harry’s appetite was quickly dwindling and he was considering just skipping dinner and going straight to bed. As if reading his thoughts, Malfoy finally opened his mouth.
“I’m taking you to Pomfrey’s.”
“Over my dead body,” Harry gritted out, nearly biting his fork in his anger.
“The way you’re bleeding out, in five minutes that will likely be the case,” Draco snapped back.
“You know what will slow my bleeding? You shutting the fuck up!”
“What the hell is your damn problem, Potter?” Draco snarled, hands tightening into fists.
“You, you fucking git.” Harry stood abruptly, eyes widening as he fell forward, his vision going dim around the edges. “Shit… I might have needed some of that blood.”
Draco grabbed his shoulders to steady the brunette, but Harry reared back from the touch, nearly toppling over the bench backwards. Harry grabbed onto his neighbor’s shoulder to keep from tumbling, catching himself and panting.
“Potter…” Draco’s voice was alert, full of warning.
“I fucking see them, Malfoy,” Harry gritted back, noticing for the first time that no one was talking. They were in the Great Hall surrounded by students of all ages and no one was talking. Not even the person who he had grabbed and likely injured while trying not to fall. Harry straightened, trying to catch the eye of the oddly motionless person still under his hand. He gulped, Colin staring back at him, eyes hungry and intent.
“Malfoy, whatever you’re doing, fucking stop it,” Harry whispered hoarsely, anxiety twisting his stomach as he recognized the look in the many eyes turned his way.
“I’m not doing fucking shit,” Draco shot back, looking around at all the faces silently staring at Harry as if he was their dessert.
“You’re the only goddamn veela in this entire school—”
“Am I glowing?” Draco growled. “Are my eyes bright? Feathers? Do you feel any fucking thing for me besides your stubborn, unceasing anger? It’s not fucking me!”
Glowering, Harry forced himself to look at Malfoy just to make sure the git wasn’t lying. Tall, gorgeous, not glowing. Harry immediately looked away, taking in the faces staring back at him. “That fucker,” he hissed, the pieces clicking together in his mind. “That fucking enchancubus!”
“What? What the hell are you…” Draco fell silent, extracting himself from the bench as the students started standing. “Potter, you need to get out of here.”
“No fucking shit,” Harry muttered, nearly falling again as he tried to get around the bench, his tattered school robes tripping him up. His body burned pain and he gaped, someone having the nerve to grab his broken arm and start licking his blood. Panic began to rise in Harry, his heart racing, breath coming out in short bursts. “Oh hell, don’t do this to me. I can’t handle anymore pawing!”
He pulled from the grasp, falling back over the bench. He likely would have cracked his skull on the floor if Draco didn’t suddenly surge over the table and catch him by the collar. Harry didn’t even have the strength to be angry about the boy touching him, panic causing him to gasp for air. “Make them stop… Please… make them stop.”
Looking at him as if he’d lost his mind, Draco jumped onto the table and then hauled Harry up with him. “Get yourself together, Potter. It’s just some fucking kids with an urge to touch.” Draco pushed the closest back sharply with his foot, the girl falling back to her seat heavily. “Calm down and we can just walk out of here.”
Harry whimpered, shaking his head fitfully. “I don’t… I don’t want to be touched—God, I can’t… I can’t handle this.”
“Are you freaking out?” Draco asked, confusion and disbelief twisting his features.
Harry just whimpered, stepping backwards when someone reached for his ankle and nearly falling as plates slipped and cracked beneath his shoes. Draco had to grab both his shoulders just to keep him from falling to the ground. Everyone was too close, staring at him, trying to touch him with their hands outstretched.
“Potter, I’m going to fix this,” Draco said softly, right in his ear as he curled around his back. Harry struggled, realizing what the boy was going to do.
“Don’t—Don’t fucking do that,” Harry pleaded, knowing he sounded like a crazy person and unable to stop. He could feel the lightest of pulses, the beginnings of such familiar power wrapping around him. Draco only held him tighter, keeping him from slamming his broken arm while Harry fought to get away.
“It’s okay. I know you’re scared, but it’s okay.”
It wasn’t. It really fucking wasn’t. “There has to be—Please don’t.”
“You can fight it, Potter. You’re very good at fighting the pull.”
Harry shivered, already hearing it in Draco’s voice. Desire curled around his ear, touching against his throat, tingling down through his core. “You’re too close.”
“I was this close last time. Just weeks ago. You walked away like it was nothing,” Draco murmured, hands loosening as Harry began to calm from the sound of his voice. “They’re going to look at me now. And you… You’re just going to step away like you always do.”
Harry tried to ignore the bitterness in Draco’s voice. He tried not to care that the last time the blond had lost control he had been fighting with Harry, nearly punching him into a wall because the Gryffindor had said another really fucking terrible thing. But Draco hadn’t punched him. He had started glowing, groaning and pulling away while every student from every class flowed out of doorways to get to the veela halfling.
It had not been easy to walk away. Harry had wanted to crawl on hands and knees and beg Draco to forgive him for being such an angry, rude asshole all the time. He had wanted to strip and kneel and beg the boy to take him, to fuck him as good as he knew Draco could, hard and relentless. He had wanted the boy to hold him, caress him, love him and never leave him again. That was what Harry was feeling now, all those things on top of exhaustion and pain. He did not know if he could walk away.
Harry looked down, the outstretched hands no longer reaching for his legs. Now they were on Draco’s, pressing into him lightly, some more boldly pulling at the boy’s slacks. That was all they ever did when Draco made his call. They just pressed against him. Sometimes someone tried to kiss him. Harry, for whatever fucked up reason, always wanted to do so much more.
“Go on, Potter. They’re not going to touch you,” Draco whispered, so very still behind him, hands resting carefully on his shoulders. Like Harry would break if the boy just touched a little too hard. Like maybe Draco would break if he let his grip grow tighter.
Harry swallowed hard, his mouth feeling wet. He wanted to turn. He wanted to see Draco’s glowing, silver eyes and beg him for forgiveness. He had taken so much from the blond, had taken the unforgivable. Which was why Harry never looked. There would be no forgiveness for what he had done. He didn’t deserve to be forgiven.
Limbs trembling, pain lancing through his arm, Harry took a cautious step forward, the hands parting to let him through, Draco’s fingers falling away. He stooped, getting his feet awkwardly to the bench, sitting on the table and then thumping down the next level with his injured arm tight against his body. He didn’t dare look back, still feeling Draco calling him, promising mercy and love like the deceiver he was. Harry pushed forward, limping painfully with each step as he struggled to get to the Great Hall doors.
Harry shut the doors behind him but it only blocked the call a little. Draco could pull everyone in the castle to him with ease if he tried, and all they would do is press a hand to him. Harry was the only one who could walk away, and he was in love with the prat. It was cruel. How unfair for him to face a power that would have allowed him to finally give in to his feelings, only to be too strong to succumb to it.
Harry kept walking, feeling Draco in the back of his mind, seeing him like a pale, shining light of power and desire. It was the worst when Draco was like this. He thought the boy cared. Maybe, even deep within his frozen exterior, Malfoy did. It didn’t matter. There was no fixing what Harry had broke. There was no reseeding what had barely bloomed once before.
Harry fell against the wall, darkness encroaching on his vision. He didn’t want to go any further. He could feel the edge of Draco’s call, the pull ending right where he stood. He didn’t want to go past it. He wanted to stay, turn around, and return to the boy. But he couldn’t do that either, so he stood, eyes closed, giving in to the weariness of his body and heart.
SCENE #Healing Harry
Draco found Harry passed out halfway to the infirmary. The boy was slumped over against the wall bleeding down the side, yet somehow managing to still stand. Harry was resilient like that. Resilient, powerful, and miserably stubborn.
It had taken Draco a while to pull himself from the Great Hall. Not from the students—He had gotten used to the odd side effect and had learned to manipulate people well enough to back them off to a good couple feet away. No, he had taken his time to calm himself down, Harry’s scent still full in his senses, the boy’s damn magic-soaked blood dripping all around him. The things Potter did to him just being there… It had been awhile before he could shut down his call, the power hand in hand with his arousal. Harry made Draco hard, wanting, and damn maddened at every turn. Giving in just a little bit was a dam bursting of desire and so hard to hold back from.
Even now he struggled, Draco under control and Harry so exhausted he had fallen asleep on the wall, bleeding and unable to get fully away from his call. He told himself to shut it down, to stuff the damn feelings inside and down into the darkness within. It was difficult, Harry’s face free of anger for a change. Harry had been angry for a long time now, ever since Draco had taken something he shouldn’t have. That he still wanted it… Well, it just revealed how much of a monster he was.
Harry swayed, mumbling softly when Draco gently pulled him off the wall and into his arms. And if he lingered, eyes sliding over Harry’s face currently covered in blood, dirt and sweat, he couldn’t blame himself. He was connected to the boy even if the brunette couldn’t feel it. Harry was Draco’s mate even if they never spoke a kind word again or kissed or touched or even loved. Draco was bound to the reckless, wild boy and had no regrets for it.
“Come on, Potter. Let’s get you patched up.” He lifted Harry easily, wrapping the boy’s toned, tanned arms around his neck and holding him beneath his thighs. He carried him slowly down the hall, feeling the weight of the boy, smelling his hair and his flesh and blood. He was beautiful—Fucked up and absolutely beautiful.
Something had gotten to Harry while he was out in the Forbidden Forest. Draco wasn’t certain what, but he knew it had lust properties similar to a veela. His beast inheritance had come with new senses, ones absolutely fixated on every aspect of sex, including the magic that influenced it. That’s how he could sense that Harry had been enchanted. It was also how he knew the boy wanted him, for all his angry, vicious behavior and words. But Harry also hated him and that came first before anything else.
Draco waited outside the door to the hospital wing, leaning against the wall with Harry still wrapped in his arms. It was completely his fault. He had lost control months ago when he first woke up as a veela. He hadn’t even understood half of what he was doing, so overcome with the strange, new instincts. He had wanted to live. He had wanted Harry.
Shaking his head at his own stupidity, Draco pushed the door open with his foot, laying the boy down on the nearest cot. He went in search of Madame Pomfrey, finding her in her office sipping a cup of tea.
“Mr. Malfoy, not another slip, I hope?” Pomfrey asked, looking sternly over her cup at him, paperwork surrounding her on the table.
“Not exactly,” Draco said with a faint blush. He wasn’t supposed to let his veela call loose in the castle anymore. Although he had enough control to keep himself protected, it could get really embarrassing for the other students. That he still couldn’t seem to keep the call isolated to a small area was also concerning, or so his veela cousins had suggested. “It’s Potter. He’s back from his hunt and wounded. Also he’s been enchanted.”
Pomfrey stood, clucking under her breath. “Of course he is. Heaven forbid if the boy could walk outside these castle walls and not end up at death’s door.”
Draco silently agreed, Harry an absolute menace for anything ordered and peace oriented. Even more so lately as if the boy was deliberately trying to get himself killed. Draco frowned at the thought, moving aside to let the healer by. Everyone else had been enjoying the spoils of a Voldemort free world while Harry had been quietly drifting, growing smaller and dimmer until all Draco noticed half the time was his anger.
“Oh dear,” Pomfrey gasped, backpedaling into the room and slamming the door behind her. Draco raised a brow, confused at the display. “It’s strong,” she explained, a faint blush on her cheeks as she fanned herself. “My god, I thought you veela were bad.”
“What, you’re saying it’s worse than a veela call?” Draco asked, completely horrified at the thought.
Moving shakily, Pomfrey waved her hand, summoning supplies to a tray. “That would depend on the level of control that particular veela has. You have been very tame, Mr. Malfoy, which we are all grateful for, by the by. But I’m sure if you so chose it, you could have us all eating out of your palm, in a manner of speaking.”
Draco shook his head, not certain at all of such a thing. His call was far reaching but not potent. Not like his cousins who could take the mating call and, well, use it to mate. Not always by choice of their object of affection. Draco had been glad that his call had never been so strong.
“Whatever has spelled Harry, it’s powerful. It will not be satisfied by touch, putting him in greater danger by those who feel the effect. Thankfully, it seems to be contained by walls. Do we know what caused this?”
Mind drifting back to the Great Hall, Draco tried to remember what Harry had said. “I think he called it an enchancubus. I’ve never heard of it before.”
Pausing, Pomfrey began mixing up some potions. “I have. A rare creature that can change its appearance to lure in prey and feed off of them.”
“Feed?” Draco hissed, his eyes narrowing.
“Just sex. Nothing gruesome,” Pomfrey assured. “But they’re powerful magic. I will have to do some research to see if we can’t make him an antidote of some sort. For now, you are going to have to be my helper.”
Draco blinked down, Madame Pomfrey placing the tray of potions and bandages into his hands. “Um, the thing is…” He really shouldn’t be alone with Harry. Especially when the boy was weak, bleeding, and asleep. At least when Harry was swearing at him, Draco was able to see things objectively.
“You were able to bring him here. I can only assume you are immune to the spell. He’s badly hurt; I noticed that much.” She gave him an accessing look, eyes piercing. “You will be fine, Mr. Malfoy, like you were the last time when faced with him. Once he is healed, you must take him to one of the single rooms or I will be trapped in my office. Understood?”
Draco nodded, his stomach twisting in knots. If he lost his shit, she would not be able to help. He wished sometimes there were other veela in the school, ones with enough knowledge and power to help him get through moments like this.
Sighing, he turned, letting Pomfrey step back further into the room before he quickly opened the door, slipped through and closed it. He started, eyes drawn up when he heard a noise, meeting Harry’s surprised, wide eyed gaze. Draco didn’t move, didn’t breathe, forcing the memory of flesh, sweat, and moans from his mind.
“Where’s Pomfrey?” Harry croaked, Draco flinching from the sound of fear in the boy’s voice.
“You’ve been enchanted,” he said flatly, forcing himself to move in slow, cautious steps so he didn’t startle Harry. It was only half successful, the brunette watching him like a hawk. A terrified, wide eyed hawk ready to claw the instant he slipped up. “She can’t help until she brews up an antidote. Fortunately, I can.” He tried to be light about it, but his voice just sounded grim in his ears.
Eying the blond warily, Harry sat up in the cot, putting his back to the wall and raising his chin as if ready for a fight. Draco would not be surprised if the boy started one, Harry obviously feeling cornered and overwhelmed. “She mixed up some calming draught,” Draco said, raising the vial.” If Harry didn’t want it, he would gladly drink it down.
Glaring at the blue-green liquid, Harry gave a curt nod, making the barest of beckoning motions for Draco to approach. Not fully trusting that the boy wouldn’t bolt or try to break his nose, Draco first went to the bedside table, placing the tray down so nothing could be spilled if Harry decided he’d rather brawl. He hadn’t really spoken to Harry much since the incident—Not that they ever really did before. They were in two different houses, lived two very different lives that shared amazing similarities. But somehow that year, for all of Draco trying to avoid the Gryffindor, they had managed to run across each other more and more, usually with Harry swearing up a storm, being absolutely rude, and smelling delicious. And for whatever reason, Draco was having a very difficult time ignoring Harry like he had promised himself he would.
Harry took the vial when handed to him, sipping and making a face at the bitter flavor. He eyed the metal tray, mind calculating what everything was for. Handing the drained bottle back to Draco’s waiting hand, Harry fixed him with a glare. “I’m not taking my clothes off.”
Draco scoffed, eyes narrowing at the challenge. “You think I can fix a broken arm when I can’t even see it?”
“Do I look like I give a fuck? I’ll wait until Pomfrey brews up that antidote,” Harry said sharply.
Draco just waited, hoping the damn calming draught would have an effect eventually. Anything concerning will tended to be useless against Harry. Which was why magic ranging from veela calls to the Imperius curse never worked properly. Harry was as stubborn as possible, defying even the laws of magic. Draco couldn’t help but admire it.
“Will you compromise with me?” Draco asked, hands held limply at his side, palms open. Dealing with Harry was like dealing with a wild, injured animal most of the time. He always found himself overly aware of his body language, trying to keep the boy from freaking out.
Harry stirred slightly, having grown drowsy, startling green eyes slightly hazy. Blinking, he hesitantly pushed his robe off, letting the shredded material fall to the bed. Draco held back a sigh, the brunette somehow more damaged underneath the robe, his t-shirt slashed and bloodied.
“Why the hell did you go out there without armor? It looks like you rolled out of bed and decided to go hunting the creature without any preparation at all.” Harry looked away, smirking widely, and Draco realized that had been exactly what had happened. The boy was a reckless fool.
He took a step towards the bed, preparing to heal the broken arm first. Harry stiffened, eyes once again glaring at him, body held as if getting ready to bite or run. “I just want to heal your arm. It must hurt, right?”
Harry’s glare intensified as if pointing out that he was in pain was beyond the rules of whatever fucked up game they were playing. “It’s fine.”
“It’s broken. You can’t move it. I can see the bone trying to push out of your skin. Would you like another calming draught?” One was usually the limit for someone of Harry’s height and weight, but Draco was willing to push the boundaries if it would get the boy to calm the fuck down. At the brunette’s nod, Draco carefully handed another vial over, Harry’s hands shaking when he took it. The boy threw it back like a shot this time, making Draco wonder if he shouldn’t have tried to get some alcohol instead.
“Alright… But just my arm. I don’t want it to heal fucked up,” Harry muttered, tearing at the shreds of bloodied shirt tangled around his left shoulder, managing to bare his side and half his chest in the process. Draco hissed when the boy’s tanned skin came into view, bruised, slashed, and a distinct burn pattern revealed.
Harry glared, chin again raising defiantly. “Just the arm.”
“Like hell. That’s a vice vine burn. You’ve been poisoned.” Draco stopped himself from continuing, hands held up in defeat. “Fine, the arm for now. Maybe you’ll feel like getting the rest healed after you see how much better it feels.” He didn’t really believe it but was hoping the double dose of calming draught might actually knock the boy out. Harry was already swaying, eyelids heavy, and looking far too sexy for his own good.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Draco counted to ten. As he carefully approached the bed, eyes fixed on the brunette’s arm and not the cautious green glare following him, he wondered if Harry was more afraid of him, or himself. Draco could smell it now that he was next to the boy, fingers gently probing his broken arm. Bleeding, exhausted, and in excruciating pain, Harry still managed to be aroused, body nearly brimming with want. Want for him, which only made it all the more infuriating when the brunette snapped and snarled the way he did.
Draco held Harry’s arm firmly, feeling the muscles tense beneath his palms. “This will hurt,” he said, then squeezed, feeling the broken bones realign beneath his fingers. Harry merely hissed, teeth gritted as he grimaced. Holding the boy’s arm in place with one hand, Draco used his wand in the other, knitting a binding around the bones so that they would heal properly when the accelerator potion was applied. He worked swiftly, not immune to Harry’s increased breathing, never mind flooding of scent. How Potter could get fucking hard while being patched up was beyond him. Harry did seem to have a damn pain kink.
Draco stepped back once the arm was bandaged, more for himself than the now scowling Gryffindor. Shit, the boy was always so goddamn angry. It was like the harder Harry got, the fucking angrier he was. Considering how angry Potter always seemed to be, Draco imagined the boy was always goddamn hard. He shut his eyes again, counting to twenty, trying to focus on the caustic smell of antiseptic and not the alluring scent of Harry’s musk. It was difficult… very difficult…
“Stop,” Harry hissed, feeling the beginnings of Draco’s pull, warm tendrils slipping around his flesh.
Growling, Draco stepped away, crossing the room and facing the other direction. Harry’s scent didn’t reach this far, his breath not loud enough. His magic could still be felt, pulsing like some siren’s call, but Draco had learned to ignore that months ago. Harry’s magic was always so strong to him, always so loud and begging for connection.
Mine, Draco thought, trying not to hate the half of him that had made it so. Harry was his and trying to twist his magic around him to pull him down into his fucked up, angry self.
Draco wanted to give in. He wanted to be consumed by the boy’s heated, dark desire. Taste his skin again. Feel his tight flesh open to him…
“Shit, Malfoy, just get the fuck out of here. You clearly can’t control yourself since having to… stop them.” Harry was panting, the barest of need in his voice that Draco couldn’t help but focus on. “I’m glad you stopped them… but you’re not in control and…” Harry trailed off when Draco turned, the boy’s green eyes dark and full of desire beneath heavy lashes.
“I’m in control of myself,” Draco said flatly, eyes roaming over the beautiful boy. He had not jumped Harry. He had not pinned him down and stolen a hundred deep kisses. He had not even touched the boy’s flesh the way he wanted, pulling hot moans and aching cries from Harry’s lips. Draco was in perfect bloody control of himself and had been since returning to school after learning said control from the veelas. That he called sometimes trying to pull his chosen one to him was to be more than expected, and Draco had managed to avoid even that every goddamn day.
“I don’t believe you,” Harry said, frown growing when Draco slowly returned, crossing the distance between them.
Draco wanted to remind him what he could do, what he had done when he lost control. Harry knew the fucking difference, knew what it was like when he couldn’t stop—Didn’t even have enough in him to want to stop. But Draco didn’t dare speak the words to call back that memory. They would never speak of it again. He had been desperate and newly changed and Harry… Harry had been beautiful and powerful and dripping in blood and scent that had just been irresistible. Draco knew how to resist now. He did it every day.
“How does your arm feel?” Draco asked evenly, knowing his face was blank, his eyes cold again.
Huffing, Harry managed to shrug without wincing. Clearly it was better.
“Let me get the poison out. It’s just a salve to heal the vice vine.” Draco held up the pot, not surprised that the healer had managed to spot the hint of blue to Harry’s lips even while fighting the powerful enchantment on the brunette.
Swallowing hard, Harry shook his head no, now completely adverting his eyes. Draco took it as a positive sign, the brunette tired enough to let some of his anger go. Draco sat carefully on the side of the bed, making sure not to touch the boy in any way. It was five long minutes of strained breathing, Harry’s throat showing signs of swelling from the invasive toxin the plant carried before he finally relented, pushing the rest of his shredded t-shirt over his head.
Draco kept silent, knowing anything he said would be taken the wrong way. He gave Harry another minute before even moving, and then it was just to touch his wand to any particularly nasty wound and heal it quickly, avoiding the pattern of poisoned flesh for now. Harry still jumped when Draco opened the small jar of light green salve, eyes blinking sleepily as he watched Draco’s fingers dip in and coat.
“W-Wait,” Harry whispered, Draco’s fingertips nearly an inch from the largest of the wounds. Draco stilled, feeling the tension in the boy, energy jolting through Harry’s form even as his muscles relaxed further, the calming draught flowing deeper into his cells.
“Ready?” Draco asked when the brunette made no more protests. Harry was still staring at his fingers, eyes completely hazy now.
“Okay,” Harry breathed out, sinking deeper back, relaxing against the wall. He closed his eyes at the first touch of fingers, sighing softly as the salve soothed the burning sensation on his skin.
Draco tried to work quickly and efficiently but his hands would not obey him. They kept straying, kept slowing and touching, small caresses that just begged for more. And Harry, eyes barely opened, just watched his hands as they pressed firmly into his skin and rubbed slick circles and patterns into the slowly disappearing wounds. Eventually there were no more marks on his flesh and Draco had to force himself to stop. To touch the boy then was to cross a line he had no right to cross. It was difficult, especially when Harry kept sighing soft, breathless sighs, his hips rocking subtly up when Draco pressed down.
It would be so easy to kiss him, Harry nearly asleep, gaze meeting his while he rested slumped on the wall. “Don’t fall asleep, Potter,” Draco warned, taking in the boy’s stunning eyes and full, parted lips. He was beautiful and far too vulnerable to be alone with Draco in that moment.
Harry smirked weakly, eyelids drooping lower. “Thought you were… in control,” he whispered, his voice the barest of murmurs in the room.
“I am,” Draco whispered back, cupping Harry’s face, dipping forward to steal just one small, little kiss. He stilled, centimeters away, an unfamiliar scent filling his senses.
“Has someone—Have you been with someone, Potter?” He asked abruptly, moving over Harry’s skin, breathing deep and trying to figure out just what the hell Harry was covered in. It wasn’t human. Wasn’t veela. But it reeked of magic, sex magic, and Draco found himself growling the lower on Harry he got and the more he smelled the creature. “Fucking—Are you fucking shitting me?” He snarled, pulling Harry’s waistband forward only to be assaulted by the creature’s scent.
He snapped his gaze up, Harry’s eyes blinking dazedly back at him. “Who, Potter? Who the fuck touched you? Did he fuck you? Did you let some fucking lust creature fuck your beautiful body while I can’t even touch you?” Draco hated the misery so clear in his voice. Harry could fight every lust power he knew of, even from his stronger, full blooded veela cousins. But he had let this creature touch him.
Harry held his hand up, fingers nearly taking Draco’s eyes out before the boy’s intent was clear. He covered the blond’s mouth. “Don’t call me that. Only he can call me that.”
Draco was pissed, and Harry insisting only another man could call him something was not helping. “I will call you whatever the hell I want. You are—”
“No,” Harry mumbled, eyes drifting closed again. “Only Malfoy calls me beautiful.”
“For fuck sake,” Draco moaned grabbing the fingers that were slipping down his chin as Harry’s breath began to even out. “Damn you, Potter. Damn you for doing this to me.” He could not help it when he ran his lips over Harry’s fingertips, tongue reaching out, tasting dirt, sweat and the brunette’s distinct flavor of flesh.
He had to know. It would haunt him forever if he had let Harry go out alone only to be fucked by some enchanted predator.
Dumbledore had asked him to stay back, to make the terrible phone calls to the parents of the three Slytherin students attacked that morning. By the time he had learned that Harry had been asked to go out and had left alone, Draco had then had to deal with the panicked parents of said students, one particularly angry brute threatening to hex him into oblivion if he did not get to see his daughter. Draco had been forced to restrain the man, the children tainted and contagious with no cure in sight. The entire day he had been worried for Harry being out there alone with a crazed beast. It had been a shit day and now here was Harry, dripping in another’s scent, covered in an enchantment that would surely only draw more people with many scents to cover him. It was too much.
Growling, Draco released Harry’s hand, using both of his to quickly untangle the sleeping boy’s belt. He had the brunette’s pants down to his knees in less than a minute, hissing and pulling them off entirely when he saw the huge gash on the boy’s thigh that ran down to his calve. God, he was a fucking mess. Glaring at the wound a long moment, Draco deliberately ignored it, hands sliding to Harry’s briefs.
“I will fucking kill him, Potter,” he promised, pressing his cheek to Harry’s sharp hipbone and breathing deep. “I don’t care if you hate me. I don’t care if you never want me to touch you again. I will kill anyone that fucks you.” He peeled Harry’s waistband back, moving the soft material down and slowly unmasking the last of Harry’s flesh to his view. He scowled as the foreign scent grew stronger.
Draco moved slowly, careful not to give in to the overwhelming urge to taste the soft length nestled in dark curls. Instead he slipped lower, nose nuzzling in, seeking out Harry’s balls and behind. He pulled back abruptly, quickly wrapping the boy back up. He held his hand over his face while his mind whirled.
Not fucked. Not taken. Just soaked in saliva. Draco groaned, sinking to the floor to sit, knees folded up while he fought the urge to rock back and forth in agitation. He couldn’t live like this. He just couldn’t keep fucking doing this.
Standing, he caught the cut again on Harry’s leg. Growling deep in his throat, he used his wand to heal it, wishing to touch the boy instead, to taste the damn blood that his instincts and memory told him would be perfect. He couldn’t. It would just be the end of him no matter how much he wanted him.
Harry’s jeans were soaked in blood and filth, Draco glancing around until he found the cabinet Madame Pomfrey kept the pajamas in. He brusquely slipped the pants up the brunette’s legs after pulling the boy’s shoes and socks off, then, with far more hesitation than was needed, lifted Harry’s hips to get the boy finally decent. Draco paused, hands firmly on his hips, fingers digging in too hard, staring at Harry’s sleeping face and wishing the Gryffindor would wake and yell at him to keep him from the madness growing inside.
Harry was out cold, two draughts too much for his already exhausted body. He had been accosted by something in the forest along with a host of lesser beasts that left their claw marks on him and then had returned to school to have a cafeteria full of students try to grind on him. And now he was asleep, completely defenseless with a love-crazed veela halfling who was too powerful for anyone to stop if he truly tried to take what he wanted.
“Wake up, you reckless, angry idiot,” Draco whispered hoarsely, leaning forward to press his forehead to Harry’s. “Don’t just fucking sit there and trust me. You know I can’t be trusted.” He tilted his head, gently brushing his lips to Harry’s. He did it again, pressing harder, groaning when Harry responded sleepily, the slightest of returning pressure and the parting of his lips.
“Damn you,” Draco muttered, flicking his tongue out, tasting Harry’s lips, the flavor the same dripping, heady honey of before. “Tell me you’re still mine, Harry,” he pleaded softly, tasting again, diving into the boy’s sweet mouth and nipping his bottom lip. “You are my beautiful mate. Tell me that you’re mine.”
Harry didn’t answer, stubborn even in a drug induced sleep. Sighing, Draco pulled away, tongue running over his lips, trying to taste every bit of Harry still clinging to him.
It was almost a year since he had tasted Harry the first and only time. For all he knew, he would never have the chance again. Seventh year was nearly over and he’d be returning to an empty manor. Harry would… Well, he wasn’t sure what Harry would be doing. Maybe living with his godfather and his werewolf boyfriend. Maybe punishing himself and going back to his hateful relatives. He wouldn’t be visiting Malfoy Manor anytime soon. Not after his last visit. Not after Draco had raped him and forced him to kill.
Draco left Harry in a private room, tossing his dirty clothes in a pile on the floor and locking the door behind him. He lit the sign that informed any passerby that the occupant was enchanted and dangerous and then gave a quick knock to Madame Pomfrey’s office door.
“He’s settled in?” She asked, well aware that Harry could no longer be in the room if she was not feeling his enchantment’s pull with the door open.
“Asleep. Healed.” Delicious. “His arm will be fine in about an hour. I’m going to bed but I’m willing to help in the morning until you find your antidote.”
“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I know how difficult this must be for you.” She patted his arm lightly, her eyes sober.
Maybe she did know, having treated halflings before. Draco wasn’t sure. His veela brethren had scoffed at him for even lusting after a human. But then, they barely thought humans were worth the air they breathed even though they kept mating with them. Draco shook his head wearily. “Earlier I had to pull a large group of students off of him in the Great Hall. I can protect him, but I think it’s better if he’s not around people.”
“I agree. Mr. Potter has been trying lately,” Pomfrey said carefully, thinking of how many times Harry had been in there recently, brawls and explosions resulting in many a broken bone. “Maybe some forced isolation will do him good.”
Draco shrugged, not really caring. Nothing was going to fix Potter. Not after what he had done to the boy. A part of him didn’t even care, just so long as no one tried to touch him and take him away. Draco didn’t think Harry would ever truly be his but he was able to live with that as long as Harry was no one else’s.
SCENE #The dream
Harry was not surprised he dreamed after his terrible day of Malfoys at every front. He had not had this dream for a while. He had hoped he could finally block it out and move on with his life. It was of the night he killed Voldemort. The night he destroyed fifteen Death Eaters in one instant. The night Draco Malfoy saved both their lives with sex magic.
“Shit, you’re bleeding everywhere.”
“Hurts,” Harry groaned, fighting the darkness, fighting the red dull throb pounding in his head.
“I’m going to help. Fuck… Fuck, Potter. You smell so good.”
Someone was breathing up Harry’s neck, nose pressing into his skin, warm breath ghosting over his flesh. Harry struggled to open his eyes, trying to remember what had happened. The Order… They had been changing locations… There had been spells, flashes of lights, and screams…
“Hell… fucking hell. Potter, I need you to wake up. He’s going to kill you. He’s going to kill us both, and I need you to wake the fuck up.”
Brows furrowed, Harry tried to focus on the voice in his ear. It was familiar but different. Male… low… Licking him. He whimpered, the hot touch of tongue on his neck only increasing. What was… What was Malfoy doing?
Harry again fought to open his eyes but his body didn’t want to listen to him. His head hurt so much, he could barely think. He wanted to sleep. It was dark and he was tired. It was time to sleep.
“Come on, Potter, don’t die on me.” The tongue returned, long, hot trails of wet moving up to his jaw, teeth nipping in, clamping firmly. Harry was so tired but his body felt hot, very hot. His skin was tingling, jolting from every brush of flesh against him, touch of hand, press of lips. “I’m going to give you some energy. You need to stay alive.”
Lips descended on Harry’s, warm, firm, persistent. He groaned again, his head throbbing, fire racing over his skin like a million painful bee stings. A tongue pushed its way past his parted lips, delving in, tasting him, finding his tongue and touching, taunting until Harry had to respond. His body shuddered, the pain behind his eyes dulling. Another wave of tingling, this time within him, prickling agony all throughout. He whimpered, his entire body crying out for the peaceful, numbing darkness.
The darkness wouldn’t come. He was on the ground, the floor cold and unyielding beneath him. There was something heavy atop him, hot and moving, tearing at his clothes and stealing his air. Harry blearily pushed at the body, pausing when his hand touched bare, smooth flesh. The mouth suffocating him suddenly pulled away, a hand moving over his face, pushing his hair back in a firm, dragging way that sent shivers through him.
“You there, Potter?”
Harry cracked his eyes open, his lids feeling unbearably heavy. “Malfoy?” He croaked weakly. He thought it was Draco, but the boy looked different. Older. His white-blond hair was long, his features more defined and aristocratic. His shoulders… Harry licked his lips, unable to stop staring at Draco’s very broad, absolutely bare shoulders. He reached his hand up, grabbing onto a thick bicep and squeezing firmly. They felt real. Fucking tight, compact, strong muscle.
Draco stilled from the touch, his eyes silver and searing as he met Harry’s gaze and held it. There were feathers dusting around his pale face, tipping on his ears and making his eyebrows extend in an intense, fierce expression. Draco dipped his head, hand holding Harry’s face in place while he ghosted the barest of touches to his lips. “Potter, we don’t have a lot of time.”
Harry wasn’t exactly sure what they were in a rush for. All he knew was that Draco was looking like some glowingly pale, magnificent specimen of feathery male and was kissing him. Harry let his hand thread through the boy’s long, silky hair, Draco sighing softly in reply. Harry tightened his grip, fisting a thick chunk, silver eyes locking on his in question. Smirking, Harry pulled harder, watching raptly as the boy’s mouth parted and he began to pant. Harry leaned up, tongue trembling, tracing over those perfect, tasty lips and wet them thoroughly.
Draco gave a broken moan, a thin trail of fluid dripping down the corner of his mouth, his hips jolting forward from the touch. Harry gasped, feeling the boy’s erection grinding down into his hip. Growling heatedly, Draco slammed him flat on the ground and with a wrench, had the brunette’s shirt torn in half.
“Holy fuck,” Harry gaped, eyes following down the long tear, noticing for the first time that Draco was completely naked. His chest looked sculpted out of marble, his abs a perfect eight pack, each muscle tight and smooth, making the boy look more sleek and lithe than the pure power Harry could feel moving over him. He wanted to see more but Draco’s hips were pinned to his, stealing the view of the hard flesh searing through his jeans.
Harry watched, dumbfounded as strong, long fingers descended on his pants, tearing at his belt with frustrated jerks. “What, you’re not going to rip my pants in half, too?” Harry asked breathlessly.
Draco gave another growl, moving back up the boy’s body, mouth on the brunette’s ear while he asked silkily. “You want me to tear you in half, Potter? Want me to fuck you so hard you can’t fucking walk?”
Harry moaned shakily, hips pushing up into the blond’s hard body. “Fuck, yes.”
“Oh, thank god,” Draco whispered back, tongue laving over Harry’s neck, teeth nipping, mouth sucking desperate purple welts. “Because I feel like I’m going to die if I don’t fuck you, Potter. You are so fucking tight, and sexy, and goddamn tasty… And I really want you… to be mine.”
Eyes blinking blankly at the top of Draco’s head, Harry grinned, wider and wider until he felt like a full out lunatic. Draco fucking Malfoy liked him. Holy fuck.
He had never considered that Draco might have a thing for him given that they were always fighting, barely spoke otherwise, and well, Harry didn’t think of himself as anything worth wanting. He knew he was a mess—And not just his shaggy chocolate locks. He had tried to fix himself up a bit, ditching his glasses for spells, dressing in clothes that actually fit. But he was always going to be a torn jeans and faded t-shirt kind of guy.
His toned, average height body was strong, lithe and sinewy, but didn’t look sculpted like the form grinding down on him. Tanned, he always looked dirty, mostly because he was from his work outside during the summer. He had scars and cuts littered all over him from his many accidents and battles. Scars Draco seemed intent to touch and lick as he pulled the scraps of the brunette’s shirt away. Harry might have been beautiful with his stunning green eyes, sharp cheekbones and full red mouth, but he didn’t see it even if Hermione kept insisting.
“Oh crap,” Harry swore, once again flat on his back, Draco pinning his shoulders down and glaring at him. He swallowed hard, biting his lip under that searing gaze. Harry had sort of had a thing for Draco for a while, one he had really wished not to have. There really was no way to get around the extreme complications of Malfoy’s life, especially since Voldemort had been suspected of moving into the boy’s house. Apparently there had been more complications because Draco was definitely glowing and feathery. “What… uh… Why do you look so different?”
With slower, sure motions, Draco attacked Harry’s belt again, this time succeeding in unbuckling it. “I’m a veela. A halfling. Woke up a couple of days ago like this…” Draco trailed off, hissing softly as he managed to unzip Harry’s jeans and push them roughly down his thighs with his underwear.
Harry blushed, Draco staring fixated on his straining dick. Then the boy was moving down his body, Harry wide eyed as that very talented tongue slid down to touch into his slit and steal his dripping precum. “Oh god…” he breathed out unsteadily, watching the boy widen his lips and sink his dick into his mouth, circling his cock with intense heat but refusing to touch. It was torture, and Harry was about to say something when his eyes caught sight of a bloody hand on the floor across the room.
“M-Malfoy. There’s a body over there.”
Draco lifted his head, tongue again flicking out to taste along Harry’s slit in an intense, hip jolting touch. “My father.”
Harry nodded dumbly, taking him a moment to realize Draco was talking about the body on the floor. “Why is your…?”
“I killed him.” This time when Draco descended on his length, he kept his mouth barely open, dragging his wet lips around his sensitive tip and rubbing. Harry moaned, head falling back heavily on the floor as Draco tongue began to swirl over the head of his cock, rough, hungry licks that had him writhing on the ground. Draco grabbed his hips, heavy palms holding Harry in place while he bucked into the blond’s mouth.
Suddenly Draco let him go, heat and strong hands replaced with grasping claws as he tore his jeans down his legs, pulling his shoes off with quick movements. Harry lay panting, trying to get his mind to start working again. “Fuck, Malfoy. Why did you kill your dad?”
“Because he was going to kill you and then feed me to that freak next door,” Draco said with a growl, Harry finally stripped, sweaty, and his. He practically purred as he sleekly crawled back up the brunette’s form, hands lingering over scars, head dipping to taste a nipple and tease with restrained nips.
Eyes closing from the sensation, Harry fought for his train of thought. “F-Feed?”
“Yes,” Draco hissed, tongue laving out. “Dozens already. Dead, half eaten veela. I didn’t even realize why he had come here until I woke up changed.”
Mind whirling, Harry tried to remember what Hermione had owled him about weeks ago. Ritualistic killings. Dark magic where sex and cannibalism were combined to steal the victim’s power. Young, beautiful men found dumped, bodies half eaten. Harry felt sick, his stomach churning as he paled. “My god, he…”
“My father tried to give me the potion,” Draco continued, grabbing Harry’s chin and forcing him to meet his glare. “My own father with his fucking veela genes was going to feed me to You-Know-Who.”
“What a monster,” Harry said heatedly, wishing Draco’s eyes would stop glowing so brightly, burning him so deeply, all he could feel was fire inside instead of the disgust and horror he should be feeling. Voldemort was in the other room. He was expecting Draco soon, to rape and eat, and his guard was dead. Harry should be trying to get them the fuck out, not rocking his hips in unbearable need.
“I saw you. Saw you broken,” Draco said softer, eyes running over Harry’s face. He paused on his lips, staring at the brunette’s gasping red mouth. “I was afraid he was going to do the same to you. Touch your golden skin. Make you bleed. Scream. Come. I just couldn’t let him do that to you.”
Harry was starting to think Draco might have lost his fucking mind. “This potion, what was it supposed to do?”
Tongue lapping over the brunette’s swollen lips, Draco took a moment to answer. “It makes you so horny, you don’t care if someone is eating you alive.”
Harry whimpered, very much afraid of the answer to his next question. “Did you actually drink it?”
Draco grinned wickedly, revealing white teeth with sharp fangs. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, Potter. Do you like it hard?”
Harry was pretty sure as long as Draco kept glowing his veela eyes at him, he was going to like it any way the boy gave it.
“Malfoy, we need to get out of here,” he said weakly, grunting when Draco bit his neck harder this time. “We need to, oh fuck… escape.” If Voldemort or one of his henchmen walked in there that very second, Draco would likely just try to fuck them too and get himself eaten in the process.
“I have a plan. A very good… very, very tight plan,” Draco murmured, stretching his body over Harry’s, hot bare flesh pinning the smaller boy down, long strong legs tangling with his. “Veela have this special magic. Sex magic. That’s why that sick fuck keeps eating us.”
Harry really wished Draco’s voice wasn’t so fucking sultry and seductive while saying disgusting things. A large palm was suddenly moving down his thigh, spreading his bare legs wide and hooking one around the blond’s hip. Harry bucked up, rocking into the boy’s hard erection, moaning when he realized Draco must have come once already, hot, sticky fluid dripping between their taut bodies.
“I’m going to give you my power… We’re going to kill… that fucker,” Draco said between bucks of Harry’s hips. He pushed the brunette’s other knee up, hand moving down and caressing the inside of his tense, strong thigh. “And you… fucking gorgeous, sexy, Harry… are going to be mine.”
Harry cried out, two thick fingers pressing against his hole. He felt magic tingling inside him an instant before the fingers pushed into his now slick passage, deep and relentless, filling him in a way he had never been filled before.
“Oh, that’s it… Louder. Show me how much you like it,” Draco growled, watching Harry’s face while the boy gasped and moaned uncontrollably. “You are so hot. So fucking tight inside… Have you ever been fucked, Harry? God, do I get to be your first?” Draco groaned, hips grinding down against his while he plunged fingers into his clenching, slowly stretching, tightness.
“Oh god… my god… I can’t…” Harry arched, his head nearly slamming on the floor. He felt crazy, the sensations from the fingers moving within him creating an agonizing fire inside that just kept building and building with no relief in sight. He tightened his leg around the pale boy’s strong waist, hands grasping over Draco’s shoulders, wrenching at his flesh, pulling him down closer so that he could feel every inch of his body.
Draco kissed him, stealing his heated moans, drinking his cries while he added another finger deep inside him. Harry was becoming undone, body shaking, mouth gasping around Draco’s tongue and spilling clear wet down his chin and throat. “Amazing. You are so, fucking, amazing, Potter… That’s it. Oh, I can feel you… loosening. Give it up, sexy. Open up to me.”
The fingers were suddenly gone, Harry whimpering, feeling so empty and cold inside. He rocked his hips impatiently, knowing what was coming next. He needed it… needed it so bad. Needed Draco to fuck him like he had promised. “Oh fuck… Oh, my god,” Harry sobbed, feeling the blunt head of Draco’s hot cock press against his entrance.
“I know what you need, Harry. Now look at me,” Draco demanded lowly until they brunette’s eyelids flew open. Harry started, Draco’s silver gaze glowing brighter, pulling his focus, stealing all his pain when the powerful boy surged forward and sheathed deep into his tight flesh. Harry gaped, choked gasps of air, his body so full, stretched so wide around the thick cock impaling him.
“You’re tight… so fucking tight, beautiful,” Draco hissed, holding his gaze, not letting him look away. “It’s like you were meant to be open to me… Spreading to me. Do you feel it, Harry? Can you feel how you’re mine?”
Harry truly could, something inside him clicking with Draco buried deep inside him. Something more than flesh, more than the sweat and gasps of breath. It was as if he could feel Draco, his power, his energy and his thoughts just at the cusp of his awareness, twining with him, trying to sink in just as deep as he was in his flesh. He was being added to. Opened wide and filled with another soul.
Harry surrendered to the boy as Draco began to thrust into him with slow, jolting slams. He wrapped his arms tight around the blond’s neck, short nails digging into his sweat soaked shoulders, heel gripping his rippling lower back for leverage as he rocked with the pale boy’s thrusts. He was losing his mind, the pleasure so great, the boy so sexy and deep inside him. “Oh god, Draco. You feel so good… So big and, oh… Oh fuck. You’re so fucking thick.”
The friction was intense, Draco’s cock dragging across the tight walls of his passage, slick, wet sounds as he drove into him again and again. Harry watched the boy’s biceps flex before each forceful push, blearily feeling something else building in the pit of his stomach.
“You’re getting close. I need you to focus now,” Draco whispered, slowing his rocking hips, burying deep into Harry’s clenching heat and staying deep. “Can you feel your power?” He asked hoarsely, again pulling his gaze.
“Y-Yes. It’s bright… pulsing,” he murmured, staring deep into Draco’s silver depths and wishing he never had to look away.
“Good. You need to pull it up. Like drinking through a straw.” Draco ran his hand down between them, pressing the soft pads of his fingertips against Harry’s dripping naval and sliding up towards his chest. “Yes, I can feel it. Can you feel mine?”
Harry nodded mutely, mouth gasping for air. Draco’s power was already shimmering around them, soaking them together as much as their sweat was.
“When you touch my power you’re going to hear heartbeats. Don’t be alarmed. I’m keyed in to the other room.” Draco closed his eyes for a moment, his expression twisting, hips pressing forward as he groaned. Harry moaned in response, Draco grinding deep within him. He clenched down, tightening around the thick flesh so hot inside.
“N-No, got to hold back,” Draco gasped, trying to bring himself under control. “You’re just so… fucking beautiful.”
Harry had never been called beautiful, especially by someone that was clearly more so than him. The potion must have really fucked Draco up. Harry tried to focus on his power, pulling more up, brows furrowed when he realized just how deep it reached inside him, so much energy swirling and growing. He had never felt so much power, but it was his. Had always been there, not fully tapped.
“Careful now,” Draco warned, sweat dripping down his face as he caught him in his glowing glare again. “Reach for my power.”
Harry did, eyes widening as heat and sound suddenly filled his senses, his vision going dark.
“Don’t panic. It’s dark. Supposed to be dark.” Draco swallowed hard, shifting slightly to relieve the strain on his arms. “Now focus. There’s a different heartbeat… slower… older. He’s so much older, and his heart gives it away. It stutters—Right there.”
Harry winced, not wanting to go towards the sick, twisted presence. It was soaked in blood and decay. And something else… Something shimmery veiled around it, tattered and corrupted. It reminded him of Draco. Scraps of veela energy and flesh. “Hell.”
“Yes,” Draco hissed. “You need to strike him, Potter. Wrap your power around him and snuff that heartbeat out. Do you think you can do that? If I hold the link, can you crush his heart?”
There was so much hope and fear in Draco’s voice. He could feel it, the boy’s emotions through his flesh as well as his power. Harry nodded once, pulling at the golden glow within him. Draco’s energy began to shimmer and twist, accommodating his power as he built it up. He had never woven a spell and as he felt Draco’s thoughts, the blond hadn’t either. Draco was going on instinct—The instincts of a desperate, magical creature halfling that didn’t want to be a meal for the monster on the other side of the wall.
“My god, you’re powerful… So much power,” Draco whispered in awe, having touched down, found the well within Harry as the boy pulled power up. He didn’t reply, needing to focus, weaving his net around the rotting heart, wide and afar so that his presence wouldn’t be felt. His energy flared and calm faltered, his body clenching around Draco’s hard length embedded deep inside him.
“Hold onto it, Harry. Don’t lose your focus now… We’re so close.”
Gasping, he began to tighten his glowing net. What was once a million thin threads of power solidified together as it condensed and began to close. They both whimpered, Voldemort’s power suddenly surging in awareness, pushing at the flowing energy. Harry could feel it trying to push out and tear through the seemingly thin skin. He fought against it, constricting, wrenching energy, but the evil power was too strong.
“Quickly—Before he regroups,” Draco hissed. They didn’t have much time. Surprise was their true advantage and they were losing it.
Connected still to the well of power within, Harry urgently grabbed for it, surging wave after unimaginable wave through his body, through the connection to crash down around the net. He felt Voldemort relent, felt the evil weaken like a wilting, shriveling plant, curling in under his bombardment. It was an old heart, no matter how much magic was used to fortify it. Old, weak, and stuttering its last beats.
“Potter—No!” Draco cried, but it was too late. The net snapped shut, down to a mere pinprick of light. The darkness flowed in as silence fell and the heat began to dissipate.
“Oh hell… fucking… No.” Harry struggled to get up, drained of his power, horrified once he realized what he had done. The room had not been empty. It had been full of heartbeats. Full of life. Now it was completely silent.
Draco, eyes wild, slammed his hands down on Harry’s shoulders and kissed the boy fiercely. He jerked, trying to pull away, but Draco was too strong, tongue persistently suffocating him as the boy pinned him down and pushed forward into his shaking, trembling body. Moaning, Harry gave in, heat and touch building as Draco’s eyes again burned fire into him.
“No—I… Those people,” Harry choked out, arching on the floor. Draco didn’t say anything, just growled, wrapping the brunette tight in his arms while he filled the boy with his scalding seed. Harry bucked, clamping down on the spurting flesh, urging more even as tears streamed down his face. As if determined to destroy any sanity that could ever be when looking back at this memory, Draco reached between them, wrapped his fingers around Harry’s hard cock, and stroked. Harry came with a sob, pleasure and agony complete as his cum spouted in white trails over the blond’s hand and both their stomachs.
Then Draco left him, gone to see the destruction in the other room, Harry moaning fitfully on the floor while his frantic, numb mind tried to count how many heartbeats he had heard.
Seventeen. One Dark Lord. Fifteen Death Eaters. One Narcissa Malfoy, beaten bloodied and chained for trying to save her son.
SCENE #17 lives of guilt
Harry awoke shouting, sweating in the dark. Realizing he was in a small room of the infirmary, he slowly calmed his breathing. He curled in on himself, body bowing forward, knees tight against his chest. He had found a way, somehow, to deal with the lives he had stolen. Evil men and women. Evil, frightened people that had done terrible things so that they would not be harmed. All but that one. Draco’s mother.
He had passed out after the spell. His power had been depleted. The well of power had been his life energy. He hadn’t understood it at the time. He could have killed himself attempting what they had succeeded at. Draco hadn’t understood it either. Neither of them had known the consequences that came from killing Voldemort.
He and Draco never talked about the incident, if they ever talked at all. Harry had never been so connected and then so torn from another living being the way he had with Draco Malfoy. Part of him still ached, still felt those strange shimmering connections of power and emotion, especially after the dreams. But Draco hated him for losing control and killing his mother. And Harry hated himself for having killed everyone.
The veela had come for Draco shortly before Harry had recovered from the energy loss. They had taken the boy away, welcomed him into their tribe and given him a place of honor as an ambassador. Draco had stopped Voldemort from killing his veela brethren. Even though Draco had insisted from the beginning it had all been Harry’s doing. Harry’s unimaginable power. Harry’s fault.
He knew it was true. Draco never would have made such a mistake. The blond was perfectly controlled even when full of a lust potion. Harry wasn’t. He was just some explosive fuck up that couldn’t figure out how to control his power.
After the dreams, He could almost understand why Draco had done it. Both of them starting their seventh year of school, Draco’s veela friends coming down to wish the halfling farewell. He could understand why Draco would have sent those boys, cornering him in an empty classroom, glowing pale eyes at him until he could barely think straight. They had tried to touch him. Had wanted to break him. Rape him. No wonder Draco would want to hurt him as much as he hurt from losing his mother.
After the dreams, Harry wondered if it was wrong that he had fought back.
SCENE #Harry’s protectors
Sirius was waiting for Draco once he had finished his breakfast and found the nerve to check on Potter. It was still early morning, too early for Harry to be awake. Which only made it more surprising when he found his surly cousin sitting in a chair outside Harry’s door, wide awake and glaring at him.
“Black,” Draco said as way of greeting, eyes straying towards the closed door and then to the man. Sirius had been cleared of all charges shortly after Harry had killed Voldemort, Pettigrew’s body among the dead. He had taken to haunting Hogwarts. Draco had first thought it was a way to be next to Lupin, who had retaken the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor position, and then later figured out it had been to watch over Harry.
He could hardly blame the man. His godson was fucked in the head and needed all the watching he could get.
“What the hell happened to him, Malfoy?” Sirius asked, unfurling from the chair and straightening. He had a familiar menace in his eyes that always seemed to harden when looking at the blond. Draco had to assume Harry had told his godfather about the night they’d killed everyone. “Pomfrey told me some lust creature caught him in the forest. Was it one of yours? Are they still harassing him?”
“Harassing him?” Draco echoed, confused. The veela had shown a mild interest in Harry when Draco had explained how Voldemort had died by the boy’s unmatchable power. But veela really fucking hated humans so Draco didn’t think much about it. “Potter told me it was an enchancubus. A creature that changes its appearance to lure humans in. Not a veela,” Draco finally answered.
Sirius relaxed a bit, his glare losing some of its fire. “Fine,” he grunted. “Can you… Can you tell me how he’s doing? I’ve been out here for hours, and apparently no one but you can even go near him.”
Realizing he was dealing with just another overly worried parent even if Sirius was not quite related to Harry, Draco nodded. “Give me a second. I’m sure he’s sleeping but I can—”
“He’s awake,” Sirius said grimly.
Draco blinked, hand clasping the back of his neck beneath his ponytail. “He was so full of calming draught—”
“Trust me, veela boy. Harry is awake, pacing, and likely breaking things. He can’t be kept alone for long or he gets… twitchy.” Sirius snorted softly, glaring at the door to Harry’s room. “Remus is off talking to Poppy, trying to figure out the creature that did this to Harry. We can’t help him with the rogue…”
“And you know he won’t let you hunt it yourselves,” Draco finished, rolling his eyes. Potter was such a fucking stubborn, reckless thing and clearly his godfather knew it too. “I’ll be going with him today. There is no way I’m letting him out alone with that spell, or that damn enchancubus, for that matter.”
“Yes, well, Remus thought you might say something along those lines.” Again that piercing blue stare, as if trying to tear Draco apart for ever having touched Harry in the first place. Let the man glare. Potter was his and Draco wasn’t letting the boy go.
“Get on the other side of the room, Black,” Draco said sharply, turning towards the door. Sirius did eventually, grumbling under his breath. He made sure he was still in line with the door, wanting to let Harry know he was there even if he couldn’t help him at the moment.
Draco unlocked the door and pushed it open. Sure enough, Harry was awake, pacing topless, mid-step as he turned, relief on his face. Only to quickly scowl on seeing Draco.
“What the fuck do you want?” Harry grunted, hands on his hips. “Where’s Siri? He always visits me when…” he trailed off, focusing behind Draco’s wide shoulder. “Aw, crap. Better shut the door, then.”
Draco didn’t bother looking behind him, able to scent that Potter’s gruff godfather was more than a little aroused and fighting it. Draco shut the door behind him, making no move to go any further into the room. It was tight quarters as it was, Harry only getting a good five paces before hitting the wall and forced to turn. The room reeked of Potter, growing hornier and hornier as he just stood there. It was actually fascinating to watch if the damn scent wasn’t so intoxicating and Harry wasn’t so fucking sexy, golden skin healed and rippling toned muscles beneath.
“So, what the hell do you want?” Harry repeated angrily.
Draco wondered how long he could just stand there before the boy started punching. Probably not too long. Harry had torn off his cast, his arm healed and no longer in pain. He had also managed to rummage through the cabinets pulling blankets, one torn to shreds. There were feathers strewn about, a pillow not surviving whatever the hell was wrong with the kid.
“Honestly, I just wanted to see if your arm was better. I didn’t know you’d be up,” Draco said mildly, watching Harry’s expression become stormier with every careful word he said. He also smelled even nicer, the damn menace apparently having a thing for his voice. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” Harry snapped, pacing agitatedly, hand stuck in his messy hair. “I want out of this fucking room already.”
Draco nodded understandingly. “There’s two ways that can happen.”
Harry stilled his movements, glaring spectacularly in his direction. Draco couldn’t help but notice that Potter’s eyes would not stay still when looking at him, green drifting down idly over his tall form.
“You can wait for Pomfrey to figure out that antidote—”
“No fucking way!” Harry snarled.
Draco smirked, not at all surprised. “Or you can let me escort you. Understanding that if we run into people, I will have to use my call to protect you.”
“Shit—You can’t be serious!” Harry wailed loudly. He pushed his way to the door, Draco quickly stepping aside to keep from touching the brunette. “Siri! There’s got to be another way!”
Black, who had apparently been on the other side of the fucking door the entire time, gave a loud growl. “Sorry, Harry. It’s too strong of a spell. Let the damn veela help you for now. Remi’s on the case and we’ll have this sorted in no time.”
Draco raised a brow, not sure if he was glad to be considered a help or just sick of being referred to as a veela. “Potter, what do you want to eat?” He asked, ready to get the fuck away from Harry’s very delicious, topless form.
“Shit, like I care? Just food, Malfoy.”
“Fine. Black, will you kindly back the fuck away again?” He snapped, slamming his hand on the door. Harry jumped from the sound, Draco glancing back to find the brunette biting the side of his thumb while staring blatantly at his ass. Fucking Potter. Draco threw the door open, shutting it too harshly behind him while trying to collect himself in the hall.
“Malfoy, if you lay a goddamn—”
“Finish that sentence and I will tear your fucking face off, cousin,” Draco warned lowly, hands combing fitfully through his hair as he tried to focus on the pain and not think about the fucking rabid thoughts of Harry gasping underneath him.
“Nice to see you two are getting along,” Remus said wryly, stepping in from the adjoining hall and softly closing the door. “Siri, maybe you should stop growling at the boy?”
“Like hell. He’s clearly lusting over Harry. Why he’s even allowed in this school with so many young students at risk, is beyond me.”
Draco hissed, pulling his hair harder, eyes glinting open to glare at the annoying man. “Want to lock me away, Black? At least when I lose control you don’t have to worry about me turning people into slavering, vicious beasts.”
“You obnoxious, arrogant—”
“Enough,” Remus said, his normally mild voice steely with authority. “Whether we like it or not, Malfoy is the only one that can help Harry right now. Insulting him is not going to make that job any easier. Hell, Harry is going to make it tough enough.”
Draco and Sirius glared at each other, Sirius finally backed down with a huff. He tilted his head towards the exit, looking meaningfully back at Harry’s door. Draco rolled his eyes, annoyed to realize the boy was probably listening to everything they were saying. He grudgingly followed when the men led him out into the hall.
“Can you control yourself, Malfoy?” Remus asked softly, not reacting when Draco scowled at the question. “He’s enchanted and you’re responding to him. You… you have difficulty with him. I know it and I’m sorry to ask this of you.”
“What the hell do you know of my difficulties, Lupin?” Draco growled back. Only to get a face full of Sirius when the man grabbed him by the collar.
“Do not talk to him that way, you arrogant sod!”
“Siri, stop—Shit,” Remus groaned, backpedaling when Draco’s eyes started glowing in defense.
“Fucking… veela,” Sirius muttered, glaring as hard as he could until he couldn’t any longer, his hand reaching up to touch Draco’s face.
“Back off, you uppity bastard,” Draco ordered, pushing the man back with the flat of his hand. “Unless you want to be on your knees… That’s what I thought.” Draco snapped his eyes shut, willing the pull to stop, hating that even rooms away he could feel Harry every time the pull glowed, the brunette’s energy responding to his call.
“As you can both see, I am in control of myself,” he said too hoarsely.
“You’re struggling,” Remus replied pointedly, glaring warningly at Sirius until the man growled and walked down the hall. “Harry’s messing you up.”
Eyes narrowing on the man, Draco had to wonder when the hell he had become so bloody transparent. Two days ago no one would have dared suggest he could get messed up by Harry, having been a block of ice whenever around the boy. “I am not—”
“You are. Is it the spell on him? Is that the problem?”
Gritting his teeth, Draco shook his head. “There is no problem.”
Glancing to side at Sirius’s quiet form, Remus leaned closer to speak into Draco’s ear. “Malfoy, I have dealt with a lot of veela in my day and I know a lovesick one when I see it. And I do mean sick.” Hissing, Draco glared down at his boots. “Harry is fucking you up and if you can’t handle his energy then you need to tell me now. Because if you hurt him, I will not be able to protect you from what his very explosive godfather is going to do to you.”
Draco really fucking hated werewolves with their over sensitive noses and goddamn perceptive brains. “I’m fine, Lupin.”
“You’re sweating.”
Draco growled, touching the back of his neck hastily. Sure enough, he was dripping sweat. “Shit—What the fuck is wrong with me?”
“You came out of his room like that,” Remus disclosed. “What did he say to you? Did he touch you? If you can single it out, maybe you can prevent it from repeating.”
Draco shook his head, not remembering anything particularly different. “He was bitching at me, like he always does. Reeking of sex, like he always fucking is. Pacing like a damn loon… He tore the room apart. Never seen him do that before,” he added offhandedly.
“He does that after nightmares,” Remus mussed. “Do your kind pick up on fear? Did you scent his nightmares?”
Draco shrugged, having no idea. “He poisons me enough with his twisted energy. If there is anything to smell besides sex on that kid, I have no fucking clue.”
Sirius made a growling sound, Remus shooting him a warning look. “He does reek of sex and you know it. For months now, ever since…” He trailed off, brown eyes fixing on Draco’s meaningfully.
“You know what would make this worlds easier?” Sirius grumbled, stomping back towards the two of them. “If someone would tell us what the hell happened that night. What broke him so? Why he won’t even say your bloody name without his face twisting in so much hurt that I want to break something—Namely you!” He slammed his hand down on the wall beside Draco, glaring menacingly.
“Fuck off, Black. If he doesn’t want to tell you, that’s his business.” Draco could had sworn Harry had told them. Could not understand why he hadn’t because these two annoying, over-protective men would clearly do anything for the boy.
“He is hurting and won’t let us help him,” Sirius growled. “All he will say is that he hates veela, and I wish it was just you and I could know for certain, but it’s not. He hates them all and I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what an entire race of people could have done to him.”
Again a flutter of worry wormed its way into Draco’s gut, his mind stuttering on the idea of Harry and his veela brethren. Harry had never met his people. He had been nearly dead when Draco had gone off to meet them and learn their ways. The only opportunity would have been when a small group had traveled with him to Hogwarts at the beginning of the year, but they had been with him in the Slytherin dorms the entire time. Draco had kept close tabs on them, realizing just how little they thought of the humans in the castle.
“I don’t know what to tell you, cousin. He has plenty of reason to hate me. Reasons he can tell you if he chooses. I sure as hell won’t speak them,” Draco muttered, pushing away from the wall.
“Please, Malfoy,” Remus spoke up, his damn eyes brimming with concern. “He’s hurting so badly. If we knew what happened…”
“What? You think you can fix it?” Draco closed his eyes, smirking humorlessly. “There’s no fixing it. I fucked up; he killed everyone. Whenever he looks at me he will see seventeen dead people staring back. He will never stop hating me and I… Well, I deserve it.” He took a step backwards, turning on his heel.
“What are you saying?” Sirius said gruffly, grabbing Draco by the arm before he could leave.
Draco flinched from the touch, fingers twitching with the urge to tear the man’s hand away. “I was damn clear, Black. I fucked up.”
“He said it was on purpose. That he killed all of them to escape. They were going to kill you and him, and he had to do the worst.”
“Yeah, well, Potter lies a lot,” Draco grunted, pulling from the hold. “You-Know-Who was the only one that was supposed to die.” And he would’ve been, if Draco hadn’t been so weak.
Harry’s power had been so great, so dazzling to his senses, he could not contain his own. He had lost control of the room, lost his focus on Voldemort, and everyone had been pulled in to Harry’s death blow. He had killed his mother, had killed parents to his friends, relatives and strangers all because he had been too weak. And then Harry had shouldered the burden, like the idiotic martyr that he was, and quickly deteriorated from the weight of it all.
Draco walked away before anymore questions could be asked, ducking around corners and into a corridor, heading for the Great Hall and some proper food for Harry.
That he had thrown himself into schoolwork and prefect duties while managing to not speak to the many students with relatives he had killed was hardly a consequence in comparison. Because he was some weird, half veela freak to be avoided. Stared at most of the time because students couldn’t help but stare, and the rest of the time because they hated him for the attention he got. Some—like Goyle and Parkinson—actually thought he was just like them, losing both parents in one night. Not knowing Draco had been the reason their parents had died. Not knowing he had killed his own father intentionally in a fit of rage so complete, he still could not remember fully how he had done it.
Draco refused to talk with any of his old friends anymore and they didn’t seem to mind. He frightened them with his new powers. Slytherins had never been big on halflings to begin with even though their histories were soaked in them. He didn’t mind being an outcast. He found it easier than pretending.
Harry could lie all he liked while Draco didn’t bother. He knew there was a darkness inside him and had no wish to corrupt anyone else with it. He had already hurt so many and his heart—His heart still longed for the one he had hurt the most. It was better if he was alone. He had broken the beautiful boy and did not deserve to be near him anymore.
Touching his energy had destroyed something in Harry’s head. It had made the brunette smell of sex and lash out like some wild animal. Whatever he was, it would surely only hurt others.
SCENE #A simple kiss
Harry’s return to the Forbidden Forest was very different from yesterday’s. For one, he was dressed appropriately, if not somewhat embarrassingly. Dumbledore had insisted on armor if he was determined to return to the hunt. Fine enough, but it was the charmed, lightweight stuff that did not work with additional clothing. He was in skintight leather pants—and he did stress skintight because every time he caught a glimpse of Malfoy it was very clear there was nothing left for the imagination. Harry had made sure to use a concealing charm on his, not interested in revealing to his silent companion just how fucking hot he thought the Slytherin looked in his armor. They wore no shirts, their vitals covered by heavy fire hide that held so much heat he found himself sweating even with his arms and sides exposed. Along with the strong leather boots, his outfit allowed him to be completely limber and silent in movement and he knew if anything tried to grab onto him, it would have a difficult time holding.
He had not expected Malfoy to come along, having hoped the boy would stay behind and play nursemaid for the parents still roaming the school. He wasn’t sure what to anticipate, having not been in the forest with the boy for many years. Distracting was a word that kept jumping to mind, especially when Draco would suddenly dash ahead, crouching low, sometimes wrestling something to the ground, sometimes stunning it instead with his wand. Very fucking distracting in leather pants and a nearly bare back, his spine and shoulder blades covered by the armor and not much else from the backside.
They had been able to leave the castle without incident, Madame Pomfrey clearing their path of students and teachers before he was even let out of his room. An absolute relief, given that he had still been dizzy from feeling the trickle of Draco’s pull when the boy had been arguing with Sirius and had not wanted to repeat the daze. His godfather had this grudge against Draco and most Slytherins in general and Harry hadn’t felt arsed to do much about it. The more people that took his side in thinking Malfoy was a prat to be avoided, the better.
Walking into another low hanging branch when Malfoy suddenly appeared out of the foliage to carefully float a sunning snake off of the path, Harry cursed heatedly under his breath, glaring at the boy. Malfoy glanced over his shoulder at him, silver eyes lingering just a little too long on his bare arms and tight pants and then looked away, stunning something that was about to drop out of a tree on top of him.
“You know, if you bitch a little louder, I’m sure half these critters would run at the sound of you,” Draco said offhandedly, stilling so Harry could catch up.
“Well, we can’t all be fucking tiptoed ballerinas out here,” Harry snapped back, every step he took somehow five times louder than the taller, heavier boy’s.
“Bitter, are we?” Draco asked, spinning his wand idly between his fingers. “You’re actually not that loud. Except for all the swearing. That is quite loud and likely going to get us killed.”
“Actually, it’s going to keep the smarter things away,” Harry said, stomping his foot down and scaring off whatever had been rustling in a bush up ahead.
“And the stupid things that just think you sound like bumbling prey?” Draco asked, eyebrow raised.
“They’re stupid and deserve what I do to them,” Harry said with a shrug. He had not had to actually attack anything just yet, Malfoy ridiculously efficient and alert to every goddamn thing around them. As if to prove just how damn alert Draco was, the boy suddenly shot his hand out, just missing Harry’s face as he caught something.
“You just got yourself stung by a bee, didn’t you?” Harry commented, watching Draco’s face twist in a grimace of pain.
Draco nodded, his fist tightening. “I can’t always turn it off.”
Harry found himself staring at the boy, Draco’s eyes sharpening as they looked towards something only he could hear. “Do you like it in the forest, being half veela and all?”
Draco nodded, his hand opening to drop the dead insect, eyes glancing back to Harry’s. “It’s peaceful, yet alive with danger. Wakes me up. Gives all these damn senses a reason to sense.” Glancing down, he very carefully plucked a feather that had managed to fall on the brunette’s shoulder, smirking slightly. “Hell, you’re even bearable out here.”
He didn’t know if he should be angry or go with the more annoying feeling of arousal to have Malfoy looking at him that way. Anger won and he glared, stepping ahead and stunning the next damn thing that dared move.
“We’re coming up on the clearing,” Harry said after another fifteen minutes of silent walking. The trip had been faster this time, Malfoy clearing the path easily. He did his best not to feel impressed. “I want you to hang back and let me deal with Dren. He’s not expecting company and I don’t want to overwhelm him.”
“Your guide?” Draco asked, again suddenly at his shoulder as if he hadn’t just been wrestling something half a yard back. Harry glanced over to the boy, Draco’s face flushed, eyes glowing slightly. It must be the forest. Malfoy really did just come alive out there in all the green.
“Don’t get too close to him,” Harry said, stopping suddenly as he saw the tall guardian tree rising up in the distance. “He weaves magic and I have a feeling he’d have no qualms using it on you.”
“Weaves?” Draco’s eyes narrowed, Harry watching with interest when the boy suddenly stepped away and sneered. “When you say weave, do you mean…?”
“There’s only one type of fucking magic that weaves,” Harry said bluntly, refusing to get into it. “I don’t know if you’ll be immune or even more susceptible. Not interested in finding out. He might look like somebody you know. Someone you might, well… you’ll see.” He shrugged another annoying feeling away.
Whoever Malfoy saw when looking at the enchancubus, it would be someone he’d want to fuck. Badly. So much so that a simple lust spell could make him give in. Harry had determined that Malfoy was never going to look at him the way he did that fucked up night almost a year ago when dosed with a lust spell. It didn’t mean he wanted to see the boy look at Dren that way. Or at anyone else, for that matter.
“Trust me, Potter, whatever the damn thing is, I won’t be getting caught in any weaving,” Draco said haughtily, a hard note in his voice.
Now at the edge of the clearing, Harry could make out Dren, sitting bored under the tree, staring up at the branches dotted with heavy, blue fruit. He went to step into the glade, surprised when Draco grabbed his shoulder and held him still.
“Potter, when you say he might look like someone…”
Harry glanced the boy’s way, Draco glaring at Dren’s calm form. “Anyone you know?” He asked, eyes following, taking in Dren’s very long, white-blond hair and bright pale skin.
Draco pulled his gaze away, glancing at Harry and then quickly letting his shoulder go. “I don’t want to say.”
“That’s your right,” he said with a shrug, having no interest in telling Malfoy that Dren looked just like him. He stepped into the clearing, catching the softest of humming as he approached the boy. Even though he wasn’t as quiet as Malfoy, he was apparently quiet enough to still sneak up on Dren, the enchancubus giving a small start when he came into view.
“Hi, Dren,” Harry said, keeping his distance when the boy jumped to his feet.
“Pretty one, I was wondering if you were going to make it. You look… Well, I’d say prepared, but for what, I’m not so sure.” the enchancubus smiled seductively, taking in his armor and leather, walking around him slowly. Harry held his hand up when Dren tried to touch him, shaking his head.
“Dren, you cast a spell on me. I need you to remove it.” He spoke evenly, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. He did not wish to upset the creature, just get the damn spell off of him.
“Has it not worked?” Dren asked, full of disbelief. “Harry, it was potent. That spell has never failed to…” He trailed off, head turning as Draco suddenly stalked into the glade. “You brought someone?”
“To help with the rogue,” Harry muttered, annoyed that Malfoy had completely ignored what he had said and had come in without being signaled.
“Potter, get away from him,” Draco demanded, his wand raised and pointed straight at Dren.
“Malfoy, put your fucking wand down. I don’t need your goddamn help and I sure as fuck don’t need you scaring our guide.”
“He is weaving a spell. Now get the fuck away,” Draco said tightly, his eyes never leaving Dren’s face.
Except, to Draco, Dren was shorter, making it look to Harry like he was glaring at the boy’s mouth. Harry suppressed a very inappropriate smile, glancing back and forth between the two lookalikes. He was feet away from a Malfoy sandwich, the idea more than interesting when it was suddenly standing before him.
As if reading his mind, both blonds turned to stare at him at the same time, Dren smirking as he eyed Harry, Draco very much glaring in frustration. “For fuck sake, Potter, must you smell like that right now?” Draco snarled angrily.
Harry scratched the back of his head, brows furrowed. “Smell?”
Draco threw his hands up in exasperation. “Yes, smell! No wonder you’re being accosted out in the goddamn forest. Every time a beast comes near you, you start reeking of sex. Is there something wrong with your bloody wiring? Do deadly, vicious creatures just do it for you? This damn doppelganger is trying to get into your pants and you’re damn near giving him reason, you bloody imbecile!”
Glaring at the exasperated boy, Harry raised his chin defiantly. He did not get off on vicious beasts, so much as watching Draco in skin tight clothing kill said beasts. It was an extremely arousing sight and he did not feel embarrassed by the fact at all even if he would not be explaining it to the blond. “What exactly are you saying, Malfoy? That you can smell when I get hard?”
“Right, focus on that tidbit in all of this,” Draco hissed. “Not that you’re drooling over every goddamn monster I killed on the way here. No, apparently me being able to smell your overwhelming sex scent is the point in everything I said.”
“You do smell very nice, pretty one,” Dren said softly, eyes following as Draco waved his wand in frustration. “Why don’t you leave your friend here, and I can help you deal with all that—”
“Back off, you bloody manipulative predator,” Draco growled, renewing his target on the enchancubus. “If you touch him, so help me, you will not live to regret it.”
“Malfoy, seriously, I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you, but you better fucking stop it.” Harry stepped between the two, forcing Draco’s arm down and glaring up at the boy who was still fixing a death gaze at Dren.
“Tell him to take the spell off of you, Potter. We will deal with the rest after,” Draco said tightly.
Harry huffed. “That’s what I was trying to do when you fucking interrupted. Stop being a damn nuisance.” He turned to Dren, trying to look apologetic instead of pissed. “Dren, I really need that spell taken off of me.”
Staring at Draco warily, Dren gave a small sigh. “I cannot, Harry. It is the type of magic that must run its course. I did not expect it would have lasted this long even. The spell is very strong.”
“Er… What exactly was the spell, Dren? You never really explained the point of it all,” Harry said worriedly, anxiety building. It didn’t help that Malfoy was growling, sounding more like an overprotective Sirius at the moment.
“Isn’t it obvious, Potter? The damn thing wants to fuck you,” Draco said sharply, his arm again twitching as if to raise his wand. Harry grabbed it without looking, keeping his eyes trained on Dren in front of him.
“Shut up, Malfoy. Siccing a castle full of students on me just doesn’t really align with that idea. Dren, please. You said it was to help me find someone. I thought you had meant the rogue, but I can see that was really dumb now.” Harry ignored Draco’s huff, tightening his grip when the blond made to pull away.
“No, that would not be a wise spell indeed, Harry,” Dren said with a weak smile. “It is a spell to help the one you see when you look at me pay you some attention, that’s all. You’re a very pretty thing and it just seems a shame that you are being ignored. Once he kisses you, the spell will cease.”
Heart beating in his chest, Harry very slowly stepped away from a loudly growling Draco, releasing the boy’s arm in the process. “Dren, please tell me there is another way.” He couldn’t kiss Malfoy. He couldn’t tear that raw wound open any wider than it already was after yesterday and the damn dream again and just—No. He just couldn’t do it.
“Stop your damn whimpering, Potter. After we kill the rogue, we’ll hunt down the stupid sod of a boy and have him kiss you,” Draco muttered, pocketing his wand. “Just a kiss, right? Nothing else?”
“Just a kiss,” Dren agreed, eyes following as Harry swayed unsteadily. “Although, if the spell has caused him such trouble, I have to wonder if there isn’t something off about his boy. Why would so many chase him when it was meant for only one?”
“Potter plus magic never ends in the results you expect,” Draco muttered under his breath, also watching as Harry continued to stare at his shoes, blinking dumbly. He reached over, poking the brunette’s shoulder, the boy starting and nearly falling over in his surprise. “Who’s the boy, Potter?”
Harry blanched, stepping away. “No one, Malfoy. It’s… Just forget it,” he whispered hollowly, wishing he had never come into the forest, had never found the glade, and had never, ever, ever seen Dren up in the tree.
“Forget it? Scarhead, I am not spending the rest of my school year following you around just to keep the students off of you,” Draco snapped, folding his arms over his chest. Harry couldn’t help but notice that the blond’s voice had a hard edge to it as if he was fighting back the urge to start hexing things. “What’s the big fucking deal? One kiss to stop all the pawing you hate so much. It seems like a breeze.”
“I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t realize it would be so difficult on you,” Dren said softly, reaching a hand to gently touch the boy’s shoulder. “The spell truly should work. Just find your Draco and he will…”
Harry winced, ducking his head and refusing to look at the suddenly very motionless Slytherin. “Dren, could you not, like, talk right now?” He mumbled weakly. Could this day get any fucking worse?
“Potter?” Draco growled, voice full of something he did not wish to try and identify.
“Shut up, Malfoy. Just fucking let it drop and leave me the fuck alone,” he said lowly, glaring over at Dren.
“Like fuck.” Draco snagged Harry by the collar of his armor, pulling the boy back. “He looks like me?”
Harry glared, fighting the too strong grip. “So? Who the fuck cares? It’s just some goddamn enchantment.”
Draco grinned widely, revealing sharp, pointed fangs. “Yeah? Then why the fuck could I smell him all over you?”
“God dammit, I fucking can’t stand you!” Harry shouted, tearing at his armor until the blond relented and released him. “Shit, you couldn’t fucking let it go, could you? Just had to stick your nose where it didn’t belong—I’m not fucking kissing you, Malfoy. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I let you anywhere near my lips, you arrogant pain in the ass!”
“Stop. Just, everyone please calm down.” Eyes wide, Dren carefully pulled Harry away, placing the boy behind him so he could rest on the tree and regain his composure. “I am beginning to see where things have gone wrong, pretty one. He is similar to me.”
“Hardly,” Draco glared, making no move to approach even though his fingers were twitching on his wand again. “I’m half veela and impervious to most sex magic. Your spell must have bounced off me and is hitting everyone else.”
“It is a very simple solution,” Dren said, looking confused that neither boy seemed interested in it. “It’s just a kiss. A conscious mixing of saliva and desires.”
“Yes, well, we are not simple people,” Draco snapped bitterly.
“But you must see him as well, pale one! I can see it in your eyes—You see Harry when you gaze upon me. Why are you two so full of anger and spite?”
Draco grunted, glaring at Harry and then abruptly walking away towards the edge of the glade. He paced their agitatedly, swearing under his breath.
“Just drop it, Dren,” Harry muttered, wishing he was surprised that Malfoy saw him as well, but he wasn’t. He was fucking doomed to be tied to Draco at every goddamn turn and still never truly have him.
“It doesn’t make sense, Harry. The two of you—You are drawn to each other. You are—”
“Seriously, just stop.” He sighed wearily, running a hand through his hair. “We came here to kill the rogue. This other shit can wait for now. We’re losing daylight, and… Hell, I’m already tired. Whatever you’re taking with you, gather it. It’s time to go.”
Biting his lip, Dren nodded curtly. He ducked behind the trunk of the tree, wrapping a cloak with a hood over him, his face hidden from sight. Harry immediately felt some relief, not realizing just how distracting it was to live in a world where two gorgeous Draco Malfoy’s could coexist. Shaking his head, he checked his hip for his wand and blades, following after the enchancubus.
SCENE #The rogue
They walked in silence, Harry following Dren closely while Draco slipped into the trees around them, using his unique senses to sight any danger. That Malfoy had chosen to play shadow guard was a great relief, the extra distance definitely the defining factor in them not arguing and Harry not getting distracted. He was having a hard enough time trying to shut his brain down from its constant ramblings back to the fucked up revelations of earlier. He was going to have to kiss the prat. If he wanted to be able to walk through the castle unaccosted, he was going to have to kiss Malfoy.
He wasn’t sure there would ever be a moment when that idea was not full of dread and pain. Kissing Dren, if the enchancubus had allowed it, would not have been like kissing Malfoy and not just because Dren did not know how to kiss like the blond. No, it was because veela connected with energy, Harry remembering very well what that felt like. He would not just be kissing Malfoy’s lips, he would be kissing his essence, and that, after being so connected and then violently torn from it once before, just seemed completely cruel and brutal. That Malfoy agreed, glaring and now killing more than stunning whatever got in their way, only highlighted the reality of how terrible a situation he had gotten them both into.
Once near its hunting lands, the rogue’s influence in the woods was very obvious. The destruction alone with no care of the victims, was a sign that this animal was not in its right mind. Dren had called it the maddened one and it surely was.
Harry stilled as they cleared a hill, the body of some sort of large animal coming into sight among the fallen leaves of a dead tree. Its stomach had been gutted, entrails spilling onto the ground in a gory path. Looking closely, besides the attack wounds, Harry could find no signs of it being touched. Unusual for a corpse a few days old in the life filled forest.
“None will feed on his prey,” Dren said softly, eyes sliding around cautiously. “It reeks of his taint.”
Harry nodded in understanding. The children attacked by the rogue had all fallen to a strange illness that left them delusional and violent. The main reason he was out there was to recover the rogue’s body so Madame Pomfrey could find some sort of cure. Harry stepped around the gutted feline, careful not to disturb the earth near it, pausing mid step. He raised his hand, signaling to Draco silently ahead while indicating to Dren to step back. He waited until he could sense Draco motionless and waiting before carefully using his wand to blow a breeze of air, clearing the pile of leaves and dirt around the body.
Seven small bodies lay on the ground. Two birds that had died from tasting the corpse and five young cubs. Harry bit his lip, exhaling sharply as he realized the mother had died protecting her children. For some inexplicable reason, he was reminded of Narcissa Malfoy and his own mother, something twisting inside him at the thought. Three of the cubs were definitely dead, their bodies collapsing in on them once their life had fled. He wasn’t sure, but he thought the other two breathing shallowly could be saved if they acted quickly enough.
“They are cursed,” Dren warned, tugging at Harry’s shoulder. “Once touched by the maddened one, death is welcome.”
Narrowing his eyes, Harry watched the slow movement of breath from the two balls of fur stained with dirt and their mother’s blood. “They’re not wounded, just undernourished. If I leave them, they’ll die of exposure like the other three.” He crouched lower, crooning softly so as not to startle the sleeping duo. He cast a few healing spells on each and a charm for serendipity to help them hold on until Madame Pomfrey could care for them properly.
“How much further to its lair?” Harry asked, peering ahead where he could just make out Malfoy, the boy facing out towards the forest.
“Nearly half an hour if walking at this pace.”
Straightening, Harry cast a shielding spell on the two cubs and carefully covered them back in the leaves. They would only be a handicap for the battle ahead, and he was done with unnecessary deaths. “Be strong, little ones. I’ll be back soon.” Ignoring Dren’s disapproving look, he signaled to Malfoy that they were ready to move. Hopefully the cubs would still be alive by the time they had dealt with the rogue.
Harry couldn’t trust Dren to help him in the battle. If the enchancubus was a warrior, he hid it well. So far he had only seen Dren use innate sex magic. He didn’t move the same way Malfoy did out of the glade, instead his steps tense and anxious with too much noise. He was hoping the guide would not be a hindrance once the fighting began. If Dren spent all his time hiding in the glade luring prey in, he may not be competent to defend himself outside of his home, even if living in the Forbidden Forest. There was probably a reason why Dren’s kind were so rare.
Catching Draco’s signal, Harry threw his arm out and halted Dren. He scanned the trees carefully, eyes falling on another body of a beast to the left, its dark fur too thick to decipher. But Malfoy wasn’t looking at the corpse. He was staring off ahead, his wand drawn and form tense in anticipation. Harry followed his gaze, sighting the movement far in the distance through the trees. From here he couldn’t tell what it was but he could see the creature was agitated, throwing itself into trees and bushes, stopping to roll on the the ground and snap at its own shoulders. The coloring was wrong, too light to be the rogue. But it may have caught the madness if it had survived an attack, and it was clearly a threat.
They all watched motionless as the creature made its lumbering approach, running into every obstacle in reach. They kept silent, hoping to avoid confrontation. It could be blind, for all its crashing and tripping. Yards away from Draco, close enough to make out the blood matting the wolf’s bright gray pelt, that notion was dismissed when the creature noticed them.
“Garruth,” Dren muttered, eyes softening to something akin to pity. “He has been tainted. The forest will mourn greatly at his loss.”
Warning shooting up his spine, Harry had only a moment to catch Draco’s eyes focus behind him in shock before a body crashed into him, thick fur tickling his skin even as unrelenting steel muscle threw him to the ground. Harry tried to use the momentum to roll, but his attacker was far too heavy and he felt his left arm snap when he jarred into the ground, suffocated by heat and fur.
Time slowed as gaping jaws filled with rows of dripping teeth and scalding breath came at his face. Harry’s body moved without conscious thought. In an instant his right hand was grasping the furry jaw, his wand biting into his palm while it was crushed into the beast’s throat. His power channeled through his arm and into his hand, exploding out and momentarily blinding him as flesh splattered down in a gory, hot rain.
His brain jarred to reality, screaming that the gray wolf was still approaching and far too close to Malfoy for him to be able to help. The full weight of his overgrown attacker slumped limp, its black fur threatening to smother him. Fighting his initial panic, Harry choked out a Wingardium Leviosa, the body wrenching and jolting, so heavy it didn’t want to float. He forced the thing away, barely acknowledging the chunks of flesh that had slipped through his armor and were squelching against his skin. Rolling, he stumbled to his feet one-handedly, looking frantically around until he found Draco wrestling with the wolf, Dren frozen and staring at the scene in horror.
Running unsteadily, Harry hit the wolf with numerous stunners, careful to avoid hurting Draco. He broke through the heavy underbrush, thorns sliding over his boots ineffectively, dagger already in hand as he noticed the spells were having no effect on the magical being. He was only feet away when Draco gave a sudden, power filled shout and sent the creature careening, the wolf crunching sickeningly into a tree trunk.
Harry stood panting, trying to push down the very annoying feeling of panic that he had just been full of, not to mention the quickly rising desire from seeing Malfoy throw something twice his weight across the damn forest with ease. The boy was fucking strong.
Growling at his fucked up head, Harry sheathed his dagger and crouched beside the blond. “Did it bite you?” He asked roughly.
Silver eyes suddenly snapped to his, Harry freezing under the heated stare. Malfoy was in half glow, feathers just starting to peak through his hair, talons fully formed, fangs long and sharp. Harry cautiously sat back, not sure if Draco was all there just yet, the boy full of blood lust and forest. And then the blond was suddenly gone, moving so swiftly, Harry could barely track his movements only to find Draco stopped in front of the wolf he had thrown.
Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, Harry got back to his feet, turning and checking on Dren. The enchancubus was unharmed, if not a bit green tinged from all the blood.
“Keep watch,” Harry ordered, the cloaked boy trembling but nodding in reply. Harry returned to his attacker, eyes running over the dark beast. It was the rogue and it looked about as dead as you could get. Its throat was the equivalent of a mangled pile of hamburger but Harry still checked for breathing. He had already been fooled once by thinking it was dead and would not make the mistake again.
The wolf, Garruth, was alive and conscious. Its back was broken, blood dripping from its muzzle where it had bit its tongue. There was a sharpness to his eyes reflecting intelligence when he approached. Malfoy was on the other side of the tree, not speaking, not moving, barely breathing. Harry spared the boy a glance, hoping he wasn’t going full veela in the middle of the damn forest.
“Do you speak?” Harry asked the wolf, careful to stay out of reach of its fangs.
The wolf huffed for air, a low growl ripping from its throat. Kill me.
Harry rolled his eyes. It was always death or honor with some sorts and he found it absolutely useless. “Why did you attack us?”
Kill me!
Harry stepped back from its snapping jaws and scowled. “Answer the fucking question. Why did you attack? Are you tainted and unable to control yourself, or are you just a massive dick, hurting anyone that comes your way?” When the wolf continued to growl, Harry turned. “Dren! Can you vouch for him?”
“Yes. He’s…” Dren swallowed hard, stepping up slowly. “He is experiencing the first signs of the madness. We should honor his wish for death.”
“Like fuck,” Harry muttered, kicking a tree root. “Malfoy, you got your shit together yet? We might have a live test subject if you’re willing to not go all murderous veela on him.”
When Draco didn’t respond, Harry chanced another peek the boy’s way. From the angle, all he could see was Draco holding his wrist, and he quickly rounded the tree to make sure the boy hadn’t been bit. “Are you tainted? We can—Crap.” Harry groaned, Draco’s eyes very much burning molten silver as they moved over him.
“Potter, was it because he looked like me?” Draco asked quietly, his voice sliding across Harry’s ears like the softest, most exquisite silk.
“W-What?” Harry asked, trying to fight the pull slowly curling up his legs, warm trickles of desire that had no place being there at the moment. Except that he got really hot when seeing Malfoy beat the crap out of things and the blond could apparently smell it on him.
“You let him touch you. You don’t let anyone touch you.” Draco reached his hand out, peeling a chunk of slick fur and flesh off of Harry’s chest, the brunette whimpering from the contact of warm fingers. “I want to know what made him so fucking special that you would let him touch you.”
Feeling very weak in the knees all of a sudden, Harry struggled to step away. Draco wouldn’t let him, fingers clasping around one of the metal buckles connecting the leather of his armor, holding him in place. “Malfoy… you’re losing your shit,” Harry gasped out, fighting another groan when Draco roughly pulled him close, armor knocking into armor.
“Tell me… Tell me it was because he looked like me,” Draco whispered, mouth breathing hot air over Harry’s ear and neck. “Tell me that you’d never want another unless you thought they were me.”
Whining low in the back of his throat, Harry fought to keep his eyes shut against the searing silver. “Get… bent.”
Draco growled, claws prickling the boy’s skin as he grabbed Harry’s hips and pulled him tight against his body. “Damn you—Let me have this one fucking thing, Potter! Before I lose my mind. Just tell me. Please, my beautiful… please?” He finished, his anger fading to plead softly in Harry’s ear.
“Fuck,” Harry muttered, hating the vulnerability in Draco’s voice, the absolute, unignorable raw need. Why was he doing this? Why the fuck did the boy have to care that he had thought of him when with Dren? Why, after months of ignoring him beyond their occasional spats of angry bickering, did Malfoy have to touch him and call him beautiful? He hated him. Malfoy hated him and would never forgive him, so why was he doing this?
“Please. Can you feel how crazy it makes me? To know you… you touched someone. Let someone touch you.” Draco ran his hands up Harry’s sides, burrowing his face against the boy’s neck. “You let someone taste you. Hear your cries of pleasure. Those are mine, Harry.”
Harry moaned, Draco’s mouth opening wide, teeth scraping against the skin of his throat, palms grasping his flesh hard. His heart ached and flesh burned all at once, and he could not understand how he had ever confused Dren for Draco. Draco’s hands were so much stronger, so forceful and passionate, his energy rising up in a haze of shimmery silver to pull him down into the absolute heat and darkness of his desire.
“Can you feel it?” Draco growled, fingers digging into Harry’s back and dragging down over his muscles. “How deep it runs. How strong it is. That is how far you reach into me.”
“Oh god, Draco,” Harry gasped, his body shaking uncontrollably. How did he do this to him with just one touch? Just twisted him round, stole all his reason and anger and the last of his fucking sanity—So damn easily.
“You’re still mine, right? You’re still my beautiful one?” Draco asked, despair brimming in his voice, infecting the energy surrounding the two until all Harry could feel was the boy’s unceasing pain. “Please, Harry. Please… I need you.”
Swallowing hard, Harry pushed weakly at Draco’s shoulders. “You’re… you’re sick, Malfoy. I c-can feel it. It’s, uh, it’s on your chest and it’s fucking with your head.”
“No!” Draco snarled, pulling Harry’s head back by his hair. “This is real. This is how I… how I feel for you.”
“He bit you,” Harry whispered, turning his face away before Draco could kiss and infect him too. “I can feel it in your energy. It’s spreading.”
“Why won’t you listen to me? Do I mean so fucking little to you?” Draco cupped the boy’s face, fingers biting in, voice full of sorrow. “I know I… I hurt you. I know I took what wasn’t mine… But god, I felt it, Harry. All those new senses all said you wanted me back. That you—That you cared. Didn’t you feel me too? Couldn’t you feel how deep you reached inside me?”
Harry did not know when he had started crying, just that it was difficult to keep his eyes shut fully while fighting tears. “You have to let me go, Draco. I can get you back, but you have to calm down.”
“I don’t want to go back. I will die in this fucking forest if I have to,” Draco hissed out. “Just tell me, beautiful. I need to know you can still feel me. That… that I’m not alone with this… this unbearable ache inside.”
Sobbing from the full weight of that ache, Harry refused to answer. And then, when he felt the taller boy dip his head to kiss him, he quickly covered his mouth. “Saliva. You’re infectious. I need you to step back,” he whispered hollowly. “You need to stun yourself so that I can get you to the castle safely. Please, Draco.”
Harry fought the urge to open his eyes, fought the desire to see if Draco truly looked as real as he sounded because surely it was just the quickly spiraling madness of the rogue’s illness flowing through the halfling’s veins. Draco pulled away with a groan, Harry listening intently for signs that he might run or attack or just hurt himself like all the infected did. But none of that came, just one spell, Draco stunning himself and quickly crumpling to the ground.
Eyes cracking open, Harry stared down, wiping viciously at his wet cheeks. He could still feel it inside, the unbearable ache, the need for the boy he had tried so hard to stomp down inside. It was misery; hot and cold, full and empty, and just too much to bear for one person.
“What a fucking shit couple of days,” he muttered, crouching and arranging Draco so he wasn’t curled up uncomfortably. “Dren! I’m going to have to move fast and you’re going to have to help carry.” Harry glared up, Draco’s face peering down at him from beneath Dren’s hood.
“I do not know if it would be wise for me to enter your castle,” Dren answered guardedly under the brunette’s angry eye.
“I’ll protect you,” Harry said gruffly, inspecting the row of teeth marks on Draco’s chest that had just missed his armor. “I’m going to knock your friend out and then float the three of them. I just need some help guiding them through the trees. One of my arms is broken and there are still the cubs to recover. I will escort you back to your tree later, if you like,” he added, straightening.
Dren nodded hesitantly, looking down at Draco’s unconscious form. “You were very cruel to him, pretty one. I think… I think you are both very cruel to each other.”
Harry stilled, hand curling into a fist. “You don’t understand, Dren, and I’m not going to explain it. He’s just fucked in the head from the madness. He never would have said those things otherwise.” He forced himself to move, stunning the wolf and binding its muzzle just in case it managed to wake and snap at one of them.
“You’re wrong, Harry. You two are connected.” Dren bent, carefully lifting Draco up, his natural form apparently strong enough for that much. “That you can ignore his pain, never mind your own… There is something wrong about it.”
Harry gritted his teeth, wishing the boy would just shut the fuck up. Because it wasn’t just Dren, it was Malfoy taunting in his ear some goddamn lie about affection.
Dren shook his head when Harry merely floated Garruth up, bound and trailing behind him. “Why do you do it, Harry? It must hurt you to hurt him. You two are nearly joined—”
“Stop it, Dren. Just shut up!” Harry growled, rounding angrily. “So what if it fucking hurts? Being with him hurts so much more. I’d rather just hate myself and be done with it.”
“Harry…”
“No! Either help me or leave. I don’t need another damn distraction.” Harry turned back to bind the corpse of the rogue, not caring what the damn enchancubus did.
He never should have come here. He should have stayed in bed yesterday and never thought to step out into the Forbidden Forest in search of the rogue. But Hermione had nearly knocked down his door when the attack happened, and had mentioned so goddamn coyly that Malfoy was supposed to be out hunting as well that he had given in just for the fucking chance to have some small closeness to the boy. And then Malfoy hadn’t showed, instead being asked to deal with parents. Harry had realized he was such a damn fool once again, getting sucked into whatever shit fantasy he had in his head that he and Draco could ever make things work. He couldn’t even get along with a damn Malfoy doppelganger that was hundreds of times more pleasant than the Slytherin.
God, he was such a fucking fool.
“Ready?” Harry snapped, turning on his heal once he had gotten the rogue situated. Dren looked back at him dolefully and Harry suppressed a sigh.
“Did you wish to carry him?” Dren asked, heaving Draco onto his shoulder. Harry frowned at the question, stepping closer to inspect Draco’s back. The blond had gotten scratched up when the wolf had knocked him to the ground, blood dripping down. He healed the cut, then charmed the boy to float.
“You carry him for now. I’ll take the cubs once we get to them,” Harry muttered, trailing the two beasts behind him and urging the enchancubus forward. Holding Malfoy was a bad idea even when unconscious. His fucked up head didn’t care if Draco could lie through his teeth over something like wanting him. It was better just to separate and avoid the boy from then on. He had managed to get Draco infected by a madness and stuck as the target to a rebounded lust spell within two days. He had done enough wrong.
SCENE #Infected
Getting back into Hogwarts was far more difficult than leaving, Draco not conscious to stop the very interested students in the hall from following Harry as he raced towards the infirmary. Dren also seemed incapable of helping even though he could at least control himself. The enchancubus immediately pulled his hood down over his face when entering the castle, Draco still safely in his arms, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.
“Madame Pomfrey!” Harry shouted on entering the main room of the hospital ward and locking the door behind them, the witch nowhere to be found. There was a loudly clacking bell just for such an occasion and Harry brutally began to clang it until the mediwitch appeared in one of the connecting doorways frowning, only to flush and abruptly shut the door.
“Crap,” Harry muttered, realizing there was no way he could be in the room while Malfoy was being healed. He walked over to the closed door, speaking to the healer on the other side. “Malfoy’s been infected. The black dead one is the rogue—Pretty sure the original carrier. The wolf is another victim and willing to be tested on. The guy in the robe is the enchancubus and if he gives you any trouble, tell me and I’ll deal with him. Oh, and there are two baby cubs that need to be nursed and kept warm.” Harry winced inwardly, realizing he had just dumped a lot of work into the mediwitch’s lap, the woman always complaining loudly about it.
“Mr. Potter, don’t you dare go traipsing around the castle in your condition. Your arm is broken, you’re covered in blood…”
Harry rolled his eyes, growling under his breath. “Fine, whatever. I’ll be in the damn tiny white room. But I want something to read—And not school books! Ron has quidditch magazines.”
“I will find a way to get you healed, Harry, I promise. We will just have to figure something out without Mr. Malfoy’s help.”
Harry nodded curtly even though the woman couldn’t see. He should have kissed the prat. There was no way in fuck he could have, but he really should have. Because now Draco was contagious and who the fuck knew if it was even curable?
“Madame Pomfrey, like I said, the enchancubus is here and is willing to help—To a certain degree. He can interact with me safely and may be able to help with the antidote. I’m going to run now so that you can take care of Dra—Malfoy,” Harry said gruffly, pushing away from the door and towards the one that led to his room of that morning. He gently deposited the two sleeping cubs in the center of a cot, wrapping them in a nest of blankets.
“Sorry to do this to you, Dren, but they shouldn’t give you too much grief. She nags, but that’s the worst of it,” Harry said apologetically.
“Do you really think you can heal Garruth?” Dren asked, carefully brushing the unconscious wolf’s ear.
“The physical injuries easily. The madness… Well, that’s the whole point to try. I’ll be in a room over here if you need me. And if you’d be willing to update me on what’s happening, that wouldn’t be too bad either,” Harry said, wetting his lips as he floated Draco down on the nearest cot. The boy was so beautiful, so still. He did not want to think what would happen if they didn’t find a cure. Another life lost because of him—A life of such unimaginable value to him that he could hardly fathom it fully.
“There are so many people in this place. It is difficult on me, pretty one,” Dren said, eyes flickering as if he could see through the walls. Maybe he could, the creature’s senses tuned towards more than sight.
“Er, you’re not going to go, um, hunting in here, are you?” Harry asked, worry prickling as he thought of the many very innocent children he had just opened up to the predator’s senses.
“I will control myself,” Dren whispered, eyes downcast. “It would be easier if…” Harry bit his lip, breath catching as the boy removed his hood and fixed hungry silver eyes on him.
“A little later, Dren,” Harry mumbled, stepping back towards the door as fire began to curl in the pit of his stomach. “Just, um, after you help them a bit.” It was very much Draco again, healthy, lust blazing through his gaze. Harry could not stop the thrill of desire especially after that afternoon, now when it was so much safer since Dren was unable to reach his heart the same way Draco could.
“No, pretty one. It will be you, and it will be now. You have been brimming with scent, aching with need and I cannot concentrate.”
Edging through the doorway, Harry tilted his head, beckoning the blond to follow. He snapped the door shut behind them, ducking away before Dren could touch him. That it looked like Malfoy stalking him down, smirking as he followed to Harry’s room, only made his heart beat faster, his need grow greater. He slammed through the door to his small room, noticing it was now no longer a mess of feathers and linens only to be pushed up against the door by the blond, forcefully closing it with his back.
“You are dripping in want,” Dren growled and if Harry only heard Draco, seductive and hoarse with need, he couldn’t blame himself. “Ever since the forest. Ever since he touched you. He does something to you that makes your scent stronger.”
Ignoring the words, Harry focused on the voice, quickly pushing off the boy’s heavy cloak one handed, fingers tearing for the zipper to the robe underneath. “God, just… just touch me,” Harry said with a gasp, not caring that his arm was broken or he was covered in the blood of some terrible beast. He just needed Draco to touch him and everything would be so much better.
“There is just something about you, pretty one,” Dren murmured, fingers slipping under the band of Harry’s tight leather pants, fanning around to find the clasp in the front. “Your energy… It is intoxicating. Unique. Powerful.”
“Harder,” Harry grunted, pulling the blond’s hips to his. “Fuck, just, just do it hard, and rough, and… oh god, fuck… fuck yes…” He moaned, Dren biting his shoulder, jaw focused on the muscle and clamping tight. Harry fell back against the door, nearly boneless, the pain more a release than the hands trying to get into his pants in that moment.
He wrapped his one good arm around the blond’s neck when he was lifted, legs quickly clenching around the powerful waist holding him up, just to be slammed into the door again. He let out gasp after gasp, eyes tight on Draco’s fierce, handsome features as he ground his hips rhythmically.
“You’re so close… So hard this entire time… What does he do to you?” Dren asked lowly, pushing Harry’s pants down his hips, the material folded below his ass. He snaked a hot hand between their bodies and wrapped fingers around Harry’s hard length. “Are all his kind like that?”
Harry shook his head weakly, moaning against the door, eyes half open to stare at Malfoy’s intense silver eyes. Draco was special. Harry didn’t know how to explain it, just that he had never truly reacted to veela energy before that first time with Draco, and now he couldn’t seem to stop reacting even when the boy was unconscious. “Please, just…”
“I know… I know what you need,” Dren whispered, teeth digging into Harry’s neck this time, biting hard. Harry closed his eyes, hating the pain those simple words caused. Fucking Malfoy, ruining everything, even his damn fantasy of a lie. Head knocking back against the door again, Harry came with a silent cry, thighs clenched tight to the hips jarring into him.
“That’s it, my lovely. Give me your release.” Voice husky in his ear, Dren shuddered against him. He blearily noticed the enchancubus’ energy this time, a wave of cool air sweeping over him, drinking down the heat and sweat from his tanned skin like a sacred elixir. Dren lifted his hand, pinning Harry to the door with his hips while he licked the cum from his palm in slow laps.
Harry unwound his legs, standing unsteadily on his feet as he slid down the toned, pale muscles of Draco’s body. He pushed aside the robe still clinging to the boy, hand moving down, seeking the hard length he had yet to get a proper look at.
“Harry, you don’t…” Dren trailed off, panting quietly, head resting forward against the door while the boy explored his still hard cock with his fingers. Draco was large, but not overly so, pale flesh flushed almost glowing red especially at the tip, Harry’s thumb rubbing circles with the precum glistening there.
“I want to watch him come,” Harry said, eyes straying up, catching on Draco’s flushed cheeks and very hazy expression. He had been so fierce the first time, as if trying to sear something into him beyond just his flesh and seed. But Dren looked nearly weak and open, mouth gasping soft murmurs of pleasure. He looked almost like Draco had sounded in the forest, pleading for Harry to be his.
Groaning, Harry rubbed his hips forward as he pumped Draco’s thick cock, sweat slicking his hand with each hard stroke. “God, come for me… Take that hard, big cock of yours and come all over me.” He kissed Draco’s jaw, finding himself panting loudly just thinking about the boy drizzling him with his seed.
“That scent again… You are insatiable, pretty one,” Dren said roughly, arm wrapping around Harry’s waist and crushing their lower bodies together.
“I need him… to fuck me,” Harry admitted between gasps, feeling Draco’s flesh swelling in his fist, getting ready to spurt and cover his already sweaty, blood drenched skin. “God, I need it so bad… I never knew how much… until he touched me that time.”
“Then let him, you foolish boy,” Dren chuckled, only to stop, the brunette’s mouth covering his lips. The enchancubus stared, eyes narrowing, mouth gasping suddenly when his hand squeezed firmer, pulling the blond over the edge. Harry fell back against the door, gaze falling down to watch the final streams of cum slick over his hips.
“God… that’s tight,” Harry panted out, eyes slowly moving up Draco’s smooth, sweaty skin revealed in a wide stripe between the edges of the long robe. Then back down, groaning as he rubbed the semen into his flesh, the need inside him only growing greater.
Staring at Harry for long moments, Dren eventually pulled away, zipping his robe together and sliding his cloak back on. Harry just watched him, fingers still moving over his hips, head heavy against the door. Dren reached a hand up, carefully pressing his palm to the boy’s cheek. “Doesn’t your arm hurt, pretty one? Aren’t you hungry or tired or something besides this painful ache I sense in you?”
Eyes trailing over the blond’s features, Harry shrugged unconcernedly. “No.” Sometimes he was angry. Sometimes he was just this numb blackness of despair. And sometimes, when he let himself think of Draco, he ached for whatever he had been before that night. Surely he had been a whole person once and not this broken half, crying desperate for a connection to the boy that held the rest of him inside.
“You trouble me, Harry,” Dren whispered, slipping closer to gently kiss the corner of his mouth.
Harry watched him unblinkingly. “You’re a predator, Dren. What the fuck do you care if your prey is happy or not?”
Shaking his head, Dren carefully looked over the boy’s broken arm, fingers lingering. “I am not a predator, you jaded thing. I am a bringer of good fortune and love. I enhance the physical pleasures of sex, help destined lovers find each other and even increase fertility. I can sustain myself on worldly food if I so choose. But sometimes very pretty, very needy creatures will find me and I will taste them and if possible, help them.”
Eyebrows rising, Harry gave a weak, shaky grin. “Sorry to disappoint, Dren, but you are way out of your league here.”
Dren nodded, grinning wryly in return. “That may very well be the case. But I am hardly disappointed. And if you need my help, whether it is to talk or just touch your boy that you refuse to touch in real life, I am happy to be of service.”
Harry looked away, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. It was easier to think of the boy as a predator, just seeking touch and sex in exchange for a meal. But if Dren thought of himself as some damn good Samaritan love token, it just made him feel like a pity case.
As if reading the many thoughts swirling in his cloudy green eyes, Dren suddenly pushed Harry back against the door again, growling heatedly in his ear. “Believe me, pretty one, it is not an offer I extend to just anyone. I will not touch your little classmates, nor even the object of your affection—Although I know very much how you might wish me to,” he drawled, Harry smirking wickedly as he remembered Draco glaring his lookalike down.
“There is that scent again. It is reminiscent of your boy but so heady,” Dren remarked, pulling away from Harry and straightening the brunette’s pants back into place. “It is almost as if you have made a scent to call him since you so clearly do not listen to his.”
Harry’s grin faded, his mind again drawn to the madness induced pleas of Draco before he had stunned himself. “Dren, I want to be alone.”
Dren nodded, pulling away so Harry could step around him and sit on the bed. Harry didn’t bother to look up, not wanting to see any version of Draco in that moment. Eventually the door shut and he could relax, slumping sideways on the bed, arm braced carefully on his side.
“God, you’re a fuck up, Potter,” Harry whispered, staring blankly at the texture of interwoven threads of the sheets. Wasn’t it bad enough falling for some veela halfling? Now he just had to start transferring onto some other lust creature. It he wasn’t careful, he was just going to fuck Dren up too.
Anyone that got too close to him became fucked up, Malfoy worst of all. He was more an infection than the damn rogue, his sickness subtle and insidious until no one was happy anymore, just full of pain whenever they looked at him.
He had become very good at making his mind blank the last year. He had figured out how to shut all the voices up, all the questions and worries and desires that swirled so madly inside. It didn’t stop the crazed feeling but it did stop the thoughts, and that was good enough. Every word Draco had said, pain and need tinged, every burning desire he had felt, every small, teasing point of shimmery contact so reminiscent of that night; Harry silenced it all. His fear, nearly tangible that he might have destroyed Draco by being so distracted and careless in the forest, letting the rogue and wolf catch them unaware—He silenced that as well. And if his heart still ached, full of pain and unbearable need for the damn beautiful Slytherin, he had learned to numb and harden that with even greater ease.
SCENE #Draco dreams
To see his father at the foot of his bed, long dead all these months, did not surprise Draco. He had come back to this memory many a night alone in his bedroom in the Manor, then in the room the veela had given him in their city and finally, his single prefect room at Hogwarts. It was always the same, his father waking him in the middle of the night dressed in his black Death Eater robes, eyes hard, lips twisted in the most chilling of smiles.
“You are needed, Draco. You have been called to serve him.”
If Lucius was tense, Draco did not think much of it. Anything that had to do with Voldemort made his parents tense. His mother had been so upset that he had barely seen her since he had woken up changed, his veela inheritance lengthening and fortifying his body in ways he had not expected. There were other new things too, senses and energies he didn’t quite understand but kept flowing up the last two days as he tried to make sense of the muddled, magic soaked world he had found himself in.
Draco got out of bed slowly, still getting used to his new height and legs. He took his father’s hand when it was offered, flinching away from the energy he felt in the man’s cold fingers.
“Father, what am I supposed to do?” He asked quietly, eyes straying to the door of his room where he could see his aunt glaring in, smiling cruelly. He knew he could not say no, whatever it was. It was Voldemort and the monster would kill him if he refused, but probably first Draco’s parents just to make sure everyone understood what saying no would result in.
“It is very simple, Draco,” Lucius said, grabbing the boy by his elbow and leading him to the adjoining bathroom. “You are to shower and dress in this robe. You will be assisting our lord in a spell.”
“A spell?” Draco repeated, blinking in surprise as he took the silky white robe from his father’s hands. “What if I…? My magic has been so confusing since the change, Father. I do not want to disappoint you.”
“It is a very simple spell,” Lucius said tight lipped. “Now hurry along. We mustn’t keep him waiting.”
Glancing again to where Bellatrix was leering at him, Draco stepped into the bathroom, his father closing the door. His mind kept whirring in fear, but he forced himself to go through the motions of cleaning.
The white robe was concerning. White was rarely used by his father and the Dark Lord for spells. It represented innocence and purity. It represented a victim. That he had to wash and then wear such a robe was ringing loud warning bells in his head.
There was a knock on the door, Draco jumping in surprise. “Are you ready?” It was Lucius, impatient and stern.
“I need to dry my hair,” Draco said uncertainly through the door. “You have my wand.” His father had taken it from him the morning he had changed, muttering something about Draco being hurt by his own spells.
“I will dry your hair.” Lucius pushed the door open, Draco turning away, body half wrapped in a towel. There was a sudden warmth, dry air crackling around him, and then his hair was light and loose again. Trying not to flinch, he held his head still as his father insisted on brushing his new, long locks, his dread growing.
“You look very nice, Draco, and you must be proud of it. You-Know-Who will be judging you on how well you hold yourself while in his presence.” Lucius pressed the back of Draco’s shoulder blades, forcing him to stand taller and more confident. “I have a potion for you to help calm your nerves. It is very important that you stay calm.”
Nostrils flaring, Draco gave a curt nod. He could smell his father’s fear. He held himself perfectly still when his towel was taken from him, the white robe wrapped around his shoulders brushing soft against his skin. When his father stepped back, Draco quickly zipped it, new senses alert and picking up too many things to fully understand from the man behind him. Fear, yes, but also a faint guilt and an even greater excitement. His father was anticipating something.
“I am going to help guide you through the beginning of the spell before you are brought into the room,” Lucius continued, again pulling Draco by the elbow. The man fell silent and Draco looked around as he was led from his room, bare feet touching soft on the carpet. Bellatrix was gone but he could sense the remains of her crazed presence as they went down the stairs, Lucius twisting them to the hidden door that led to the basement of the manor. He could sense many people down there, scents and sounds and something else he couldn’t quite name but found people like red hot lights in the dark of his mind. He wanted to ask his father what this new sense was but kept quiet. Lucius was part veela but had never woken up, having done a spell to keep his genes dormant. The man, for whatever reason, had not done the same spell on him.
“Father…” Draco swayed, a strange feeling hitting him as they stopped in front of a shut door. “Father, who is that?” He asked breathlessly, feeling something glowing very bright in his new senses, so bright it was blocking out all the other people he could feel only a room away.
“Good, Draco. It is good you can sense him.” Lucius pushed the door open, walking them slowly inside, Draco’s feet not wanting to agree with his commands. His nose had picked up the scent related to the glowing presence and his body was reacting oddly.
“All you need to do is focus on his heartbeat,” Lucius said, holding Draco’s chin and turning his face towards the crumpled form on the ground that was glowing red hot in his mind’s eye. “It will not be a true sound, or a sight. It will be a heat, as you feel the warmth in his blood and energy. Reach for that now, Draco, and see if you can feel that heat.”
Eyes straying briefly to his father’s hard glare, Draco looked back at the body, the smell of blood filling his senses. It was a male, his heart weak and frantic, body cooling from the loss of the blood he could practically taste. He reached carefully with his new senses, everything suddenly closer as if he were right on top of the boy instead of the room away. The boy’s name came to him like an omen and Draco quickly stuffed it down, keeping his expression flat. Darkness began to edge his vision, the heart growing louder along with the sudden appearance of others on the other side of the wall. Then Draco could feel his father’s heart beating evenly next to him, a sick betrayal pumping with every thump.
“Do you sense his heart, Draco?” Lucius asked, his grip on the boy’s chin tightening painfully.
“Yes, Father,” Draco answered as blandly as possible, all of his attention on the strange whirl of his father’s emotions and thoughts.
“Good. You will be asked to focus on this heart and only this heart. Do you think you can do that? It is very important that you not lose that focus or others can be harmed.”
Eyes turning again to his father, Draco carefully pried the fingers off of his chin. “Am I going to harm that heart?”
“You’re going to help kill it, yes. You have a very special gift, Draco. One that our Dark Lord would like to share.” But Draco could now hear what Lucius wasn’t saying, could now sense what his father knew was to come. There would be no sharing, only taking. His eyes followed down when Lucius pulled something from his robe, a vial full of golden liquid.
“Father, that is—”
“To calm you, Draco,” Lucius said smoothly, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder soothingly. He could feel the guilt rising from the man before him, a damp musty scent of bog and rot. “There will be a lot demanded of you tonight. This is just to make things easier.” Lucius popped the stopper with his thumb, the glass vial pushed to Draco’s pursed lips while his shoulder was held tight.
He knew this potion, the one he had seen too many times floating around the manor, passed from Death Eater to Death Eater. The group of villains had been there only two weeks and Draco had seen that potion five times. He had asked his mother and she had nearly burst into tears, begging him not to grow up. To just stay young a little longer. The paper had been more helpful the next day. Another body full of ‘Siren’s Voice,’ a golden hued potion that had at least protected the victim from the pain of being eaten alive.
Harry Potter was lying half dead across the room and his father had a vial of Siren’s Voice. Maybe more than one vial, maybe two. Maybe he would first have to listen to Harry’s heart as it was eaten, his smooth flesh torn by teeth, bones cracked open, chest ripped apart. There was a monster in the other room and he had already seen this potion five times.
Draco didn’t know what happened next. Even in his dream he never remembered how he killed his father. His memory jumped. It began with his father’s heartbeat sickening with anticipation for a death to come, guilt for the betrayal of his only son, and the darkest of lust to see just what the potion would do once it touched his tongue. Then Draco closed his eyes, darkness falling, and when he opened them again the world was a shimmer of veela silver and everything was changed.
His father was dead, broken on the floor, vial dripping gold onto the stone blocks. Draco’s robe was red in the man’s blood and he stripped it away, disgusted by the scent of it. There was another’s blood in the room that smelled far sweeter and he needed to taste it.
He crossed the room swiftly, kneeling down over the prone, weak creature he felt glowing so bright. They had wanted him to kill this boy—This beautiful, glowing boy whose heart had been so different compared to all the others. Fingers reaching out, he ran his thumb through the red dripping down from the head wound on Harry’s face and brought it to his mouth, tongue flicking out to lick the scarlet.
Eyes wide, Draco gasped, falling forward and just managing to catch himself from tumbling to the ground. It was as if a light had gone on in fifty new parts of his brain, information zapping through him faster than any spell could ever work. “My god… Potter, what the hell are you?” He asked shakily. But Harry was unconscious and slowly bleeding out, not willing to answer. As Draco continued to stare, more information, emotion, and sensation began to swirl in him, his body trembling. Sweat prickled on his skin and he felt it this time when his feathers started to sprout, the silver glow nearly blinding his vision.
Harry Potter belonged to him. If asked to explain this fact, he would say something along the lines that Potter’s blood had told him so. It was the right flavor, the right scent and information and power that if any other person were to taste it they would certainly understand. They belonged together. Harry was his and he needed to save the boy before he bled out completely.
That Draco did not have his wand was irrelevant. His body seemed to know how to use magic while in the new form, his claws retracting to allow him to press his hands safely to Harry’s flesh and seek out where he was bleeding. Draco could sense more than just the wounds, energy in the brunette so strong zipping through, calling loudly to him to reach and tangle and pull the boy to him. And that seemed like a perfectly intelligent thing to do because Harry was his and in danger and Draco needed to be close so he could help him.
He pushed Harry flat on his back, opening his arms up so that he could get to the brunette’s torso. He rested his head on the boy’s barely moving chest, pushing the bloodied shirt up to hear more clearly. There was a rattle in his lungs, a wheezing where something was struggling to move properly and unable to. Draco relaxed further onto Harry’s form, tongue lapping out while he melded his energy deep into the boy, weaving the flesh back together. Harry’s lung suddenly inflated and raised his chest up firmly. Draco suppressed a groan, his entire body burning as he pushed the spell further into Harry’s body, seeking out every tear and rip inside and out.
God, it felt good. Panting, he tried to fight the lust rising up in him. Fuck, why did he smell like that? The more he healed Harry, the more his lithe, toned body was giving off this delicious, irresistible scent. It was like the boy was taunting him, begging him to stop his damn doctoring and just fuck him. Which was crazy because Harry really needed to be healed. But the harder Draco got, the better his spell got and so maybe, if he just pressed against the boy a little… God, just, just rubbed a little harder…
Eyes fluttering shut, Draco groaned, power moving through him in a wave even as his orgasm swept through him. He could feel his energy glowing brighter, a curtain of silver rising up. It was like he had caught every molecule of water in the air and then connected to it. Except he didn’t want to connect with air. He wanted to connect with the boy that was glowing bright in his head full of maddening energy and scent.
“Sorry, Potter, but if you could smell what I smell, you would totally understand,” Draco whispered, biting his lip and running his hand down the boy’s side. He needed to wake Harry up. The boy was in danger and needed to wake up. God, and if he was awake, it would totally be okay to fuck him then—not weird or fucked up at all—and that was really, really important.
He moved up Harry’s prone form, tongue lapping at the blood still soaking the boy’s face. He began pulling strings of his energy up, wrapping them around the brunette like a blanket, allowing the power to drift in and be absorbed by his skin. Harry made a soft noise, Draco’s energy helping to bring him back to consciousness. He could feel the pain in the boy, his confusion, his panic, and then, as he flowed more energy in, stealing deep, hungry kisses from the weak boy, Harry began to fill with desire. It was so perfect, so sweet and hot and dark, Harry’s need even more delicious than his blood had been but only by a little.
Draco pulled away reluctantly, his entire body tight with want. Harry was awake, stunning green eyes blinking up at him. God, the boy was beautiful, face drawn, bruised, bleeding.
“Malfoy?” Harry whispered, eyes moving over him like a touch. And then he did touch, Draco holding his breath, all his senses keyed in to the absolute desire Harry was building just by squeezing his arm. Just like when he had first tasted Harry’s blood, this instant too seemed to slow as he focused in on the brunette’s conscious want. Harry liked him. He liked his body and he liked how he was smart and witty and only fought when someone else started it. He hated that Voldemort had found a way into his life, had corrupted Draco’s home the same way he had corrupted Harry’s entire existence.
Looking down at the boy, Harry’s tongue flicking out to wet his lips, Draco was certain if he just killed Voldemort they would never be apart.
SCENE #Veela physiology
“I need this room cleared now! You and you, grab his arms—And for the love of Merlin, do not get scratched!”
“This isn’t—Shit! Siri, are you okay?”
“Restraints!” Madame Pomfrey demanded while stepping over Sirius’s groaning form, a house elf popping in an instant later. The first spell did not work at all, just bounced off and shackled a cot to the floor. The second one was barely any better, Remus, who had been the only one strong enough to pin Draco in the cot while the boy snarled and foamed, finding himself with new metal bracelets.
“For the love of—He’s a halfling!” Remus growled, snagging Draco’s wrists again as the boy broke free, making sure to avoid claw and fangs as much as possible. “Dose him in a sleep draught!”
The house elf popped out, two more popping in simultaneously, a large beaker of purple liquid in each of their clawed hands. One beaker was immediately floated over to Remus, who just glared as it was clear both his hands were full of a maddened Draco. Sirius, pulling himself from the floor, swiftly grabbed the floating container, held Draco by the nose, and poured half the beaker down his throat before anyone could yell otherwise.
“Stop! You’re going to kill him!” Remus shouted, then fell back with a grunt of pain when Draco managed to push him stumbling across the room. Madame Pomfrey was fast, pulling Sirius away with a quick spell before Draco could even slash, the two house elves throwing stunners at the boy while he struggled to stand and swing wildly.
Remus jumped back to his feet, stalking across the room and barreling into the boy. He pinned Draco chest first into the ground, pulling his arms behind his back. Draco continued to fight, bucking erratically, his movements slowing as each minute passed.
“Get me the boy’s head of house,” Madame Pomfrey asked the nearest house elf, the creature popping away. Everyone watched, the minutes ticking by until Draco stopped moving altogether. “Remus, is he breathing?”
Remus gave a quick nod, pulling Draco’s slack form up off the ground and laying him on a cot. “God only knows how long. That dose would have killed a dragon. Sirius, what were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I didn’t want him to scratch you and then have to deal with two crazed, super powerful beings,” Sirius snapped, running his hand agitatedly through his hair. “Where’s the quiet one? He might know if the boy can survive it. They’re both lust creatures.”
“That hardly makes them comparable, Mr. Black,” Pomfrey said in exasperation. “I can pump his stomach but then we have to deal with him being awake and violent…”
“Hagrid!” Remus exclaimed suddenly, running for the door with his wrists clanging metal. “He’ll have something to chain a magical beast,” he explained, nearly bowling into Severus, who was just entering. “Sorry.”
“Lupin,” Severus sneered, stepping back quickly. “This place is turning into a madhouse. Madame Pomfrey, you sent for me? I trust having something to do with my status spells telling me my storeroom is now empty of sleeping draught?”
“The majority will be returned, Snape,” Pomfrey said with a defensive ring to her voice. “I was hoping you would contact Draco’s people. We are in an urgent situation and I feel we may have reached the extent of our resources. His physiology is so unique and the boy is strong. Heaven help if he starts pulling while in this state.”
“Are you no closer to a cure?” Severus asked, dark eyes solemn as they fell on Draco’s barely breathing form.
“I am getting there. By all means, if you can find the time, I would readily accept the help of a potions master,” Pomfrey said. “The wolf and children are showing some improvement, but Mr. Malfoy’s form is making things very difficult. He is just too strong, and I don’t mean physically. That he hasn’t defeated the illness on his own is a wonder. If I could talk with his veela relatives, maybe have them send an expert down to help, I feel like we would have a much better chance of sorting him.”
Sirius folded his arms, meeting Severus’s hard gaze. “Do you honestly think that arrogant lot is going to help anyone? They usually toss halflings to the side of the road like garbage.”
“They seem inclined towards Mr. Malfoy,” Severus muttered, his frown growing grimmer. “They are hardly dependable and very reluctant to share information.”
“Be that as it may, we must still try,” Pomfrey said sternly. “Mr. Malfoy saved countless veela lives along with even more human ones. We will simply remind them of that fact.”
Sirius didn’t look convinced but remained silent about it, Severus leaving to owl the veela and see if they would help. Pomfrey went back to the other infected, checking on their progress. Staring down at Draco’s silent, pale face, guilt and worry niggled at Sirius. Just that morning he had been yelling at the boy only to find out that Harry had been lying about what had happened that night with Voldemort. Somehow the two boys had managed to kill seventeen people instead of one, both their magic found in every corpse in the room of dead. Only one body had been free of the odd tangle of magic and that had been Lucius Malfoy, flesh shredded and neck broken.
That no one had pushed to find out what had happened, no inquiry, no questions at all, had only been because Voldemort wasn’t even officially alive in the Ministry’s eyes to begin with, while at the same time stacking up a pile of dead veela. When a cult of Death Eaters all die in an instant, their insane leader among them, it was just easier for the officials to sweep it away and call it a win. Hell, Sirius had been lucky to be pardoned given just how little the Ministry wanted to deal with the incident. Harry and Draco were underage and the only witnesses, except Harry had been passed out and Draco half crazed and half veela when found.
Sirius had wanted to ask Malfoy more questions. Had wanted to pry whatever remaining scraps of information he could from the boy about what had happened with Voldemort. That Draco had returned infected and crazed had not been fully a surprise. Because he had gone out with Harry and that just led to trouble recently. Not intentional or deliberate or even malicious, but it was still the end result with the boy. Harry was messed up and he was messing up lives.
That Draco had no family now, seemed to have few friends as well, with just the cold veela to call in an emergency only made Sirius feel worse. Malfoy had ended up with just as many problems as a consequence of that night as Harry had, but the boy was possibly even more alone for it. Certainly demonized, unlike Harry who had been acting out since and yet no one would dare speak wrong of him. No, the halfling had gotten the short end, being looked down from all sides just because of his genetics and parents… Parents he had accidentally killed to ensure Voldemort died.
Sighing, Sirius took a seat by the door, glaring at the floor while he waited for Remus and Hagrid. Draco was his distant cousin, and even though he wasn’t really big on bloodlines, it seemed important at the moment. He didn’t know what he meant to do about it, if anything, but he was pondering and that rarely led to anything easy in the long run.
SCENE #The veela Terrance
Pacing the tiny room had gotten old very quickly. Harry had been trapped there for two days, had read every Quidditch magazine Ron and Seamus owned, and had even given schoolwork a shot only to stop, completely bored. He wanted out. Dren had visited only once to let him know he was assisting in one of the potions labs in the dungeon and would not be available. No one had told him how Draco was although someone had managed to heal Harry’s arm while he was sleeping. Giving another angry look to the four walls surrounding him, he decided it was time to take a walk.
Once he was out of the castle he’d be fine, it was just the getting through the castle that was the issue. He figured he’d have a plan by the time he got out of the infirmary. For now, he peeked his head out the door, bare feet edging on the cool stone floor as he slipped out the exit of his room. He was halfway through the large room when he heard a noise, turning slowly to find three pairs of unfamiliar eyes staring dazed at him.
“Aw, crap,” he muttered. Given their age, they were parents to the injured first years. They were also between him and the door to freedom. Hopping from one foot to the other, he reached for the nearest doorknob in the line of private rooms to the right of him, only to find it locked. “Crap, crap, crap, crap…” Hand reaching out, Harry began backing up from the approaching trio, trying each handle in turn until one blessfully opened. With a sigh of relief, he stumbled through the open door and slammed it shut behind him.
“Harry Potter. Now this is a treat.”
Harry jumped wide eyed as he tried to place the voice of the boy talking to him. He found him by the bed, Harry groaning when he saw Malfoy fast asleep among the sheets. Out of all the damn doors, he had to end up in Malfoy’s room? Exasperated, he turned his attention to the boy sitting in a chair next to Draco’s bed. His scowl grew once recognizing the veela.
“Terrence,” he said stiffly. Maybe someone had pulled the parents out of the hall? He was almost willing to brave three adult humans with uncontrollable lust, than the fucker slowly getting to his feet.
“I knew it was you,” Terrence said smugly, eyes roaming over the boy possessively. “I could scent you rooms away. You look good, Potter. You look… interesting.”
Harry stiffened when Terrence took a step forward, the boy’s eyes starting to glow, feathers rippling and sprouting. He tried to keep his panic from rising, his mind flashing back to the last time he had seen Terrence in this form with four other veela egging him on. “Back the fuck off, you overgrown chickenshit,” he snapped. “If I had known you were here, I sure as fuck never would have entered this room.”
“Oh, don’t sound so unhappy to see me. We had so much fun the last time… And you smell even nicer now.” Terrence was suddenly a foot away, his speed unmatched. “We didn’t get to finish what we started last time, Potter. I have deeply regretted that. But you’re here now as am I. And this time I don’t have to share you.”
“If you touch me, I am going to hurt you,” Harry said hoarsely, unable to look away from the veela’s glowing eyes. His knees were growing weak and his body very much wanted to surge forward and touch this boy… this cruel, ugly, terrible boy that had tried to rape him so many months ago.
“Who are you trying to kid?” Terrence asked, head tilted as he looked Harry over in his thin pajamas. “I can sense how hard you are, how much you’re begging for it. Only certain humans get that way around veela, Potter. You’re one of the lucky ones… The type we get to fuck.”
Harry pushed back against the door, hating how even now his body was responding. He couldn’t close his eyes to the unnatural glow but he could feel his own power. Ever since his night with Draco, he could feel the well of power inside him whenever veela energy was near. He reached for it now, sipping up strands of magic, wrapping himself in a golden barrier floating just above his skin. He would make sure Terrence regretted ever trying to touch him again.
“What have you been fucking lately, Potter? You have an unfamiliar musk on you.” The veela frowned, trapping the boy in his power while breathing up the side of his neck. “Don’t you know you’re made for veelas? This smell you give off… You’re begging for a veela. Hot, desperate, begging for it.”
Harry struggled against the fog that had come over him, Terrence now inches from his skin. “I’m warning you,” he gasped out.
“That’s okay. You’re even nicer when glaring like this.” Smirking cruelly, Terrence went to cup Harry’s cheek. The instant he made contact, power shot out, the veela thrown back across the room with a loud screech.
Harry grasped weakly for the door behind him, trying not to fall as the veela’s spell was broken. Fucking arrogant fucking veela always trying to fucking take.
“Shit… You’re powerful.” Terrence pushed himself to his feet, feathers charred, smoke rising off his clothes. “Which just makes hunting you all the more fun.”
“Hunting?” Harry fumbled for the door handle, pretty sure it would still be safer with the parents at this point.
“Oh, yes. The high council has been trying to figure out who gets to keep you, Potter. Ever since we found out you could weave, they’ve been searching to pick someone strong enough to subdue you.”
“That was… that was just a spell. Malfoy showed me how,” Harry muttered, his mind whirring at the thought of the veela government trying to capture him.
“No, you ignorant thing. One cannot learn to weave. Malfoy woke you up and now we just need to figure out who is going to keep you.” Terrence began pushing his feathers back on his head, smoothing them down, some floating to the floor. “I think if I work on you long enough, I just might win.”
Harry had heard enough of this particular line of insanity. “Listen here, you rude piece of shit. No one is ever going to fucking own me or keep me or subdue me or anything. You tell your goddamn veela council if they don’t leave me alone, I’m going to come after them. I will hunt you fuckers down and I’ll weave your hearts out of oblivion. And it will not be an accident!”
Terrence had recovered himself enough, leaning on Draco’s bed, eyes again alight with veela power. Harry quickly shut his eyes, drawing more power up in preparation to battle. “Potter, you hardly know how to do a simple weave. You might have amazing power but you don’t know how to use it. You could never match my people. As for your little trick of earlier—Who the hell says I even have to touch you? I can make you so full of need that you’ll be begging me to touch you. I could make you ride me without even—”
Harry could not see why Terrence stopped talking but the veela started making a strained, wheezing noise and his power dropped again. He debated whether it was a trick or not, then decided it mustn’t be because Terrence just loved to hear himself talk too much to ever pretend otherwise. Harry opened one eye carefully, the second quickly following.
Malfoy was strangling Terrence. One handed, sneering silently, holding Terrence high over his head. Staring at the scene, Harry had two separate thoughts. The first was the question of if Draco was actually healed or was this the boy full of murderous rogue rage. The second thought being that Draco looked absolutely sexy when his muscles flexed like that.
“Er… You alright there, Malfoy?” Harry asked, biting his lip when Draco turned searing silver eyes his way. Shit, even mad as a hatter, Draco was really, really hot. It helped that he totally hated Terrence. But then… Malfoy was supposed to be friends with Terrence. He was supposed to have sent the veela to hurt him in the first place. Blinking, Harry decided it was time to go.
“Potter,” Draco hissed when Harry went to open the door and leave. Glancing back, his knees nearly gave out when he caught Draco glowing, transforming to feathery and sexy.
“What do you want me to do to him?” Draco continued, looking at the brunette meaningfully.
Harry swallowed hard, a wicked grin breaking across his face. Terrence looked very, very scared, eyes wide as he clawed at Draco’s hand. Veela halflings were much more powerful physically than the full blooded types and Terrence was feeling it the hard way.
“Thought he was your friend, Malfoy,” he said, taking a step forward and then another, really wanting to see how Draco’s muscles bulged up close. The boy wasn’t even straining, still just holding Terrence up even though he had been stuck in bed for days.
“That was before I heard him say he was going to touch you,” Draco said tightly, anger making his voice hard. “No one gets to fucking touch you.”
Eyebrows raised, Harry was not sure what the hell to make of such a statement. Well, beyond his body’s initial burst of lust. He stepped closer to the bed, resting at the foot of it, hands inches from Draco’s feet. He glanced briefly up at Terrence, the veela looking paler than proper, eyes nearly bulging out. He smirked, bringing his gaze back to Draco. “You’re still out of your mind.”
Frowning grimly, the blond just stared at him, eyes glowing brighter as if trying to pull the brunette into the bed with him. Harry really didn’t mind. Draco was damn sweet when crazy, being protective and pretending he was actually someone the blond cared about. He wished the boy was like this all the time.
“Hurt him,” Harry said abruptly, answering Draco’s earlier question. And while he rested his elbows on the bed, Draco did as he asked without the slightest signs of hesitation. It was quick, efficient, and brutal, the brunette admitting a great amount of arousal to the vicious sight.
Growling, Draco threw Terrence’s whimpering, bloodied form to the ground, eyes again fixed on Harry. “You’re mine.”
He shrugged, bemused with Draco’s crazy conviction of such a statement. “Your asshole friends don’t seem to think so. Actually, I’m pretty sure you didn’t think so when you sent them after me at the beginning of the school term.”
Draco sat up further in the bed, tucking his knees until he was crouched in front of the brunette. “I did no such thing.”
“Oh? Then they just managed to know where I liked to hang out while having never been here before?” Harry kept his voice light, his body feeling numb just thinking about it. “They called me by my name outside the closed door. Told me how you had told them everything about what I had done that night. Terrence said I had ‘brought it on myself.’ His exact words.”
“Brought what?” Draco demanded, his eyes snapping down to the veela whimpering on the floor. When Terrence made no move to answer, Draco leaned down, hauling the boy up. “What the fuck did you do to him?”
“M-Malfoy, it’s not what you think—Shit! Potter, you need to talk him down!”
Harry, who was feeling about as numb as he had ever felt before, didn’t say anything. He watched with mild interest when Draco squeezed Terrence’s hand a little too tight and something snapped loudly. Malfoy was just being crazy. Because even if he hadn’t known, it still didn’t mean he would fucking care.
“Fine—f-fine! We were sent to test him! To see if he was as powerful as you said—Dammit! You didn’t tell us you claimed him!”
“Potter, is he telling the truth? Did they just test you?” Draco asked, his words muffled by his long, sharp teeth.
“No,” he said flatly, Terrence shrieking as another finger was broken.
“What. Did. You. Do.” Draco shook the veela with every word.
Terrence held on weakly, eyes again turned to Harry pleadingly. “Potter, please… you have to… calm him.”
He didn’t have to do fuck. “I think you should answer the question. Poor Malfoy is very sick from the madness and you aren’t helping things by being difficult.”
“He’s not—Ahh!” Terrence screamed, Draco twisting his thumb.
“Not the right answer, Terrence.” Harry gave a bored sigh, pushing taller on his arms until he was standing fully. He wondered idly how many more fingers Malfoy would have to go through until the veela actually got the damn hint. It turned out to be two.
“Oh hell… we… we pulled him… We wanted to see if he could fight it… like you said…”
Draco went still, wrenching the veela up to his face, Terrence’s head rolling forward, his neck unable to support the weight anymore. “Did you touch him?”
“Y-Yes…”
Draco gave a warning roar, suddenly standing and holding the veela by the head, hands pressing over his ears painfully. “Did you rape him!”
“No!” Terrence cried, eyes squeezed shut as Draco held his head tighter. Draco turned to Harry, eyes blazing for confirmation.
Harry stepped over, grabbing Terrence by the jaw. “You see what he’s doing to you? If I ever run across another one of you fuckers trying to test me or touch me or rape me ever again, this is going to seem like a fucking picnic. You want to tell me I can’t weave? The first time I tried, I was powerful enough to kill Voldemort while your full-blooded, shiny haired bitches kept getting eaten by the monster.” He turned away in disgust, anger boiling in him suddenly so much stronger than the numbness of before.
“Potter?” Draco growled, his unasked question clear.
“They tried, Malfoy,” Harry snapped. “I was stronger. Fucking five glowing veela tried to break me. They touched me, and when I realized they were going to rape me, I wove myself the fuck out of there. Blinked into the damn Shrieking Shack and had myself a nice, lonely freakout. Fucking hate veela.”
Draco abruptly dropped Terrence, the veela crumpling to the ground in a pained heap. “Why didn’t you tell me? Is this why—Damn it, you haven’t said a fucking word to me since we started school! Why the fuck would you not tell me?”
Harry looked at him in disbelief. “Because I thought you sent them to do it, Malfoy!”
Draco stepped back as if slapped, his eyes wide. “My god… Do you really think so little of me?”
It was too much for Harry, Draco looking so shell-shocked and small. He was already upset from having to remember so much, from the veela to Voldemort. Now he had to feel guilty for thinking Draco had wanted to hurt him? “What the fuck do you want from me, Malfoy? You ran off that night. You fucking left me on the damn floor. You never tried to say a fucking word—And shit, you were right for it.”
“I came back,” Draco said weakly, hands reaching for Harry, who quickly stepped away. “You had passed out. I stayed with you. I left to get help and then I stayed with you while you were unconscious.”
Harry shook his head agitatedly while gnawing on his lower lip. “You left. You left me all alone to… to count them. Every heart. Every single one, trying to figure out who I had killed.”
“You were so weak! I had to get you help. I-I…” Draco took a deep breath, tears welling. “I forced you, Potter. You were so weak, bleeding and confused and I was so much stronger—”
“Stop! Why are you saying that?” Harry shouted, pulling at his hair fitfully. “You were under a spell. That fucking potion. You can’t blame yourself over a goddamn spell!”
Draco groaned, turning and nearly tripping over the fallen Terrence. “I never drank the fucking thing! My father tried to make me and I blacked out. When I came to I had gone all veela for the first time.” He turned back, eyes begging Harry to understand. “I couldn’t let them hurt you. I just couldn’t. There was something inside me that wanted to kill everyone so that you would be safe. And that same something… it wanted to make you mine. Even though you were weak and didn’t understand and couldn’t fight back properly.”
Harry couldn’t speak, his mind reeling wildly. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. Malfoy had been full of a lust potion. He had wanted to have sex with him because of that potion, using his call. And while they were having sex, they happened to do a spell to kill Voldemort and save both their lives with Draco’s veela powers. But… but if you took the potion out of the mix, how the hell had any of it happen?
“Wait, don’t run away!” Draco shouted, racing Harry to the door and slamming it shut while the brunette struggled to open it. “Talk to me! Yell at me! Anything! Just stop running away from me!”
Harry growled, turning and shoving the boy back. “What! What the fuck do you want from me! So you didn’t take the potion—What the hell is that supposed to mean? You left me and then you never talked to me again. And we started school and those fuckers came after me—”
“But I had nothing to do with that!”
“It still fucking happened!” Harry yelled, hitting Draco again, the taller boy stumbling back. Draco grabbed his fists before he could strike a third time, trapping them against his chest.
“I would never do that to you. My god, Harry, I felt bad enough for what I did to you that night. I would never… Never do such a thing.” Draco pulled him closer, trying to get the boy to meet his gaze. The brunette kept his head ducked, struggling still to pull away.
“I killed your mom,” Harry whispered hoarsely, tears in his eyes. “It was okay that you wanted to hurt me because I killed her. You should hate me… I-I hate me and you should too.”
Eyes downcast, Draco sighed heavily. He released Harry’s hands only to thread his fingers through the boy’s dark locks, pulling his face up. “What are you doing to yourself, my beautiful?” He whispered, pressing his forehead against his. “You didn’t even know what you were doing. I was supposed to guide you. Keep you focused. I never even warned you that others could get hurt. It wasn’t your fault.”
Harry just shook his head weakly, more tears falling from his blinking lashes. “I am so sorry, Draco… So, so, so fucking sorry,” he gasped out.
Draco tried to wrap his arms around the boy, but Harry began to pull away the instant he felt it. So Draco kept his fingers lightly on the back of his neck while his other hand combed Harry’s hair. “It’s okay. I promise.”
“I gotta… I need to go,” Harry mumbled, stepping back. “I just can’t…”
“Please stay—God… just… just stay for a few minutes,” Draco pleaded softly. “You don’t have to say a word if you don’t want.” He pulled away, his hands out and open. “I won’t touch you. I just… I just want to be around you.”
Harry paused at the door, eyes staring blankly at his bare feet. Draco relaxed slightly when the boy made no further signs of trying to escape. “Um… did you come in here to see me?” He asked, trying to draw Harry into a safer line of conversation.
Harry shook his head mutely. He chanced a glance up, gnawing on his now swollen bottom lip, only to look away when he caught Draco’s eye. “I was trying to get outside for a bit but there were people out there.” He tilted his head towards the door.
“They, uh, didn’t hurt you, did they?” Draco asked, remembering how the brunette had freaked out in the Great Hall.
“Nah.” Harry sighed, staring at the floor again. “Really, I should just get out of here and…” He needed to think. He needed to get away from the damn beautiful boy and think.
“Let me at least take you to your room?” Draco asked, taking a small step closer. “Just to make sure no one hurts you.”
Harry spared a glance behind Draco’s legs, Terrence groaning in pain on the floor while he held his broken hands to his body. “You think that’s a good idea? You’re not quite yourself right now.”
Draco furrowed his brow, turning to where he was looking for a moment, then back to the brunette. “Harry, I’ve been free of the illness for ten hours now.” He stooped, picking Terrence up by the shoulder and throwing him unceremoniously on the bed. “My body actually fought the illness off, it just took a while. Pomfrey wants me to stay in bed for another day. You know how she gets.”
Harry just stared. His mind kept freezing up at the very thought of Draco saying all the things he had just said while at the same time not being infected. He shook his head quickly, trying to clear the strange blush from his cheeks. He really needed to just get the hell away and think in peace.
He stepped aside when Draco approached, staring at the taller boy’s back and long silky hair as he opened the door. “All clear?” Harry asked hopefully.
“Give me a second and I’ll clear them out,” Draco said, stepping out the door and latching it behind him. Staring blearily at the doorknob, Harry wondered if Draco was out there throwing people literally out of the room. He glanced again at the broken pile of Terrence. Malfoy had systematically pulled the veela apart just because he had… What, exactly? Was it because he had asked Draco to hurt Terrence? Or was it because Draco didn’t want anyone touching him?
And why, exactly, didn’t Draco want people touching him? He had been upset in the forest too. Upset he had let Dren touch him. Draco had been begging that he only be his… And now he had beaten up Terrence, the ringleader of the asshole veela that had attacked him months ago. He had… Draco had said he was his…
The door suddenly pushed open, Harry starting, eyes rising to catch on Draco’s. Staring at him far too long, Draco eventually stepped back so Harry could get into the now empty hall connecting all the single rooms together. Harry glanced down and sideways, catching Draco in his peripheral as the boy followed him slowly to his room. And then Harry was suddenly pushing his way into his tiny white room and Draco was in the doorway behind him, hanging on the frame, long hair blocking his face from sight.
“Potter, I need to talk to you about that night. Seriously talk to you.” Draco looked up, his expression tired but resigned. “It’s… It’s difficult, the things I need to say, and I just really don’t know how to say them all. But I need to. Because I just don’t know how to keep doing this.”
Harry sat heavily on the bed, hands braced on his knees. “Yeah, okay. We can do that. Just not…”
“Not now,” Draco agreed quietly. He straightened, staring at Harry’s bowed head and shoulders. He walked further into the room, sinking down to his knees in front of the boy, Harry’s green eyes widening as he caught sight of him.
“What are you…?” Harry gasped, Draco’s hands cupping his face firmly.
“You’re in danger like this. And you’re bored in this room. And I… I would really like to kiss you,” Draco murmured, nose brushing against Harry’s lightly. “Would that be…?”
“Yeah,” Harry replied breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut, Draco’s hands warm on his skin, breath even warmer as he slipped closer and gently pressed their lips together. It was soft, sweet and tinged with sorrow. Exhaling slowly, Harry yielded into the firmer touch, Draco’s fingers pulling him closer, tongue urging his lips to part. “Oh… oh hell,” Harry whispered weakly, shuddering as he melted under Draco’s hot mouth.
Groaning, Draco tangled his fingers into Harry’s hair and crushed the boy’s lips as he surged forward, delving his tongue deep and tasting. Harry gave a resounding moan, arms wrapping around the blond’s neck as he met each thrust of tongue with his own. Gasping loudly, he suddenly found himself in Draco’s lap, the boy pulling him down to the floor on top of him. Harry wrapped himself tighter, straddling the boy’s thighs while Draco slid an arm around his waist and ground their lower bodies together.
Harry could not fully understand why he needed to crawl inside the boy holding him but that was what he wanted, to pull Draco’s flesh so tight to him that they would eventually meld and merge and be complete again. And Draco definitely understood, his grip so strong and forceful as he wrenched Harry’s hips, twined their tongues and tried to breathe through the brunette’s mouth as if it were his own. Harry pushed fitfully at Draco’s pajama shirt, finding the hem and getting his hands underneath, seeking out the waiting hot flesh beneath. He tried to undo the buttons, his fingers uncoordinated and impatient, tearing and slipping on each small disk.
Draco growled, far less impeded, grabbing Harry’s shirt by the bottom of the hem and pulling it up his back, twisting and folding until the brunette finally relented and raised his arms long enough to pull it free. Except neither was willing to break from their kiss long enough, Draco finally groaning and wrenching away so that he could have the boy topless, dark hair ruffled into a mess. Seeing that Harry had still not gotten his shirt undone, Draco quickly tore the two halves of his top apart, buttons popping and rolling away.
“Harry, your—mmph!” Draco was cut off by his desperate mouth again, groaning as the brunette attacked him with such force he toppled backwards, Harry following relentlessly after.
Forcing Draco flat onto his back, Harry kissed him hard into the floor, hands moving down his sides and up his chest, fingers fanning and digging in as he explored every hard plane he could reach. Draco explored his back, large palms running possessively over every bare inch of flesh and muscle, moving down and grabbing the boy’s ass. Harry cried out when Draco suddenly pulled him tight against his hips, their hard lengths crashing into each other.
Glaring as he heard voices in the hall outside, Harry reached for the still wide open door, nearly losing his balance as he leaned to push it shut. Seeing him stretched out, Draco caught the boy’s extended arm, other hand flowing over his body, lingering on his hips. Sharp hipbones peeked out from the waist of Harry’s pajama pants that Draco immediately began to push further down, revealing more creamy, golden skin.
“Oh fuck,” Harry gasped, Draco pulling him further up his body by his outstretched arm, their flesh rubbing together achingly. With his free hand, he braced himself on Draco’s shoulder while the blond managed to get his palm down the front of Harry’s thin pants and into his sweaty curls. Harry moaned loudly, hips rocking forward in hard, desperate thrusts, pumping into the fingers wrapped around his cock.
“That’s it, beautiful,” Draco murmured huskily in his ear, releasing his wrist to grip the boy’s hip and add more resistance to each grinding pump. “God, I’ve dreamed of this. Holding you again. Hearing you gasp and cry for me.”
Harry whimpered, panting into Draco’s neck as he held the boy’s shoulder and hip. It took everything in him not to say what he was feeling. How horrible and wonderful it was to be back in Draco’s arms. It wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last. He was fucked in the head, and Draco… god, Draco was fucking perfect.
“Come for me,” Draco demanded, mouth wide as he licked up the side of the brunette’s neck, teeth nipping into his jaw. “You are mine, Harry. Every time you come, it’s for me. Every cry, every breath, every drop of your seed; these are the gifts you give me.”
“Draco,” Harry moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head when the blond’s free hand pushed his pants down, fingers teasing between his cheeks. It was too much, those long digits stretching his flesh, dipping into his hole and touching inside him. Harry’s cry was of surrender, his cum streaming into Draco’s ready palm, hips jerking fitfully while the blond held him tight.
As Harry’s breathing began to even out, the rest of the world started to filter in. The sun streaming in through the window. Voices outside the door. Draco, mouth moving over his neck, pausing only to lick his hand clean of cum with hungry strokes. He could feel the blond’s stare, trying to catch his eye, trying to figure out what he was thinking. But he wasn’t thinking. He never fucking thought anymore, he just reacted and acted with no regard for consequences.
Face buried in Draco’s neck, Harry slid his hand down between their sweat soaked bodies, seeking out the hard length still burning into his hip. Draco caught his hand before he could wrap his fingers around his cock. Harry bit his lip, not sure why Draco would stop him and unwilling to seek the boy’s face out to ask him.
Draco entwined their fingers together while pulling Harry’s pants back up. “If you touch me, I won’t be able to hold back,” he said hoarsely, kissing his cheek. “Every part of me is screaming to fuck you, my beautiful. I want to come inside you. I want you to come inside me. There is only so much I can control right now.”
Harry felt dizzy, the world spinning wildly at the very thought of Draco so close to the brink that just to touch his dick would be to break his self control. He made himself pull away. Forced himself to get up away from Draco’s heat, sweat and breath and sit alone on the bed while not looking at the boy. Because he would touch him if he stayed. Just to see if Draco was lying. Just to have the boy inside him again.
Draco didn’t move for a while as he collected himself. He stayed long enough for Harry’s eyes to wander back his way, taking in his long legs, bare torso, fierce, contemplative face while the boy breathed haltingly with his eyes closed. He was beautiful. Harry fought the urge to go back, to unveil Draco’s erection and wrap his lips around his cock the way he’d been dreaming of doing nearly every time he closed his eyes.
“Harry,” Draco whispered, his eyes remaining shut. Harry wondered if they were shining behind his lids even though he felt no pull.
“Yeah?”
“The spell should be gone.”
Wetting his lips, Harry slowly got to his feet. “You want me to go?”
Draco gave a harsh laugh, his hand covering his face. “Never. I want you to never leave my presence again. But if you don’t get the fuck away from me soon, smelling the way you’re smelling, I’m going to lose my shit.” He trailed of, groaning softly as the world again went dizzy for the brunette.
Harry paused, standing over Draco, watching the boy determinedly keeping his eyes closed. “Is that all it is? Just some sort of scent?”
Draco didn’t say anything for a long minute, his fingers threading through his hair. “Everyone has a scent,” he finally answered, choosing his words carefully. “The same way the arrangement of facial features, physical attributes and even desirable emotional states can provoke a response of attraction.” He hesitated, finally adding softly. “Just… I don’t notice anyone else’s scent but yours.”
Heart racing in his ears, Harry bit the side of his thumb. “Why’s that?”
Draco shrugged, hand again covering his eyes. “Not sure. Probably because… well, it’s one of the things I need to talk to you about. Soon.”
“Oh… okay.” He was too distracted to move his feet even though he knew he should. Draco was waiting for him to leave. Needed him to go so he could get himself back under control. His body just didn’t seem to care. “What happens if you look at me right now?” He asked softly, both of Draco’s palms now over his eyes.
“Nothing.” Draco lifted his hands away, his eyes perfectly normal and free of glow. Except the tears streaking from the corners of his eyelids, fresh ones even now threatening to spill.
Harry swallowed hard, not sure what to do. “Why are you…?”
“Missed you,” Draco said simply, closing his eyes again. “A lot.”
His throat feeling tight all of a sudden, Harry nodded weakly. “I’m gonna go,” he mumbled, stepping around the boy.
“Soon, Potter.”
“Yeah.” Harry escaped out into the hall, shutting the door behind him. Sirius, Remus, Severus and Dren all looked up at him, the four in a huddle as they conversed. Harry barely noticed them, walking past and ignoring their calls.
SCENE #Troubled Harry
Harry skipped classes for the next three days, wandering the dungeons of the school, eventually hiding away in the Chamber of Secrets. He didn’t know what to make of anything except the realization that his heart was breaking and had been doing so for a very long time. Before that summer. All the way back when he had fallen for a rather brilliant, cocky, son of a bitch Slytherin whose family had been so deep in Voldemort’s pocket, Harry had known he would never have a chance with the boy.
One incident had changed everything and nothing. They had gotten Voldemort out of the way only to pile a stack of bodies so high between them, there was no way to see past. Which was probably why Harry ended up in the Shrieking Shack tonight, drinking himself blind.
Draco killed Lucius and he killed Narcissa. Whatever weird, animalistic instincts took over veela halflings, it was apparently able to ignore very terrible facts like that. Harry couldn’t. He knew how horrible it was to have your parents be murdered and he had just been a baby at the time. Malfoy was fully aware of the horrors that had happened and whatever his veela blood was doing to him, it didn’t warrant forgiveness.
Now, apparently, Harry had fucked up any other family connections for the boy. Terrence had been shipped off to wherever they kept full-blooded veela assholes with a very big chip on his shoulder that would likely keep Draco from ever being welcomed back. And fuck—Harry honestly didn’t feel bad. Because he fucking hated the veela and hated that Malfoy had ever left with them in the first place. Draco should have stayed with him. They should have fucking talked the second he had regained consciousness and tried to figure something the fuck out.
“Damn it,” he growled, getting unsteadily to his feet so he could explode the broken bits of furniture around the room properly.
It wasn’t fucking fair! How dare Malfoy still want him after all this. He had fucked up beyond all reproach, had killed a house full of Death Eaters, and that fucking prat could cry over missing him these last months? He had iced Harry out—had been a fucking stone around him every time they made eye contact. How dare Draco feel underneath it all while Harry had been bleeding raw the whole fucking time!
“Hate him… fucking hate him…” Now he was supposed to just talk to him? What, have like some fucking pity party over how it had all gone to shit that night? Grunting, Harry glared at the banister leading to the stairs, each wooden rung exploding one after the other in a shower of splinters and green smoke. Harry didn’t need to go over how he had fucked up. He had gone over it so many fucking times in his head as it was.
Malfoy thought he rape him… The fucking moron.
Harry would have taken a seat next to Voldie and downed a glass of poison to have a chance at Draco. Even now, pissed out of his skull, legs unresponsive, and angry as fuck, if Malfoy walked in there, Harry wouldn’t think twice to get on his knees and take anything the boy wanted to give him. Fucking idiot.
“Hate you!” Harry slammed his arm into the wall, scowling as his bottle of Firewhisky shattered all around him. With a sloppy spell, it was back together, allowing him to throw it across the room with a more satisfying glitter of glass. He stumbled up the stairs, glaring at the bedroom door hanging off its hinges until it relented and exploded.
He would not let Malfoy forgive him. Holy fuck, the boy had to be out of his fucking mind. He had killed his mother. His fucking mother! If anything was going to kill a relationship before it started, that was it. Fucking veela. He shouldn’t be forgiven, no matter how fucked in the head Malfoy was.
“Fuck, he’s a good kisser.” Harry fell to his knees, halfway in the bedroom door, his head heavy but anger still burning strong. Missed him. Draco had missed him. What a fucking moron.
For an instant Terrence’s pain twisted body flashed in his mind’s eye. Harry snorted, chuckling as he fell forward, face slamming into the rough floorboards and bruising his nose. “Drake, you are one hot psycho when you’re angry,” he mumbled.
God, he had wanted to fuck him so bad. In the forest after the rogue was dead and Garruth incapacitated. Malfoy belonged in the woods, hunting things, hurting things, covered in the blood of his enemies. So what if it meant Harry was fucked up? Malfoy was a killing machine, and it was so fucking hot.
He was not a good drunk, he was realizing as the floor wobbled nauseatingly.
Keep him. Fucking veela. They were just as bad as humans. Everyone wanted a piece of Harry fucking Potter. Well Harry fucking Potter was tired of being him. He should have beat Terrence himself. Should have exploded his fucking fingers instead of Malfoy carelessly breaking them. Fighting over him like a quaffle—Why? Because of some fucking scent? Because he could weave a spell? Terrence had said… had said he was made for veela.
Was that really all it was for Malfoy, just some sex scent gone crazy in his head? Harry hadn’t bothered to study up on veela and, after his run ins, had chosen to avoid anything to do with them including research. All he knew was that he hated them even more so after learning what their council intended for him. Own him. Fucking own him. Fucking arrogant, piece of shit, manipulative predators. He would show them what it meant to mess with Harry fucking Potter.
He killed seventeen people with one fucking spell by accident. Just think what he could do if it was on purpose.
The floor dusty beneath his scraped cheek, Harry closed his eyes. Fucking veela.
Missed him. A lot.
Harry exhaled a long sigh, fingers curling on the ground. “Miss you, too.”
SCENE #Web of manipulation
Stuck in the Headmaster’s office, facing Dumbledore, Elder Hollands, and Madame Pomfrey, Draco was doing his best to keep his temper in check. It was about Potter, of course. The boy had disappeared days ago, no one seeing hide nor hair of him. He assumed it was another of Harry’s passive aggressive ways to avoid him and the many things they needed to talk about. Draco hadn’t deluded himself in thinking Harry would make it easy. Harry was erratic and stubborn and had spent months thinking he had sent veela to rape him. There was no way that was going to fix itself over night.
Draco had first thought Elder Hollands, the veela spokesman, had come there to reprimand him for his actions against Terrence. No, his reason had managed to be far more annoying than that.
“Mr. Malfoy, if you might just have some insight into his whereabouts?” Dumbledore asked. “It’s imperative that we find Harry as soon as possible. If what Elder Hollands says is correct, he could be in a lot of danger.”
“He’s fine,” Draco grunted out, glaring at the veela. “And even if I did know where Potter is, I’m sure as hell not telling him.”
“I understand that you’re upset right now,” Holland said, his handsome face stern, back straight and tight with perfect posture. “I don’t even understand how you’ve coped this long, Draco. You should have told us immediately when we took you into our care. We could have avoided what is undoubtedly unbearable pain for the both of you.”
“Like fuck,” Draco snarled, standing and pushing into the man’s personal space. For the Elder’s credit, he didn’t flinch or step away. “You would have broken it somehow. Would have torn us both apart so you could chain him to some full-blooded veela. I never would have let you in this castle if I had known you were interested in him. Would have killed every fucking last one of you—”
“Mr. Malfoy! Calm yourself,” Poppy admonished. “I have brought the needed draughts with me if you cannot handle this conversation without losing your control.”
“I am in perfect fucking control,” Draco gritted out, never taking his eyes from the veela Elder. “Ask him. I found out that every goddamn veela out there is fighting over who gets to win Potter—That’s how they see humans, if you didn’t know. Things. They think Potter is some fucking thing that they can just give away to another. Like they own him. I have killed no one; I am in control.”
“It’s more complicated than that, Draco,” Elder Holland said stiffly. “You have gotten your information from an adolescent, one still in the throes of his aggressive mating cycle.”
“What, you want to tell me he was lying?” Draco kept his voice low, knowing if he started shouting it would all go to shit soon after. “The council isn’t trying to win Potter?”
“That is not…” Holland fell silent, flicking a loose strand of silver hair over his shoulder. “No one is authorized to approach Harry Potter until he has come of age next summer. And when that time comes, adolescents are discouraged from participating because of the dangerous nature of the boy’s power. It is important that we remedy this situation as soon as possible. That Terrence has aggressively—”
“Twice,” Draco growled, the first of his feather’s sprouting, fangs already tipping, claws quickly following. “The first time I wasn’t there to stop him. Did Terrence tell you that as well, Elder? That when my supposed brethren entered this castle at the beginning of the year, all five of them hunted Potter down with the intent to rape him?”
By the surprised looks all around, that information had not reached veela or professor ears alike. For some reason it only made Draco angrier to realize Harry had managed to suffer so much alone, not only blocking him out, but his teachers as well.
He stepped back, the rest of his feathers rippling through him along with his anger. But he wasn’t here to fight with the Elder, he was here to keep the man from making things worse. “I invited my brethren into my territory because they had shown signs of wanting to get to know my other people better. They lied to my face, wished me well in my endeavors and then tried to rape my beautiful mate. Do you seriously think anything you say is going to remedy this?”
The Elder was silent as he thought, eyes straying to Dumbledore, who had lost all twinkle in his blue gaze.
“This doesn’t change the fact that he’s in danger,” Elder Holland finally said, directed at the Headmaster. “If anything, he’ll be more unstable and in need of guidance.”
“That may be the case, but I can hardly trust you to protect him. These revelations are beyond grievous,” Dumbledore replied sternly.
“The boy could be lying,” Elder Holland pointed out, ignoring Draco’s growl. “Potter looking for attention to feed his self destructive spiral. The halfling desperate to have Potter to himself. You really don’t know just how strong these instincts can go.”
Dumbledore sat taller at his desk, his fingers bridging in front of him. “Oh, I’m getting a clear picture, Elder. All the more reason for me to believe that five adolescent veelas with full instincts would cross a line that their kind have been known to cross before. I might be willing to offer lodgings for a veela that would help Harry with his new instincts, but I do not believe I will be granting him leave of these grounds during the school year.”
Pensive, the Elder eventually nodded. “Very well. I will need to confirm that he is indeed a Gilt before anything else is determined. Mr. Malfoy, if you would happen to have the names of those adolescents that accompanied you to your school, I require them for further investigation.”
Draco wrote them down with an angry scrawl, hating the man even more. Nothing would be done. Veela didn’t give a fuck about humans—He had figured that out very damn quick. If anything was done, it would be just for show, to set Harry’s mind at ease. It wouldn’t be enough, whatever it was. Nothing would ever be enough to fix what those fuckers had done to his Harry.
Reading the parchment, Holland folded it up and slipped it into his long, grey robes. “Alright. Now, if you will lead me to Mr. Potter, I can get on with the point of my visit.”
Draco just stared at him, disbelieving. “And why, exactly, would I do that?”
“Because if you care a thing for the boy, you will see that he is in need of help,” Elder Holland said evenly, without any animosity or smugness. “From what your professors have revealed, his health has been degrading along with his mental stability since returning to school. You must feel it. The boy will be poisoning you soon enough with his toxic energy, if he isn’t already.”
Draco looked away, glowering.
“It is not a betrayal to get him help. That he turns from you as well only shows how ill he truly is.” The man’s hand was cool on Draco’s arm, jolting him. “Gilt veela are emotionally erratic under good circumstances. His circumstances have been anything but.”
A war was waging in Draco, one with too many sides to fully comprehend. He wanted Harry well and safe and happy. He wanted Harry for himself. He wanted to be the only one that could help the boy even though he knew he had been failing miserably at the task since the very beginning.
“I don’t know what to do,” Draco finally admitted, his heart feeling painfully tight in his chest. “You’re… you’re going to try to take him away from me.”
Hands cupped Draco’s face, raising his head to meet the Elder’s gaze. “He was never truly yours.”
Draco winced, shutting his eyes.
“He couldn’t have known what it meant to you,” Holland continued gently. “His type wake up slowly. Genetic memory kicks in much later for the Gilt. That he survived his first weave was accomplishment enough for one just waking up. Call him, Draco.”
Draco wrenched himself away from the man’s hands, his body trembling. “Fuck you.”
“Call your love to you and see if he bothers to answer.” By the Elder’s tone, he didn’t expect it. Neither did Draco. Harry never answered him. Not once had the boy come to him when he called.
SCENE #Draco’s call
Harry felt it, tendrils of warmth and light curling up his legs. He was half awake, staring blankly at the floor of the Shrieking Shack. He had somehow managed to end up in the broken kitchen downstairs, although how he had gotten there was a mystery to him.
His mouth tasted like a gutter and his joints were stiff and pained. Rolling on his back, he found the ceiling, a huge hole gaping above him revealing the bedroom above where he had been in. Vaguely he remembered waking up, angry, lashing out and exploding everything around him. Apparently the floor hadn’t been able to handle it.
“Drake?” Harry sat up stiffly, grabbing his pounding head. God, he felt like shit. Fucking Terrence. This was definitely all his fault. And Dren’s. If Dren hadn’t been in that damn clearing, Malfoy never would have known a fucking thing about him wanting the blond… Well, except that apparently the boy could smell him… Fuck.
Groaning, Harry got to his feet, the world shifting around him. “Shit… what the fuck do you want?” He grumbled, the boy’s power licking at the edge of his consciousness. What day was it? Didn’t Malfoy know he was hung over and didn’t want to fucking talk to him, like ever? Shit, what a pain. Harry stumbled to the door, stooping through the underground entrance to the Shrieking Shack. He blinked his way outside, nearly getting bowled over by the willow before he remembered to spell it still.
Draco was out on the grounds, Harry freezing mid step once seeing him. The halfling had a strange mix of sorrow and hope on his face Harry was having difficulty reading. “Err… hey,” he greeted, eyes skimming over the three adults standing behind Draco and watching him like he was about to start killing people. They were far less interesting than the silver haired boy and he focused in on Draco’s eyes that were no longer glowing. “You, um, wanted something, Malfoy?”
Draco made as if to step forward but a hand clasped down on his shoulder, keeping him still and silent. Harry narrowed in on it, glaring at the pale man standing behind the boy.
“Who’s the veela?” Harry asked, his guard immediately up. He still felt like shit and seeing a full grown veela was not helping anything. “You better not be here to punish Malfoy. It was my fault what happened to Terrence, not his. It it wasn’t for Malfoy, I would have killed the asshole.”
“My name is Elder Holland,” the man said, dismissing Harry’s angry rant. “I’m here to determine just what exactly you are, Mr. Potter, and how to help you.”
Scoffing, Harry shoved his hands into his pockets, walking up to the group. “Listen, man, I don’t actually care who you are. Just get your fucking hands off of Malfoy and get lost. I have no interest in your damn veela crap. Actually, I’m pretty sure I was straight with Terrence about this. If you’re here looking to fucking own me—or so help me, you try to touch me—I’m going to fucking lose it.” He grabbed Draco’s arm, the taller boy’s eyes widening in surprise when Harry snagged him away from the Elder in a show of possessiveness.
“What did you want, Malfoy?” Harry asked, barely glancing at Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey, his head ducked down to whisper to the blond. “You don’t do that pull thing unless you’re losing it or looking for me, and you don’t look like you’re losing it… Are you?” Harry tilted his head, studying Draco’s face a long moment.
Swallowing hard, Draco gave a nonchalant shrug that looked stiff more than anything. “They want to talk to you. Asked me to get you.”
Harry narrowed his eyes, looking away for a moment. He turned back, sighing in exasperation. “Don’t… don’t waste my time like that, Malfoy. If you want me, call me. Don’t do it for someone else. Fuck.” He shook his head, making as if to leave but Draco curled fingers around his wrist, holding him still.
“I didn’t think you’d actually answer,” Draco said quietly, pinning Harry with an unreadable expression. “You always walk away.”
“Yeah, well, things are different now.” Draco wasn’t glowing but even just having him close, warmth radiating from his skin, familiar masculine scent and sexy, elegant feathers was driving Harry to distraction. The fingers on his wrist felt like electricity and before he had realized it, he turned in the grip so that he captured Draco’s arm while the boy held his. “I’m… well, shit. I’m trying. I mean, I just went on a brooding bender and all but I’m trying to piece it together like it actually happened and not how I spent the fucking year thinking it happened. So, eventually, I’m probably going to stop being so pissed off at you because you didn’t actually do all those things I thought you fucking did. You know?”
Draco nodded silently, his expression still revealing nothing. It was actually starting to piss him off, the boy being cold to him again. Except his hand. His hand was anything but indifferent, Draco’s claws scratching ever so lightly against his arm, sending shivers of lust through Harry’s entire body. Shit, he must be really hard up if a few little scratches were doing it for him. And Draco had to know, his nose able to pick up his arousal. So even if the blond was totally a mask to read, he kept lightly tracing over his arm, clearly intent to drive him crazy. And Harry really wasn’t complaining about it.
Harry didn’t let go of Draco’s hand even when he turned and finally addressed his headmaster. “So, why am I here?” He asked, staring Dumbledore in the eye.
“A few reasons, actually,” Dumbledore said, hardly nonplussed that Harry had skipped school and still managed to seem put out for being called back. “But I’d say the most pertinent would be discovering if you’re a Gilt veela or not, so our guest can finally be on his way.”
Eyebrows raised, Harry glanced over to Draco. “Err, I don’t really think I look much like a veela, Sir. And I don’t just mean feathers here.”
Dumbledore gave a small smile. “I can see how you might think that. But there are different species of veela and the fact that you destroyed Voldemort by weaving a spell suggests you may be a very specific breed.”
Harry absorbed this information with a furrow to his brow. “Huh… part veela. This might end up with me hating myself even more than before. Alright, what do I have to do for you to figure it out? Nasty potion? Blood draw?”
“Nothing so barbaric,” Elder Holland broke in, stepping forward. “I will pull you and you—”
“No,” Harry said hoarsely, taking a large step back, hand tightening around Draco’s wrist. “No way in fuck I’m letting anyone pull me.” A full-blooded, fully grown veela was more a threat than the five punk kids that had cornered him in the classroom. Veela magic only grew with age, as did their control. And Harry could feel it in this man. The power. The confidence of control. The ease he would use to try and break him just because he fucking could.
“It’s just for the test, Harry,” Dumbledore said soothingly. “We’re all right here. No one will… No harm will come to you.”
Harry just shook his head, his panic growing to realize that Dumbledore wouldn’t be supporting him on this. “No. I don’t want—I can’t—I just can’t. And if he tries something, I can’t promise I won’t fucking lose it. Just get him away and, and shit, I’m serious!” He shouted, taking another step back when the man began to ripple feathers and glow.
Suddenly Draco was in his line of sight, the boy wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders. And damn, but Harry couldn’t stop himself from burying his face into the blond’s chest while he gasped for air as unfamiliar veela energy rose around him. Too strong. The man was way too strong, threatening to overwhelm him, steal his will away.
“I have you,” Draco muttered, glaring over Harry’s head at the other veela. “You need to stop this!” But Harry didn’t notice, too busy pulling his power up, weaving a barrier to stop the call currently trying to push him down to the ground.
“Get him off me, Malfoy,” Harry hissed, feeling something underneath the call trying to probe him, read him, change him in some way he had never agreed to. “I’m so sick… of you fuckers… taking from me!”
Harry wasn’t sure what happened next, his panic and anger cracking something inside him. His power rose up, a curtain of protection, and then the Elder was on the ground, gasping for air. All Harry knew was that the pressure had stopped and he felt dizzy and full of fear, the world tilting the wrong way.
“You never should have gone against his wishes like that,” Draco snarled from far away. “You could have waited to let him calm—Could have bothered to explain to him. Asked for his permission! What did you honestly expect? You might as well have attacked him.”
“Madame Pomfrey, can you…?”
“I’m doing the best I can, Albus, but he’s losing energy quickly. I think… You need to stop Harry.”
Suddenly the darkness faded and Harry was eye to eye with Dumbledore. He wasn’t sure when he had ended up on the grass but the man’s long nose was inches from his. “Harry, can you hear me?”
Harry nodded weakly, the world spinning from the motion.
“You’re still connected with the Elder. You need to let him go. You have him wrapped in your power. Do you understand me, Harry? You need to release him or he’s going to die.”
Harry didn’t understand. He hadn’t wrapped anyone in anything. At least, he didn’t remember doing such a thing. Closing his eyes, he sifted internally, seeking out the threads of golden power that were reaching outside of him. He followed the strands, finding the Elder veela like a fly within a web, struggling weakly, heart and lungs wrapped so tight they could barely move. For one terrible, angry moment, he felt the hot pulse of what it would be like to just pull a little tighter, to crush the man that had so easily filled him with unbearable fear.
Harry breathed and he let go. His anger. The veela. The unfairness of the world for demanding so much of him unapologetically. He unraveled his energy and twined it back within, then he shook on the ground, hands buried in his hair.
“Oh, thank god,” Madame Pomfrey murmured, throwing status spells up while gently slapping the Elder’s face. Harry watched, feeling numb and empty inside as the man came to, Dumbledore and Draco also by the veela’s side.
He had fucked up. Again. Had nearly killed someone just because he had been scared. God, he couldn’t do anything right. Couldn’t fucking get anything straight in his damn head.
Harry struggled to his feet, determined to get the hell as far away from everyone that he could. But Draco was at his side in an instant, pulling him close, trapping his arms when he tried to break away. “Let me go!”
“You were defending yourself,” Draco said evenly, holding Harry’s fists in place. “You thought he was going to hurt you and you defended yourself.”
Fuck, was he a fucking mind reader now? “Get off me, Malfoy. I don’t need your goddamn pity or understanding—or whatever the fuck—Oh.” He fell silent, Draco slamming him into his chest with a growl. Damn he was hot.
“You are fucking amazing,” Draco rasped, breathing deep against his neck and ear. “Do you even understand how powerful an Elder veela is? Less than a minute and you had him completely subdued and defenseless. My god, Harry—You’re magnificent.” Hands tangling in his dark hair, Draco pulled him up, hot mouth descending and claiming his possessively.
Ignoring the fact that he was in four day old clothes, likely tasted like death and reeked of stale booze, Draco wrapped Harry into his arms. Moaning, Harry hooked an arm around the blond’s neck, tearing at the boy’s shirt, drinking down every noise Draco let loose.
“God, you’re beautiful. Fucking… brilliant.” Biting at Harry’s lip harshly, Draco nipped down the boy’s jaw and throat, pulling loud gasps. “The things you do to me…”
“That, unfortunately, is the reason Elder Holland has traveled here.” Before Harry could fully discern Dumbledore’s words, he found himself again on the ground, the strange dizziness of earlier sweeping through him. This time Draco was with him, the boy lurching sideways as he struggled to keep his balance.
“Elder, I can assume you have gotten the information you were seeking?” Dumbledore asked the still slightly stunned man.
“Yes.” Smoothing his long hair down, the veela stood tall again, eyes sweeping to where Harry was fighting gravity on the ground. “He is a Gilt and given his overly emotional reactions, soon to transform. He will need training. Immediately.” He met Dumbledore’s eye, his expression growing grim. “I would isolate him from all veela interaction. His ability to corrupt his own will only add to his confusion when he reaches his next stage.”
Harry finally found his balance, glaring at the two of them. “Stop talking about me like I’m not even here. And shit—Seriously, that was really fucking rude what you just did there.”
“You’re not yourself,” Madame Pomfrey said tightly while casting status spells over Harry. “You’re erratic, unstable, emotionally explosive—”
Harry scowled, pulling away. “I’m a teenager. Not everything is life and death. If I want to kiss Malfoy, I don’t need you trying to ‘save’ me from it. Sure as hell didn’t ask you to sic a fully grown veela on me after having to fight Terrence off days ago. Are you trying to fuck me up even more? Where the hell is Sirius? You’re not doing another goddamn thing to me without my guardian present. You never would have done anything like this to any other student without their parents present—None of this is okay!” He was yelling by the time he was done, breathing heavily, anger crackling around him in electric sparks.
Draco found his feet as well and with a warning glare at the adults present, wrapped an arm around Harry’s angry form and pulled him close. “They think you’re going to go nuts and start killing for the fun of it. They want to bond you to an older veela to keep you stable. That’s what Terrence was trying to do. They want someone strong enough to overpower you to keep you in line.”
“Well fuck that, I don’t want to be controlled,” Harry hissed, directing it towards the elder veela even while pressing into Draco’s touch. “And if any of them try it, I make no apologies for my actions.” There was a fire in Harry’s eyes, a stubbornness that had not worn no matter how exhausted he was. No, it had only seemed to grow. But that was Harry. Pure will.
As if to prove just how beyond everyone’s reach he was, the brunette pulled from Draco’s hold and began walking away towards the castle.
Draco, glaring at the Elder that had started this mess, whirled, following after the boy and falling in step beside him.
“Mr. Malfoy, please don’t do anything rash,” Elder Hollands called after, his voice full of command. “Reestablishing the bond at such a time could harm you permanently.”
Draco kept walking, his shoulder’s stiff, a low growl rumbling through the tall boy.
Harry didn’t say anything, just glancing his way a moment. He wasn’t yelling at him to get lost—something Draco knew the brunette was more than willing to do when he wanted him gone—so he took it as a good sign and committed himself to repairing any trust he might have fucked up by calling Harry to the meeting with Elder Hollands.
He never should have let anyone interfere. Things were fucked up enough between the two of them without adding a nosy veela with ulterior motives into the mix. It didn’t remove the unease he felt though. Harry was messed up, unstable and dangerous. He didn’t want to hurt the boy more, even if every cell in his body was screaming to mate him again, make him his. It wasn’t safe.
Glancing his way again, Harry’s fingers brushed against his hand, the brunette lingering for a moment. Draco inhaled sharply, nearly losing a step from the simple contact. “You still want to talk?” Harry asked quietly.
What Draco really wanted to do was dig a hole so deep he’d never have to face this fucking topic ever again. “Yeah. It’s important,” he finally said, spreading his fingers wide until he found Harry’s hand inches from his own and touched again.
“Alright. I need a shower first.”
Draco paused once they were inside the castle, Harry stopping to look at him. “I’ll meet you at—”
Harry rolled his eyes, grabbing the blond’s hand and walking again, Draco stumbling forward, eyes wide in surprise. Keeping his mouth shut, he let Harry lead him to the closest men’s room with showers, his stomach clenched tight with nerves.
SCENE #Harry needs Draco
“Dren is looking to take the wolf back to his home now that he’s healed. And the cubs are well, running about and apparently taking a liking to Lupin. I never would have thought a werewolf would have any positive effect on an animal, given the scent the creatures give off…” Draco was rambling and couldn’t stop it. Harry had stalked into the bathroom with him in tow, stripped right in front of him and then jumped into a shower stall. It was taking all of his restraint not to follow after and look, touch, fuck the boy senseless.
“Okay,” Harry said, his voice echoing in the tiled room. “That’s what you wanted to talk to me about?”
Draco shook his head, the brunette unable to see. Just the sound of Harry’s voice, knowing he was feet away, naked, wet… No, this had not been a good idea. “I can’t speak of the other thing like this. I need to see your face. Your reactions.”
Huffing, Harry pushed the stall door open, Draco’s freezing in shock as the boy stood before him sleek with water and nothing else. Hard. Fuck the boy was hard. “Better?”
God, what the fuck was he doing to him? Groaning, Draco forced himself to turn away, glaring at the wall so he didn’t have to see every bare inch of Harry’s warm flesh and toned muscle. His eyes were glowing, he knew it, but could do little about it.
Shrugging, Harry let the door swing shut, soaping himself up and ducking his head under the spray of hot water. Having Draco just outside the stall was doing something to him, and not just the trickles of the boy’s warm call. He let his hand slip lower, grunting as he wrapped his fingers around his hard cock and stroked slowly. The spell to protect himself from the Elder had gotten him hard. It seemed a side effect of sex magic, arousal, and Draco right outside after just defending him, having kissed him only minutes ago was maddening.
He leaned forward in the shower, bracing his hand against the wall, smirking when he heard Draco snarl in frustration. Could the boy smell him? Could he hear every slick movement of flesh on flesh, every small, needy gasp he made. He really hoped the boy could. If Harry couldn’t have him in the stall he at least wanted the blond to feel as crazy as he was.
Harry kept his gaze straight ahead when the stall door swung open, Draco’s presence filling the doorway. He continued to stroke, groaning when a large hand pressed against the flesh of his ass and squeezed.
“Tell me to leave,” Draco rasped out, his voice full of unrestrained need.
Biting his lower lip, Harry remained silent beyond his soft pants for air. Draco took a hesitant step closer, water hitting his clothes and bouncing off loudly.
“I’ll go if you tell me to,” Draco insisted, his hand moving slowly up Harry’s sleek side.
“Stay,” Harry whispered, his back arching when Draco ran his hot palm down his spine. “Fuck.”
Draco inhaled sharply, Harry wondering if the blond had taken his curse as a command. He wouldn’t mind—God, he really wouldn’t fucking mind. He needed Draco inside him. Needed the boy to fix it all and he could think of no other way.
***
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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SCENE #The realm within Glover House
Ky returned to the world in a flare of fire and blinding light. Panic slammed in his chest as he spun. Green flames licked at his coat, and he instinctively curled inward and tried to pat them out before they could burn him alive. The bright, green flame evaporated under his touch, leaving his fingers unscathed. Ky stared at his coat, pulling at the edges, but no char or holes were there to find. He lifted his head and grabbed at the links on his collar as his mind ticked.
“Where the hell am I?” Ky muttered, his eyes scanning the cramped, dusty room, counters, shelves and wooden furniture dotting the creaking floorboards. It was empty of life, and Ky’s gaze fixed on a small, square window where daylight streamed in and turned the dusty air into a golden ray of glitter. He took sure steps to the door, his boots clunking loud on the bare boards, and he wrenched the handle open. Hesitating, Ky slowly stepped out onto the porch smelling of fresh paint and stared out into the dazzling morning.
The world outside, if possible, was just as empty and void as the room he arrived in. A field of tall green grass spread out before him, with only a few sparse trees to break up the landscape. A worn, dirt path cut a wandering trail along the landscape, the only thing that passed for a road as far as his eyes could see. Ky pursed his lips as he approached the wooden steps that led down, but the new vantage revealed only more grass, dirt, and clear, unmarred sky—nothing to tell him where the hell he was.
It was disturbingly mundane considering just how he traveled there. With a final, suspicious glare to the picturesque scenery, Ky turned back to the door he passed through and studied it closely. The porch, much like the room inside, was choked with the dust coming off the unpaved road, but also held the clinging odor of barely dried paint. The banister was a deep green, its fresh coat of gloss already marred by the fine cloud of dirt in the air. The boards beneath his feet were a faded white, creating a path leading to the door tinted with the sandy color of the road that had come in with the steps of all who entered. The black door also had a sheen to it, the high gloss looking out of place with the rest of the worn setting. Ky’s eyes narrowed, and he peered closer to read the dull bronze plaque fixed on the wall next to the door.
Glover House
Built in 1814 by the Aeternum Committee, this structure replaces the original standing house built in 1639 by Blackstone Falls founder, Edmund James Glover. It is the oldest standing building in Blackstone Falls, and is home to the Blackstone Falls Historical Society and Museum.
Ky’s mouth gaped open in outrage, and he whirled to glare at the unchanging scenery. “Is this a joke? The Aeternum is the town’s fucking historical society?”
Shaking his head sharply, Ky turned back and pushed the door open wide, truly seeing the inside of the room he landed in. The dim light was mostly from the ambient daylight fighting to be seen through the dust streaked windows. The back wall was lined with stately, floor length curtains, where a long counter stretched the width, and an unoccupied cash register rested to the side. There were glass displays throughout the room filled with random objects and mementos of a time long past in the town. Ky’s teeth grit tight as he stalked the length of the nearest display and took in the yellowed note cards hand penned in neat cursive, arranged to give additional information of the contents within. His anger grew as he glared at the black and white photos on the wall in understated frames, the well preserved writing desk that’s surface held multiple different brochures, the post card display that rotated at his touch, and the plastic key chains with the Blackstone Falls Historical Society emblem emblazoned on each.
He picked up one of the key chains, the metal cold beneath his fingers, and glared at the emblem. “Fuckers,” he snarled under his breath. No magic, no collars, no spells or even that stupid wand museum Moore mentioned. Nothing. There was only dust and the same old historical shit you’d find in any little town not full of slave trading, murderous sorcerers. His dark stare lingering on a stuffed raven with beady glass eyes, Ky shoved the tacky key chain into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone to check the time.
Were they fucking with him? Moore handed him a magical card while claiming that they were going to come and drag him out of his house if he doesn’t show for this hearing thing, and this is where it dropped him? Where the fuck was everyone?
Ky’s expression grew grim as another thought struck. What if Stewart Moore just wanted him out of his house at a certain time so he could try to steal the wands?
Ky’s hand patted down to the pocked in his coat, his breath coming out in a rush when he felt Anselm’s wand there. His boot was stiff with Tobias’s wand tucked up against his leg. He might not know how to use them, but he understood the horror that could happen to the relics if he lost them. There was a flash of movement across the room, and Ky fixed on where the curtains behind the counter ruffled slightly from a breeze. His eyes narrowed when he realized there must be a door on the other side. Outside of a bathroom sign and the outer door that led to the empty fields, there was no other exit or entrance into the room.
His patience was wearing thin with his growing anxiety— he was already five minutes late for a hearing so important no one had bothered to actually greet him after all the threats of death and embarrassment. Ky strode toward the glass display case and leaped over the counter in a swift move, his coat snapping around his legs in a rush.
He found the divide in the wall of fabric and brashly pushed the dark curtains wide open, revealing a hidden door. A generic sign said ‘No Admittance. Employees Only.’ A snarl curling his lips, Ky grabbed the door handle, which readily turned at his touch, and pushed it forward.
Ky sensed the change in the air immediately. The doorway was charged with magic, and it felt like he was pushing through more than air as he swung the surprisingly heavy door open and stepped through the entry. It didn’t just feel different; looking around, Ky was certain he had entered into a completely different building.
The color of the air was different, tinted and disorientating in a way he couldn’t explain. Ky’s nostrils flared as he took in the new, foreign scents, something acrid, possibly a cleaner mixed with old dust and a strange, unfamiliar greenery scent that he couldn’t pinpoint. Ky turned to look behind him from where he came and found the entryway tall and arched at the top, although the handle grasped in his tight fingers was still connected to the same ordinary rectangular door with the sign telling him not to enter. The curtains behind him looked as if they were in a fishbowl, miles away even though he knew if he stepped back just a few inches, surely he would touch them. The morning light of the dusty room on the other side of the curtains looked dimmer than it should, as if it were twisting in on itself and filtered through a noxious green sap.
Ky’s stomach clenched as he forced himself into the large, impossible hallway, and his footsteps echoed in distortions of sound all around him. His senses were telling him this was a place he didn’t want to be, a place that wasn’t supposed to exist. He was somewhere that wasn’t real, in something unnaturally made, including the pocket of universe that contained it.
Ky scanned around him warily, his hand resting on Anselm’s wand inside his coat as he stepped. The strange distortion lifted the further he moved into the room, his body and mind starting to adjust enough for him to place the items around him into context with the space.
It was a hotel lobby of some sort, everything about it confusing as much as Ky was confused to be there. The decor was a muddle of modern, contemporary architecture combined with archways from a long past century, and perfectly preserved furniture from different points in time, ranging from a loveseat that looked straight from the Victorian era, a desk that suited more the 1920’s, including a bright red rotary style telephone that he was sure was a knockoff made to look much older than it was. The curtains couldn’t have existed in the current world at all, the fabric free of dyes and processing, and weaved by a machine that had long been replaced with modern textile technology.
The floor was tiled in hard marble, and the chunky heels of his boots clunked with each step. Ky’s eyes were drawn to thin carpets with elaborate designs that looked like they might suck a person into another realm, a place of color and pattern, if they strayed on the wavering threads. Lush, green plants potted in giant kiln glazed pots decorated the arch ways, the gold leaf glinting of wealth and luxury in a space that didn’t quite know what it was. A large wall on the other side of the hallway was split in two, half of the space filled with shelves of books arranged like a piece of artwork, while the other half displayed a clock larger than Ky was tall, surrounded by smaller clocks that each revealed different times.
Ky stopped his cautious steps and glanced behind him, his eyes seeking out the doorway he deliberately left open. The entrance had changed as he moved away from it, and the door now fit in the tall archway that housed it. Ky could see there were two handles, two doors to complete the large entrance, the one he left open looking into a green tinted room that appeared upside down now, like someone had placed a rounded glass between him and the other side.
Ky had never felt more like a small, insignificant bug than in that moment. His breath was stuck in his chest as he looked around the lobby, feeling the weight of magic in the air with every inhale. He wanted to pass it off as wards, but stepping into Tobias’s manor hadn’t felt remotely the same as this, and those wards were powerful enough to keep out the sorcerers he was there to meet. All Ky knew for certain was that he didn’t want to get lost here, and not just in the room. He didn’t want to get lost from where his home was—where Earth was—because the longer he stood in the strange lobby, the more certain he was that he wasn’t in Blackstone Falls anymore.
‘Ky?’
Ky jolted and grabbed his collar, his heart hammering in his chest. His fingertips skimmed over the white-pink jewel that thrummed with familiar power. “Lovely?”
‘Yes, I… I just wanted to make sure you were okay.’ Lovely’s inner voice was like leaves drifting over pavement, barely there and sounding further away than Ky remembered it ever sounding before. ‘You feel odd in my senses,’ Lovely continued anxiously. ‘Like I can’t quite reach you.’
Ky’s lips pursed as he tried to understand what that might mean. He had lost track of all of them when he crossed Tobias’s wards, something in the magic cutting the relics from his senses. Were the wards different here… or was he different now that his relic genes were turned on?
The question was on the tip of his tongue, but Ky stopped himself, his head rising as he searched the lobby to make sure he was alone. He didn’t see anyone, no sign of cameras or ears listening, but he couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling of being watched.
“I’m fine, Lovely. Well, so far,” Ky said grimly. “I passed through some sort of… I dunno.” He faltered for words, his body growing more and more tense when he realized he had no way to explain just where he was and why he was certain Lovely would not be able to reach him if he tried to jump through the bond. “I think it’s warded with some sort of magic,” Ky finally got out, certain at least that was true. “But I can’t talk at the moment. Just promise me you won’t jump here, Lovely. It’s not… It’s not safe.”
That, Ky also knew, was true, even if he couldn’t explain it. The lobby with it’s weird decor and strange distorted door wasn’t anywhere he wanted the relics to be. It felt like a space that wasn’t just a destination, but an entity that twisted magic into it, pulling objects and beings into place and never releasing them from its warped walls.
Ky inhaled sharply and stared out at the walls as dread pricked up his spine.
Lovely sighed in his head, every fear, every anxiety the catboy held swiftly flooding into Ky’s senses. ‘Ky, just remember you have options. Don’t just—’
“Lovely, I need to focus,” Ky said tightly. His relief to know he was still connected to the relics even in this strange place was quickly evaporating as Lovely’s fears bled into him. “I’m late, and I haven’t found anyone yet. You’ll…” Ky growled under his breath and his glare sharpened on a staircase that blended into the wall of books and clocks. “You’ll know if things go wrong. I have to go.”
Lovely’s emotions swirled but soon withdrew, and the silence in Ky’s mind wasn’t interrupted again. Hating that he had to shut the beautiful relic out, Ky forged forward toward his new goal. This was to save them all. He couldn’t let his fear slow him down from the task at hand. They were all relying on him.
Ky passed a lounge area to the right of him, retro 1950’s style chairs in colorful leather spread out among coffee tables and tall fronds of greenery in the elegantly tiled space. It was empty, as was the library area that had seats to read in and a large ledger to keep track of who was borrowing which book.
That he wasn’t attacked immediately once the enchanted card deposited Ky there was small relief as he made his way to the massive staircase. He was being ignored. It felt calculated instead of a mistake or even a cruel slight. They wanted to set him off balance. They wanted to let the fear grow in him as he walked around this fucked up building and his mind was left to wonder on all the ways he might fail today and die at the hands of the Aeternum.
Ky already knew that there would be no winning in a power fight against these sorcerers. The Aeternum had crafted some sort of pocket of reality out of nothing, while he barely understood how to write with a wand.
Ky’s gaze followed the flow of the staircase, and he peered up, scanning for the telltale signs of people on the second floor from his limited vantage. There was a wooden banister that stretched along the second floor’s edge, gleaming in the light from a wide skylight that turned the entire ceiling into a prism of bright daylight. He squared his shoulders, his jaw clenched tight as he moved determinedly up the stairs, his ears picking up the sounds of voices reverberating in the distance. Ky’s eyes refused to stay still, seeking whatever telltale signs of life he could find and the danger it held as he moved and the upper floor came into view.
Glass displays were up here, far more modern and secure than the ones found behind the curtain in the historical society storefront. Ky’s steps slowed as he approached a case a little taller than him. Displayed inside was a faceless mannequin wearing a chain-mailed vest of what looked like blue and gold metal scales, combined with a long coat very similar in style to the one Ky was wearing. He squinted at the plaque attached to the wooden base, and his breath blasted out in a loud hiss when he read the small, engraved text.
Draquer’s Scales
Discovered by Abbott Burr Pemberton. When touched with flame these relic scales repel all heat, magic, and physical attack. When combined with a properly warded cloak, the wearer is rendered invulnerable.
Donated to the Aeternum Coven in 1822 by the Pemberton Estate.
The fuckers had taken the scales off of a relic and used it to make a magic vest. And then displayed it—like it was some fucking awesome thing they did instead of the act of complete barbarism it was.
Rage heated through him in a hot wave, and Ky turned from the display, his eyes moving around the upper floor to truly take in the objects around him. Books lined the back wall, the sunlight from above sparkling off the specks of dust that floated in the air. There were cases in long rows, some broken up by more shelves of books. Ky stepped warily onto the thin carpet, his eyes glued to the glass table tops where beneath the clear crystal surface, pieces of relics were arranged on black velvet. Ky’s vision dimmed dark at the edges as he picked out thin claws, dazzling scales, long, spiraled horns and shorter curled ones, and an array of tails, some so old, it was a wonder they hadn’t disintegrated.
His throat felt tight as he lifted his head toward the glass displays that contained what couldn’t be kept flat. One mannequin was swathed in long, crimson colored locks, but it wasn’t a wig. Someone had scalped a relic for some reason and put it on display. Another large, glass case held a complete relic skeleton, its tail, wings, and horns still attached, bones dark and stained.
Ky kept his lips pursed tight to prevent the snarl pulling at his muscles that would surely reveal the fangs he could feel itching to break free. Most of the other display cases held wings—so many different wings. The summoners must have been obsessed with the feathered type because they were the majority in display, from long, elegant wings that were three times the size of him, to small, feathery puffs that would have fit a child.
They were sick. These fucking people were sick, and no matter what happened, he needed to make sure they never got ahold of his wands. If he had to die to keep these sick freaks away from the relics, then it was a price worth paying.
Resolve formed in him like a hot flame, and Ky swept down the tiled area. The long banister gleamed to his right with the lobby beneath, and the rows of scientific displays to his left as he sought out the sounds of voices. There was a crash of glass up ahead followed by a pained cry, and Ky sneered, his anger moving through his face and breaking the impassive mask he desperately needed to keep intact.
He had to hide his heart. Feral’s warning echoed in his mind even as he stalked toward the sounds of whimpering and glass scraping on tile. These people would find a way to turn his heart against him, the same way Liem did.
Ky fought his emotions back and slowed as he reached the bend where a wall of books divided the next area from sight. As if his dark thoughts summoned him, Ky growled low in his chest when he stepped around the bookcase and found the other occupants of the upper floor, Liem standing among them.
SCENE #Meeting the apprentices
It was a battle to school his expression back to something remotely neutral as Ky took in the scene unfolding yards away, his gaze fixed on the movement of flesh half hidden by the individuals standing. A single display case was shattered, its glass everywhere, including coating the relic who was huddled on the ground. He was holding his bleeding arm tight to his chest, his long, brilliant blue strands of hair hiding his face from view. Ky looked around, trying to see if there was a story to be told in the group of young men standing there in matching uniforms, staring down at the fallen relic with grim expressions on their faces.
Glass cracked under a heavy boot as Stewart Moore came into view from the other side of the relic where the room expanded into a large study area. He was dressed similar to when he broke into Ky’s house, his formal coat and neat hair at odds with the man’s unruly eyebrows and almost comically large beak of a nose. Stewart held his cane up and moved the instrument in a sweeping gesture. Wind swirled up and the glass clinked and sparkled as it was caught up in a wave of magic and brought to settle into the remains of the shattered display case. He failed to get them all, and small, slivered shards glittered from the carpet among the shoes of the motionless apprentices, and the bare legs and feet of the naked relic who was struggling to stand up singlehandedly.
Ky’s blood roared in his ears as he took slow, deliberate steps toward the group. He had no clue if he could run there in time and reach the relic before something horrible happened. Ky might not have seen what had caused the relic to end up smashed through the display case, but even from the distance, Ky could tell his wounds would be fatal if he wasn’t treated immediately. There was too much blood on the floor, too many large pieces of glass in his skin. The relic’s movements looked to be slow, weak, from one who had little energy and was succumbing to shock.
As Ky got closer, his view shifted and he could see one of the apprentices was red faced, pointing at the relic’s location as if in mid yell, but the young man was unnaturally still compared to his peers. Even the dustmotes floating around didn’t move where the red faced apprentice was. Ky realized with a start that the apprentice and everything directly around him had been spelled frozen.
“Mr. Scion, I was expecting you ten minutes ago,” Stewart called gruffly, his eyes fixed on the relic who was frantically sucking on his wounded wrist while pushing unsteadily to his feet.
Ky scowled and didn’t bother to respond. He needed to calm down or he was going to do something stupid, like heal that relic and show that he was the same, all in one go.
He kept his eyes glued to his feet while breathing around the stench of fresh blood and panicked whimpers. Ky’s steps stopped in front of a spray of glass where thin shards were coating a mounted animal that had fallen to the floor, knocked out of the display case when it broke. He peered down at it, his eyes narrowed as he tried to discern just exactly what he was looking at. Not much bigger than a cat, it had a face framed in long fur, obscuring its glass eyes and sharp teeth. It was half skin, its preservation either gone wrong, or the deep wrinkles all along its face and body natural. Four legged, its had fur from the top of its head down to its back haunches, the color a startling, unnatural blue against the more fleshy pinks and dark browns of the skin. Its prehensile tail was twisted around, posed to show its many joints.
Its arms were longer than its back legs, giving the creature a sort of monkey like slope in its death pose. At the end of its fingers, its claws were intact, long giant things that looked like metal. It had too many fingers, and Ky grimaced despite himself when he saw that the front paws were doubled at the wrist, splitting into two extra, clawless hands that had intricate joints very similar to a human’s.
It was completely bizarre, and Ky couldn’t shake the certainty that if the fur wasn’t in the way, the face of the creature might look just like a spider monkey or some other small primate. Except it wouldn’t be a primate from Earth; it would be one that originated on Realm with the relics.
“Please be careful with that. It’s priceless. The only one ever discovered.”
Ky glanced up, his eyebrow raised at Stewart incredulously as he fought the anger he was feeling in his chest. “I’m not the one who threw it on the floor,” he finally grunted.
Ky carefully stepped over the preserved creature and kept his eyes straight ahead on Stewart. It took everything in him not to look at the relic, not to pull him up and away from these crazy fucks, and heal the wounds that were currently gushing blood and dripping on the floor. Ky knew if he looked, there would be no hiding his emotions, no pretending his heart wasn’t breaking to see anyone so hurt and at the same time, so completely disregarded. In that moment, Ky couldn’t promise that his eyes wouldn’t glow blue just like the relic whose genes he was made from.
“Hey!” One of the apprentices cried out the same moment the relic hissed savagely. Ky gritted his teeth, daring a glance to the side, somewhat surprised to find the relic had his claws outstretched in aggression at the wall of apprentices as he backed away. He looked lopsided, Ky’s concern growing when he saw he had only one wing.
He was a catboy like Lovely, but even though he had the telltale black cat ears and slinky tail, that was where the similarities ended. The pale flesh of his form was interrupted by bright blue and black scales that dazzled along one arm, ending in a reptilian like claw with metallic talons that looked to be permanently extended. His other arm and the rest of his limbs lacked any scales at all, and when Ky glanced to his shoulder where his long, neon blue hair was kept to one side, he saw that the cat relic only had a wing connected to his scales, like someone had grafted another relic onto his right shoulder and arm.
He was about the strangest relic Ky had ever seen, his coloring familiar to the mounted animal on the floor, and Ky couldn’t help but seek out the collar on the relic’s throat as he tried to piece together just what the hell was going on. It wasn’t the collar normally seen on relics. No, this one was made of the same metal used for the chains on Magnificent Night that kept his power contained. For whatever reason, they collared this relic but hadn’t bonded him.
The relic hissed again, louder this time as he backed away, his eyes darting from the group of apprentices and then to Stewart. His fangs extended and silver eyes flecked with blue narrowed calculatingly as he suddenly whirled and threw himself across the room. Blood splattered and his bare feet streaked crimson as he escaped out an archway and into another part of the building.
No one followed. The apprentices all gaped at the door as if shocked the relic had fled, but they refused to chase after him.
“He seems to be as happy to be here as I am,” Ky muttered dryly as he stared down at the large puddle of blood the relic left behind.
“Hmm. It’s good you got here when you did,” Stewart said with a sharp tap of his cane. “I was just about to send someone to collect you.”
Ky met his piercing eyes and the disapproval he did nothing to hide. “That the best you got? You threaten my family after breaking into my house, have your stupid card drop me off in a place I’ve never been before without anyone to show me where to go, and you think I’m supposed to give a fuck if I’m late?” Ky shook his head and sighed. “You people are pathetic.”
“And yet, here you are.” Stewart stepped around Ky and stooped down to pick up the fallen mounted animal. Ky glared at his back, holding himself from the angry retort at the tip of his tongue. There wasn’t any point in arguing over something so trivial when had much bigger problems to deal with.
Stewart brushed the glass off the blue furred creature and walked it to the nearest table, careful to arrange its fur back in order. “Thank goodness. For a moment I thought we lost it.”
Ky glared at the apprentices who were silently watching Stewart, then at the sorcerer. “Your relic is bleeding out,” he said tightly.
“He’s a self healer. He’ll be fine,” Stewart said dismissively, his expression grave as he looked at Ky over the blue fur of the mounted animal. “You’re still alive, I see.”
“Trust me, you’re the only one surprised about that,” Ky said flatly. He couldn’t keep his tongue though, not after what he’d seen within moments of finally finding people in the building. “Is there a particular reason that relic is bleeding? Were you trying to take his scales to make another disgusting vest?”
Stewart straightened taller and glared down his nose at Ky. “Draquer’s scales are extremely rare. It is not a magical property that relic possesses.”
“Because you tested him, right?” Ky’s smirk was bitter as he twirled a finger to indicate the room. “And you have him live where there is a butchery of relics on display like some sick fuck slaughterhouse.”
Stewart stiffened at the accusation. “Mr. Scion, everything in this building is for the pursuit of knowledge in relation to demons and summoning them. Nothing is here to torment our links.”
Ky snorted in disbelief. “Are you that dead inside? You hunt these relics down, kill the ones you don’t want, and the ones you do enslave eventually end up in pieces on display. This is a fucking crypt full of pieces of slaves. For all you know, they’re dead relatives to the relics who pass through here.”
Although his expression was impassive, a new anger lit Stewart’s eyes. “Then that would be most unfortunate. Now, unless you have a point, Mr. Scion—”
Ky’s smile felt feral as he stalked over to the red faced apprentice who had failed to move since he got there. “My point is that even though you have a room full of books, and more than enough pieces of dead slaves all over the place to understand their anatomy, you still can’t seem to figure out that a self healing relic can only heal when he has enough energy. Your relic is starved, and his arm was gushing blood when he left. And all you can muster a single thought about is the welfare of a dead animal you didn’t have the decency to bury.”
Ky’s gaze strayed to the side to the painfully silent apprentices who were staring at him like he had three heads. He fixed on Liem, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable. “You do realize how sociopathic you are, right? Like on a scale of sane to fucked in the head, you’re all at the level of sick fuck rapists and slave traders.”
Liem paled under Ky’s unblinking scrutiny, and he turned his head away. Without saying a word, Liem broke away from the group and moved into the large nook created by the tall bookcases, heading to a counter at the back.
Rage felt like a pit in Ky’s chest, tensing all his muscles as he heard Stewart step toward him, his cane tapping on the floor. “Not all our apprentices become demon summoners, Mr. Scion. Some choose to research and expand the knowledge already discovered. Others to focus on magical arts, while others prefer to continue in service to a master sorcerer by keeping up their household and finances.” He turned his assessing gaze on the apprentices. “Not every sorcerer is cut out for the task of summoning and bonding a demon.”
“Is that supposed to make it better?” Ky asked coldly, his eyes taking in the half dozen apprentices who were still standing there, still waiting for some sort of command from Stewart to be allowed to speak, or be dismissed, or have a damn thought of their own. “You created an industry off the backs of kidnapped and enslaved beings. Do you really think by only cleaning the bloodstains off the floors, you’re any less of an accomplice?”
Stewart didn’t say anything for a long moment, but Ky wasn’t under the illusion he was actually listening. Even most of the apprentices, with their hard eyes and smug smiles, looked completely apathetic to anything that had to do with acknowledging their very profession was a crime against nature, no matter what planet that nature might have originated on.
“You have some very… different ideas of demon summoning, Mr. Scion. Perhaps you’d be interested in discussing them more with those who are training for the art?” Stewart suggested, sweeping his cane out to indicate the apprentices staring back at them. “As I said on our first meeting, we have a few openings in our mentoring program—”
“Pass.” Ky turned to face the sorcerer, his eyes narrowed on the twin red links glinting on Stewart’s collar a moment. He nodded sideways at the red faced apprentice who hadn’t taken a breath since he’d been spelled. “What did he do? How much did he have to piss you off for you to just take away his control over his body like that?”
Stewart smiled grimly and lifted his cane to rap sharply on the shoulder of the frozen apprentice. “He broke my favorite display, and damn near killed one of the rarest relics I have ever come across in the process. I would say a time out was the least that was due for our esteemed Mr. Glover.”
Ky pursed his lips, not sure he disagreed, given the circumstances. Stewart Moore might not have a heart beating in that chest of his, but he cared about the things he owned enough to punish those who broke them. It was almost something.
Ky glanced sideways when someone stepped close, and he quickly turned fully to meet the curious gaze of a brown haired, green eyed apprentice who was leaning into his space to stare at his collar. “Can I help you?” Ky gritted out.
“Uh, s-sorry.” Blinking rapidly, the apprentice quickly stepped back, his eyes jumping from Ky’s black painted lips, down to his links, then to the side. “You’re uh, you’re jeweled. I’ve never… Two of them.” He held up two fingers, a blush staining his cheeks as he flustered to find the right words.
“He’s dead,” the brown eyed teen next to him said, his voice razor sharp as he stared at Ky. “One shadow link is enough to kill. He’s got five.”
“Funny, cuz I feel fucking fine.” Ky looked the apprentice up and down, taking in his black blazer with red trim and matching buttons. He had an elaborate crest embroidered in red on the front pocket, something that was repeated on the blazers of all the apprentices. His dress shirt was gray, and his silk black tie was patterned with thin, red diagonal stripes. It might have looked rather posh, except for the uniform’s tight, charcoal gray shorts that didn’t reach past mid thigh, and the tall gray socks that stopped just below the knees. Even the wealthy looking, brightly polished black boots couldn’t disguise that the apprentices were wearing a uniform designed for children.
“I can’t help but notice you don’t have any links,” Ky remarked coolly. “You don’t even have a collar. Unless you’re hiding it under the pedo shorts they call a uniform here,” he added with a cruel smirk.
The apprentice scowled, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Ky merely raised an eyebrow when the scowl was mirrored by the other apprentices. “Hey, I didn’t dress you like that.”
“Uniforms keep things even around here,” Stewart spoke up from behind Ky. “Apprentices are less likely to confuse themselves as sorcerers when they’re in the correct uniform. It also makes it much harder to hide weapons or items that shouldn’t be in the possession of someone in training just yet.”
Ky realized he was talking about wands, and his eyebrows raised. None of the apprentices were wearing collars, including Liem. But Liem, unlike the others, had apparently graduated to pants. Ky suspected even if he was told not to, Liem had his wand stashed somewhere. He might have been a total asshole, but he wasn’t stupid.
“We’re not allowed to, uh, that is…” The green eyed apprentice glanced sideways, taking a step away from his scowling peers. “Apprentices can’t have demons. Not until the master mentoring them says they’re allowed. That is, um, the ones who want to have demons, anyways.”
Ky glanced his way briefly, unable to miss the red tie he was wearing that was polka dotted with small black mice. “You planning on having a demon?”
The green eyed apprentice shook his head rapidly. “Uh, no. I have enough magic without needing to… well, you know.” He coughed awkwardly, his eyes downcast to the side.
His face was expressive, and he seemed almost human compared to the others in the room. Ky shook his head in annoyance. “These fuckers are going to eat you alive.”
The apprentice shrugged meekly, his gaze straying back to Ky’s collar. “The jewels… Could you… How does someone get a jewel bond?” he asked in a rush. “Are the relics really rare, or is it something to do with the binding spell?”
Ky inhaled sharply, looking over to see that the other apprentices were just as clueless. His lips pursed in a thin line, Ky stepped forward, bending his head to speak into the curious teen’s ear while fixing his glare on the others. “It’s really fucking simple. When you go to bond, don’t rape your relic.”
Flinching at the venom in his words, the apprentice refused to meet his eyes when Ky stepped back. Ky smiled grimly, fixing on the others who were staring back with expressions of varying levels of tense indifference. “Funny that, huh? How much you wanna bet not a single sorcerer here has a jewel bond?” Bile burned at the back of his throat when Ky turned away, disgusted with it all, including the Aeternum that was creating more monsters to continue the sick practice.
“Are we done here?” Ky asked sharply when he found Stewart meticulously combing fingers through the stuffed creature’s fur, carefully pulling free shards of glass and specks of dirt.
“There’s no need to rush.” Stewart lifted his head to nod at the apprentices behind Ky. “Given your lack of background in demon summoning, I thought it would be good for you to meet the apprentices training to expand their magic. It would give you an opportunity to see the options the Aeternum has to offer—”
“Stop wasting my fucking time!” Ky snarled, his jacket crackling as he whipped his arm out to point to the display cases. “Do you seriously think I want to be here with pieces of thinking, feeling beings out on display as the trophies of serial killers? You people have no fucking clue how sick you are, do you?” he exclaimed when Stewart’s passive expression didn’t change. “You actually think this is normal.”
“Of course it’s normal,” Stewart said stiffly. “Those in pursuit of the answers to the universe must remove their emotions to maintain objectivity—”
“Your relic is bleeding out! He’s going to die unless he gets energy or medical attention, and you’re trying to give me a tour of your mentoring for psychopaths program.” Ky pointed again to the blood on the floor that no one seemed in a rush to clean up. “Where, exactly, is your fucking objectivity in that?”
“Master Moore,” one of the apprentices called. Ky whirled as he recognized the voice and glared at Liem, who had returned carrying a sturdy, black leather physician’s bag.
“If you’ll permit me, I can see to the relic,” Liem said quietly, his head turned deliberately to avoid looking at Ky.
Stewart’s gaze followed to where Ky had pointed, something in his eyes shifting for a moment. “It does seem he’s lost a substantial amount of blood. Alright, Mr. Kane. Remember to use caution; he’s killed before.”
Liem nodded silently and turned away with the bag in hand, walking toward the archway the relic had disappeared through. Ky watched him go as he tried to figure out what Liem’s angle was. He couldn’t believe he cared; Liem had shown time and time again just how little he was capable of caring about anyone but himself.
Ky’s shoulders lost some of their tension once he realized he had won. The relic might be doomed to live among these psychos, but at least it wasn’t going to bleed out just because he’d been unfortunate enough to be injured the same day Ky had a hearing.
“Were there anymore questions for Mr. Scion before he continues on with his business of the day?” Stewart addressed the apprentices as he leaned on his cane with elbows locked. Ky would have protested, except it meant that Stewart was finally ready to leave.
“Yeah,” a new apprentice spoke up, his blond hair in perfect order and dark eyes full of cruel mirth. “Did you write your will? If you care so much for your demons, who do you plan on giving them away to when they kill you?”
Ky glared, a dark smile curling at the edges of his lips as he stared the other down. “Do you think Tobias Godwin wrote a will?” Ky raised his hand to touch the five shadow links, four that connected him to the relics in Tobias’s manor and one to Magnificent Night. “When these relics tore the flesh from Tobias’s bones, hollowed out his ribcage, and ate what they found inside, do you really think he was worried about who was going to inherit them next?”
The apprentice’s jaw clenched defiantly, but his cheeks had paled and uncertainty shadowed his eyes. “Master Godwin got greedy,” he said tightly. “He tried to control too many at once.”
Ky snorted. “If he had a fucking brain in his head, Tobias would have been kind to his relics, and they wouldn’t have turned on him. He got everything he deserved for being a psychopathic monster.”
The apprentice looked like he wanted to say something but held back, his eyes eventually averting under Ky’s unblinking glare.
“Anyone else?” Ky asked sharply. “I’ve got shit to do today, and apparently your master thinks this is it.”
Inhaling sharply, the green eyed apprentice raised his hand hesitantly and dared a step close. “Uh… if, if you’re right and those links aren’t going to, uh, drain you… What are you going to do with it?” he mumbled, his cheeks flushed.
“It?” Ky repeated, having no idea what he was referring to.
“The, uh… the power. All that magic.” The apprentice looked away nervously, only to add in a stronger voice, “That’s the only reason a sorcerer bonds with too many demons. They try to get more power, and end up being drained by the demons they thought they were going to drain.”
Ky’s lips pursed in a thin line and he nodded slightly. “That’s the problem though, isn’t it?” He lifted one of the shadow links, Blood’s energy responding under his fingertips as he studied the apprentice’s face. “You sorcerers only want one thing. When your master bonds a relic, he’s trying to take away their will. The same way that friend of yours got frozen—there was no negotiating, no conversation or compromise. Moore just took what he wanted because that’s what you sorcerers do. Take.”
Ky ran his thumb along the shadow links, feeling the energy shift with each touch. “You don’t understand that just because these links can allow a relic to take my energy, it doesn’t mean they will. The same way I don’t go stealing the magic from the relics I’ve bonded with just because I’m linked. Unless the energy is freely given, I won’t touch it.”
“Oh.” His lower lip caught between his teeth, the apprentice dragged his stare up from Ky’s links as a look of realization flashed across his features. “Wait, so that means you can talk to them?”
Ky’s eyes widened slightly. “Of course I can. What the hell are they teaching you here?”
“Liar!” the brown eyed apprentice of before broke in. “Demons can’t speak.”
“Not the ones you spell silent,” Ky shot back. “Even then, they can speak in your head if you bond correctly. Relics have more languages than we do. Just because you’re too ignorant to understand them doesn’t make it any less true.”
“How do you get them to speak in your head—?”
“Enough,” Stewart ordered sharply, rapping his cane on the floor. The apprentices fell silent, the green eyed one bowing his head even as his gaze flickered to Ky’s jeweled links and his fingers flexed at his sides as he held back his questions.
“Gentlemen, I arranged this meeting for a reason,” Stewart said gravely, his piercing stare moving over each of the apprentices in turn. “As you can see for yourselves, Mr. Scion is a cautionary tale; one that will not end happily, by any means. In a few days time, Mr. Scion’s links will have drained the magic and life out of our untrained friend, leaving him dead and his relics free to wreck havoc on the innocent people out in the world who have no natural defenses against the hunger of a stray demon.”
Ky huffed, his annoyance growing with each pompous word. “You’re so full of shit. I got my first shadow link over a month ago.”
Stewart ignored him and continued on with his lecture for the apprentices. “There are consequences to jumping into summoning without training, and those consequences don’t end with you. If you’re drained by failing to overpower your demon in a bond, it won’t just be you who ends up dead—and it will be you no matter what our foolish Mr. Scion would like to believe,” he added with a pointed stare toward Ky. “It will also be your family members, your loved ones, your neighbors and classmates. Your careless mistake will haunt everyplace you have ever touched, bringing only death and pain. Your best hope if that occurs is that there will be a sorcerer trained and empowered enough to clean up your mess after you’ve died.”
“Hopefully not one who gets his jollies by dressing his apprentices up in hot pants,” Ky said flatly. “Are we done? For someone who made such a big deal about me showing up on time, you sure are interested in making me wait.”
His jaw clenching from Ky’s disrespectful tone, Stewart straightened taller as he turned his stern stare on him. “It was strategic. I wanted the apprentices to see how weak you are from being drained.”
Ky smiled savagely. “That fucking backfired, huh? Would you like to mention how Tobias had three red links—supposedly ‘overpowering his bond’ as you claim is the only safe way to bond—and still managed to end up dead?”
Stewart harrumphed and his eyebrows drew down the center. “It is too unusual to worth mentioning.”
“Fucking shit.” Ky shook his head, his smile bitter. “Tell that to his corpse.”
Moore’s steps cracked with the remains of broken glass as he paused at the apprentice frozen in his spell. “I want this mess cleaned up. Mr. Glover will remain here to think about the rules he’s broken and how his parents are going to take the news that he’s destroyed priceless Aeternum property. Understood?” he demanded, his grave expression once again sweeping over the apprentices.
Silent, the apprentices all nodded, a couple looking at their frozen peer nervously. When Ky looked closely, he could see that the teen’s eyes were moving slightly, suggesting he was completely conscious to what was happening around him. Ky felt no pity; the relic who ended up through that glass display had lost far too much blood for him to care if the apprentice who pushed him into it was suffering.
“Mr. Scion, the Aeternum awaits.” Stewart pointed his cane to the other side of the upper floor where a staircase was shrouded in shadows from the tall bookcases. Without waiting for him to answer, Stewart started long strides across the room.
Ky spared a glance back at the apprentices, many of them glaring at him. As young as they were, every single one of them was there to learn how to enslave relics or help those who already did. Ky frowned, his eyes hard as he left with a parting quip about the uniforms they clearly hated. “Watch your asses, kiddies. These creeps sure are.”
SCENE #A Coven of decadence
***
—Moore sends the apprentices away—they’re not a part of what’s to come—and leads Ky to a formal looking chamber. Ky is expecting a large group of people. Moore had mentioned the might of the Aeternum coven. It’s a shock to see so few waiting to hear his case.
—I want characters, not flat and boring. These are men and women with unquestioned power over the lives of others, and it has to have changed them in ways that normal people aren’t. They keep their relics with them, Ky offended by the fact they’re all nude. Moore notices and explains curtly that it is to prove none of the demons are female. Overseers are too dangerous, and all female demons are destroyed immediately to prevent the possibility of an overseer. There is something else there, not a relic but an animal from Realm. Ky is distracted by the strange beast, intros and tight conversation, until they finally get to the reason he’s there.
—Moore is in charge of the apprentice side of things, but he’s not running the meeting/trial. That’s a sorceress, and she has five demons on her collar. It’s a struggle for many summoners to be able to handle just one demon, and because of her five, it marks her as the most powerful in the room at the moment. Before things get fully underway, Moore asks all the demons to be removed from the room. His time with Liem has led him to believe Ky is dangerous among the relics, linked or not, and he doesn’t want any problems. Ky is relieved. He’s not sure how long he can control his own relic nature, and being revealed would be worse than death around these people.
***
SCENE #A stark revelation
***
—A tense conversation, Ky disgusted by the things stated as if they’re fact, about the ritual overshadowing basic human decency, the structure of the summoner’s league motos, etc. They care nothing of the relics, treat them as subhuman. Some act as if they’re giving them an opportunity to be among a more advanced society instead of the world they came from where they wear rags and know no language. Ky is fighting himself more than anything, trying to strategize around these insane people while feeling out of his depths. He isn’t the type of person he needs to be to win at this game. He’s brash and full of heart and he doesn’t know how to be any other way, just that how he is keeps fucking things over for the relics.
—The Aeternum keeps insisting he’s going to die, that the demons are draining him, etc, until Ky finally breaks away in anger to point out he is very much alive and fine, how else is he there at all? They don’t expect him to be alive much longer. They’re actually surprised he made it this long. Ky’s angered by that as well, frustrated, only to be distracted by a new voice in his head. It’s different, more faded because of the weaker shadow link, but he recognizes Brave. Brave explains that there are sorcerers outside the manor. A large group of them pushing at the wards.
—Ky is furious at the revelation and doesn’t bother to hide the fact he’s communicating with the relics in Tobias’s mansion. The Aeternum is surprised with the ability, but more focused on the cold, hard reality of it all. They will not allow Tobias’s demons to escape and reveal themselves to the humans, possibly go on a murdering spree, etc. No one can predict what the beasts might do. Disgusted, Ky goes to leave, only to find the door is warded and he is trapped inside the room. They’re not going to let him out. They’re going to wait there until he either gives up his relics to the Aeternum, or he dies from being drained through his links.
***
SCENE #Ky plots his options
***
—Ky’s first move is to talk to Lovely. It’s the same there. At least five sorcerers are outside the property boundaries, waiting. Ky wonders if they’re the apprentices, or if they’re the ones who belonged to the empty chairs in the trial room. He had foolishly thought the Aeternum was smaller than it was. Were they as powerful as the lead sorceress, or weaker? Would it matter given the numbers of them? Moore had walked right through his wards and he only had two links. Just what kind of magic did it take to get though his wards?
***
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SCENE #The black wolf
Harry had showered and used multiple cleaning spells in the hopes of getting the smell of coyote off and out of him. Neville might have been fucked up, but Harry still didn’t want the boy dead. Maybe severely bruised after how he had bitten him and didn’t really seem to be sorry about it at all, but not dead.
Draco still hadn’t shown up, absent from the Great Hall during lunch and now dinner. Harry was getting a little worried. Not that he thought Draco was injured or anything, so much as, maybe the Slytherin was having second thoughts. Draco had really enjoyed himself when Sirius had filled him, but even so, he might be upset with Harry over it. Harry was having difficulty feeling regretful, except when he considered the possibility that Draco might not want to be his mate anymore.
As much as Harry really enjoyed sex, he still had this part of him that wanted more out of life. Not that his life was terrible since waking up as the mutt. He had been very unhappy before having a pack, feeling alone, angry and disconnected from the rest of the world. But sex, as distracting and enjoyable as it was, had not filled the void Harry had been feeling in his life. No, that was something only Draco had been able to do. There really was no replacing his pretty wolf in that regard and Harry was hoping he hadn’t ruined things between them.
He was having difficulty focusing too much on these unpleasant thoughts. For one, he was unimaginably horny. Beyond what he had been used to during the months of ache he had been learning to bear. It reminded him of when he had first woken up, nearly bending to creatures in the Forbidden Forest until Padfoot had come along and taken care of him.
The other reason Harry couldn’t concentrate was because Neville was staring at him.
The dodgy coyote had taken a seat across from Harry at the table directly to the left and was just blatantly staring. Not pretending to eat, not talking to anyone, hell—even a book on the table would have been something. No, Neville was staring, burning deep blue eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth while Harry tried to ignore him and eat. Ron, Seamus and Lavender could not ignore it and kept whispering while looking from Harry to Neville. It was not a good sign when Harry’s oblivious housemates started to notice him, especially when in the light of Neville’s hungry gaze. Harry did not need a bunch of his peers to figure out that he was always aching. They wouldn’t understand and would surely torment him the rest of his years at Hogwarts for it.
Decided, Harry got up to escape. His legs were weak from want of sex and he nearly tripped getting over the bench. He pursed his lips, face flushing when his housemates eyes turned his way. “Gotta pee…” he mumbled, shuffling backwards at their amused gazes.
“Harry, wait! I want to talk to you.” Neville jumped up, scrambling over the bench to follow after. Harry scowled, having nearly reached the double doors. Ron and Lavender had started laughing the instant Neville had spoken to him.
“Leave me alone, Neville.” He backed away, glaring at the boy. Neville reeked of sex, although at least now he had the decency to use a concealing charm for his erection. The blond was biting at his sleeve again, the adorable nervous tic that meant he was more shy than ravenous at the moment. Hopefully Harry could escape before that changed.
“I just… I just wanted to apologize,” Neville said carefully, eyes flicking around to the other students in the Great Hall, only a few looking back. “And, uh, thank you. I forgot to thank you. You really helped me… and I should have thanked you…”
Harry sighed, taking another step back. “It’s fine. I just, you know, have to leave…” He froze, a taller body suddenly knocking behind him as he stepped back again. His mind blared loud warnings, a familiar yet new scent filling his senses. Neville’s wide eyes confirmed Harry’s suspicions, the new animagus having caught the scent as well. Wolf. There was a wolf behind Harry and it was tall and very, very thermal as it breathed hot air on his neck.
“Potter, get the fuck out of the way.”
Harry tried very hard not to moan, breath coming out in fast pants. He needed to run away. Now. This was not his pack, this was not his wolf, and he needed to get the fuck away. First a coyote and now a wolf—Where the hell were they all coming from?
Seeing Harry’s distressed expression and frozen state, Neville cautiously reached the hand he wasn’t chewing the sleeve of his robe of, and grabbed for Harry’s shaking fingers. Blaise Zabini was a good head taller than Neville, with waist length black dreadlocks and skin the color of cool, dusty clay, making his violet eyes seem like amethyst jewels uncovered in the ground. Nothing Neville would ever tell the very athletic, very foul-tempered Slytherin currently glaring at him. “Excuse us, Z-Zabini. Harry was just a little dizzy. He, uh, didn’t like his food…”
“Whatever, just get the hell—Potter, why are you… What is that?” Blaise gave a sniff around Harry’s neck, pale eyes narrowing. He suddenly growled, heat rising over Harry’s skin in an intense wave of lust from the simple sound.
“Everyone just get the fuck away from me,” Harry whispered weakly, snatching his hand from Neville’s and sliding around Blaise’s suddenly motionless form. Harry could feel eyes from the students at the tables and he knew if he didn’t get away as soon as humanly possible, everyone was going to know what he was. And if not exactly that, they would at least figure out he was a really huge slut.
“I asked you a question!” Blaise snapped, grabbing Harry roughly by the back of his neck. Harry was unfortunately reminded of the coyote teeth that had been embedded in that exact spot only hours ago, his body shuddering hotly from the memory. He was blushing, he knew it. Blushing, hard, panting like an idiot and about to start making noises that would be extremely obvious about his need for sex.
“Not here,” Harry begged softly, a whine catching in his throat. “Please.. please… outside the doors…” As long as no one saw, he would still be okay. Just as long as no one knew.
Glancing up and noticing for the first time that they were indeed in the Great Hall with a very large audience, Blaise gripped Harry tighter by the neck and pushed him forward, walking him out the doors. Neville shook himself, running to catch up. The blond pulled Harry’s arms the instant they were out of sight of the Great Hall, trying to pry Harry from Blaise’s grip.
He faltered when Blaise turned his glare full blast to him again but Neville didn’t back down. “Leave him alone, Zabini. He’s not feeling well and you’re only making it worse.”
“He’s feeling fine, you little rabbit. He’s feeling more than fine.” Blaise shifted his stubborn grip to Harry’s shoulder, sniffing up the side of the brunette’s neck and growling lowly again. “What the… What the fuck are you?”
“Pack,” Harry bit out, feeling dizzy and overwhelmed. God, where had all his fucking control gone? Months of training out the fucking window with one fucking growl. Fuck!
“Pack? What does that even mean?” Blaise huffed, pulling Harry back hard against his broad chest and burying his face into the boy’s mess of dark brown locks. “You don’t have a book bag… My god, you smell good… Like dripping honey… and chocolate… maybe a hint of mint…” He moved his head lower, nosing into Harry’s chest and then armpit. “And something else… something hot—Spicy… thick and dark… Musky… very musky… god…”
He pushed Harry up against the wall, moving down the boy’s smaller form, nose nuzzling into the back of his shirt. He pushed the billowing material away with a growl. Then he sniffed down where Harry’s back cinched to his waist, over his lower back, breathing deep, tongue flicking out.
“Stop,” Harry gasped, face falling against the wall as he groaned. They were still too close to the Great Hall. Anyone could walk out and find them, Blaise on his knees while smelling Harry, which was just going to lead to much worse very quick. Blaise ignored him, running his lips down Harry’s hip, breathing slowly, eyes closing as he savored Harry’s sex scent wafting from the band of his jeans.
“Honey… cardamom… saffron… Something… something so fucking tasty…” Blaise mumbled, tongue slipping over Harry’s flesh, catching on the edge of his jeans, teeth nipping to pull the material.
“Please leave him alone, Zabini,” Neville broke in, tentatively tugging on the boy’s heavy shoulder. “Harry can’t help how he smells. You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t do that.”
Blaise shifted, eyes opening and peering up at Neville. “Go away, fluffy bunny. You’re too sweet looking to be around for what I’m going to do to Potter. You’ll make me feel bad.”
“Neville—Don’t you dare go!” Harry snapped, unable to lift his head at the moment, sweat dripping down his face.
“Shut up, Potter,” Blaise grumbled, whirling Harry and slamming him back against the wall by the hips. He pulled Harry’s waistband forward, shoving his face against the boy’s flesh and breathing his heady scent in fully. “My god… Merciful… Delicious… God… I am going to fuck you unconscious.”
“Oh hell,” Harry moaned, trying to push the boy’s head and tongue away from his naval and intended goal of his hard dick. Blaise’s hair was long in spongy dreads but the tall boy didn’t seem to notice any pain when they were pulled. “We’re right next to… the Great Hall…”
Neville, teeth caught on his knuckle as he watched Harry struggle, was having difficulty remembering he was supposed to be helping. Harry was arching back, face flushed, mouth gasping for air, glasses askew. Harry had always been rather special but now when Neville looked at him, he saw something extra. Harry liked to be fucked. A lot. Even by Neville—even by a coyote. Neville, who had been touched by his older cousin more times than he could count throughout his young life, had never really thought anyone would want him to fuck them. Instead they seemed to want to do the fucking to him, usually when he begged very insistently that they didn’t.
Harry was different. He liked when Neville touched him back. Although he said different after. But Neville knew what it was like to say one thing and mean another. Every time Neville said ‘no,’ his cousin had insisted it meant ‘yes,’ so that just had to be the way of things. And the harder Neville fought, the more his cousin hurt, which also made plenty of sense if you liked pain the way someone like Harry did. Harry struggling and hissing at Blaise was totally just asking for it extra bad and in front of everyone.
“Werewolf…”
Blaise stilled, teeth gritting as he glared up at Harry’s dazed face. “What?”
“My alpha… is a werewolf,” Harry hissed, forcing his eyes open to glare back. “Get the fuck off me.”
Blaise hesitated, trying to calculate around the heady scent of sex in the air. Was there a werewolf in the school? Could he honestly say he knew for certain when he hadn’t even known what Harry was? Draco had warned Blaise to stay away from his vicious little boyfriend or there would be pain, but hadn’t said why. Pack… he had said Potter was pack…
“He’s not lying,” Neville said softly. “It’s pretty obvious… once you actually think about it.”
“Lupin…” Blaise muttered as the pieces clicked together. He pushed away from Harry, stumbling to his feet. “Fucking werewolf freak.”
Harry leaned back heavily against the wall, relief and need shaking him. Thank god wolves hated werewolves. Too bad the ignorant coyote didn’t seem to care, but it was at least one less dick to deal with… God, he was fucking hard. Hard and aching. Fucking wolves and coyotes popping out of nowhere, just to torment him. If Harry didn’t have to fear that his pack might smell all these new scents on him, he would have been back in the shack getting filled already.
“Harry, are you…?” Neville swallowed hard, his cheeks flushed red. He was trying to be nice but it was hard with the way Harry looked and smelled. “Do you need help? To get to… um… bed?” He hadn’t really meant it the way it sounded. But then again, if Harry agreed…
Harry stared at the boy’s hand, once again touching his wrist and reeking of sex. The damn coyote—Who would have thought Neville was so messed up? “Let go. I know what you’re doing.”
Neville bit his lip, sliding closer, eyes flickering to Blaise who still hadn’t left. The tall boy was staring, violet eyes glaring at the two of them, tongue touching over his canines. He was very fierce looking but Neville thought he was also handsome. Maybe even worthy of making a deal with… “He’s strong, isn’t he, Harry? You said you like strong guys and Blaise is definitely strong.”
Harry jerked, his ache flaring as he realized what Neville was talking about. “Stop it, you bloody coyote… I’m not some fucking toy.”
Neville smiled, tangling his fingers with Harry’s. “You would make a nice toy. You’re so soft.” He pressed his face to Harry’s neck, noticing how the brunette seemed too weak to even pull away. Harry was breathing heavily, smelling so good… “I’d play with you all the time. Clean you, dress you, feed you… We could bathe together… sleep wrapped tight together…” He petted Harry’s hair, lashes lowered to gaze at the boy’s red pout. “I would do so many bad things to you, Harry. Naughty… painful… terrible things… And you would like them all.”
“Shit,” Blaise hissed, taking a step forward but holding himself back. Harry had started whimpering, leaning away from Neville but not actually fighting. He looked like he might even fall over and that was a very interesting idea. Potter on the ground, panting and sweating. Maybe even with Neville touching him… The sweet boy kissing Harry gently… blushing like he always did… Blaise really liked it when Neville blushed.
“You both… need to… back off…” Harry warned through gritted teeth. But it was all he could do. His knees had locked up, his head dizzy, body feeling sluggish and heavy. He wanted cock. Inside him. Very badly.
“Zabini?” Neville turned to the boy, cheek resting on Harry’s, beautiful blue eyes wide with a question. “How strong are you?”
Blaise took another step forward, towering over the little rabbit of a boy. Harry had groaned at the question, the heated noise sending red pulsing in Blaise’s head. “Strong.”
Neville smirked, pressing his wicked smile into Harry’s cheek. “Strong enough to carry him? Maybe… oh… to a quiet room? Just the three of us?”
Blaise’s breath caught in his throat. He had heard a rumor about Neville Longbottom, one he had been quick to dismiss because of the boy’s sweet face and constant blushes. One that had been far too delicious to ever be possible. Now Blaise wasn’t so certain. No one actually sweet and innocent could smile that crazily while suggesting secreting his own housemate away for a rough fuck in a dark room.
“I know a place.”
SCENE #Blaise falls down the rabbit hole
“Quieter… just a little… yeah, fuck yeah…”
“That’s not going to work. He can still make noise.”
“Fine… shit, spell thingy… silencing…” Blaise muttered while tearing Harry’s shirt off. He breathed up the boy’s bare chest, Harry’s moan muffled by the gag wrapped around his mouth.
“Should we tie him up?” Blaise asked Neville, eyes lighting over the blond who had just proficiently spelled the walls to keep sound from escaping the empty classroom.
Neville shrugged, slipping his wand away and leaning on a desk. “If you like that sort of thing. It’s not like he’s going to try and run for it.”
Blaise wet his lips, hands moving down Harry’s stomach, gripping the boy’s sides tight. “Why is that? He used to be so powerful.”
“When you want it as bad as he does, you probably can’t do much but bend over.” Neville watched Harry’s face as he said it, the boy’s green eyes dazed and unmasked without his glasses. That was how Harry had been for his coyote. He had practically begged to be fucked by the time he was overwhelmed enough. Neville wondered just how much it took to get the boy to that point.
“You should finish taking his clothes off,” Neville said quietly. “His scent gets so good like that.”
Blaise nodded, hands undoing the button to Harry’s jeans before quickly unzipping his fly. In the back of his mind he wondered what exactly Potter’s alpha would do in revenge. The mild mannered professor really didn’t intimidate Blaise, werewolf or not. It was Lupin’s own fault for not watching his little bitch. Potter was just begging to be fucked when he smelled like this and anyone with a nose could tell.
Neville walked around Harry, tearing a strip off the over sized shirt and using it to bind the boy’s hands together behind his back. Harry glared at him and Neville couldn’t help but smile. “Strong, right Harry? I want you to like this. There are always solutions to problems… just not obvious. Mmm… oh, that’s it…” Neville’s eyes fell shut, Harry’s scent rising up, dripping of lust, need, and heat.
“God, he fucking wants this bad,” Blaise said with a groan, Harry’s erection practically streaming precum. He finished stripping the boy, including pulling off Harry’s shoes and socks. He was slender, long limbs of pale olive skin flushed dark red in places, a few white thin lines of scars littering the sight, drawing Blaise’s eye.
“You should fuck him. Hard. I think he likes it hard.” Neville ghosted his fingers over Harry’s side. “Right, Harry?”
Harry choked on a moan. Hard was good. Hard was very good. But only with his pack. There was no way Remus would forgive this. Harry was supposed to be stronger, able to fight off the advances of two simple students. His body, for some reason, was not listening to him.
Blaise stilled his hands, eyes again pulled back to the blond. “Take off your clothes first.”
Neville blushed, ducking his head into Harry’s neck and pushing up against the shorter boy’s side. “I don’t… um…”
Standing from where he had been kneeling at Harry’s feet, Blaise inhaled sharply, watching Neville peek out at him from the brunette’s shoulder. The two were nearly the same height, Harry with a wilder look to his face than Neville’s shy expressions. Neville a bit paler to Harry’s slight tan, Harry dark featured while Neville a cool ashy blond. They looked very good together and Blaise wanted to see if Neville’s body compared to Harry’s slender, lightly toned form.
“Strip,” Blaise ordered hoarsely, “or you’re going to be the one tied up.”
Blue eyes widening, Neville nodded, catching his red lip between his teeth. As mean as Zabini sounded, Neville had a strong suspicion if the boy did tie him up it would be about the worst of it. He seemed almost nice, for all his snapping and big arms… But then, maybe Neville just wanted him to be nice. Blaise was one of the few Slytherins that didn’t pick on him.
Neville stepped away, placing his wand on a nearby desk. He could feel Blaise staring at him and he chanced a peek his way. Yup, staring… Neville had not realized Zabini had wanted to fuck him, the Slytherin usually so aloof and quiet. But the idea wasn’t too bad. The boy was attractive and hadn’t done anything mean to him yet. Not like that ugly fuck, Crabbe… or Snape…
He pushed his robe off from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a black puddle around his feet. Eyes intentionally averted from the boy that was still staring at him, Neville kicked his shoes off, then quickly tore through the buttons of his shirt. Thinking of Snape always pissed Neville off. The man was a dick. A giant, bat-shaped dick…
“Wait,” Blaise said with a growl, Neville jumping, eyes widening to find the boy right in front of him.
“W-What?” He asked, gasping when Blaise went so far as to actually touch him. He closed his eyes, cheeks gaining more color. He realized just what Blaise was running his fingertips over so gently on his side and he was mortified.
“You’re burned… Cigar, right?”
“One fell on me—”
“Fucking liar. It wouldn’t be a perfect circle if it fell. There wouldn’t be five perfect circles, like some messed up branding…” Blaise covered the circle of marks, his dark palm large enough to fit and block the burns from view.
Neville ducked his head, wishing the boy would just leave him alone. He had no interest in discussing his cousin with anyone… Well, besides Harry. Neville had a feeling Harry might understand. Might even want to help him feel better after his cousin’s visits.
“Hold on—Don’t…” Neville swallowed hard, Blaise suddenly moving his hands down to unclasp Neville’s pants. The boy was much taller and absolutely stronger than Neville and he didn’t want to get his ass kicked by arguing with him. Cold air hit his legs, Neville keeping his gaze straight ahead, peering at the dim bulletin board across the room. Blaise’s hands were on his waist, tugging at the band of his underwear.
“Come on, Longbottom. Don’t chicken out on me now. You’re the one that wanted to face down an angry werewolf for this.”
“For Harry… Not so that you’d…” Neville trailed off, Blaise suddenly stepping back, large hands no longer on his waist.
“I just want to see you with him. And then I’m going to fuck him,” Blaise said lowly, hungry gaze moving to Harry’s panting form. “He needs it… Can smell just how much he needs it… But I won’t touch you, Longbottom. Not if you don’t want me to.”
Neville wasn’t completely sure what he wanted when it came to this particular Slytherin, especially when he said bizarrely nice things like that. Ignoring the thought, he shimmied out of his underwear, leaving them to pile with the rest of his clothes. Zabini was staring at him again, likely surprised with how girly he looked. Mason was always saying Neville looked like a girl, waif like and delicate, creamy porcelain skin just perfect for hurting. Neville hated it.
Ignoring the burning stare, Neville focused on Harry instead. Harry’s scent made him so hot, so desperate to help the beautiful slut get off the only way the blond knew how. He’d rather think of Harry than his cousin any day.
Harry’s head was bent forward, ducked down while he whimpered in need, nude body glistening sweat. Neville slipped his finger around the fabric gagging Harry, stretching his red lips wide and likely raw at the corners of his mouth. Harry jerked at the touch, eyes flashing towards his, almost completely free of anger now. “You want it, right? You act like you don’t, but I know you do.” Neville licked around the gag, liking the feel of Harry’s firm, sweet flesh contrasting with the rough material now soaked with saliva.
Harry made a soft sound from the touch, Neville pressing closer, hands carefully touching the boy’s chest and lingering on his nipples. Harry was hard, dick bobbing ever so softly against Neville’s hip. He stepped forward the last distance, sighing from the feel of Harry’s cock nestled up against his own, his heated skin damp and slippery to the touch.
He hadn’t ever been allowed to touch a boy, Neville only always being touched. He had touched dicks, his cousin’s and sometimes Mason’s friends. Neville knew you had to be very careful, no teeth or fingernails on that particular part or they’d beat him. But no one had shown him how to touch any other part of a boy, besides what had been done to him. Hopefully Harry would like it.
Harry cried out, trying to push the gag free from his mouth with his tongue. Neville watched him, fingers twisting the boy’s nipple harder, pulling at the bud and turning it bright red. Neville bent his head and licked his tongue over the sore flesh, teeth nipping sharply, Harry yelping in reply. Neville blinked, Harry suddenly falling to the ground onto his knees, hands still tied behind his back while he swayed for balance.
Harry looked very pretty with the gag in his mouth but Neville thought maybe the boy was on his knees for another reason. Harry liked being touched, liked being fucked and might want to have Neville do things to him that were always done to the blond. The idea was wild to him and Neville roughly pulled at the knot tangled in Harry’s hair, loosening the gag enough to pull it down the boy’s face. Harry gasped, breathing deep once the material was removed, dripping clear fluid, his lips even a brighter red from the harsh fabric.
Neville didn’t give Harry much time to breathe, grabbing the brunette’s ears and holding him steady while he pressed his cock head to Harry’s parted lips. Harry opened to him with a groan, Neville’s eyes closing from the feel of heat and wet. It wasn’t so bad from this side of things… No choking… No wondering if someone was going to strangle you dead if you didn’t do it right…
“You need to let him breathe, bunny,” Blaise muttered, carefully prying one of Neville’s hands off of Harry’s face and pushing the brunette’s head back. Harry gasped for air, Neville opening his eyes in surprise. He had felt so good inside…
“Sorry.” Neville bit his lip, avoiding Blaise’s stare. The Slytherin was probably laughing at him for not knowing what he was doing. Neville fought back another blush, instead focusing on Harry’s face. He was dazed, cheeks flushed, hair even more of a mess. Neville ran his fingertips over Harry’s swollen lips, gasping when Harry began to lick them sensually.
Blaise suddenly grabbed Neville around the waist, the blond squeaking and going still. “Relax,” Blaise said in his ear, pressing up against the smaller boy’s back, holding his bare hips firmly. Neville wished he could step away, afraid of what the Slytherin wanted from him. Blaise was hard beneath his slacks, throbbing against Neville’s ass.
“Potter’s going to do all the work.” Blaise reached around and pulled Harry’s chin up with his fingers, Harry’s lips parting at the touch. “Stop trying to force him, bunny. He likes it. He wants it. Just let him do what he does.”
Beginning to understand what Blaise was doing, Neville blushed hotly. Bunny… he wasn’t a bunny. Not really. He didn’t resist when Blaise pressed his hips forward, helping to guide Neville’s dick to Harry’s mouth again. Neville felt very hot all of a sudden, Harry’s lips stretching wide around his cock and Blaise’s body, hard and strong, towering above and around him while the boy panted in his ear. Almost protective, if not for the searing flesh of his arousal that Zabini had managed to not grind against him, even now while watching Harry swallow Neville down.
“Oh… god…” Neville moaned, his eyelids drooping. Harry was looking at him, green eyes catching his while he licked the underside of his cock. Harry was good at this, sucking just right, tongue contouring and rubbing. Neville went to tangle his fingers in Harry’s hair, wanting the boy to take him deeper, but Blaise caught his hands before he could. The Slytherin threaded their fingers together, unbalancing Neville so that the shorter boy was leaning back against his chest.
“Let him do his thing. Just relax.” Neville closed his eyes, Blaise rumbling in a seductive manner.
“It feels so good,” Neville whispered, Blaise rocking them slowly back and forth, Harry’s hot mouth bobbing in rhythm over his cock.
“Yes, especially when you’re not in a hurry… You can let that feeling build in you… curling hot and tight…” Blaise’s lips brushed ever so softly against Neville’s ear. Neville gasped at the touch, eyes flying open. “Think of it as a slow race… where the winner comes last…”
Neville groaned, Blaise rubbing one achingly long thrust against his ass. Harry was whimpering, looking in absolute desperate need with his mouth full of Neville’s flushed dick and dripping hot fluids messily. “Wow,” Neville whispered weakly, Harry again meeting his gaze. Something about the intensity of that contact sent Neville over the edge, his body arching back, cock spurting his release into Harry’s eager mouth.
Neville shuddered, Harry swallowing his seed except for a thread dribbling down the corner of his mouth. God, Harry had sucked him off. Harry had let him fuck his mouth and then had swallowed like a damn good cocksucker. Neville had known Harry was special, just had never imagined how much.
“You should show him how much you liked that, bunny.” Blaise tightened his grip on Neville’s hands, brushing his lips lightly over the boy’s flushed cheek. “Thank him properly, for a job well done.”
Neville’s eyes drifted down, fixing on Harry’s cock, straining and swaying. He didn’t usually like to suck cock, mostly because his cousin was always choking him with his. But Harry was tied up and probably wouldn’t be able to do that to him. Harry was nice; he probably wouldn’t choke Neville even with his hands untied.
“Hold him up for me?” Neville asked, looking up at the boy that kept smelling his hair. Blaise grinned wickedly in reply. He released Neville’s hands, the smaller boy surprised by how cold he felt without Blaise’s touch. Then Blaise’s heat was gone completely, Neville feeling very naked as the black boy prowled around him, still fully dressed as he stooped to haul Harry up to his feet.
Harry was licking his lips and swaying, tongue tracing over the raw corners of his mouth where the gag had bit in too tight. Blaise wrapped his arms tight around Harry’s chest and waist, Harry groaning and pressing back eagerly against the boy. Neville watched, Harry spreading his legs and bending forward in Blaise’s hold, rubbing his ass and thighs against the taller boy and just begging to be fucked. Harry really did like strong guys… strong guys and dogs…
Staring at the two of them, Neville wondered what both boy’s looked like in their animagus forms. Harry had really liked it when his coyote had fucked him. Neville thought maybe he might like that too. He sank to his knees, hands resting on his own thighs, Harry’s hard dick right before his eyes with precum streaming. Neville lapped his tongue out slowly, tasting the fluid and contouring over the flushed head. He wiggled in Harry’s slit, Harry mumbling loudly while pushing his hips forward.
Usually Neville was being forced down by now, hair being pulled violently, breath stolen away. He wasn’t quite sure what to do when not being forced… Harry’s cock felt good against his tongue and good on his lips. Neville decided he’d just do things that felt good and hopefully Harry would like it as well.
Blaise tightened his hold on Harry, the boy squirming madly while Neville tormented him. The little rabbit was kissing and licking Harry’s dick like a tasty lollipop, letting the hard flesh rub against his face and slicking the blond with his own saliva. From this angle looking down, it was almost like Neville was sucking him off. Blaise growled, pulling Harry’s head back to the side so he could see better, rubbing his bulge against the boy’s tight cheeks.
Neville panted, face flushed. He was feeling hot again, actually enjoying himself. Harry kept making such needy noises and he smelled so good, musky and delicious, just begging for Neville to keep doing what he was doing. Harry liked it a lot, Neville could tell every time he peeked up, the boy’s dazed green eyes staring back, red lips dripping more wet than Neville was with Harry’s hard flesh against his lips. Neville was so sure that Harry was enjoying himself, he was even feeling brave enough to suck the boy down.
Stretching higher, Neville carefully rested his hands on Harry’s thighs, not used to being allowed to touch the person fucking his mouth. He widened, just taking the tip of Harry’s weeping dick into his mouth, feeling the hot flesh move slick against his swollen lips. Harry moaned loudly, Neville closing his eyes at the wonderful, desperate sound. Harry liked it. Liked him. He pulled his lips tighter, suckling gently, tongue flicking out to rub over his slit and steal every drop of precum he could find.
“Fuck… Neville… oh fuck…” Harry gasped, his body jolting with each wiggle of Neville’s tongue. Blaise placed a steadying hand on his waist, his large cock grinding against Harry’s ass in slow, rhythmic thrusts.
“You are one lucky bitch, Potter,” Blaise rasped out, his fingers splaying over Harry’s naval, twitching inches from Neville’s slowly bobbing face. “With your scent you can have pretty much anyone you want…”
Harry would have laughed, except Neville was pulling him in deeper, tongue caressing the underside of his cock in trembling swipes. Just because every fucking canine based cock in the vicinity wanted to put it in him didn’t mean Harry wanted it. Of course, he had yet to regret it at the time, but he was a terrible slut and couldn’t do much about it.
Blaise just couldn’t seem to stop himself, fingers itching, slipping into the damp strands of Neville’s hair. When the boy made no protest, Blaise began to comb his fingers deeper, raking against the boy’s sweating skull, tangling as the hair grew darker and more wet. “You’re doing really well, bunny. Potter likes it a lot…” He ran his hand down, tracing over Neville’s cheek, fingertips brushing ever so lightly against the boy’s red lips as they stretched around Harry’s dick. “Fuck, you’re pretty…” he whispered, watching the boy open wider and drink more of Harry down.
Blaise blearily tried to remember who was fucking Longbottom in that rumor he had heard. It wasn’t anyone at the school, he remembered that much… But it was someone. Someone much older… Someone that when he had heard, it had really pissed him off…
“Neville—Shit, I’m gonna… oh…” Harry moaned loudly, hips jerking forward in Blaise’s grasp. Blaise held tighter, not wanting Neville to choke. His violet eyes glared down when Neville made a coughing noise anyways, the boy releasing Harry’s spurting cock from his lips with a wet gasp, cum coating the blond’s face and dripping from his slack mouth and down his neck.
Growling heatedly, Blaise firmly sat Harry on the nearest desktop, fell to his knees and began licking the cum off of Neville’s flushed face. The boy wailed in surprise, his eyes firmly shut, hands up as if to defend himself. Blaise quickly grabbed his slender wrists, just wanting to taste him. That was all, just a taste of that perfect flesh, berry red lips, and Potter’s musky cum.
Neville tried to bite back his moans, Blaise’s tongue rough and demanding as it lapped firm swipes over his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, along his chin and down his throat. He was pretty sure the powerful boy was going to eat him alive, greedy licks peppered with small nips along the side of his neck. Then suddenly Blaise’s wild tongue was plunging into his mouth, lips pressing hungrily to his, pulling his moans free and swallowing them just as fast. It was raw and consuming, Blaise’s hand fastened to the back of his head, keeping him from escaping. But Neville didn’t want to escape. No one had ever kissed him like that and he liked it.
Blaise pulled back with a groan, tongue lapping out again, tracing over Neville’s swollen rosebud lips while the smaller boy panted. Neville glanced up through his thick eyelashes, Blaise staring down at his mouth. “Zabini… that was good… Really good…” he whispered, not really knowing why he was telling the boy.
Blaise growled lowly, large hand moving down to Neville’s neck and caressing firmly. “You ever want someone to do you good, bunny—Nice and slow and really good… You come to me, okay? I know I probably scare you, looking the way I do. But I would never hurt you. I’m just a bit rough around the edges, promise.”
Neville was starting to believe that. As abrupt and fierce looking as Zabini was, he was also controlled and hadn’t hurt him or Harry once. Neville still didn’t fully trust the boy—He was still more than willing to take advantage of Harry, after all, and might not have any qualms of doing the same to Neville. But he didn’t seem interested in hurting, and that was definitely new for Neville.
“You should, uh, do that… to Harry…” Neville whispered, watching Blaise’s tongue twitch as if it wanted to lick him again. Blaise cupped Neville’s cheek, tongue laving a final time over the boy’s lips.
“Don’t want to do that to Potter…” Blaise tried to read Neville’s expression but besides blushing he really couldn’t tell what the blond thought of him. Probably for the best. A sweet fluffy thing like Neville wouldn’t want to be caught up with someone like him. Blaise got angry easily. He liked to beat people up, liked to scare others just because he could. Neville didn’t like bullies, probably even the one bully that didn’t pick on him.
Blaise got up with a self-deprecating huff, eyes seeking out Harry who had fallen back on the desk, half hanging off. Blaise wanted to be surprised that the brunette was already hard again, but he wasn’t. His inner wolf kept reading information from Harry’s scent, things that Blaise didn’t fully comprehend but seemed to make sense. Potter was some sort of bitch and needed to be fucked. The boy would only suffer if he wasn’t and seeing Harry’s aching expression, he already was.
“Come on, Potter,” Blaise snapped and undid his belt, intentionally ignoring Neville when the boy stood, watching while biting his thumb.
Harry gave a groan, wiggling his hips down the desk until he was sliding down to the ground, knees resting on the floor. Face flushed, he took in Blaise’s tall form, resting and fixating on the large bulge in the black boy’s pants. “Tell me you’re actually going to fuck me with that, Zabini,” Harry said, his voice hoarse and full of need.
“It’s your fucking lucky day,” Blaise said flippantly. “Go spread over the teacher’s desk—Hold on.” He reached forward, grabbing Harry by his tied wrists and tearing the fabric away. There was no way Potter was going to try to get away. That the boy hadn’t been on his knees in the Great Hall was now a mystery to Blaise the more he understood Harry’s nature.
Harry stumbled to his feet, grasping onto the nearest desk, panting loudly. He made his way to the teacher’s desk, bracing himself on his arms and spreading his legs wide. He didn’t bother looking behind him. Zabini would be there soon enough. He would fuck him—properly, unlike that vicious coyote—and maybe even go another round, if the boy was up for it.
Blaise paused mid-step, eyes glancing to the side where Neville was grabbing his shirt. The boy was staring somewhere around his neck and Blaise looked down, Neville’s other hand quickly undoing his buttons.
“You’ll do him hard, right?” Neville asked, biting his lip and wrenching at Blaise’s shirt. It took everything in Blaise not to grab the pretty blond boy and grind into his undoubtedly tight hole.
“Bunny, you need to not be so close to me right now,” Blaise warned, eyes taking in the ever rising flush on the boy’s cheeks.
“I’m not a fucking rabbit, Zabini,” Neville hissed, giving the school shirt another hard tug until it made a ripping sound. Blaise started in surprise, Neville grinning viciously up at him and then pulling again, the shirt tearing off of Blaise’s back in two pieces. “Fuck him hard.”
“What are you, then?” Blaise asked, fingers itching to throw the boy on the floor and spread his creamy thighs wide.
“Just fuck him hard,” Neville repeated, growling lowly.
Breath coming in harsh pants, Blaise grabbed Neville’s shoulders. “Get out of the way or I’m going to be fucking you, bunny. Hard. Very fucking hard.” Neville just stared at him, head tilted back, eyelids heavy, cheeks flushed. And then the smile, wide, grinning deranged madness that had Blaise’s entire body tense with want.
“Show me how hard you are with Harry, then we’ll talk,” Neville said, hands reaching for Blaise’s pants. Blaise could only stare down at the boy while Neville rapidly undid his clasp and tore his fly down. Neville’s impossibly blue eyes widened, his grin falling while he parted his lips in awe. “Maybe not, Zabini… I don’t think I’d survive…” the blond whispered, pale hand disappearing beneath the band of Blaise’s underwear to run tripping fingers over his huge straining length. “Holy fuck… wow…”
The light touches and small noise falling from Neville’s sweet mouth were very much driving Blaise wild. Blaise wet his lips, eyes glancing only a few feet away where Harry was whimpering and humping against the desk. Fucking Potter would get Blaise in a world of hurt with a werewolf. Fucking Neville—Well, there would probably be a different, equally terrible hurt getting too close to the sweet, blushing thing… One that seemed far more dangerous and enticing all at the same time.
“Shit,” Harry swore, head jerking up to stare wide eyed at the door. “You fuckers better run. Like now.”
Bristling, Blaise turned as well, Neville cocking his head to the side to listen. They both flinched at the same time, a low gravelly howl rising up in the distance. Not a wolf howl that rang clear and melodic. No, very much made through the vocal cords of a man—a very furious werewolf trying to figure out where his smallest, weakest pup was at the moment.
Blaise had thought that Remus Lupin was not intimidating. That one primal, terrifying call changed his mind, his once heated senses freezing instantaneously. It was time to go. Now.
SCENE #A long agonizing night
Remus barely noticed the scurrying of the many students evacuating the halls around him, his complete focus on his nose and the trickle of Harry’s wanting scent. The trail had started around the Great Hall, only to go lower, down into the dungeons. Remus had no idea what his pup would be doing in the bowels of the castle, especially with Malfoy currently in the shack. It made him angry to wonder, especially when the little slut had refused to answer his calls. Harry knew better—If he wasn’t answering, likely he couldn’t. It was an alarming thought, especially with Voldemort seeking the boy out.
Remus slammed through a dividing door into the Slytherin hallways, snarling at a sallow-faced portrait that was gaping at him. More scurrying, like little rats. Remus hated rats, ever since Peter. The scent was stronger here—Much stronger. Remus breathed deep, lust suddenly adding to his already roaring veins. Harry was close.
The door was locked and warded silent, Harry’s heady musk slipping through the gap near the floor. At least Remus knew why the boy hadn’t answered his calls now. Growling, he slammed his palms into the wood, the door splintering beneath each forceful blow. It only took two more hits and the latch gave way, Remus tearing the door off the hinges and tossing it aside. Harry was lying sideways on a desk, naked, hard, and moaning.
Remus took a quick assessment of the room, his growl returning as he picked up the distinct scent of human, wolf, coyote, and cum below the overwhelming perfume of Harry’s sex. No one was there now, no trace of the culprits except the locked door of a connecting classroom dripping in fear sweat. No sign of Voldemort, no tang of blood.
“Are you alright, pup?” Remus asked brusquely, Harry’s answer the defining factor for what Remus was going to do next.
Harry groaned, leg kicking into the desk he was on fitfully. “Need it, Remi… fucking need it so bad…”
Grumbling, Remus turned back to the door he had destroyed, snapping out his wand and repairing it back into place. He stepped towards Harry, looking for signs of bruises or worse. For the most part the boy seemed fine, just the corners of his mouth raw where undoubtedly the cloth necklace around his throat had previously gagged him. Harry’s scent was filling the room, so strong it was almost a tangible curtain of desperate, red hot need. The poor pup was in agony.
Remus bent one of Harry’s knees up, spreading it to the side to give him easy access to the boy’s puckered entrance. He pushed two fingers in, absolutely confounded to find Harry dry and not full to the brim with wolf, coyote, or anyone’s cum, for that matter. What kind of useless bitches had captured his pup, only to not fuck him senseless? Were they castrated, ball-less, domestic whelps that didn’t know their ass ends from their cocks?
“Oh god, Remi… yeah… Fucking do me… Do me hard…” Harry begged, his head slamming down on the desk, hips pushing forward to ride the fingers stretching him. “Need it so bad… so fucking horny… You fuck so good…”
“Don’t worry, Harry. I’m going to take good care of you,” Remus assured him, leaning down over the boy and licking his flushed face. There was the slightest tang of cum right around Harry’s lips that Remus was quick to lick away. He kept licking, covering Harry with his scent and saliva, stealing the smell away of the other bodies that had touched his pup. While he marked Harry, he continued to pump his fingers roughly, the boy whining and gasping with every thrust.
“Who was it?” Remus asked, his eyes burning anger as he licked down Harry’s stomach, nose brushing against the boy’s hard length and nuzzling.
“Idiots,” Harry panted out, head thrown back. “Fucking packless, kid idiots that don’t know shit… I just couldn’t… fuck… I was just so hard, Remi. The ache is so bad… and nothing is working…”
“I know… I should have looked for you sooner,” Remus muttered, grumbling when he realized an unfamiliar scent was all over Harry’s perfectly flushed cock. He quickly covered the hard organ with his saliva, Harry moaning and squirming, the boy’s hands tangling in Remus’s shaggy locks.
“Don’t tease,” Harry pleaded, locking a leg over the man’s wide shoulder. “Just put it in me already.”
Remus growled, fighting with the very strong desire to cover Harry with his scent, and the stronger desire to fuck the boy senseless. He compromised, shoving a third finger deep inside Harry’s clenching hole, while laving the base of the boy’s cock and washing over his balls with long swipes. Harry gave a strangled cry, his only warning before suddenly jerking and spurting cum all over his stomach, just missing Remus’s cheek. Remus ran his hand over the slick mess, wiping it over Harry’s flesh, painting the moaning boy’s taut torso with the creamy fluid.
Remus was under no illusion that Harry was done. Unless fucked for hours on end, Harry was rarely satisfied. One of the reasons Remus had willingly yielded to Draco Malfoy joining his small pack. Harry needed cock, a lot, and Remus and Sirius just weren’t enough. The white wolf had the time and endurance. And now, apparently, Harry had caught the attention of another young wolf and a coyote roaming around the castle. Assuredly a problem Remus would have to deal with personally. Preferably when he wasn’t so achingly hard from his new packmate joining.
Harry groaned when Remus pulled his fingers free from his hole, then growled in frustration when the man starting eating him out. “Fucking—Do me!”
Nothing was going the way Harry had fucking hoped. No mating with Draco, some bitch coyote tearing his shoulder so bad it had taken all the damn enjoyment out of an otherwise good fuck, and then Zabini—that fucking huge dicked, strong bodied, cock tease—had wasted so much time trying to get in Neville’s hole he had completely failed to give Harry a proper fuck. And now Remus was going to lick him. Like a fucking tongue was going to be enough when he was so—
“Damn it! Remi you will make me raw right fucking now, or, or… I don’t know what I’ll fucking do. But you’ll be fucking sorry!” Harry whined angrily, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.
Remus lapped up Harry’s balls and already renewing cock, the need in his bitch’s voice too great to ignore. He froze once catching sight of Harry’s face, the boy looking so anguished, so despairing, Remus had to fight with the perverse desire to keep him like that. Harry in need was always a juicy sight. Harry with tears in his eyes because he just couldn’t get it thick enough and deep enough… Remus growled, pulling the boy down the desk so that he could see his expression better.
“I’m going to fuck you, pup, I promise,” Remus said lowly, fingers tugging at the cloth around Harry’s neck. It reminded him of a very naughty collar Sirius had once made for Harry. Remus pulled the cloth up over Harry’s chin, the boy rolling his eyes in exasperation even as he opened his mouth to let Remus gag him. Remus tightened the knot, making sure it wouldn’t move no matter how much Harry sobbed.
“How many prissy little bitches see you every day, and manage not to fuck you?” Remus asked, lapping Harry’s nipple and tugging at the bud with his teeth. Harry groaned, every needy noise now muffled. “I bet you could strip your pants off and spread your legs in the middle of class, and no one would have the balls, or the cock, to put it in you. You poor, slutty little pack bitch. What a terribly boring place to live.”
Harry had to agree, especially when Remus seemed more interested in tormenting than filling. Shit, what a fucking terrible day. He should have run off into the Forbidden Forest. Something would have fucked him out there. Probably would have been less vicious than the coyote too—Fucking Neville. Harry gave his best, pleading puppy dog look, adding a whimper for good measure. But his sadistic ass of an alpha only smirked at him, his thick fingers returning to push into Harry’s hole with only slightly satisfying thrusts.
“What if I dragged you out into the hall, mutt? Naked, dripping with your own cum, already stretched. Do you think your little bitch friends would help you? Think they even have the dicks for it?” Remus pressed his mouth to Harry’s cheek, tongue flicking out and trailing wet. “I think I want to see that. I think I want to see you on your hands and knees, begging those little dickless, weak children to fuck you all better.”
Harry whimpered, head falling back on the desk. He honestly didn’t know if Remus would do that to him. The man had his weird moods and darker appetites. He almost didn’t care at this point, just as long as someone fucked him already.
“Too bad you’re being hunted, pup,” Remus said tightly, regret deep in his voice. “Too fucking bad that deranged fuck wants to kill my sweet, slutty little pup. We could have so much fun.” He pushed his fingers deep into Harry’s clenching tightness, the boy moaning, slender legs flexing, and knees raising on the desk as he pushed his hips down. “That’s it, bitch… ride it… Let me see how bad you want it and maybe, just maybe, I’ll give it to you.
Harry had a feeling he had been gagged not to stop him from talking, but to keep him from biting. He was very close to biting Remus, so fucking desperate to be fucked. Instead he grabbed his gorgeous alpha by the back of his head, twisted as best he could, and slammed the man down.
Remus caught himself last second, nose just brushing against the desk. “Bad, Harry… Very, fucking, bad.” Growling low and long, he pulled away from his frustrated pup, eyes raking over the panting boy. “I’m going to forgive you, because I know you’re suffering. I know, because I’m making sure, you slutty thing. Now get on your fucking knees like a well behaved bitch. And believe me, pup, if you are not well behaved, you will not be filled.”
Harry did not trust the look in Remus’s eye. He had not choice though. Either Remus fucked him or Harry stayed horny. Hell, even if Remus did fuck him, Harry would still probably be horny. Groaning, Harry wriggled on the desk, his body so hot it didn’t want to move properly. He managed to turn, his knees sore against the hard wood.
“Down. Head on the desk,” Remus ordered, hand brushing over Harry’s spine as the boy did as he was told. “Now spread… wider… Wider, Harry…” he repeated, when the boy resisted. Finally Harry complied, his thighs shaking from the exertion of being spread so wide. His muscles would start to ache soon, and then burn. Maybe then it would be enough to fill the little brat.
Remus settled behind Harry’s spread cheeks, tongue pushing forward to taste the boy’s pink hole. Remus was not used to Harry being so clean, dry and free of cum. He didn’t like it much, no extra prize to drink down. But the boy smelled delicious, his musk strong, precum once again dripping from Harry’s sweet cock. And he was tight—Harry was always tight, no matter how many times he was fucked. And he was begging so prettily around his gag.
Remus groaned, feeling Harry’s thighs begin to quake as he pushed on the boy’s back. “Get tired, pup… Get weak and complacent…” He lapped between Harry’s cheeks, thrusting his tongue deep, tasting the clenching pucker with each slow movement. Harry began to gasp, muffled, aching cries, his legs slipping further apart from all the sweat on the boy’s flesh. Remus pulled back to watch him struggle, the brunette trying to pull his cramped legs back into position without bringing them so close that Remus would make him start all over.
Grinning, Remus placed his hands on the inside of Harry’s knees, keeping him from getting his legs any higher. Harry gave a pained groan, arms moving on the desk as if he were going to push himself forward just to take his weight off of his legs. Remus waited, but Harry eventually gained control of himself, whimpering as he returned his head to the desk.
“Good, pup. Much better.” Remus snagged both of the boy’s knees, pulling them back and over the desk, gently lowering Harry down until he was lying flush on the tabletop. Harry panted, flexing his feet and trying to get his legs to stop cramping. Not willing to wait, Remus tore his fly down and shoved into the boy’s tight hole with a fluid, rough push. Harry howled, clutching the desk, fingers turning white while Remus fucked him relentlessly.
Harry loved Remus’s cock. Even though it was too big and was always, always too rough. He fucking loved how wide it filled him, how deep it reached, and just how damn well Remus used it. Never hesitating, never shy or self conscious—Always remembering to stretch and lube him. Remus took what he wanted and always gave so much, and Harry never had to fear the powerful man would hurt him.
“You poor, poor little bitch,” Remus growled, tongue running over Harry’s cheek, teeth nipping at the strip of fabric gagging him. “How long have you gone without cock, pup? Did you even get any last night? Watching your little prissy wolf getting fucked, and never getting any for yourself… Oh, Harry, you missed so much today…”
Harry whined, trying to push up onto his arms for leverage. Remus held him down, keeping him pinned flat on the desk, the wood creaking with each forceful thrust.
“You were right, pup. Your boyfriend likes to ride. Siri and I had him spreading for hours. Your noble, pretty wolf begs for cock. Loudly. And you missed it.” Remus chuckled darkly, slamming into Harry again.
Harry groaned, chin thumping on the desk. He had never hated anyone as much as he hated Neville Longbottom and his fucking coyote in that moment. Toes seeking purchase on the floor beneath him, Harry braced his legs, pushing back into each perfectly aimed thrust. Remus held his hips steady, slowing his rhythm so that when he sank in, Harry could clench, and caress, and hold his thick length like the boy loved. Each following thrust involved pulling from Harry’s grasping, greedy hold, only to slam in again, giving the boy more to pull in and tighten around.
“Fuck, pup… Fuck you get so tight… So perfectly tight and hot inside… I’m going to dirty you so bad… Walking around school horny and clean—Fucking disgraceful. My filthy pup needs to be kept nasty… dripping in seed… Fuck, that’s it… So tight…”
Harry moaned, his breath bouncing back at him from the gag. Remus was pushing in so hard, the man about to burst inside him. Harry ground down, clenching as hard as he could around the massive cock spreading his flesh so wide. God, he needed the wet. Fucking needed it…
Harry came with a muffled cry, channel clenching so tight that Remus snarled in his ear. While Harry’s cum streamed over the desk, Remus continued to hold himself deep in the boy’s tight hole, teeth grit, breath exploding in short, maddened puffs.
Harry tore the gag from his mouth then reached his hands behind him, trembling fingers over Remus’s strong hips. “Fuck me, Remi… God, fill me… Need you to fill me, please… Fucking do anything… anything, just fill me with your nasty cum…” He squeezed in rhythmic burst, hoping to break the man from his malicious self control enough to take him. “Fuck Remi… Claim me… stain me… So I know you’re my alpha… Fucking do it…”
“I will kill—fucking kill—anyone that tries to take you away, pup,” Remus promised, growling loudly, the sound echoing off the walls. Remus pumped in slow, rough jerks, Harry gasping from the feel of it. With a final, desk screeching thrust, he slammed into Harry’s aching passage, filling the boy with the much needed seed he was begging for.
Body shuddering, Harry moaned, spreading his legs wider, trying to get all of Remus’s cum as deep as possible. He froze, a noise drawing his attention across the room. “R-Remi…”
“I see it…” Remus whispered, reaching for his wand while the two of them froze and stared warily as the classroom door. Remus had spelled it locked. Had warded it. But the door was creaking a long whine, swinging inwards on its hinges as it opened. Remus quickly spelled the door shut.
“Get dressed,” Remus said abruptly, pulling from Harry’s ever clenching passage and tucking himself decent. He strode quickly across the room, tearing the door open and glaring down the hall. There was no one. No sound of footsteps scurrying away, no scent of flesh or emotion.
The hair was standing up on the back of Remus’s neck and he knew; sight, scent, sound, or not. Someone had been there. Someone powerful enough to get through the door. Someone intelligent enough to hide their scent and mask their escape. Someone suicidal enough to watch Remus fuck one of his young, and more famous of students, while Harry had said words like ‘alpha’ and ‘claim.’
This was not the two little bitches that hadn’t followed through with Harry. This was someone else. Someone dangerous. Someone that wanted Remus to know they had been watching.
Harry crept up behind Remus, fully dressed and only a little woozy on his feet. He didn’t say anything, just looked out into the hall with the man. “Do you have the map?” Remus asked, wondering if he could pinpoint who had just been there with the Marauder’s Map.
“Back in my room.” By the time they got it the spy would be long gone, hidden among the throngs of students.
Remus grunted, his mind racing. “Back to your dorm, Potter. I want you separated from the pack until I figure this out.”
Harry whined low in this throat, only mildly satisfied and knowing in about ten minutes he would begging for cock all over again. He wouldn’t dare argue with Remus over it, not with something as dangerous as this. He would go to his room, hide behind his bed curtains, and watch the map for suspicious people and flows of traffic. Hopefully not get the parchment too dirty from all the wanking he’d be doing at the same time.
SCENE #A disturbing encounter
“Y-You can put me down now,” Neville whispered. He was clinging to Blaise’s wide shoulders, hoping not to tip over the tall boy’s back as he confidently walked them through dark hallways and narrow passages deep in the dungeons of the castle. The black boy’s skin was entrancing, and Neville was trying not to stare—It was almost chocolate milk, but just a tad dustier. The boy didn’t smell dusty, more mossy and green, his strong musk very different from Harry’s almost maddening scent. Neville carefully pressed his face to Blaise’s long hair, sniffing discreetly. It was a good smell. Calming, like the forest.
Blaise quietly grunted, wrapping his arm tighter around Neville’s warm, slender waist. He had thrown the boy over his shoulder some time ago, afraid Neville would bumble instead of escape properly. Now he was having a difficult time finding an excuse to keep holding onto the sweet gasping bunny. Lupin hadn’t bothered to follow them, too busy seeing to his bitch. No one was around that they had to keep hiding from.
Huffing, Blaise stopped in the narrow, secret corridor they were in, and lifted the boy down. Neville swayed creamy and nude, clutching his ball of clothes and wand to his chest, and blushing. He glanced around Blaise’s large bicep, peering into the dim lighting. “Do you think he knows it was us?”
“No idea. Sure we’ll find out soon enough, though.” Blaise doubted Lupin would draw it out if he did know who had tried to have a tumble with his slut. Neville looked up when Blaise spoke, Blaise realizing just how close the other boy was, and just how little clothes Neville was wearing.
“Thanks for, um, getting us out of there,” Neville said shyly, looking very small and extra fluffy with his soft hair on end from being flipped nearly upside down.
“Yeah, well, thanks for spelling those locks up as quick as you did,” Blaise reminded. “He would have been on our ass in seconds if you hadn’t.”
Neville shrugged nonchalantly, but Blaise could see the pleased smile he was hiding. He really was just an adorable, fluffy thing. Blaise began to pat Neville’s hair down, relishing the squeak the boy made in reply.
Neville took a step back to keep Blaise from touching him. Biting his lip, he began to sort through his clothes, quickly handing the taller boy his shreds of shirt as he came across them. “S-Sorry I ripped it,” he mumbled, refusing to meet the boy’s piercing gaze. Blaise took the shirt, fingers catching Neville’s and pulling the blushing boy up against him.
“I really don’t mind, bunny… Really…” He traced his fingers over Neville’s face, the boy ducking his head and looking away.
“S-Stop… I don’t… I just wanted your help with Harry,” Neville whispered, tugging at the hand holding his wrist in place.
Blaise frowned, sighing deeply. “You like him.”
Neville nodded, peeking up and smiling secretively. “He’s great. B-Brave. Probably the most powerful student magically—Have you seen him fly? He’s really amazing. I never liked Quidditch until he joined the team.”
“You know he has a boyfriend, right? He’s been seeing someone starting right before winter break,” Blaise snapped, knowing he was being mean, and unable to care. Potter had fucking everything; fame, power—Hell, even a rich noble knight like Malfoy to protect the lucky prat. Why the fuck did he have to have Longbottom too?
Neville shrugged, a faint trace of anxiety crossing his doll like features before disappearing. “It won’t last. Harry and I are perfect for each other. We have a connection… Ever since first year, I’ve known Harry was the one. You wouldn’t understand…” Neville muttered, trying to duck away again, but Blaise wouldn’t let him.
Blaise resisted the urge to snarl. Fucking Harry Potter. It wasn’t even the boy, it was just some fucking dream of the boy Neville was chasing. Blaise still hated him. Potter didn’t even know how good he had it. He didn’t even look twice at Neville, except sometimes with pity.
“Bunny, did you like tonight?” Blaise asked instead, pulling the pile of clothes out of Neville’s hands and dropping them to the floor. He pulled the blond close, watching as his blush grew.
“L-Let me go, Zabini,” Neville whispered, pushing his palms unsuccessfully against the boy’s muscular chest.
“Just tell me you liked it.” Blaise ran his hands down Neville’s narrow back, sliding to his slim waist. He moved in slow, sensual strokes. Blaise knew Neville had liked it. The boy had been so sweet, dripping sweat and gasping eagerness. If he could just show Neville that it hadn’t just been because of Harry and his crazy sex scent, that Neville really liked it when Blaise touched him, maybe the boy would look at him the way he did Harry.
“I uh… I did like it,” Neville said haltingly, standing on tiptoes to keep from pressing up against Blaise. “But that was because… because Harry was there… and… and I like Harry…”
Blaise growled, wrapping Neville tight against his body and pushing him up against the wall. “Forget about Potter. That slut is getting fucked by his werewolf freak of an alpha. He probably gets fucked by a damn pack of people every day.” He licked up the boy’s neck, remembering how Neville had really seemed to like that.
Gasping, Neville closed his eyes. Zabini was very strong, muscles firm as his large arms held him tight. He wasn’t hurting, even though he was strong. But that wasn’t reason enough to let the boy touch him. Even if he had pretty eyes and a fierce, handsome face. “Please stop.”
Blaise growled again, louder and full of frustration. He continued to nip at the boy’s neck, sucking slowly, tongue lapping small swatches of wet. Neville tasted sweet and salty, his firm, creamy skin turning pink under his mouth. It was like licking salty caramel with a hint of vanilla, rich and heady, and perfectly sweet. Blaise moaned when he pulled the boy’s slender thigh up, the tasty blond hard and poking into his hip. “I know you like it, bunny… You can’t fake something like this.”
Neville whimpered, head falling back against the wall as he panted. So what if he was hard? It was easy to get him hard; it didn’t mean he wanted it. He never should have asked a Slytherin for help. It was his own damn fault. Even if Blaise had been indifferent towards him, he was still a bully, taking whatever the hell he pleased. Just like his horrible cousin.
Neville shivered, his body going limp. Thinking of Mason made him numb, inside and out. He could barely feel Blaise’s hands now, large palms sliding over his ass, slipping between his thighs, cupping his dick and balls. The sharp teeth nipping him were like faraway raindrops, dotting his skin but not fully wetting.
“Bunny…? Neville?” Blaise carefully turned the unnaturally still boy’s face towards him. Neville’s beautiful blue eyes were empty and far away. “Shit.” He pulled away with a snarl, hating himself even more when Neville just stood there, not blinking, just leaning on the wall waiting for whatever was going to come next.
“Get dressed, Longbottom. Get dressed and get the fuck out of here.” He pulled Neville’s shirt off the ground and pushed it in the boy’s grasp, the blond blinking and then startling, as if he hadn’t even been aware he was still there. Blaise growled, turning his back and stalking down the corridor to where it stopped suddenly in darkness. He grabbed the bottle of vodka he had left stashed there, taking a swig and trying to ignore the sounds of Neville putting his clothes on.
“How do I… Where are we?” Neville asked quietly, eyes cautiously tracing over Blaise’s back. The boy was stiff, puffed up and full of anger. Neville wasn’t sure what he had done wrong, but he didn’t want to stick around with an angry Zabini in a small narrow corridor he had never been in before.
Blaise turned sharply, slamming his hand down on a brick jutting out of the wall. A seamless door swung outward, opening up into one of the main Slytherin corridors. “Take two lefts, and then the third right,” Blaise snapped, pointing down the hall. “The moving staircase is just at the end of the sloping corridor after that.”
Neville nodded, meeting Blaise’s heated glare. “You’re… you’re angry at me.”
Blaise scowled, taking another long gulp of his drink. “Fuck off. Go run to Potter or something.”
Biting at his sleeve, Neville nodded, feet edging slowly towards the exit. That only seemed to piss Blaise off more, and the tall boy stepped back with another loud growl, leaning against the back of the corridor and giving Neville plenty of space to leave. Neville gave the angry boy a final, long side glance, watching as Zabini nearly drained the bottle of vodka in his tight grasp. He escaped out into the hall, the door sealing up behind him when Zabini crushed the same brick again.
Neville stared at the space for a quiet moment, the door completely invisible. He could smell it though, Blaise’s earthy scent and the caustic tang of alcohol. The boy had been furious. Neville bit harder on his sleeve, tripping slowly out of the dungeons.
Was Zabini going to bully him now, like he did the other kids that pissed him off? Neville had only seen Zabini hurt boys nearly the same size as him, usually much older, and just as strong and mean. Part of it had seemed to be that those boys thought the Slytherin was an easy target, having started school later than the rest of them, and stuck with kids a year younger in all his classes. Zabini was still younger than most of the upperclassmen assholes, but was totally stronger too. He had definitely proved it, even though the bullies kept looking to fight him.
Neville had messed up somewhere. He wasn’t sure how though. Zabini could have done whatever he wanted with him. That’s how Mason did it. His cousin didn’t even wait for him to go numb, just spelled him that way. Why hadn’t Zabini fucked him…? Was there something wrong with him? Neville sighed, shaking his head in annoyance. He didn’t understand sex. He knew that much. And he really didn’t understand people.
He wanted to see Harry. Maybe by the time he got back, Harry would be in the common room. If he came back at all that night. Harry spent a lot of nights out, likely with his stupid boyfriend. Neville didn’t know who Harry was dating, it being some big secret. Ron had told Seamus that he had thought it was a Ravenclaw girl—Neville had laughed quietly at that. Sometimes Ron was really oblivious.
Maybe Harry would even talk to Neville. They could talk about animagus forms and what it’s like to be a dog. Maybe even about sex. Harry could probably explain all these confusing things he kept messing up. Maybe even about how to get Zabini to not be so angry at him. Neville didn’t want the Slytherin angry at him. Not just because getting beat up by Blaise Zabini would probably be the most painful thing ever. Neville had endured a lot of pain and would continue to.
He just didn’t want Blaise angry at him.
SCENE #Blaise caught on the broken bunny
Drunk, brooding, and very frustrated, Blaise spent most of his evening in the small hidden corridor still full of Neville’s sweet scent.
He should have stayed for the angry werewolf. Dealing with Lupin would have been much better than whatever fucked up nightmare of a shell Longbottom had become. Like some puppet… Like the boy had done it before, almost fallen asleep while someone pawed at him. But Blaise had been doing the pawing.
Blaise had been bad to the little bunny, and he was very fucking angry about it.
He needed to fix it somehow. Just… he didn’t know how. Neville was so quiet, always jumping and squeaking. Who the fuck even knew what the boy liked? Besides Potter. Blaise scowled. Fucking Potter. He was glad he hadn’t fucked the damn bitch. Potter would have liked it, and he didn’t want to do anything the goddamn lucky-ass Gryffindor liked.
Sitting in the corridor, knees bent, bare back leaning against the cool wall, Blaise ran his palm over the bulge in his pants, remembering Neville in the classroom. The bunny had been very sweet, all blushes and gasps. A strange mix of naïve and confident. He had sunk against Blaise, let him hold him while Potter had sucked the boy off. For some reason, Blaise was certain Neville had never been sucked off before… Even thought someone was fucking him…
Blaise unzipped, groaning softly as he wrapped his fingers around his hard dick. He should have just fucked Potter and been done with it. In the hallway by the Great Hall. Let the school see what a big slut the bitch was. Let the stupid bunny see just how terrible Blaise was, so he’d never have to worry about impressing the sweet boy. He was such an idiot.
Blaise had gotten to see Neville suck cock, and that had been fucking fine. Potter had clearly been experienced, but Neville… The bunny had been damn delicious. Chasing around Potter’s dick as if afraid to touch it with anything but his mouth. Sucking on him so guilelessly, like Neville didn’t even know how fucking hot he looked doing it.
Blaise groaned, hand moving faster over his cock. He was trying to hold back and build slow, but remembering Neville on his knees, face sweating and mouth so wide and full of cock, was undoing him. Then Potter had come all over the boy, dripping hot seed on his beautiful face. Blaise wanted to do that to Neville. He wanted to fuck his pretty rosebud lips and cover the boy with his cum. Blaise was much bigger than Potter. Neville wouldn’t even be able to swallow him all.
Eyes closing, Blaise pushed his hips up, trying to imagine Neville’s lips wrapped around his big cock. The boy would lick him, small, hesitant touches. He’d be shy. His eyes would be wide like when he had first seen Blaise’s dick, touching ever so lightly. God, the little bunny had touched him. No, Blaise was not regretting his night, even if it had not turned ideal.
Blaise looked down at his length, the darker flushed tip disappearing and reappearing between his fingers with each long stroke. He spread a bead of milky precum over his strained head with his thumb, trying to guess how far he would fit in Neville’s sweet mouth. He should have found out first hand. The fluffy bunny wouldn’t have fought him…
Blaise huffed, remembering how Neville had been, eyes so empty, body limp. His erection immediately flagged, and he pushed the thought away. It was not arousing, Neville like some drugged, half dead zombie instead of wide eyed, blushing and shyly smiling up at him. Blaise closed his eyes again, watching Neville try to take him into his tight, hot mouth, tongue contouring to his thick flesh and rubbing. Gasping… The boy would gasp… would choke slightly, so eager to pull him in, wanting to show just how good a job he could do…
Blaise came silently, hips jerking, cum streaming up his tense stomach in hot spurts. He relaxed back against he wall, fingers trailing through the slick white mess on his cocoa flesh. Would Neville swallow? Did he even know how…?
Fuck… fuck, he wanted that fluffy bunny. How the fuck could he fix this?
Blaise cleaned himself off with a quick spell, frowning from the brisk sensation. Neville wanted Harry. But Harry wasn’t fucking Neville. No… someone else was and he was the real competition.
Tapping his fingers on his abs, Blaise let his mind drift back to the conversation he’d heard, his first day back after winter break in the second floor bathroom. It had been five particularly idiotic upperclassmen and Crabbe, snickering in a corner, washing up after beating the shit out of some first year Hufflepuffs. Longbottom would suck cock if you made him. His boyfriend liked to watch and fuck the boy while he did. One of them had found out first hand Christmas eve, having been over at… Where was it…?
Blaise growled, sitting up as the name finally surfaced. The Pennyworth estate.
There were three Pennyworth brothers, parents long dead from the war. They varied greatly in age, the eldest nearly forty, while the other two were in there early twenties now. The youngest, Chad, needed a lot of support and was prone to extreme moods. He hadn’t always been that way, something happening to give him brain damage before fifteen. He was institutionalized, likely better for it given the other two brothers.
Theodore was some twisted shit, having never grown over five feet, and known for blackouts where he would beat the life out of small animals and cry about it after. Blaise had heard the guy cross-dressed, not necessarily by choice. Because Mason, the eldest, was fucked in the head. He had tried to sign up as a Death Eater, but the Dark Lord wouldn’t have him because the pathetic brute was almost a squib. It was said Mason took it out on his younger brothers, practicing magic on them to prove he had it in him. Rumor had it Mason had lost his shit one night and had nearly killed Chad, the boy never the same again.
The entire family was a disgrace, not talked about in proper society. Which only made it more pathetic that Longbottom’s Gran would send the kid over there for the holidays. They were cousins, and the old blue-hair probably thought she was doing them all a favor, getting Neville out of the stuffy manor and letting the Pennyworths have some human interaction. Blaise wasn’t so sure the brother’s should be around humans. Chad was the only decent one, and he was drooling away in the same facility as Neville’s parents, the group of them visiting together, if Blaise remembered correctly.
One of them was fucking the bunny, and Blaise had a disgusting suspicion it was Mason. He’d have to ask around to make sure… Discreetly. No one wanted to be connected with the Pennyworths. Too much crazy and not enough power. A waste of a perfectly good pureblood name.
It had been Tunsley… Tunsley had been fucked enough to actually admit to being at the Pennyworths’ Christmas Eve…
Blaise would not let the seventh year boy go unpunished for it.
SCENE #Mating the mutt
Draco dragged himself back to the castle around midnight, Lupin showing up—without food—to warn they were all in potential danger and needed to scatter for a while. Draco had mixed feelings about it at the time, Black buried deep inside him and threatening to follow him to bed. It had sounded like a fine idea, especially because Draco would make his gruff cousin carry him. But Remus had put a stop to that, and all sex in general, when he explained what happened.
Remus and Harry were possibly outed, if not as a werewolf and undocumented animagus, definitely as a professor fucking a student. They all needed to be alert for the spy. Remus being removed from the school could leave Harry open to attack. Sirius had to go back to the snowy forest, but would stay close in case needed. For now the man insisted on prowling the grounds as Padfoot, scenting for anyone that might have followed Remus back to the shack.
Draco slept straight through Saturday breakfast and lunch, waking up hungry, sore, and decidedly sticky late afternoon. There was something off about him, but wasn’t quite sure what. He was horny, but that wasn’t new since hooking up with Harry a while back. It was something else. Something that on standing made him feel disoriented. Draco figured it out soon enough after his shower. When trying to pull his clothes on he found that his pants were too short and his shirt was pinching his biceps and chest. He had grown overnight, and thankfully not into a bitch.
Draco had worried a bit before falling asleep, wondering if he had been turned into another Harry. Not that Draco didn’t love Harry—he totally fucking did—but he sure didn’t want to be Harry. The boy was in a constant state of arousal, and was never fully satisfied unless full of cock. It was hardly an ideal existence. Draco knew how much his boyfriend suffered at times, and also how much Harry loved it.
He was upset he hadn’t gotten to see Harry at all yesterday. Hopefully the boy wasn’t moping, or worse, causing trouble. Harry was a fucking menace when upset; pranking, fighting, and all around surly. Draco planned to make it up to the mutt, even if he was a day late. Spelling his clothes to fit properly, Draco jogged up to the Great Hall to grab a quick, very late lunch.
He found Harry sitting on the steps going up to the Gryffindor tower, next to, but not talking to, a bunch of his chatting dormmates. Ron and Seamus gave Draco particularly angry glares, surprising since Draco had let up on the whole Slytherin vs Gryffindor thing once he had started seeing Harry. Harry didn’t care if he fought with the others, but Draco figured it would be best to not make life an absolute hell for Harry, seeing as the brunette had to coexist with the other boys for the next four years.
“Lost, Malfoy?” Ron jeered, standing along with Seamus and two Ravenclaw fourth years Draco hadn’t bothered to learn the names of.
“Yes, Weasel, I’m fucking lost,” Draco said with a bored air, pausing to lean on the banister. “That would be the only explanation for me to be looking at your damn spots right now.” Backing off didn’t mean Draco put up with Gryffindor shit.
Ron glared, stepping down the stairs and facing Draco. He hesitated, uncertainty crossing his features. Draco realized what the confusion was, Ron forced to look straight at him instead of down since the blond’s bizarre growth spurt of last night. Fucking brilliant.
“Let’s go, Malfoy,” Harry said, standing and hooking a finger into Draco’s belt loop. Draco glanced over, surprised Harry was actually addressing him. Usually the boy liked to pretend they were still enemies, not wanting to arouse suspicion. Apparently being in Harry’s pack came with other benefits, a very sweet one that made Weasley wail in disgust.
“What, you two are friends now!” Ron said angrily, turning on Harry. “You haven’t talked to me for weeks, and now you’re hanging out with bloody Slytherins? What the hell, Harry?”
Harry shrugged, completely uninterested. “Believe me, Ron, it’s not a competition.”
“Not one you’d fucking win, anyways,” Draco added smugly, surprised with just how good it felt to be able to walk by people with Harry at his side. Draco could definitely get used to this. He smirked when Ron flipped him off, turning away from the Gryffindor area of the castle and towards the stairs that led down to the dungeons.
“I didn’t realize you were hanging with them again,” Draco said, referring to Harry being with his housemates.
“Had to. Moony said I can’t be alone anymore until he figures out who was spying. Have to be with a group, or a packmate at all times—It’s going to get fucking annoying, really quick.”
Draco couldn’t help but agree, seeing as Remus and him were the only ones in the castle. Harry would have to be with the Gryffindors for hours on end. “Is that why I get to walk around with you now?” He asked, disappointed and completely annoyed that he cared.
Harry glanced over at him, grinning shyly and then quickly looking away. “No.”
Draco’s heart tripped, his blood feeling very hot in his veins all of a sudden. Smirking, he led them around a corner, then another, pushing Harry quickly into a room he had spelled open.
“Yeah? Then why, exactly, do I get the honor of walking side by side with the great Harry Potter?” Draco asked lowly, pinning Harry to the closed door, hands holding the boy’s wrists down.
Harry panted up at him, smiling wickedly while looking Draco over. He reeked of sex, and from what Draco had heard from Remus, had not had a very good Friday. “Because you’re going to be my mate, and I don’t want to have to fucking pretend to hate you.”
“That is a very good answer, mutt. Very fucking good…” Draco kissed the grinning boy, Harry snickering and nipping at his lip.
“Wolfie… you look different… Good, really good, but different…” Harry pulled his wrists from Draco’s grasp, hands moving over the taller boy’s arms, squeezing at his biceps. “Fuck… You bulked up overnight.”
Draco nodded, watching Harry’s face while the boy began pawing under his shirt. “Something to do with joining the pack. My magic feels stronger too… Your magic feels stronger…” He brushed fingers down Harry’s throat, the brunette pausing from where he had pulled at Draco’s silky, white-blond hair that now reached down to his nipples.
Harry looked down at himself, nose scrunching. “Don’t think I bulked much at all.”
“Let me be the judge, hmm?” Draco teased, eyes running over Harry’s oversized shirt. Frowning suddenly, he pulled away, stepping back into the room. “I got something for you. A gift.”
Harry blinked at him, gaze straying around the room for the first time. They had fucked there before, one of the Slytherin hidden lounges that littered the dungeons. “Is it sex? Please say it’s sex.”
Draco was pretty sure that went without saying. “Get over here, slut. I’m sick of looking at those horrible jeans.” He had ordered some things for Harry over winter break, somewhat shy to actually give the gifts to the boy. Harry was oddly proud of his rotten clothes, and had an even harder time receiving gifts than he did compliments and sweet words. Draco rolled his eyes when Harry frowned down at the pile of packages he had wrapped in brown paper.
“Draco, you didn’t have to…”
“Yes, I did,” Draco said, picking the nearest one up and tossing it to the boy. Harry caught it easily, frown only growing. “Open it. I’m not giving you an option, so you better fucking like them.”
Glaring as if the parcel was going to bite him, Harry cautiously tore the paper off, brows furrowing as… something was revealed. He shook the fabric out, the supposed black pants covered in silver chains and crossing straps. “What am I looking at here?”
“Pants. Fucking hot pants,” Draco said simply, tossing another package at the boy. Harry caught it one handed, staring at the strange pants before opening the next parcel. Draco reached over while Harry had his head bowed, snatching the boy’s glasses so he could finally do the spell he had learned. Harry ignored him, just bending closer to see what he was opening.
It was a shirt, thin stretchy material nearly see-through when worn over his arms, and less transparent on his torso. There were also half a dozen spiked belts and bracelets with the shirt, Harry wrapping a few around his wrist while he glanced over to see what Draco was doing.
“You’re trying to dress me,” Harry concluded, his voice void of any emotion. Draco glanced up, but continued his spell when he saw that Harry didn’t look angry. Harry went back to opening packages, less wary as he tore through the brown paper and began piling the clothes. There was a lot, more clothes than Harry had ever owned probably in his entire life combined—which wasn’t really saying much—and included briefs, socks, sneakers, and boots. It was all black, only hints of red or silver in the form of chains, zippers, clasps, and buttons. Harry tilted his head at the pile, not really sure what to make of any of it.
“Try it on,” Draco muttered, growling when the spell he was doing refused to stick.
Glancing uncertainly his way, Harry eventually shrugged, toeing out of his ratty sneakers and stripping off his jeans. He threw on the pair of pants nearest the top of the pile, fumbling to figure out how the flaps of materials and straps went. Harry had seen clothing like this before. It had been on a bunch of street punks, a group of angry assholes Harry had caught sight off damaging someone’s car in the middle of London. It had definitely caught his eye at the time, as had their violent behavior.
“So you… like this kind of clothing?” Harry asked as he zipped up, peering sideways at Draco, who was still muttering over his glasses. He had never seen the Slytherin wear anything like this. Harry would have remembered. It was a big deal to get the sexy prat in jeans half the time. Draco turned his back to him, trying to focus, so Harry tossed his oversized shirt to the floor, pulling out the nearest clean shirt from the pile. It was a soft black t-shirt with white skulls and blood red roses pictured. It was strange to wear clothing that fit, the shirt clinging to him in unfamiliar ways. Not bad though… It wasn’t bad. Just different. Harry grabbed the closest pair of sneakers, some brand logo he recognized as expensive, but hadn’t bothered to learn the name of. He clicked some more bracelets on, scratching the back of his head as Draco began to swear loudly.
“Fuck… Fine, whatever. Fucking stupid, bloody… Oh. It worked.” Draco turned, smiling brightly with Harry’s glasses in hand. Glasses he promptly dropped on seeing Harry. “Shit—Sorry.”
Eyebrows raised, Harry stooped and snagged his specs before his flustered boyfriend could step on them. His glasses didn’t feel any different. He placed them on his nose, raising his gaze to Draco who was staring, silver eyes piercing as they roved over him.
“One more thing,” Draco said lowly, stepping up to Harry and grabbing him by the shoulder. Harry’s glasses were again stolen away, Draco fumbling for a pencil in his pocket. “Stay still…” Harry gulped, motionless as Draco took the black pencil and ran eyeliner carefully around both his eyes. Done, he placed Harry’s glasses back on, hand grasping the boy’s messy locks and fluffing them up with intent.
“You seem to like this…” Harry commented, eyes following Draco as the blond began walking around him and running his hands over his new clothes.
“You don’t?” Draco asked, grabbing Harry by one of his pant straps and pulling him hard against his body. “You look like a fucking wild dog. Very much my mutt.”
Harry grinned, Draco running his tongue up his neck. “I’ll take your word for it. What did you do to my glasses?”
“Spelled them so they go invisible when you’re wearing them,” Draco said, nipping down Harry’s throat. He wrapped what Harry had first assumed was a long bracelet around his neck, clasping a spiky choker on him.
“Aren’t spikes counter productive to getting close to me?” Harry asked, his grin growing when Draco growled and licked over the metal and leather, then nipped Harry’s throat again. “Oh, I think you really like this, wolfie. You got me a whole bunch of clothes.”
“I want you to dress like this all the time. Give me your hands.” Harry did, Draco running his wand over each finger and painting Harry’s nails with black enamel. “I knew you’d look good. It just fits you, mutt.”
“If you say so. I don’t mind the clothes—I mean, I’m sure they’re not quite normal, but I was getting sick of the holes and crap.” Harry glanced over at his tattered old sneakers, trying to remember how long he’d actually owned the damn things. “The makeup though… might not wear that much…”
Draco growled again, snapping his wand behind Harry and quickly muttering a spell. He then turned the brunette, pushing him towards the summoned mirror. Harry blinked, grinning awkwardly at his reflection.
“You look hot.”
“Err… it’s different…” Harry mumbled, blushing slightly.
“It’s sexy. Over the desk sexy. On your knees sexy. Up against the wall sexy,” Draco whispered sensually into his ear, pulling on Harry’s collar and forcing his neck up. “You look wild.”
“Pretty,” Harry muttered. “I look pretty.” Without his glasses to hide them away, Harry could see exactly how the eyeliner made his green eyes pop even more beneath his dark brows, his lips somehow redder in contrast. The clothes fit him very well, Harry actually having a shape to his torso, revealing he had bulked a little bit after all from Draco joining the pack. His pants clung to his hips and ran straight down his legs to the bottom, looking actually really cool with all the straps. The black made his skin look paler, his dark features contrasting and pulling attention to his face.
Harry wasn’t quite girly, but it was definitely on the stop and stare at the pretty boy level, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He had spent a lot of time trying not to be noticed. That would not be an option in these clothes.
“I like it,” Draco insisted, running his hand up, fingers tracing over Harry’s lips. “I like you sexy, and I want people to see you sexy. I want people to know that this fucking crazy, sexy mutt is mine.”
Harry glanced over at Draco in the mirror, watching his beautiful boyfriend try to lick his lips from an impossible angle. “Are you… embarrassed by me?”
“No,” Draco snapped, glaring back.
Harry shrugged. “It’s okay if you are. I mean, I’m kinda fucked up and all.”
“I am not embarrassed. Wanting to see you look as hot as possible does not mean I’m embarrassed by you,” Draco said gruffly, still refusing to let the brunette go. “I’m happy to hang out with you looking like a damn vagabond if you insist. I just prefer this instead.”
“Well… just… looking like this is kinda embarrassing for me,” Harry mumbled. “You know the guys are going to give me so much shit for the, um…” He pointed to his eyes and the kohl lining there.
“Who the fuck cares what they think?” Draco said with a huff, whirling Harry in his arms and holding the boy tight by his hips. “You look fucking amazing. And if anyone says shit, I’ll beat the fuck out of them.”
“You’re not going to—”
“Fine, you beat the fuck out of them,” Draco amended. “It’ll give you something to do. You know, besides running from me.”
Harry raised his brows, Draco looking very intense all of a sudden. “Why would I run from you?”
“Because every time I see you like this, I’m going to have to fuck you,” Draco growled, stepping Harry backwards until his legs hit the back of a sofa.
“Oh… okay,” Harry said, unable to look away from Draco’s searing silver gaze.
“And if you’re dressed like this all the time… well, that could get a bit messy,” Draco continued, pushing Harry’s t-shirt up. “Let’s see… Breakfast… I’ll probably have you right on the Gryffindor table. I don’t think you’ll be able to run far with so many people in the way.”
Harry gaped, eyelids half closing. “The t-table?”
“Yes… Three times a day on that table, I think. Fuck, maybe the bench. You could sit in my lap and ride me.” Draco smirked at Harry’s appreciative groan, hands finding and tweaking the boy’s nipples. “Then there’s class… We don’t have too many classes together, so that will make things a bit easier on you.”
Harry snickered, then gasped, Draco biting his neck hard. “Fuck… You don’t… Shit, wolfie, you’re kind of…”
Draco raised his head, cupping Harry’s cheek and gazing into his eyes. “What?”
Harry had wanted to say Draco was different. The boy was rarely rough, even though Harry had hoped he’d be. Draco was usually as vanilla as it came, besides his very delicious habit of saying nasty, nasty things to Harry to get him hot—Or annoy him. It was hard to tell because everything Draco said, Harry usually found hot. But this look was very much Draco, loving and attentive.
Draco was also a full half a head taller than Harry now, and had more strength in his already powerful hold. Harry grinned up at the very sexy boy, liking all the new little changes that were happening to his boyfriend. Remus had said Draco begged for cock with him and Sirius. Harry would gladly wear some fucking makeup if Draco stopped being so vanilla with him.
“You’re kind of nasty, wolfie.”
Draco inhaled sharply, pushing Harry down to his knees. “I think I have to be.”
“Yeah?” Harry reached his hands up, unzipping the boy’s jeans and nuzzling his face into Draco’s long erection.
“Yes,” Draco growled, tangling his fingers into Harry’s hair and pulling hard. Harry groaned, looking up, lips parted wide as he waited for Draco to fuck his mouth. “I’m going to make you mine, and I just can’t be fucking nice doing something like that. You don’t like nice much.”
“Sometimes I—“ Harry did not get to finish his thought, Draco pushing fingers into Harry’s mouth, touching the boy’s tongue, running saliva over his gasping lips. He hissed at Harry’s needy expression, quickly pulling the boy down, his hot mouth engulfing Draco’s cock, lips latching tight and sucking. Draco pulled Harry back enough so he could see the boy’s face clearly as he thrust shallowly into his mouth. The eyeliner was definitely sexy, along with the glasses-free view. It had taken him weeks to find that damn spell, and it had been worth it.
“Maybe I’ll stick to fucking your mouth in class,” Draco murmured, free hand reaching under Harry’s chin and fingering the collar there. He pulled it up, fingers moving to the back while Harry looked at him in wide eyed surprise. Harry opened his mouth wider, moaning around Draco’s thick cock, hot fluid running down his chin. Draco tugged at the collar, careful pressure on Harry’s throat, stealing small breaths of his air each time.
Harry had to fight the urge to pull Draco down and climb the boy until the blond mounted him already. His noble wolfie was not being prissy today, and Harry found it absolutely maddening. As if reading his thoughts, Draco tugged on Harry’s collar again, holding him by it longer this time, the pressure on his throat growing while Draco rubbed the head of his cock over Harry’s wet lips.
“F-Fuck,” Harry croaked, so hard he was certain he was going to come just from this. Draco definitely was. Harry could feel the boy’s cock swelling, bright red tip dripping drop after drop of precum on his lips and tongue. Harry opened his mouth wider, urging Draco to push inside. Draco didn’t, tightening his grip on Harry’s choker again, pushing against the boy’s tongue and tracing his swollen lips while Harry closed his eyes, fire moving through him from need and lack of oxygen. Harry gaped, jerking fitfully, his orgasm hitting him hard, his entire body feeling fuzzy and on fire at the same time while Draco’s cum rained down on his face.
“Holy shit, Draco… Holy fucking hell…” Harry moaned, swaying, feeling dazed and very much amazed at his boyfriend. Draco sank to his knees, thoroughly licking Harry’s face and kissing the boy’s lips.
“Did you like that?” Draco asked smugly, Harry barking in laughter.
“Just christened these nice new pants with how much I liked that,” Harry rasped, his voice rough and weak. He began pushing at Draco’s clothes, tearing at his shirt with quick, unsteady motions. Draco lifted his arms so he could be stripped, eyes lingering on Harry again in his black outfit and many bondage straps.
“I want to fuck you in these clothes,” Draco said decidedly, grabbing Harry’s wrists with one hand and pulling the boy close. Green eyes again staring at him in surprise, Draco reached for Harry’s zipper, unfurling it slowly and slipping his fingers inside. Harry groaned, hips rocking up, erection quickly renewing with each touch of Draco’s hand.
Harry leaned forward, tongue reaching out, licking over Draco’s lips, tasting, trembling. Draco growled, a very aggressive sound for Harry’s normally controlled boyfriend. Harry suddenly found himself flat on his back, belt being ripped open, pants and underwear pushed down just below his ass. Draco raised his hand up to Harry’s face, the brunette gasping and then eagerly licking his tongue out for his seed on Draco’s fingers. Draco pushed his dripping fingers into Harry’s mouth and ran them over his tongue. Harry wrapped his lips tight, so that when Draco pulled out, he got nearly everything he could drink.
“You still want this, right mutt?” Draco asked, pausing over Harry’s prone form.
Harry blinked up in confusion, then smiled brightly, hooking a leg around the boy’s waist. “I want to be yours, Draco. I want to be your mate.”
Draco nodded, looking very serious. “I… Well, I really fucking hope so, because I just went through a fucking hell of a night to join your pack. Not to mention the day that followed. And if you don’t want to be my mate after all that, I just don’t fucking know what the hell I’m going to do.”
Harry pulled the blond down on top of him, wrapping Draco tight, and ignoring the little hisses the boy made from his many spikes. “You could have come back with a tail and wolf ears, and I still would have wanted you, wolfie. You were so fucking beautiful—God, it was so hot to see you like that, under Sirius and wanting it so much. I was… I was afraid you’d be angry at me for drugging you…” Harry bit his lip, Draco meeting his gaze sharply. “Please tell me you’re not angry.”
Draco nipped Harry’s jaw, teeth holding him firmly in place for long moments. “I knew you were a demented, crazed mutt going into this, Potter. If you didn’t drug me once in a while, I’d worry there was something wrong with you.”
Harry grinned wickedly, kissing the boy hard with swollen lips. “I’ll remind you later that you said that,” he teased, trying to roll them. Draco wouldn’t let him, pinning Harry firmly down, glaring warningly. Harry couldn’t help but stare at Draco’s more defined arms, running his hands up the muscles. Draco wasn’t close to Remus’s size, but Remus was a full grown werewolf. Draco could likely take Zabini down, even though half a head shorter than the boy and still slimmer and more compact. Draco had a new, vicious glint in his eye that made Harry think that if pushed, Draco would be just like Remus and Sirius. Brutal. Unforgiving. Unstoppable.
“You’re moaning up a storm, slut,” Draco commented, watching Harry pant in earnest while rocking his hips.
“I like your… ah fuck… changes from joining the pack…” Harry answered honestly. He had been willing to accept Draco as a little prissy at times. This was very much ideal, and Harry was not going to complain.
“Yeah, well, I’m liking them too,” Draco said, suddenly pushing himself to his feet and standing. Harry stared up at him heatedly, green eyes bright with need, hand slowly moving down to his new pants and hard prick. Draco had planned on pulling Harry up and getting the boy on the couch, or maybe against the wall, but this was definitely good too, watching the brunette slowly touch himself in anticipation while wearing his very sexy new clothes.
Harry kept his eyes locked on Draco’s as he began pumping his cock in long strokes. Smiling lazily up at the pale boy, he licked his lips as he jerked his hips up with every squeeze. “Take your pants off. I want to see the rest of you,” Harry demanded, eyes moving over Draco hungrily and resting on his crotch.
Kicking his shoes off, Draco dropped his jeans and stepped out of them, toeing them across the floor. Harry was suddenly on his knees again, grabbing Draco’s underwear and tearing them down his thighs. Draco gasped, Harry turning him and pushing him up against the back of the couch.
“Did you like it, wolfie?” Harry asked breathlessly, mouth wide as he fanned heat over Draco’s smooth, pale ass cheek. Draco stilled, eyes closing when he felt Harry kiss to the center between his firm cheeks, wet lips sucking gently on his flesh. “You looked so good,” Harry moaned, running his tongue out, feeling Draco’s hips jolt forward as he tickled down his crack. “Fuck, I can still smell them on you…”
Draco groaned, Harry surging forward, tongue probing into his tight entrance and circling the muscles. Harry’s touch was very different from the damn powerful, relentless men Draco had been with yesterday, his love sweet and so overcome with need he could barely coordinate his movements from all his trembling. It made Draco feel weak in a different way, knowing Harry needed him this much, had wanted to touch him like this and Draco had been so foolishly afraid. He panted while Harry used his thumbs to spread his cheeks wider, delving deeper inside him, each touch of hot, wet tongue making Draco dizzy and wild.
Harry pulled away, gasping, shaking as he tried to get to his feet while climbing up Draco’s sturdy form. Draco quickly turned, pulling Harry into his arms, crushing the boy’s lips with his own. Harry’s trousers were sliding down his hips, keeping his legs from spreading wide enough. Draco tore them down harshly, wrenching Harry’s knee up, spelling the boy’s entrance slick and pressing his cock against his hole. Harry gasped, mouth wide in a silent cry as Draco rocked against his unstretched entrance with hard, taunting thrusts.
“Oh god… Draco… fuck…” Harry held onto Draco’s biceps as best he could, his body threatening to go limp from the overwhelming sensation of Draco forcing his entrance to stretch around the head of his cock.
“How do you want it, mutt?” Draco asked, burying his face in Harry’s neck, mouth biting quick, harsh nips of pain and pleasure. “It’s your mating—How do you want me to fuck you?”
Harry shuddered, eyes rolling back when Draco gave another, harder push, his body opening unbearably slow to the tip of the boy’s dick. Draco was bigger, Harry able to feel it very much so like this. Draco’s arms were so strong, holding his hips in place, keeping him standing while pressing unrelentingly forward. Harry gave a sudden cry, sobbing into Draco’s chest when the pale boy surged forward, his hole opening and holding the first inch of Draco inside him.
Eyes squeezed shut, Harry could only moan uncomprehensibly, Draco rocking them gently while still carefully pressing his hips forward in slow, eager pushes. Draco pressed Harry’s hair from his forehead, sweat dripping down the brunette’s face as he gasped harshly. “Do you like that, slut? Should I keep going?”
Harry moaned, certain he had never been more turned on in his entire life than to have his wolfie take him so rough like this.
“Is that a yes?” Draco asked, prying Harry’s chin up to force the boy to meet his eye. Harry didn’t say anything, just looked at his love with all he could feel and more. Draco swallowed hard, his arm moving down Harry’s back and cupping the boy’s cheek. “I think you’re going to like this,” Draco said hoarsely, right before lifting Harry up, wrapping the boy’s legs around his hips, and slowly letting Harry fall onto his cock.
“Oh fuck… Draco, Draco, I can’t—Oh! Ohhh…” Whimpering loudly, body jerking fitfully, Harry opened up to Draco, his slick passage not giving any resistance to the unbearable thickness suddenly pushing into him. He bit Draco’s shoulder, hands clutching at his back, pulling at his silky hair while Harry tried to keep his sanity. He was vaguely aware of just how strong Draco had gotten, the boy holding him up with ease as he leaned against the couch, muscles tight as he kept Harry from being filled too quickly.
“That’s it, Harry… that’s it… God, I knew you’d like this…” Not fully embedded, Draco pulled Harry up, shallowly fucking his shaking body a few aching, hard pumps. He then pulled Harry down again, inch by inch while the brunette sobbed from the sensation of being filled so completely. Draco held him there, trying so hard to keep from coming with Harry so damn tight around him.
Barely able to lift his head, Harry sought out Draco’s mouth, tongue weak and languid with each touch to the taller boy’s. “While it’s still… so tight…” Harry gasped out. “Bite me… while it’s…”
Draco didn’t wait for Harry to finish, pulling Harry’s choker up and clamping his teeth into the boy’s tanned neck. Harry howled, his body tightening as he jerked. Draco held him still, not letting him escape as his power rose up around the two of them. It was similar to the packbond, but felt so different, Draco’s power tingling around Harry, holding him close, promising to love him, and protect him, and never leave him. It didn’t force Harry down, instead Harry’s power rising to meet him, twining between them, binding them together in such an unfamiliar way, they both gasped in surprise.
Harry whimpered, feeling Draco confused and trying to withdraw the instant the spell had completed. He gripped his thighs tighter, holding on when Draco sank to his knees, still so deep inside Harry’s body. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded, holding Draco’s face, fingers caressing. “Just give it a second…”
Draco nodded blearily. He could feel Harry, so close, wrapped tight around him but also now connected inside him. He forced his eyes open, needing to know the boy was alright. Because if this was so emotional that Draco was struggling, there was no way Harry was dealing better. Sure enough, the brunette was fighting tears, his lovely eyes a watery pond of green. Draco smiled weakly, kissing Harry before the mutt could lose it. He then pushed the slender boy down on his back and pumped long thrusts into his agonizingly tight hole.
“Yes… oh god…” Harry’s entire body was tingling, each touch from Draco’s skin, inside and out, a jolt of electricity and fire. He could see Draco was having the same problem, the boy’s expression fierce as he tried to hold himself back, wanting to give Harry as much as he could before he came. “Please…” Harry muttered, pulling Draco down hard atop him, the boy’s weight crushing him into the floor. “I want it hard. I know you don’t like to…”
Draco growled, his only warning before the blond was suddenly moving, flipping Harry like a piece of paper and wrenching his hips back. He forcefully spread Harry’s thighs wide while the brunette grabbed the floor to keep from falling forward. Harry bit his lip, Draco breathing heat over his neck, tongue teasing the bite mark he had made as he pressed against Harry’s entrance with his cock. Not able to see him, Draco really did seem different to Harry’s senses. Dangerous. His tame, sweet wolfie had become wild and unhinged overnight. Harry really, really liked it.
Plunging into Harry with a growl, Draco held him tight, moving with hard, jolting thrusts while Harry groaned and pushed back to meet him. “Oh… Like that… fuck yes… again…” God, Draco had given so much to be with him. Had bent and twisted until he was this rough, wild thing just so Harry could be happy. And he was. He was so overwhelmingly joyful that Draco was his. “Draco… Draco, I love you,” Harry whispered, another tear stealing its way loose.
“Love you too, mutt.” Draco pushed Harry’s shirt up higher, giving him clearer access to the boy’s cock. Harry looked down, eyes widening when Draco suddenly slipped a leather cock ring around him, pushing it down to the base of his erect penis and letting it cling tight. “Draco…?”
“Just trying to slow you down,” Draco teased huskily, nibbling at Harry’s ear. “It’s going to be a long weekend, and I can’t have you getting tired on me early. And I do plan on making you tired.” He suddenly pushed Harry forward, the brunette resting his head on the floor while Draco ground into him ruthlessly.
Harry rarely got tired when it came to sex, yet his love was determined to make sure he did. Smiling goofily, Harry gave another loud cry when Draco slammed into his prostate. It was just some fucking makeup. If it made Draco happy, Harry would walk around naked. Fuck the rest of the school. Draco was his mate, was fucking amazing, and Harry wanted everyone to know.
SCENE #A tense request
Harry met Hermione’s gaze warily, not really liking her haughty expression. It had been a huge decision to come to the girl for help, and he was certain he was going to regret it. Hermione just couldn’t ever shut her mouth about things, and he didn’t mean secrets. No, it was more the thing Harry was certain was about to pop out of her mouth right now as she sniffed disapprovingly at his appearance.
“You do realize you’re wearing makeup, right? Like a girl.”
Harry had realized, Hermione not being the first one to point it out that week. “Actually, more like a rockstar, or punk, or goth, or just a guy wearing makeup. I’m not a girl. I don’t look like a girl, and really don’t care what you have to say about it. Now, about that spell?”
Huffing, Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Why should I help you? All Ron has done is complain about how mean you’ve been.”
“I haven’t been anything to him,” Harry snapped. “I haven’t said two words to him for damn ages. That’s not being mean.”
“Sounds mean to me. You’ve been a jerk, Harry, and I don’t know why I should want to reward that. If you did your own schoolwork, this wouldn’t be a problem.”
“It’s not—” Harry stopped himself, biting his tongue. He couldn’t ask Draco for help, because the boy would want to know why Harry needed help. Hermione was his only fucking hope, and she was being hurt and pissy. He forced himself to smile, knowing by her expression that he was failing. “I would really appreciate it. You have a lot of experience in finding information in the library that I just can’t. I just need to stop a smell. Charm it away—It can’t be covered up. It needs to be stopped. Or, I need to find a way for a person to not smell this smell. Anything you can find would be really helpful.”
Hermione sighed, pushing her bushy hair back over her shoulder. She had stayed up late studying in the empty common room, having caught Harry by accident coming in. The boy was always running around in the middle of the night, and Ron had said that Harry was hanging out with Malfoy of all people. Harry was just going to hell in front of her eyes, dressing like some hooligan and barely passing his classes. They had been friends once, but it was difficult to remember that when the boy was always brooding, playing mean pranks, and had started getting really rough and fighting whenever someone crossed him. Maybe that would have been okay, but Harry had also said some unkind things to her, things that had hurt extra because they had grains of truth to them.
“I’ll think about it,” she finally said, collecting her book and parchment. “I have my own schoolwork to do, and can’t just be distracted by everyone else’s problems.”
“That’s fair,” Harry said, hands in his pockets. Hermione stood, lips pursed as she looked him over. He was wearing a thin, nearly transparent long sleeved shirt, long shorts with flared legs and straps crisscrossing behind him, and calve-high, heavy boots only tied halfway up so the leather gaped open. He had a row of varied black bracelets nearly covering his left arm, his right only in one thick leather cuff. Harry’s hair, usually a mess, seemed almost intentionally so tonight, pulled in a way that looked attractive. Maybe he was trying to look a bit like some rockstar wannabe. Hermione had never been one for bad boys, but she could see the appeal, her former friend looking very handsome, his bright eyes almost memorizing with the eyeliner.
“What did you do to your glasses?” She asked, noticing for the first time that he wasn’t wearing them anymore. Harry reached up, fingers brushing his face and coming away with his suddenly visible frames. Hermione was impressed, looking at them carefully. “That’s pretty advanced magic. I didn’t know you—”
“I didn’t,” Harry said, slipping them back on, the glasses disappearing as they touched his skin. “Malfoy did it. He’s really good with complicated spells.”
Hermione blinked at that, eyebrows raised. “Did he… did he help with all your new changes?” She asked, wondering just what the hell Harry was doing with Malfoy, where the boy was giving him a makeover. Harry had been dressing like this for a good week now, although his school robes obscured a lot of it from sight during class.
Shrugging, Harry shoved his hands deeper in his pockets, looking for all the world like he just wanted to leave already.
It wasn’t like it was a normal makeover, either, Hermione mussed, her mind whirling. Harry had never liked to be looked at, didn’t even like it now when Hermione was blatantly staring. He hated being made a fuss of, and now the boy was dressing outrageously. “Did you… did you lose a bet, or something?” She asked, not sure she would believe that as being the answer. The clothes were expensive, and Harry looked attractive, not shamed and embarrased
Glancing up at her from his study of his boots, Harry smiled thinly. “Won, if anything.”
Hermione bit her lip, suddenly feeling worried for her old friend. Harry was so different lately, and now Malfoy had been allowed to just change him again. “Don’t forget what his father did to us, Harry. With Riddle’s journal. He could have gotten us all killed with that snake, and…”
Harry rolled his eyes, huffing as he took a step back. “Draco’s not his father. He doesn’t even like his father.”
“Are you sure?” Hermione pressed, reaching her hand out to him, only to immediately drop it. “He’s good at lying, remember? He could be using you. Trying to gain your trust. You’ve been really off lately. It wouldn’t take much to trick you.”
Scowling, Harry stopped his retreat. “Believe me, you have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”
Hermione didn’t back down. “How can you be sure he’s not using you? Trying to—What? Bribe you with new clothes? Show off how rich he is? Is he going to get you a new broom, too? His father is a Death Eater. You’re friends with the son of a Death Eater.”
“Boyfriend,” Harry said tightly, gritting his teeth. “Draco is my boyfriend.”
Gaping at him, Hermione placed her hand to her forehead. “Damn it… Harry, I didn’t…”
“No, just stop talking,” Harry growled warningly. “Because in about two seconds you’re going to start on about how fucking worse that is, because my head is up my fucking arse in love and can’t see clearly. You don’t know shit about him. You really don’t know shit about me, and I’m sorry I even tried to talk to you again.”
“But…” Hermione watched helplessly as Harry stormed up to his dorm. He was gay? She shook her head, sinking back into her seat. How the hell had she missed the fact that her friend of two years liked boys? Was this why Harry had been avoiding her? Had she been so insensitive that he just couldn’t even bare to be around her? Hermione didn’t know, but she felt like she needed to fix it somehow. For starters, by finding that spell he wanted.
SCENE #Jumped
Harry was so upset, he stomped into the bedroom he shared with the rest of the Gryffindor third years, not caring if he woke anyone up. They all had their bed curtains drawn with privacy charms up anyways to block out noise. It was standard procedure, no one wanting to get caught having a wet dream. Harry stripped fitfully, not even sure he’d be able to sleep now.
Stupid Hermione, putting her foot in her mouth once again. Draco had given up his fucking family to be in Harry’s pack, even if he hadn’t told anyone yet. The boy had fucking sacrificed so much, and Harry still wasn’t even sure why. Because Harry was hardly perfect in any way. He wasn’t clever, wasn’t particularly strong or fast. He could kick ass in Quidditch, but that wasn’t really something to go loving a bloke over.
He groaned, burying his head in his hands. Draco loved him and that was all that mattered. It didn’t matter why. Draco was brilliant, beautiful, witty, and apparently willing to learn and do some very nasty things to Harry to keep him happy sexually. He loved Harry so much he had mated him, and that was huge. He just had to remember. Draco loved him, even if Harry could not understand why.
He considered briefly seeing if Draco had gotten to bed already. He’d much rather curl in some dungeon room with the boy than ruminate alone with his messed up head. But Draco needed to sleep. His wolfie actually cared about school and grades, and Harry didn’t want to become a nuisance. Sighing, he threw his bed curtains opened, and was halfway onto the bed before he realized he wasn’t alone.
SCENE #A coyote obsessed
“Neville—Shit—Stop!” Harry hissed, finding his arms suddenly tied behind his back while he was pushed down into the mattress face first. The bed curtains were pulled tight around them, silencing spells muffling the small space. Neville suddenly lifted him, dragging him up the bed with a single, powerful move that had Harry’s eyes wide and heart racing all at once. What the fuck?
“See, Harry? Strong.” Neville straddled the boy’s back, hands moving beneath Harry’s shirt, touching firmly, digging fingers in and scraping his nails painfully. “I just had to find the right spell.”
“Get the fuck off me!” Harry struggled, trying to lift himself up and push the boy off, but without his arms it was very difficult. Not to mention, feeling a body pressing him down like this really got him hot, as did pushing back against it. “Damn it! Do you not understand anything? I have a pack! I have a boyfriend! I don’t fucking like you!”
Neville shrugged disinterestedly, tearing at Harry’s belt. Harry could say he didn’t like him till he was blue in the face, but as long as he kept smelling the way he did, Neville knew better. “I really like your new clothes. You look really hot—Really, really hot. I wish I was that brave. But looking at you… smelling you…” He groaned, leaning down to smell Harry’s hair while he rubbed his erection against the boy’s firm ass. “You want it so bad… and I want to give it to you…”
Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Neville, it’s just a fucking sex scent. You know I can’t control—Fuck! Vicious… rabid… bastard!” Neville hurt when he bit, teeth clamping in too hard, wrenching every time he pulled away, only to do it again. Harry whimpered, hating his body so much right now, the pain making him hard, each malicious snapping of teeth on his shoulders and neck flooding heat through him like a warm syrup of need. “Fucking hate you…” he gritted out angrily, even while pushing his hips into the mattress for more contact on his hardening dick.
Neville smiled into Harry’s neck, pushing the boy’s shorts down over his hips, along with his underwear. “No you don’t… Otherwise you would have told Lupin.” He gripped Harry’s outer thighs, nails biting in, scratching as he pulled up his sides and drew blood. Harry hissed from the pain, again trying to throw the boy off his back. “You like me… And you’re going to like me more, now that I made myself strong for you.”
God, he was feeling so hot, Harry finding his breath coming out in harsh pants. Every pull of his arms in their bonds seemed to go straight to his cock, his inability to escape somehow maddeningly sexy when combined with Neville’s sudden strength. “Stop… biting…” Harry gritted out, the blond again tearing into his flesh, leaving welts and breaking his skin.
“It feels good,” Neville moaned, opening his mouth wider, tongue pushing out to taste the trickles of blood. He liked the taste of Harry’s skin, and he liked how his mouth got sore, his lips raw with every nip, jaw tight, the feel of firm flesh on his teeth. He clamped his teeth into Harry’s shoulder, biting hard on the muscle. Harry groaned, hips pushing back against him, and Neville knew the boy really, really liked it. No matter how much Harry yelped when he then wrenched his mouth away, teeth scraping and pinching.
“I want to fuck you, Harry. It’s my turn.” Neville pushed up Harry’s thin shirt as much as he could on the boy’s torso, fingers slipping underneath and seeking out his budded nipples. “I don’t care how many you have in your pack, and what you let them do to you. Just as long as you play with me sometimes…”
“Fucking—Bastard!” Harry hissed, Neville twisting one of his nipples so hard, he wasn’t a hundred percent certain it was still attached. “Stop being so fucking rough… ohh… oh fuck…” He gaped, thighs spreading unconsciously wider, his boots catching on the blanket.
“You like that, right? I can tell… It hurts, and then you like it… and you smell even better…”
Harry whimpered when Neville twisted the same flaming bud, the boy’s fingernails digging in. He was grateful for the sweat, making it harder for Neville to hold as tight even though the boy still managed to make it hurt. Shit, what the hell was Neville’s problem? “Damn it… You don’t have to hurt me to—Fucking shit! Seriously, stop biting!”
Neville snickered into Harry’s skin, teeth pulling harshly as he released, leaving a dark welt. “I like it. You can bite me whenever you want, Harry. You can do whatever you want to me, and I promise I’ll never get angry.”
“I don’t want to do anything to you, you crazy idiot. I just want—Crap, don’t do that… Really, don’t… oh fuck…” One of Neville’s hands had made its way down the front of Harry’s bare torso, fingers wrapping around his dick. Harry panted, praying the boy would show some damn restraint.
“You’re hard,” Neville whispered, licking up Harry’s throat, letting his weight sink down fully on the boy while he rubbed against him eagerly. “You’re hard because you like what I’m doing to you.”
Huffing, Harry turned his head to the side, trying to breathe against the bedspread. “You wouldn’t have tied me up—Oh, gentle! Please, for the love of god, do not hurt that!” Harry pleaded, eyes squeezed shut when Neville started scraping fingernails against the silken flesh of his hard cock.
“Just a little,” Neville promised, squirming against Harry’s back as he pushed his own pants down. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you here… I really like how hard you get, Harry. I like knowing I can make you hard—That you like what I do to you.”
Harry, all his attention focused on the dangerous fingernails now traveling towards his very sensitive head, and even more so slit, didn’t reply. If Neville couldn’t fucking figure out that jumping him, tying him up, and using magically enhanced strength was the only way Harry would even look at the boy twice, he would not be able to convince him now when his pants were around his thighs and his cock was very hard in the boy’s grasp.
“You know… I think we’re even about the same length,” Neville remarked with a smile, Harry hissing when the boy’s nails slid from the very tip of his cock down to his balls. Then Neville’s palm was wrapping around him, too dry, the small scrapes feeling like burns as the boy began to pump him.
“Neville—Shit—Lube, saliva, something!” Harry choked out, groaning even with the pain, his body responding with jolting hips.
“I know it hurts… but sometimes it’s supposed to hurt,” Neville mumbled, his free hand suddenly sliding between Harry’s tight cheeks, seeking out his pucker. Harry had been with Draco that night, the Slytherin transforming into his wolf for him to make sure Harry would be full and satisfied until the next time he had a chance to see his love. Harry was extremely grateful for the stretching that had involved, Neville briefly pressing his thumb into Harry’s opening before immediately withdrawing and pressing the head of his cock between his cheeks.
“Just wait one fucking…” Harry trailed off with a hiss, wishing he hadn’t cleaned up before the walk through the halls, not even remotely enough lube to make things slick. As long as he didn’t—Son of a— “Damn it, Neville,” Harry whined loudly, his hole clenching tight around the too dry intruder, the fucking coyote not even remotely as small as Harry had hoped. God, why was his body turning on him tonight?
“You’re so hot… so tight inside…” Neville groaned, gripping Harry’s hip painfully, nails digging in as he thrust forward.
“It hurts… you fucking… ass…” Harry whimpered angrily, his entrance burning with every inch Neville forced into him. At least the coyote had enough precum, enough fucking fluid to not burn every damn surface of Harry’s insides. At least when Draco had taken him unstretched, he had been slow, allowing Harry to adjust with every perfect push. If Neville had ever fucked anyone, Harry didn’t believe it, and he was very unhappy to be the ignorant kid’s trial run.
“Its ‘cus you’re so tight… You are really… wow…” Neville took a deep breath, burying his face into Harry’s neck. “God Harry, you feel so good inside… I dreamed of fucking you one day, but it never… god, it never felt this good…”
Harry groaned, gritting his teeth and praying the annoying fuck would cum already and let him go. “Neville… read a fucking… sex book… and stop…”
“Shh… Just close your eyes,” Neville murmured. “I’m gonna just… and you’re gonna like it so much…”
“Stop, you fucking—Nails!”
Neville growled into Harry’s neck, fingernails again digging into the boy’s hard cock. “Be nice, Harry. I could have called you fucking stupid names… made you drink terrible potions… I could have dressed you up in horrible clothes…” Neville kissed the side of Harry’s neck, his hand lightening in pressure. “But I like you, and I want to do things that you’ll like.”
“Neville… If you don’t listen to me… then you can’t know that I don’t like it!” Harry snapped back, groaning when Neville suddenly gasped, sinking in the last painful inch, Harry’s hole unbearably tight.
“I know you like it,” Neville insisted. He bit Harry’s shoulder, the brunette moaning, his traitorous body just happy to be filled. “You really feel… so good inside…”
“Oh hell, Neville… my prick is not a handle. Now let it the fuck go,” he snapped, sighing in relief when the boy finally released his aching length. Only to groan, Neville grabbing his hips with both hands, using the leverage to drive Harry forward into the mattress.
“Tell me… if I’m doing it right,” Neville whispered into Harry’s ear, lips wet on his skin. “I really want you to like it, Harry. When I’m with you, I want you to be happy.”
Harry really hated Neville, especially when his body was finally full of cock and the boy refused to move. “Just… just move, Neville… Damn it—And don’t be so rough.”
“You like it rough.” Neville groaned as he slowly withdrew from Harry’s tightness, only to quickly slam back in. “You keep getting tighter… like you’re pulling…”
“Listen to me,” Harry growled. “There is a—oh god—difference between rough and… and really fucking painful…” He trailed off, moaning lowly. Shit, why did he have to like sex this much? If his body knew a difference, it did not seem to care. “And without something slick, like a lube charm… it just hurts…”
Neville stilled, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. “Lube?”
“Oh, for fuck sake! Tell me you’ve heard of lube,” Harry demanded, glaring back at the boy, his bound arms sore and his raw hole even more so.
Neville shook his head no, lip caught between his teeth. “What is it?”
Harry gave a long suffering sigh, promising himself he would beat the shit out of Neville once he was free. “It’s usually an oil safe to use on the skin, the good stuff is natural and long lasting—It makes things slick, so when you’re fucking it doesn’t hurt.”
Head tilted, Neville suddenly smiled down at Harry. “That would probably help. I didn’t want to say anything, but you are really way too tight, and I bet—”
Harry buried his head in the mattress, swearing loudly. He wouldn’t be tight if the stupid fucker had stretched him, and lubed him, and oh, just wasn’t fucking raping him. He hated Neville, fucking hated him. “Wand!” He abruptly ordered, Neville staring at him dumbly for a moment before complying.
“Ducatus coitus,” Harry intoned slowly, so Neville could repeat it. Staring at the slick, gel like material suddenly all over his hands, Neville gave it a sniff. He flicked his tongue out, brows furrowed.
“Why does it taste like strawberries?”
“Because wizards are pervs,” Harry grumbled. “Just use it so it doesn’t hurt so much.”
Shrugging, Neville extracted himself from Harry’s clenching rear, the brunette hissing the entire time. “Oh… oh, that’s really…” Harry glared up at the boy while Neville ran his slick hand over his cock, the blond sighing, cheeks flushing brightly from the sensation.
“Better?” Harry asked gruffly, annoyed with just how cute Neville looked, the boy’s tongue sticking out between his lips, eyelids fluttered shut while he gasped softly against his skin.
“It’s amazing… I never thought…” Neville trailed off, glancing away from Harry’s gaze.
Harry sighed. The boy was really messed up. “Neville, don’t let anyone fuck you without lube. That’s just a really shitty thing to do to someone.”
Neville glanced back, biting his lip again. He wiggled up Harry’s back until their foreheads were pressed together. “If you fucked me, would you use lube?” Neville asked, eyes intent on Harry’s.
Pursing his lips, Harry nodded once. “I prefer to be the one getting fucked. But yes, if I were to fuck a bloke, or even give him a proper, good hand job, I’d use lube.”
Eyes moving over Harry’s face with something far more annoying than simple attraction, Neville moved closer, brushing the side of his nose to Harry’s. “Do you think you’d ever want to fuck me? I… I really want you to fuck me, Harry. I don’t think I ever wanted anyone to, but there is just something about you… that I really like…” He pressed his lips carefully to the brunette’s, knowing at least in this it shouldn’t hurt.
Staring blankly at the maddening idiot kissing him, Harry eventually sighed. “Neville, untie me.”
Gnawing on his lower lip again, Neville pulled away. “Now,” Harry demanded when the blond hesitated. With a heavy sigh, Neville picked up his wand and tapped it to Harry’s bonds, the ropes evaporating. Harry stretched his arms out, rubbing his wrists and rolling on the bed. “Well, come on. Take your damn clothes off,” Harry said with a huff.
“Huh… um… what?” Neville mumbled, eyes widening when Harry suddenly reached up and began tugging off his school shirt.
“You can’t have sex with clothes on—I mean, you can, if that’s your kink, but it gets damn messy, really quick. And skin just feels so much nicer…” Harry pulled his own shirt up and extracted the sleeve from his many bracelets, finding Neville again, the boy’s expression still very confused. “Don’t get the wrong idea, you idiot. I have an amazing boyfriend, and a pack. I just really happen to like sex… and since you’re already here…”
Neville nodded dumbly, eyes lingering over Harry’s nipples. “But…”
“You know what? You probably shouldn’t talk either,” Harry muttered, kicking his shoes off and getting his shorts and underwear down. When Neville still made no move to continue, Harry grabbed the boy by the open ends of his trousers, pulling his pants down roughly to his knees where they knelt. Neville blinked down, suddenly holding Harry’s hips for balance while looking at their flushed cocks.
“Are you going to fuck me?” Neville asked, lube slicked fingers reaching for Harry’s length and rubbing over the straining head.
“No,” Harry said flatly. He was pretty sure fucking Neville would just make the kid completely beyond in love with him, and Neville obsessed was absolutely bad enough. “If you want to put it in me, that’s fine, but that is the most you’re getting from me effort wise. Now kick your pants off the rest of the way.”
Neville did, having to sit to extract his slender legs from his trousers. He was watching Harry warily, as if not knowing if he could trust the boy all of a sudden. Which only made Harry worry more about the damn kid. Neville was perfectly fine to chase after him when Harry was saying no, but the second he gave him an in, the blond was paranoid. There was something seriously messed with the kid.
“Why are you doing this?” Neville asked, bottom lip caught between his teeth.
“Does it really fucking matter?” Harry retorted with a derisive snort.
“Kind of… You’re not so lost that you can’t run away… and… you’re being oddly nice…” Neville mumbled, crawling up the bed and stopping at Harry’s kneeling form. “I know you don’t… don’t really like me, Harry.”
Harry really hated his life. “Neville, you’re not a bad guy… besides the raping…” Harry trailed off, really having nothing more to add to such a fucked up statement. “But, if you’re going to fuck a bloke, you should at least do it proper. I mean, damn, you fucking hurt. It’s not cool.”
Neville nodded, wetting his lips as he sat back. “I don’t really know how else… I just thought that was how it was supposed to be.”
“Shit, no one would have sex if all they did was hurt each other,” Harry said in exasperation. “No nails. No biting—”
“But you like the biting,” Neville insisted, brow furrowed in confusion.
“Not the way you do it. Let me show you,” Harry said abruptly, edging closer to the boy who was looking at him as if he were about to hex him. “Just relax,” Harry grumbled, annoyed that not only was he doing this, but suddenly Neville needed a peptalk too. He braced himself on the blond’s shoulders, ducking his head to brush his mouth to Neville’s neck. Ignoring just how stiff the boy was sitting, Harry carefully sunk his teeth into Neville’s neck, tongue lapping slowly while he breathed out through his nose. Neville made a soft noise, slowly relaxing under the touch.
Harry pulled away, making sure not to wrench his teeth like Neville had a terrible habit of doing. “There. Want to try?” He asked, tilting his head to the side in offering. It took a moment, Neville blinking dumbly. Then the boy slung an arm around Harry’s chest, growling as he buried his face into the brunette’s throat and clamped his teeth in. Harry groaned from the sensation, really hoping that the bite would end as good as it started. Thankfully, Neville had been paying attention, and even though he bit harder than Harry had shown him, he didn’t tear at him afterwards. “Good… that’s really good,” Harry said with a flush, pushing his damp hair back from his eyes.
“What else?” Neville asked, tension draining from his form, a small, eager smile on his face.
“Nails,” Harry said, smirking back. “You dig them in too hard. It’s not supposed to hurt…” Harry didn’t bother to add that sometimes some hurt was really fucking good when at the right time. Likely a bit too complicated for the boy currently looking at his hands. Harry reached over, running his short fingernails over Neville’s stomach, the boy gasping and quickly grabbing his wrist. “Too much?” Harry asked, confused by the reaction.
“No… just felt really good.” Neville bit his lip, slowly letting Harry’s hand go. The wariness was back in his blue eyes again, but still, he reached over and repeated the move on Harry, this time not drawing blood or hurting skin. “Is that better?”
Harry nodded, wondering just what the hell was going on in the blond’s head. “I can… show you how to kiss,” he offered, watching the boy’s expressions. There was definitely some sort of fucked up thing happening in that pretty head of Neville’s.
“Um… okay,” Neville said after a long moment, leaning forward on his hands. Harry hesitated, Neville not closing his eyes even inches apart. He carefully placed his hands over the boy’s face until Neville got the point and finally lowered his lashes. “You want to feel it. When your eyes are open, it’s hard to feel as much…” Shaking his head, Harry leaned in, brushing his lips to the boy’s.
Neville was trembling like a leaf, and Harry began to worry that he had definitely made the wrong choice to indulge the boy. Hopefully it was just nerves and not some loving quiver. He cupped the blond’s cheek, pulling him closer, kissing him with more pressure. Neville exhaled sharply through his mouth, Harry smirking to realize the boy was holding his breath. “Breathe through your nose if you can,” he murmured, reaching his tongue out and slicking gently over the boy’s bottom lip. Neville whimpered, mouth going slack, letting Harry slowly nibble at his lip, drawing the pink flesh into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue.
Gasping, Neville pulled away, burying his face into Harry’s cheek. Studying the boy’s expression in the dim lighting, Harry nudged Neville’s chin, kissing him again, tangling his fingers into the blond’s soft hair and pulling muffled gasps from his lips. Neville’s tongue was uncoordinated at best, but he made up for it with passion, the boy meeting each of Harry’s touches eagerly. And then something changed, and Neville was definitely winning the kiss, the boy grasping forcefully at Harry’s shoulders, tongue delving into the brunette’s mouth.
“Hell,” Harry grunted, Neville pushing him back, down to the bed, giving him a moment of respite before attacking his mouth again while pinning him. And this time Harry really didn’t mind, no nails digging in painfully, or horrible bites to take away from the very nice feeling of hot, smooth flesh and wet mouth. Neville trailed down Harry’s neck, kissing and biting, groaning each time Harry moaned.
Harry wrapped a leg around the boy’s hips, letting his hands slide carefully down Neville’s back. The boy was oddly jumpy, startling sometimes when he wasn’t expecting Harry’s touch. So Harry just kept his palms flat, a constant presence as he moved over Neville’s flared shoulders, trim waist, and the swell of his ass. He squeezed gently, Neville pulling from where he was sucking breathlessly on Harry’s collar to meet the boy’s eye.
“You can tell me not to do something, you know,” Harry said after a moment, not sure what the blond needed, but getting an idea that Neville didn’t like to be touched much.
“No… I just… It feels good,” Neville mumbled, looking away. “I’m just not used to… that.”
“Well, then you’re definitely with the wrong people,” Harry said lightly. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling good. By definition, it’s good to feel good.” Neville nodded mutely, eyes making their way back to Harry’s. Head tilting, he kissed the brunette, Harry suspecting just to shut him up at this point. He didn’t care. Harry knew Neville was fucked up because he recognized his own messed up self when looking at the boy. For right this minute, Harry decided he didn’t have to hate that either.
“Wait,” Harry paused, breaking from the long kiss when Neville started shifting his hips. “The other way,” he said, untangling his leg and rolling on the bed. There was no way he was going to let Neville fuck him face to face like that. The boy kept looking way too sad at times, and it was a total mood killer. He raised himself to his hands and knees, stretching out as he waited for the blond.
Neville summoned more lube, sounding rather proud of himself as he ran his fingers down between Harry’s cheeks. Harry rolled his eyes when the boy began to slick his hands over his hard length next, completely oblivious to the need to stretch. Shifting down to his elbow, Harry did it himself, quickly probing his own lube slick fingers inside his hole, gasping from the feel, his body clenching, entrance burning painfully from the rough treatment of earlier. Harry had gotten over worse for a desperately needed fuck, and although this was not one of those times, he was sure he’d be fine.
“Does that… feel good?” Neville asked, curling over Harry’s body, head lowering to the brunette’s. “You really seem to like it.”
Harry held back a laugh at the question, a moan escaping instead when Neville pressed his thumb against his already finger-stuffed hole. “Oh fuck… that’s… that’s…”
Seeing that Harry really seemed to like that, Neville swallowed hard, wiggling his thumb back and forth while watching the brunette’s face. Harry gave an aching cry, gasping against the bedspread with each rock of Neville’s digit. Biting his lip, Neville pulled Harry’s fingers from his entrance, pressing the head of his cock to his hole instead. Every reaction Harry made seemed to make Neville hotter than any scent or touch had done, his eyes caught on the brunette’s bowed head, Harry whimpering as Neville slowly drove into him.
Neville closed his eyes, gaping from the feel of Harry, so hot, and now slick, the boy’s channel clenching around him.
“Fuck… move, Nev… don’t just stay still…” Harry pleaded, pushing back, thighs spreading wider as he rested his head on his folded arms.
Wetting his lips, Neville rocked back, keeping his eyes closed so he could feel every tight inch of Harry trying to hold him in. He groaned as he surged forward, feeling the boy open to him again, Harry making an appreciative cry in reply. It was good. He was actually fucking Harry, and felt really, really good.
“That’s it,” Harry gasped out, Neville picking up speed, his thrusts, combined with the spell that made him stronger, pushing Harry forward up the bed until he was grabbing the headboard to keep from cracking his skull on it. “Harder, Nev… fucking do it… hard…” he demanded hoarsely, bracing himself so he could push back into each driving jolt of pleasure.
Neville grunted, Harry growing unbelievably tight and trying to hold him still, even while demanding he move harder. But he really wanted Harry to feel good. He reached around Harry and grabbed the headboard as well, gasping in the boy’s ear while he used the new leverage to drive into the brunette forcefully.
“Oh yeah, that’s it… just… like… that…” Harry moaned, rocking with Neville, his already aching hole so sore and loving every wet, bruising thrust. “Fuck, don’t stop… just a little more…”
“Oh!” Neville gaped, Harry suddenly squeezing him so tight, he couldn’t do anything but slam forward, holding the brunette’s sweaty body while he came inside his clenching hole. He only had an instant to worry that he had very much done the opposite of what Harry had so achingly demanded, when he felt the boy come, Harry falling forward onto the headboard, gasping for air.
“Wait… just stay a sec,” Harry whimpered, hand reaching out behind him to grab Neville’s arm and keep it wrapped around him. “God, it feels good inside… just let me be full for a bit.”
Eyes wide, Neville slowly sank forward, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. Harry still had bracelets on, Neville running fingers over a few while they panted together. “You liked it,” Neville whispered, pressing his cheek lightly to Harry’s.
“Yeah… well… I like sex,” Harry murmured back, hardly about to apologize for it. “Did you like it?” He asked, green eyes flicking open to glance sideways at the pensive looking blond.
“I’m not sure…” Neville said truthfully, fingers twisting into one of Harry’s bracelets. “It’s a lot of work, all that thrusting. And… and it felt… well, it felt… And I don’t know how I feel about feeling things.”
Harry chose not to comment on just how odd a thing that was to say. “When it feels good, I really enjoy it. And sometimes, when it feels good with just a little bit of pain, that’s even better. But if it doesn’t feel good, I know I don’t want to feel it.” He sighed, straightening a bit, still holding onto Neville’s arm to keep the boy deep inside. “As for all that thrusting, well, it’s great exercise. And when you bottom as much as I do, you really don’t have to worry about it much. I’d rather let some powerful, usually sexy prat do the work for me while I cheer him on enthusiastically.”
Neville nodded, mind straying to the boy he had been trying very hard not to think about lately. “Hey, Harry… What do you think about Zabini?”
Eyes again glancing Neville’s way, Harry raised a brow. “Um… I guess he would fit into powerful, sexy prat, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I think he likes me,” Neville said after a moment, resting his cheek on the boy’s shoulder. “Except… he’s also angry at me…”
Harry snorted softly. “That seems about right. Did he hit you, or something?”
“Nah… he just kinda glares at me now… like all the time. He tried to kiss me and stuff… and I guess I just wasn’t any good.” Neville shrugged.
“Well, he seemed more interested in you than me the other week, which is really saying something with my sex scent,” Harry said, releasing Neville’s wrist and wiggling his way free. He stretched his arms over his head, sitting out on his bedspread while Neville sat back. “The Hogsmeade weekend is coming up. If he seriously likes you, I bet he’d really want to go with you.” Draco was taking Harry out for their first official date that weekend, promising some sort of fancy dinner or something equally romantic and embarrassing.
“I got banned…” Neville muttered, internally cursing his potions professor.
Harry winced. “Forgot about that… Snape’s a total ass. It doesn’t matter, Nev, trust me. The kid likes you. Just talk to him, or some shit. You don’t even have to say anything interesting. He’s a guy, and guys really don’t give a fuck.”
Neville wasn’t so sure, worried if Zabini was really angry at him, that he might try to hurt him. But so far, Blaise had proven that even when upset he wouldn’t hurt Neville, so maybe that was enough to at least try and set things right with the Slytherin.
Harry threw Neville’s pants at him, giving him a stern, sleepy look. “Only time this is ever going to happen, so don’t forget. My boyfriend is a right bastard when he’s crossed, and honestly, you deserve a beating for what you did, Neville. I’m not some fucking sex toy. Get a blowup doll or something. Definitely read a fucking book about all this stuff.”
Neville bit his lip, drawn back to the present as he slipped his shirt on. “Sorry… you’ve just been looking really good… And you really shouldn’t wear shorts, ‘cus it only makes the smell worse,” he said while blushing. “It was really hard today, being in the same classes with you smelling so good…”
Harry grimaced, not having even thought of that. “I’m trying to find a way to stop my scent. Until then, you need to get some fucking self control, Neville. You don’t see Zabini trying to break down the common room door, do you?”
“I know… just sometimes things get really hazy… and I don’t really know what’s happening…” Neville trailed off, shimmying into his pants and zipping them up. It was why he had so many problems in some classes. Not just because he got nervous with everyone making fun of him, but because sometimes he just sort of went blank, and couldn’t remember the class at all. “I’ll, uh, let you get to sleep,” he said, reaching for the curtain.
Harry held his hand up, waving Neville back. “I’m serious, Neville. Fucking deathly serious here. If you try and pull something like this again, I’m telling Lupin. I don’t want to, but I can’t be worried about you jumping me in my bed every fucking night. I don’t care how fucked you are in the head. No more.”
Neville nodded, sighing heavily. “I understand.” He slipped out before Harry found anything else to be angry about, certain the boy had a list. Neville really couldn’t do things right. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure when he had decided to hide in Harry’s bed hangings and wait for the boy. And at the time, he really hadn’t thought he had been waiting just to fuck him against his will. Neville never wanted to hurt Harry. He really liked the boy.
He had remembered he had wanted to talk to Harry… And then Harry’s bed had been full of that crazy scent…
Neville sighed again. Maybe it would be better if Harry did tell on him. Maybe Lupin hurting, or expelling him would keep Neville from doing anything else really terrible.
SCENE #Harry’s first date
“Just ignore them.”
“I am ignoring them.”
Harry glanced over at Draco, taking in the boy’s grim expression and tense shoulders. “You’re growling. If you were ignoring them you wouldn’t be growling.”
Glaring down his nose, Draco didn’t say anything, his growl still rumbling low in his throat.
They were walking to Hogsmeade. It was the weekend and nearly the entire school was taking the trip to get out of the stuffy castle and explore the town. The air was chill, but at least no snow had fallen, making the trip easier. Still, things weren’t as ideal as Draco had apparently planned, because he was growling up a storm and not much else for his first date with Harry.
“Potter, you look like a wanker!”
Harry didn’t bother looking behind him, recognizing his own dormmates yelling from afar. Ron was pissed. Jealous, pissed, and hadn’t stopped giving Harry shit since he had seen him with Draco over a week ago. Draco hadn’t been around for most of it, but he was here for this and Harry wasn’t really sure how things were going to go.
Draco was different. Still haughty and privileged, with a nasty mouth on him. But now with a violent streak that Harry was worried was going to get the blond in trouble. Draco hadn’t done anything to anyone yet, but he was very sensitive about how Harry was treated. He had even had words with Remus once just that week about the werewolf alpha being too rough. Harry didn’t think Remus was too rough—Remus really didn’t have any other setting but rough. Draco getting up in Remus’s face had been definitely a show.
Seamus shouted something that had Draco bristling. Glancing to the side, Harry wiggled his fingers, brushing them against the back of Draco’s hand inconspicuously. Draco snarled and quickly grabbed his hand, wrapping their fingers together possessively. Harry fought back a blush. God, even now, Draco just made him fucking jelly.
“Cheer up, wolfie. We’re almost there and then you can show me that thing you keep talking about.” Harry wagged his eyebrows suggestively.
“I swear to god, mutt, it is not my fucking dick,” Draco said warningly. “It’s a present. A classy, sweet, romantic gesture. Stop perving out on everything.”
Grinning widely, Harry shook his head. “Nope. My way is much more fun.”
Ron would not be ignored. “Hey, if you like Slytherins so much, why don’t you go marry one!”
Draco’s growl resumed, Harry ducking his head only to blush brightly. “Sort of kind of did…” Harry mumbled under his breath.
“If your new best friend will let you, Potter! You better watch your ass with the way he looks at you!”
It was Draco’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “What?”
“It’s okay, Seamus. Potter totally loves to talk to snakes. Bet he whispers to Malfoy’s every fucking night, right?”
“Are they trying to make fun of us for being gay, when they don’t even know we’re actually gay?” Draco asked Harry lowly, a small smirk twisting his lips.
“Err… I think so.” Harry glanced back over his shoulder, seeking out Hermione’s face. She looked miserable, glaring at Ron while huffing loudly as the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw boy’s continued to shout insults. When she caught Harry’s eye, she quickly mouthed ‘I didn’t tell.’ Harry wasn’t actually worried if she had or not. He wasn’t sure what kind of shit he’d get for being gay, but it probably wouldn’t be much worse than all the shit he got for being him in general. He was more worried about Draco being found out for liking him.
“You guys going to get a kissing booth today? I hear there are still some openings!”
Harry yelped when Draco suddenly stopped short and whirled. He tried to pull his blond mate away, but Draco was standing fast, glaring superiorly at the group of boys following them.
“Weasley, if you paid a fucking iota of the amount of attention you’re throwing at me and Potter, you could have gotten your girlfriend a booth at that silly restaurant today like a proper boyfriend.”
“Fuck you, ferret face! No one asked you to start shoving your pointy nose into my house’s business. Stick to your fucking snakes, and stay away from us Gryffindors!”
Harry just sighed, patting his bangs down while Draco stomped towards the red faced Ron.
“I’m allowed to talk to who I want, when I want, and you get no fucking say, you spotty faced, rodent teethed Weasel!”
“Like fuck you do! You’ve got a whole fucking school full of kids you can be friends with—Stay the fuck away from Harry!”
“Or what? He can’t fucking stand you, Weasley! Maybe if you let up for five fucking seconds and just let him be himself, he wouldn’t have dropped you like the fucking pathetic peasant you are! You’re a judgemental asshole. No wonder he doesn’t want to hang out with you anymore!”
Spluttering, Ron reared his arm back in preparation to punch the blond. Draco quickly caught it, growling loud enough that Harry could hear it from his spot up ahead.
“You’re an arrogant, pompous jackass that’s going to get him killed, Malfoy. He might have fallen for your cool shit, but I haven’t,” Ron gritted through his teeth. “I’m fucking watching you. If you hurt him, or your father gets ahold of him because of you, I’ll hex the fucking skin from your flesh!”
Draco didn’t say a word, his eyes burning twin silver fires that had Ron immediately stilling.
Holy fuck, Draco was hot when he was angry. Trying to stop the very loud gasps from escaping his mouth, Harry ran his hand over his face, biting his palm to help ground him. It wasn’t helping, and he knew he was getting hard, and was so grateful for the long leather trenchcoat Draco had bought him. Forcing his voice to work, Harry called out. “Malfoy, if you get caught fighting, they’ll make us go back.”
Silver eyes narrowing over his shoulder, Draco gave a quick nod when he saw Harry’s face. Draco was the one all excited about this whole date thing. Harry could care less if they hung out in some stuffy restaurant or he got presents. He was more than happy to spend time with his wolfie wherever. Preferably where no one else was around to ruin things and they could fuck as much as they wanted. Harry really wanted to do that last part right now.
“What, are you scared, ferret!” Ron taunted when Draco abruptly let his arm go and started walking back to Harry. “You gonna let your boyfriend tell you what to do!”
Harry winced, seeing Draco’s eyes flash at the words. But Draco didn’t stop. He kept his pace even as he stalked forward, crossing the distance. Harry nearly breathed a sigh of relief, only to take a hesitant step back when he caught a familiar, dangerous look on Draco’s face. “W-Wolfie?”
“Sorry about this, mutt.” Draco grabbed Harry by the arm, pulling him hard against his body. “But I can’t fucking listen to another gay joke when I’m not even allowed to kiss you.”
“Draco, just—mmph!” Effectively cut off, Harry just stared wide-eyed as Draco crushed their lips together. Harry wasn’t sure what his dormmates thought of him being kissed by the Slytherin prince, and he was quickly unable to care, Draco’s tongue hot and demanding as it pushed its way between his lips, the blond holding him possessively by the back of the neck to keep him from escaping. Moaning, Harry melted into the rough touch, his hands rising up to grip Draco’s long wool jacket and pull him closer. This time when Draco growled, it was all hot sex and Harry whimpered in response, pushing forward, meeting each thrust of tongue eagerly as he tried to climb into Draco’s coat.
Draco pulled away as quickly as he started, panting heavily as he stared down into Harry’s hazy eyes. “Come on, we still have that gift to get you.” He took Harry by the hand and began marching him at a fast pace to the town. Harry did his best to keep up while sporting an aching erection, daring a furtive glance behind at his dormmates. It wasn’t good. Slack jaws were just turning to mocking jeers by the time Draco hauled him around a corner.
SCENE #Harry’s gift
Draco led Harry through a maze of back alleys behind buildings while Harry’s mind whirled. “Wolfie… Shit, what are your parents going to say?” Draco’s parents were crazy and neck deep in Voldemort’s pocket. It was the main reason Harry had been keeping his distance even though he’d been dating Draco for months now.
Draco spared him a side glance, kicking a plastic soda bottle out of the way before walking Harry around a dumpster. “Who the fuck cares. You’re my mate, Potter. You’re my crazy, deranged, wild mate and nothing else fucking matters besides that.”
Harry gnawed on his bottom lip, worry twisting in his stomach. “But what if they hurt you? What if… what if they try to use you to get to me?”
Draco stopped walking, Harry nearly stumbling into him. Then Draco was on him, arms around him tight, face tucked into the crook of Harry’s neck. “Listen to me carefully, mutt. They made their choice a long time ago. I made mine the second I agreed to be your mate and join your pack. This is my life, not theirs, and I decide what I want. Got it?”
Warmth flooding through his veins, Harry nodded. He slid his hands between the flaps of Draco’s coat, teasing over the boy’s hips. “You want me?”
Draco snorted, his breath ruffling Harry’s messy locks. “You’re such a slut. I tell you that I’m fully prepared for my parents to disown me because I love you that much, and all you can think about is sex.”
“It was hot, wolfie, watching you fight for me.” Harry licked his lips, looking up at the boy through his lashes. “If you had actually punched someone… Fuck, I don’t know if I could have kept my pants on.”
Growling, Draco wrapped an arm tighter around Harry’s waist, crushing their hips together, Harry’s erection finding a mirroring hardness. “That’s a feat on its own for you, mutt. I was hoping some of those extra belts would slow you down.”
“Wizard,” Harry reminded breathlessly, tilting his head so Draco would kiss down his neck. The blond obliged, his mouth hot and consuming as he kissed and then nipped soft gasps from Harry. Moaning, Harry hooked one of his legs around Draco’s, rubbing up against the boy with slow, eager movements. “Fuck me, Draco. Right here. Right now. You’re so hot when you’re threatening to beat the fuck out of someone. I want you so bad.”
Groaning, Draco pulled his lips away, glaring down at the brunette. “Potter, I’ve been waiting weeks to pick up this damn gift for you. They’re going to toss it out a window if they have to wait another day. And I’d prefer to be able to pay for it while my credit is still good. Who the fuck knows once my parents get the news that we’re dating?”
“Wolfie…” Harry whined, surging forward to run his tongue over Draco’s lips in tantalizing movements. “Stop buying me things. Just touch me. Fuck me, and be hard about it. I’m aching so bad, and you’re the only one that can fill me the way I need right now.”
Draco exhaled noisily, pressing kisses to Harry’s cheek and up to his ear. “God, you smell amazing. You’re ready to just spread your legs right now in some back alley over me making an ass of myself with the Weasel. You are too fucking easy, mutt.”
That sounded as damn near a yes as could be to Harry’s ear, and he quickly wrenched at Draco’s belt while rocking their hips together again. Only to have Draco push him back with a growl.
“No, Potter. I still have to pick up that gift. And we have reservations.”
“Wolfie…” Harry gave his best puppy dog eyes, which were completely wasted on Draco. “Damn it—You can’t be all hot and aggressive in front of me, and then leave me hanging.”
Eyes burning a fiery promise, Draco pulled Harry back against his chest. “It’ll only take ten minutes to get the very nice present I had custom made for you, Potter. That’s it.” His mouth hovering an inch from Harry’s, he added softly. “After that, if you want me to fuck you in some trashy alley where anyone can walk by and see, I won’t say no.”
Moaning at the very idea, Harry melted forward into Draco’s strong body. “God, please. I want you so bad. Need you—Tell me you can see. Tell me you can feel how much I’m yours.”
Draco released a small groan, his lips brushing softly against Harry’s. “I know, Harry. I can feel it. Ever since I bit you, I never wonder. No matter how many times you’re with the werewolf, I still know you’re mine. Now stop humping my leg, mutt. The sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll be back.”
Wetting his lips, Harry shakily untangled himself from Draco’s form. “Ten minutes?”
“Ten minutes.” Eyes trailing over Harry for a frozen eternity, Draco reached forward, fingers slowly unclasping the brunette’s belt. “Get ready for me. I want you lubed and stretched by the time I come back.”
“Oh fuck, Draco.” Eyes slipping around the deserted alleyway, Harry gave a small nod. He’d never had sex out in public. The closest had been fucking in a bathroom with a very upset young man waiting on the other side of the door until the boy had gave up and found a less occupied toilet. Watching Draco slowly walk away, the blond eventually disappearing around the corner, the first thing Harry did was cast a silencing spell. Then, knowing no one could hear him, he let out a loud moan that sounded half like a howl.
God, he was so horny. He had never expected to react that way to Draco fighting with Ron. Hell, if Draco had drawn blood… Harry closed his eyes, another loud moan escaping him. Fuck. Just fuck. It was hard enough hiding his nature in general from his classmates. If he started getting off on seeing Draco being a prat, Harry just didn’t know how long he’d be able to keep his secret.
He pushed his coat off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground carelessly. Then he knelt on it, taking in the tall dumpster and wooden crates that obscured him from the view of either side of the alley. God, he was really going to do this. Wolfie said stretched and lubed, and Harry was going to listen like he was supposed to. Holding his breath, he unzipped his fly, pushing his pants down his hips. He cast a warming spell soon after when he realized just how cold the winter air was.
Leaning forward onto his hands, he reached back, pushing his lube coated fingers against the edge of his hole. He knew the silencing spell would keep anyone from hearing, but he still bit his lip, still struggled to hold his cries in as he began working two fingers into his tightness. God, it was good. Wrong, and exposed, with him just waiting for Draco to find him and see him being bad on the ground like this. God.
He was aching, his scent so strong even to him, surrounding him in a cloud of his own need. Ten minutes. Ten minutes and Draco would be inside him, his hard cock stretching him wide, taking him, owning him, and making him all better. Needed it. He needed it so bad. Whimpering, Harry plunged his fingers in deeper, letting out a gasp as his flesh pinched uncomfortably. He was always too rough with himself. Went too fast, unable to stop the madness inside pleading to be full.
Groaning, he buried his head into his resting arm while he began to drive into himself roughly, rocking his hips into every thrust. He was already close. He knew it wasn’t the satisfying orgasm—no, those he only got when he was stretched beyond full, someone grunting in his ear while they took him hard, held him down, and close, and so good. He pushed his pants further down his thighs, hoping to avoid getting cum all over them. How long had it been? He needed to get a watch. Something very waterproof considering how wet he was always getting.
He didn’t hear them at first, his focus completely on his now three fingers working in and out of his hole, gliding, stretching, slamming and withdrawing. It wasn’t until fur was brushing against his face, a hot, wet tongue licking over his fingers that he realized he wasn’t alone anymore.
He quickly pulled his fingers free, gasping in shock. “Oh hell…” he trailed off, blinking up into a pair of warm brown eyes. “Err… hey boy. Please tell me you’re not connected to a leash and owner right now…”
The german shepherd didn’t answer beyond a low whine, his tongue whipping out to lick Harry’s face. Harry didn’t see a collar, didn’t see any other person as he looked around. He did see that the german shepherd wasn’t alone, a golden retriever sniffing the air as it made its way over. With a gasp, Harry, noticed the final one, the one that had licked his hand, a large mutt that looked reminiscent of a husky. Staring at these three very large, very sweet looking dogs as they sniffed his skin and licked at him enthusiastically, a hot shudder moved through Harry. Was this the present Draco had been talking about?
Casting his glance around again, just to be on the safe side, Harry leaned closer to the german shepherd licking his face, parting his lips and moaning as that tongue slipped into his mouth. He pushed his pants even further down his legs, pulling out of them quickly as a tongue began to slick over his crack, a wet nose pressing between his cheeks.
“Oh fuck, I love my mate so much. So very, very much.” Draco always teased him, always said he’d run off with the first pack of wild dogs Harry found. The blond knew how hot it got him, talking nasty shit like that. But it was more than just talk, because Harry had a thing for dogs. He was a bitch dog, and he couldn’t help but be attracted to the strong four legged bodies and big, knotted cocks that canines had. The only thing he was starting to realize that wasn’t ideal was that Padfoot and Wolfie were just so much bigger—In size as animals, and in cock. But Harry wasn’t going to complain. He’d been dreaming of something like this, and he was more than happy to take what was given.
“Come on,” Harry whimpered, pushing his hips back, trying to get the husky behind him to mount him. He had a tormented, whimpering fear that maybe real dogs just didn’t react to him the way animagus canines did, that they wouldn’t respond to his scent the way he needed them to. Then he noticed the swollen, red tipped shafts between the two dogs legs in front of him, and Harry moaned in relief. “Come on, boys. God, someone… someone put it in me before I fucking lose my mind.”
Harry didn’t know if there was some sort of command for this, having never owned a dog. He was willing to start whistling, or clapping, or just doing anything as his face was again licked to the point of suffocation by the two in front of him, and the husky continued to only torment him with licks as well. Whimpering, he bent forward, raising his ass up, pleading softly. Hot breath washed over his hole, a large muzzle pushing into him harder, licking him, smelling him, and making him squirm.
Realizing he was going to have to get things started, Harry reached forward, running his fingers over the soft, fluffy belly of the golden retriever and rubbing his palm against the hard length swaying there. He groaned as cum splattered onto his arm from the simple touch, the beast huffing and trying to hump his hand from that alone. Fuck, okay, so now to get that behind him. He carefully tugged as he began to jerk the dog off, urging him closer, getting him until he was humping his shoulder. Harry was ready to turn on his knees at this point when the gold colored dog suddenly shifted, boxing his head in, that slick, red tipped cock pushing against his jaw in hard humps.
“Oh fuck… okay… Okay, boy…” Exhaling noisily, Harry wrapped his fingers around the hot flesh, guiding it to his lips. It wasn’t like wolfie, the retriever too eager and completely uncontrolled as it began to fuck his mouth wildly. Harry tried not to choke, his mouth assaulted by hard cock and spurts of cum as claws scratched over his shoulders. The fur was thick, itchy and tickling, and as he coughed, it grew wet against his face from the saliva and cum dripping down his swollen lips.
It was rough, fast, and getting him unbelievably hot. It also seemed to be what the dog behind him needed, because suddenly a new weight pushed down on him, the husky’s forelegs hooking around his waist as it pushed its cock between Harry’s thighs and began to hump. Moaning around the cock slicking so much wet into his mouth, Harry wiggled his hips, trying to get the husky’s cock up into his hole. It wasn’t working, the beast seemingly content to fuck the back of his balls, and Harry groaned in frustration. Fighting with the weight of the two dogs, and the soreness already building in his legs, he reached back, fingers fumbling until he found the dripping, hot dick he was aching to have inside him. It took some positioning, the dog’s hips bucking so forcefully, so wildly, but Harry eventually got him high enough and wedged between his cheeks.
The husky took it from there, Harry gaping nearly silent when those frantic humps began to push that thick cock inside of him. When the swollen head slipped into the first ring of muscles and spurted wet into his hole, Harry came hard, choking on the dick now streaming wave after wave of thick, hot seed into his mouth. Dizzy and light headed, Harry spread his knees wider, helping to provide the needed resistance to drive the husky into his stretched hole. God, he was on his knees in some alley, being fucked by dogs. Two… No, three. Whining, Harry reached his hand out, rubbing his palm up the german shepherd’s smooth belly until he found the hard cock waiting for him. He wrapped his fingers loosely around it, letting it spasm and jerk seed in his hand. Yeah, three.
Harry gave a low moan as the husky began working its swollen knot up against his hole. God, that was big. Very big. Whimpering, he pushed back, struggling to breathe around all the wet and dick in his mouth while the retriever continued to hump his face. God, he needed it. Needed it so bad. If that big knot would just get a little further—Fuck, it would be so good. So perfect. Heaving for air, sweat dripping down his body, Harry pushed back into each hard, bucking thrust, trying to get that big knot in deep.
Just a little more… Oh, fuck… almost… almost…
“For fuck sake, mutt! Are you shitting me? Ten minutes. Ten bloody minutes and you’re…” Harry just whined as cold air hit his face, the golden retriever pulled away, its long dick emptying his mouth and leaving him to stare up at Draco wantonly.
“You couldn’t wait ten fucking minutes?”
Harry groaned, pushing back into the relentless thrusts of the husky still fucking his hole hard. “Wolfie… god… need it…”
Draco gave a long suffering sigh, running a hand through his loose white-blond locks. He knew Harry was a slut, but seriously? Their first date? This was supposed to be romantic and loving, and not full of dog dick. Three dog dicks, at that. He looked around, brows furrowed at the wagging, dripping, four-legged creatures. “Where the hell did these guys come from? Did you… Did you seriously find a goddamn street pack the second you left my sight?”
Harry just gave a gasping cry, his legs spreading wider, head tilting back as the husky’s knot jolted further into his passage. “Yes… god yes… so big… so wet, and big… deeper… need it deeper…”
Draco exhaled noisily, his hand reaching out to run along the underside of Harry’s chin and the fluid clinging there. “Damn it, mutt. Why the fuck do you have to look so good when you’re doing that?”
Harry whined, pressing his head into Draco’s hand while licking his tongue out. “Wolfie… thought this was… my present.”
Yeah, Draco was in love with a total slut. Looking around the alley critically, he cast a notice-me-not spell. He gave a final caress to Harry’s face, then stepped back, letting the german shepherd take his place.
Harry gave a great moan when his sight was blocked again, hot cum splashing on his cheek and forehead as the black dog jumped up, its claws sliding over his back as it began to hump his face. He gasped into the rough thrusts, his mouth wide until the cock was finally, mostly fucking into him and not on. The husky gave a loud huff, and Harry cried out as the big knot slid past the last of his muscles and slammed into him deep. Harry clenched on that thick, meaty knot, his hole tightening, holding it in, keeping it inside as it began to flood him with so much heavy seed.
He moaned around the cock still taking him hard, the slick head popping in and out of his lips, so desperate to get off as it spurted messily that it didn’t care where it hit. The husky’s frantic humps changed in intensity, and Harry was agonizingly aware of each hot spurt of thick cum inside him as the beast ground forward into his body, filling him again and again, claiming him as one of theirs now.
“That’s it, mutt, that’s how you like it.” Kneeling down beside Harry’s whimpering form, Draco slipped something out of his pocket. All Harry could feel was the weight of leather as a choker was wrapped around his neck, cool where metal hit his flesh and clinked. Draco tugged lightly at the dog collar, a wry smile twisting his lips. Harry was definitely his mutt now. He had the dog tag with ‘Mutt’ engraved and everything. Sure the tag was pure gold, but he was pretty sure that detail would be lost on his mate. “Open wider, slut. Make sure you swallow all that cum.”
He ran his hands down Harry’s stomach while the boy groaned around the shepherd’s thrusting cock. The brunette was already dripping in his own seed, Draco rubbing it into his skin while moving lower and wrapping his fingers around Harry’s throbbing cock. He raised a brow when his hand was greeted with something slippery and wet, the golden retriever licking up Harry’s cock again and again. Hell, his mutt really knew how to get just about anything to fuck him.
It was a good hour before Harry was willing to stop, finally sated and shaking as he gave his three new friends quick pats and sent them on their way. Draco just shook his head, sitting on a crate while Harry lounged dripping wet on his jacket in the alley.
“Crap, we didn’t miss the reservations, did we?” Harry asked weakly, his eyes full of apology.
Draco sighed. “No, mutt. We still have a good forty-five minutes.”
Harry nodded, looking at Draco thoughtfully from his upside down angle. “Wolfie, it was…”
“I know, beautiful.” Draco got up, sinking to his knees next to the brunette. “You were amazing. You took them all in, and loved every minute of it. I’m sure you’re going to be the talk of the canine circuit.”
Harry couldn’t tell if Draco was exasperated, his boyfriend usually sporting a haughty expression. But when he met the blond’s eyes, he found only love as Draco pulled his shaking body into his lap. “I really thought it was the present you kept mentioning,” Harry whispered, his lips pressing to Draco’s throat. “Custom made and everything.”
“Yes, well, I could see how you’d get confused like that. Maybe it should have been.” Draco hooked his finger around the stylish dog collar hanging around Harry neck, pulling the boy up into a kiss. The brunette melted into him, whimpering and sighing as Draco kissed him deep and languidly.
“God, wolfie, tell me you liked watching me.” Harry lapped over Draco’s lips. “Tell me you’re not angry that I like dick so much.”
“One more, beautiful,” Draco replied instead, wrapping his arms tight around Harry’s waist and pulling him up his lap.
“Wolfie…”
“No complaints, slut. Get my zipper.” He smirked when Harry made a throaty moan at the order.
“God, okay.” Fingers shaking, Harry reached between the press of their bodies, finding the fly to the dark jeans Draco was wearing. That Draco was going to fuck him outside, not just watch him get fucked, was just too amazing to comprehend, and Harry was getting hot just thinking about it. When he pulled out Draco’s dick, he could only gape in amazement.
“Wolfie… holy fuck.”
“You like it?” Draco smiled against Harry’s sticky, flushed cheek. “I’ve been practicing my transformation. It took a lot of training but I thought it might be appreciated.”
Harry just nodded dumbly, his eyes growing wider as he slid his fingers down Draco’s long length and caressed over the knot now swollen at the base. “Oh fuck.” Cum sprinkled out the moment his fingers touched the knot, and he knew it was very much the best fucking present Draco could ever give him.
“I thought you said my gift was not your dick?” Harry teased.
“You want to ride it?” Draco asked, already knowing the answer. He could hand Harry a broom and he’d want to ride it. He pulled Harry’s knees up, wrapping them around his waist. He then lifted the boy easily, pushing the head of his cock against the brunette’s dripping hole.
“God, wolfie, yes,” Harry groaned, clinging to Draco’s shoulders and burying his face into the blond’s neck. He panted heavily, releasing weak cries as Draco carefully stretched his already tight hole with his thick cockhead. It was always intense when the blond took him this way, forcing him to feel every inch of his dick like it was the first time. And this time Draco had a lot more wet to slick him with, his cum spurting every time he pushed against Harry’s tightness, working into his hole over and over while Harry sobbed from the agonizing feel of so much thick cock, and anticipation of even thicker knot.
Fuck, they were doing it in some little alleyway, Harry naked except for his bracelets and new collar just after being gangbanged by dogs. This was definitely Harry’s idea of the best first date ever. He really did have the most amazing mate a boy could ask for.
“God… oh god… get deeper,” Harry pleaded, grasping at Draco’s shoulders frantically, his mouth nipping and licking everywhere he could reach. Draco was going so slow, teasing the head of his cock into him, just to pull back out, forcing his entrance to open and stretch, and then close while clinging desperate to the hot, slick flesh. Harry was pretty sure he was going to lose his mind if Draco didn’t just fuck him properly.
“No complaints,” Draco reminded with a growl, pulling Harry hard by the hair so he could bite roughly into the flesh of his throat. “You’re going to sit here and take it how I want to give it, Potter.”
Moaning, Harry could only smile lazily, his head lolling back. Draco continued to taunt him, his cock jolting in and out of his entrance, getting faster and even less coordinated with each thrust. Harry clenched hard each time, hoping to convince Draco to fuck him deeper. Then suddenly Draco was pushing into him without warning, holding him hard by the hips as he forced his way into Harry’s tight flesh.
“Draco—fuck. Oh fuck!”
“Shh, mutt… Fuck, you’re tight.” Grunting, Draco pushed Harry back enough so he could thrust into the brunette with hard, slamming jolts. Clutching weakly to Draco’s neck and shoulders, Harry sobbed each time Draco drove into him, grinding that thick knot up against the edges of his hole every time. “That’s it… god… fuck, Harry. Fuck.”
The world tilted and Harry ended up flat on his back, his legs wrapped tight around Draco’s waist as the blond fucked him into the pavement. “Please… please, Draco…” He bit out, only to cry as Draco slammed into him again.
“You want it, mutt? You want my knot?” Draco asked hoarsely, Harry whimpering and nodding frantically in reply. “Earn it, Harry. Make me give it to you.”
“Oh god.” The world spinning, Harry closed his eyes for a moment. Draco’s breath was so hot against his ear, the feel of his thick cock gliding wet and rough in and out of his hole driving him crazy. He wanted it so bad. Wanted to feel that big knot driving into him, stretching him wide, making him Draco’s.
Wetting his lips, Harry forced his shaking arm to move. He ran his hand down Draco’s back, finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it up, then going lower until he was cupping Draco’s ass above his loose jeans. The blond gave a warning growl in his ear when Harry brushed fingers deep into Draco’s crack. Undeterred, Harry sought out the boy’s pucker, pushing two fingers against his hot hole. Groaning, Draco ground forward, wedging his knot harder into Harry’s clenching flesh while Harry began to work his fingers into his entrance.
“Fuck, Draco… fuck, don’t stop,” Harry gasped out, bucking his hips when Draco continued to push forward while stilling his rocking movements. Teeth nipping sharply at Harry’s skin, Draco gave him another warning growl Harry also ignored, the brunette pushing his fingers deeper into the blond.
“Harry—hell,” Draco moaned as Harry’s fingers scissored open wide, stretching him. Draco jolted forward from the feel, burying his knot into the tight muscles of Harry’s opening, the brunette choking back a desperate cry. “Fuck, Harry… I’m going to…”
Grinning wickedly, Harry found Draco’s prostate, pressing the spongy flesh firmly. Howling, Draco surged forward, slamming into Harry’s spasming body, his knot forcing past the brunette’s entrance as he began to spurt load after load of hot seed into the moaning boy. Holding Harry’s hips brutally tight, Draco ground into him hard, not letting up as he fucked him with shallow, jerking thrusts that Harry sobbed and cried through.
Clenching that thick, perfect flesh buried deep inside him, Harry arched under Draco, clutching to the boy while he rode out his long orgasm. Draco continued to fill him, his bucking hips slowing, his transformed cock seemingly just as full of cum as the wolf’s version.
“God, wolfie… fuck, it’s so good.” Harry pushed Draco’s long silky hair back, seeking out the boy’s face. Silver eyes hazy and full of more than a little wonder, Draco stared down at him with swollen lips. “You’re so big inside me. Perfect… No one else is ever going to be like this in me.” Harry wet his lips, raising his head up to kiss Draco softly. “You’re my mate, and this is how you fuck me, Draco.”
“Damn it, Harry.” Groaning, Draco crushed his lips to the brunette’s, forcing him down by his weight and need to have Harry be his. He was, he knew he was, but every time Draco touched the boy it was like his body just needed to reconfirm it again and again. Opening to him, Harry let Draco plunder his mouth, tasting and owning every inch he touched. As they kissed, Draco continued to grind into the boy’s passage, making sure every drop of cum he had was inside his mate. Marking him. Claiming him. It didn’t matter who or what fucked Harry, just as long as Harry always came back to him.
As long as Harry looked at Draco with those glowing, adoring eyes, deranged smirk, and the slightest of blushes on his cheeks, Draco would always be happy.
SCENE #Draco’s content calculations
The restaurant Draco had made reservations for wasn’t as bad as Harry had feared. Being a boy, Harry really didn’t understand the idea of romance. Well, being a boy that was also a pack bitch. Draco seemed to have a lot of understanding of romance, but Harry just didn’t know how to deal with it. He did like good tasting food though. And the music wasn’t bad, some sort of soft rock from the live band playing. The place was more causal and elegant than pink hearts and vomit. And having Draco sitting across from him in the dim lighting, looking hunky with a thoroughly shagged look on his face, his hair just slightly mussed and clothes rumpled, was definitely reason enough to be there.
They talked about quidditch for a while, Harry arguing vehemently that Draco was completely wrong about the up and coming Krum. Then it turned to some shit about Draco’s terrible taste in music that Harry apparently matched with some new indie bands that Draco was certain were hiding evil messages in the lyrics. Then Harry tried to get into his mate’s lap, which Draco was very stern about, even though he did give him a deep kiss for his attempts.
“Do not get lost,” Draco repeated when Harry just gave him an innocent grin and left to go to the bathroom. He was pretty sure the boy had been fucked out for the day. That said, Draco couldn’t trust that if Harry ran into a dog on the way from point A to point B that he wouldn’t end up on all fours again. Hell, there was no way in fuck they could live in the suburbs or some shit. Every dog in the neighborhood would be barking at their door, day and night for his slutty mate.
Musing to himself, Draco let his eyes roam the restaurant. The lighting was low, the other patrons illuminated by soft candlelight. He didn’t recognize anyone from the castle but it did get him thinking about just how the fuck he was going to deal with his parents. It was an eventuality he had been prepared to face, he just really didn’t know what to expect.
Definitely a confrontation of some sort. His father had people everywhere, and no doubt in Hogsmeade as well. The news would get to Lucius’s ear. Then it would lead to some sort of ‘what the fuck are you up to, son?’ moment. And then, well, who really knew. Draco couldn’t align himself with his parents, not as long as they chose Voldemort and Voldemort insisted on killing Harry. So depending on how his father decided to deal with a traitor son would likely decide Draco’s next actions.
He had started squirrelling some money away. Nothing massive, just enough to ensure he’d be good till the end of his schooling. There was always the possibility that his father would blacklist him from finding work in the wizarding world. Fuck, he might become just as ostracized as his werewolf alpha. It demanded some planning he hadn’t really given. Allies would be essential in the upcoming years if he had to go up against his father’s influence. Aligning with Harry automatically made Draco a target for every Death Eater, and gained him the most idiotic and reckless of allies. Maybe it was time to start identifying who those allies were and see how they could help his future.
He was broken from his thoughts when Harry suddenly came bounding back, the boy grinning ear to ear. It took Draco a moment, very much fixated on just how sexy Harry looked when he smiled at him. But then he noticed his mate had his fingers wrapped around the collar Draco had gotten for him, and he couldn’t help but smile smugly back. Of course Harry would like it. He could bitch all he liked about not wanting gifts, but Draco knew what the boy liked.
“It’s gorgeous.” Harry ducked down so he could kiss Draco’s cheek. When he went to pull away, Draco grabbed him by the collar, holding him still and kissing him properly. Harry gave a throaty moan, whimpering from the hard touch, and then whining when Draco gently shoved him away. “Damn it—you know what that does to me,” he grumbled, sitting in his chair heavily while staring with flushed cheeks at Draco.
Draco did know, able to smell just how hard Harry was getting from one fine kiss. “You look good in it. Black leather and white gold. My wild mutt.”
Harry beamed again, his lips curling on the demented side as his eyes travelled over Draco hungrily. “If I got you a collar, you think you’d wear it?”
Draco shrugged. “Maybe if I was able to pick it out. No offense, but you have shit taste.”
Harry was not offended, knowing damn well. But then again, he had great taste when it came to boys, having fallen for Draco damn crazy hard, so he couldn’t be that bad off. “What if I tried to get you in leather once in a while?”
“That might take some convincing.” Draco pushed the little dessert menu across the table, raising his brow expectantly.
Harry was genuinely enjoying himself, and not in a rush to leave. He pointed to something gooey and chocolate, and flashed Draco a wicked grin. “I think I might enjoy convincing you. Drugged you last time, and fuck, that was just the hottest thing ever.”
Glaring at him warningly, Draco called the waiter over, placing his order and trying to ignore how the young man kept checking his boyfriend out. Harry’s charms were not restricted to canines, especially when under his thick messy hair hid his very famous scar. Draco wasn’t too worried, seeing as Harry’s foot was currently trying to wrap around his leg.
“Come to the bathroom with me. They have really amazing ceilings in there you should see,” Harry whispered enticingly.
Fighting back a smirk, Draco just sipped his drink. “I thought you were still trying to convince me into leather?”
“Ah, in leather, out of clothes; it’s all good.”
It was, but Draco wasn’t about to fuck the boy in the very expensive restaurant’s bathroom.
Well, not until he dealt with the check first.
Keeping his expression blank, Draco sat back, listening as Harry started on about soccer and how he wanted to teach him to play. It was a damn fine night, and Draco loved to hear Harry laugh.
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SCENE #Draco joins a werewolf pack
Although Draco had agreed to join Harry in Remus’s pack, it still took a while for the white wolf to finally approach Remus and tell him in person. It was even longer before Draco could actually join—something he both was grateful for and despised. Yes, he wanted to be Harry’s mate. No, he didn’t want the excruciating bite and ass reaming that went along with it. His dread only grew as he waited for the full moon and Sirius to return after winter break. Draco understood werewolves, and he knew Remus. The fucker would make sure it hurt.
It didn’t help that Remus couldn’t stand Draco, even now. Sure, the werewolf had stopped blaming Draco for every dark mood Harry had. And Remus actually seemed grateful that Draco was able to tire the usually inexhaustible slut out so that the alpha could finally rest when around him pack bitch. But it didn’t mean Draco and Remus were friends. Draco barely respected the man as a professor, and Remus—well, Remus had been extremely clear about what he thought of prissy white wolves.
“Relax, Wolfie,” Harry murmured into Draco’s ear, trying to soothe the boy’s nerves. Draco’s eyes were gray steel, jaw tense and breathing strained. “It’s just one time, I promise. And I’m going to help you feel so good.” Harry ran his tongue around the curl of Draco’s ear, his breath brushing against the boy’s long silky blond strands of hair.
Draco did his best not to growl. It wasn’t Harry’s fault he was in this situation. Not really. But he was mostly doing it for the sexy prat, and Draco was currently trying not to regret his decision. They were standing outside the underground door to the Shrieking Shack. Draco could smell both Remus and Black on the other side. He also smelled the musk of fresh sex, and his stomach churned unpleasantly.
“Damn it, I don’t want to be chained,” Draco growled, refusing to open the door. “Werewolves, Harry. They’re fucking terrifying, evil beasts. What if he decides to turn me?”
“He’s not going to turn you,” Harry said evenly, tracing his hand over Draco’s jaw. “He’s doesn’t like to turn people, remember? Remus never turned me, and he never turned Siri, and they’ve been together forever. He’s never turned anyone. You don’t ever have to worry about that.”
Draco pursed his lips, trying to calm his racing heart. “And other werewolves? Once they catch his scent of magic on me, they’re going to want to challenge me. They’re going to come after me, just because I’m in your pack.”
Harry bit his lip, shrugging uncomfortably. “I don’t know how to break it to you, Draco. You are one pretty, noble looking wolf. If any werewolf saw you, they’d run you down just for that. At least with Remus you’ll have some alignment and some protection.”
Draco groaned internally, looking away from Harry’s glowing green eyes. He knew it all too well. It seemed like the bloody werewolves were suddenly everywhere and no place was safe. Moments like this he wished he wasn’t an animagus. But Draco couldn’t take back the joy it felt to be a wolf. And he didn’t want to take back the love he felt when being with the messy haired teen beside him.
“You don’t have to do it, Draco. I don’t want you to hate me over this.” Harry grabbed both of Draco’s hands, threading their fingers together. “We can go back and never talk about it again.”
Draco took a deep breath, turning back, eyes raking over Harry’s lovely face and sincere expression. “I’m not letting you go that easy, Potter. It’s just a fucking initiation. After I’m done with him, you’re going to be my mate and that’s all that matters.”
Harry beamed, stepping forward and rubbing his body against Draco’s. “You can’t even understand how much I’m looking forward to it,” he whispered seductively, nuzzling into Draco’s neck and licking slowly.
“Oh, I have a fair idea,” Draco said back, rocking his hips to press against Harry’s already hard length. “You reek of need, you slut. You’re fucking begging for it already.”
Harry groaned, yanking Draco’s hips and crashing them with his. His tongue trembled against the taller boy’s jaw, teeth nipping lightly. “It’ll be quick and then you’ll make me yours. Right?”
“Right,” Draco agreed, aware when Harry pushed the door open, but not giving it his full attention. Instead he let Harry slowly walk him backwards, tongue, teeth and hands working together to help keep Draco from becoming overwhelmed with the fear still bubbling inside him.
Sirius was standing in the doorway to the living room, talking to Remus who was sitting on a dilapidated couch when Draco finally raised his head to see where he was. Both men turned vulture like glares his way and Draco froze, blanching.
“So the prissy thing decided to show after all,” Sirius taunted, running a hand through his dark, shiny locks while looking him over. Draco’s cousin had cleaned up since settling in with the werewolf and Harry, less feral than when Draco first remembered. His eyes were still a wild blue in his handsome face, and he seemed to have a permanent dark shadow on his jaw, but he was at least washed and in moderately fresh black attire. It didn’t mean he wasn’t still an ass and Draco did not trust the smile Black was sending him.
“Be nice, Siri,” Harry admonished, kissing the hollow of Draco’s throat and refusing to step away. A part of Draco wished he would, everything suddenly feeling suffocating, including his beautiful boyfriend. But if Harry stepped away then Draco would be completely exposed to the golden gaze of Remus Lupin, and that seemed more dangerous at the moment.
“Shit, Malfoy, will you fucking relax?” Remus muttered, glaring at him, his jaw tight. The werewolf nearly disappeared in the disheveled couch, his clothing ruffled and sandy blond hair messy. He might have been a tousled chameleon, except his shirt was off revealing large muscles flexed hard, scars white over his golden skin. His eyebrows were heavy as he glared from his predatory face set with sharp cheekbones and straight nose, full lips peeking fangs around his glower. He seemed less pleased to have to go through with this than Draco, and Draco took small comfort in the knowledge that at least Remus would be just as miserable.
“Come on, everyone just calm down,” Harry pleaded, moving his hands up and down Draco’s arms in what he hoped was a comforting manner.
“I’m calm,” Remus snapped, not sounding calm at all. Sirius snorted, crossing the room to stand over him and block the man’s view of Draco.
“Remember, this is for the pup. To keep him happy.” Sirius knelt in front of his lover, hands resting on Remus’s tense thighs. “We like it when Harry is happy, right?”
Remus grunted, refusing to answer. But at least he had stopped glaring at Draco, so it was a start.
They had waited till after the full moon, when Remus would be less aggressive, and Sirius would be around to help curb his gruff mate. Still, between Harry and Sirius, it looked like they had their work cut out for them. Remus was far less interested in this than previously thought, and Harry suspected the wolf and werewolf both just had too much hostility towards the opposite species to make anything about it easy.
Harry turned to Draco, grinning in a way that immediately had the wolf suspicious. He wasn’t sure why he should be suspicious. Harry was about to have Draco on his knees for his bastard alpha—there really wasn’t much further to fall. But Draco’s stomach tripped uneasily when Harry let out a mildly deranged chuckle.
“Come on, Wolfie. Fucking touch me already.” Harry grabbed the hem of his ridiculously over-sized shirt and pulled it over his head. Draco really needed to get the boy a wardrobe if Harry was going to be seen with him. Staring down at the slender boy, warm olive toned flesh, flushed dusky nipples and blossoming muscles, Draco found his focus momentarily derailed.
“I’m going to help you,” Harry said gently, his smile downright impish. “And you’re going to be very glad for my help. I promise. But you have to trust me. Do you think you can trust me, Draco?”
Draco was pretty sure he was walking into a trap. Once again, he could not imagine how things could get worse. But Harry had a knack for causing trouble—considering how Draco was even there to begin with.
“Oh, Wolfie, don’t be that way,” Harry whined lowly when Draco continued to stare at him with anything but trust in his silver glare. “You’re going to like it.”
“I said I’d do it. I never said I’d like it,” Draco grumbled.
Harry’s grin grew, slipping his fingers into Draco’s waistband and turning him so his back was to the couch and watching men. “You’re going to like it.” He pressed up against Draco, stepping on tiptoes to kiss his lips.
Draco resisted a moment out of sheer stubbornness, but when Harry started to sway, legs growing tired, he relented, pulling the boy close and dipping his head to kiss him properly. Harry moaned softly, mouth eagerly opening to Draco’s probing tongue. Draco paused as his tongue lapped slowly over Harry’s. The boy tasted odd… sweet… tingly…
Harry threw his arms around Draco’s neck, kissing him hard, rubbing their tongues together in what Draco was starting to suspect was more than passionate intent. Draco tried to break away, groaning as fire raced over his skin and he began to feel dizzy. Harry let him go after another lingering kiss, pulling back, face flushed and deranged grin firmly in place.
“What do you think?” Harry asked, knowing Draco had caught him.
“I think… you fucking drugged me…” Draco said unsteadily, confusion and annoyance battling on his face. His limbs felt heavy, his motions slow and wrong.
“Just a little. Just enough so you stop being so scared.” Harry kissed him again, and then began kissing down Draco’s neck, sucking and nipping small marks on his pale flesh. Draco wanted to be very upset but he was having difficulty focusing. Harry’s fingers were tearing at his belt, and he felt feverish and hard.
“Oh god…” Draco groaned, head falling back as another wave of red heat rushed over his skin. His knees felt weak and he was pretty certain he was going to fall backwards. But suddenly strong hands were holding him up, a warm, hard body pressing up behind him and holding him steady. Draco blinked his eyes open slowly, Sirius grinning wickedly down at him. “Black,” Draco whispered hoarsely, trying to figure out what the hell the man was doing.
“Wolf,” Sirius greeted back teasingly, fingers brushing down the side of Draco’s neck and then falling to the top button of his shirt. “That particular potion doesn’t work on werewolves, unfortunately. But I think if we get you covered in enough of our scent, Remi isn’t going to be quite so resistant to welcoming you. So what do you think? Will it work?”
Draco wasn’t sure exactly what Sirius was saying, his mouth seeming to move far slower than the words coming out. Draco licked his dry lips, Sirius following the movement with his startling blue eyes. Draco shivered, gaze flicking forward to find his shirt was being pulled off him. He met Harry’s interested look, the boy smiling particularly cheeky as he leaned forward and licked Draco’s lips.
“You’re going to like this, Draco. I promised, and I would never break a promise.” Harry was stunning, looking almost otherworldly as he moved down Draco’s body, pulling his shoes off while kneeling. And then Draco’s pants were falling off, the brunette quick to steal those away and leaving him naked.
“I’m going to stretch you,” Sirius murmured into Draco’s ear, hot tongue slipping out to lick up the side of his neck. “Remus is just a little too grumpy right now to be trusted… As for me… Well, when you’re not talking, you’re not half bad,” Sirius confessed with a smirk, hands roughly moving down Draco’s bare sides. He dug his fingers in, dragging down, pulling a loud moan from Draco as his overly sensitive body jolted.
“You are a pretty thing. Slender… Mmm, and so bright… I can see what the mutt likes in you…” A hand was suddenly wrapped around Draco’s cock, grasping firmly. Draco gasped, hips thrusting forward but to no avail. Sirius was holding him still, his grip unyielding.
“Hold him like that a sec,” Harry requested, back on his knees, tongue lapping out to taste the head of Draco’s trapped erection. Draco cried out, Harry’s mouth wet and hot as he sought out his precum, Sirius’s thumb helping to milk more free for Harry to taste. “God, he looks amazing… All stretched out… Wolfie when you relax you are so beautiful.” Harry opened wider, welcoming Draco in and spreading his saliva all over his flushed tip with his tongue.
“Turn him,” Remus growled from behind.
Harry pulled away, standing and staring at Draco’s panting face. But it was to Remus he spoke. “Are you going to be nice? Watch and see how pretty he is? Remember why it’s going to be good to have him around?”
Remus didn’t answer for a moment and then he huffed, grunting a sharp, “Yes.”
Sirius easily lifted and turned Draco, smiling over the boy’s head as his lover came into view. Remus was still glaring, but less anger than before. His golden eyes moved over Draco heatedly but he made no move to get up. “What do you think, Remi? He’s all cream and strawberries.” He plucked one of Draco’s pink nipples, twisting the bud sore and pulling a loud groan from the boy.
Remus narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything. Yes, Draco’s skin was remarkably pale, every touch leaving a faint pink color that faded soon enough. But he was a damn pain in the ass wolf, and Remus did not like prissy wolves. The white wolf was particularly prissy, so immaculate and pure it was nearly drab. “Dirty him up, and we’ll see,” Remus finally said, not certain if that would even be enough for him to concede to biting such a prim thing.
Sirius met Harry’s gaze, raising his brow. “Told you.”
Harry shrugged unconcernedly. He had come prepared, knowing as well as Sirius just how stubborn Remus could be. “Draco, love, don’t be afraid. I promise, it will feel amazing.”
Sluggish and slow blinking, Draco watched Harry pull out a thin blade from the back pocket of his jeans. It glinted warm in the yellow light of the shack, reflecting the surrounding wallpaper as Harry drew it across his pale arm. Scarlet bloomed, dribbling up from the shallow cut, Draco shuddering as pain and then pleasure sparked through him.
“That’s it, Wolfie,” Harry murmured approvingly, slipping his fingers through the red and raising them to Draco’s lips. He painted Draco’s mouth, and then drew the slick down over his sharp chin and long throat. Draco gave a shattered moan, head tilting back, the touch hot and dizzying and making him ache.
Sirius growled lowly, grasping Draco’s jaw and turning his face to the side so he could see better. Eyes raking over him, Sirius suddenly pressed forward, kissing the boy, tongue stealing the tang of blood from his lips and then sharing it with Draco. Swaying in the hold, Draco opened when Sirius’s hand tighten, his jaw forced wider, mouth plundered relentlessly by the taller man. The angle was wrong, hot juices dripping past his lips, streaking his already red chin with clear saliva.
Draco became aware of Harry again, a sharp line suddenly slashed across his chest. He cried out, Sirius swallowing the noise down, holding him still when his hips rocked and sought pressure. There was something hot and hard pressing against Draco’s ass, rubbing against his left cheek and grinding. Draco wanted to ask if Black was going to fuck him first, having never agreed to that, but his mouth wasn’t working, and Sirius kept stealing his noises anyways.
“You’re so fucking hot, Draco,” Harry said, drawing another shallow line down Draco’s stomach, watching his muscles flex and cock twitch. “I know you’re very much against this, but I have been dying to see you fucked. I just know if you give up some of that crazy control you are going to be even more beautiful.”
“Is that what you want, pup?” Remus asked, pulling Harry back into his embrace, the boy smirking up at him. “You’re pretty wolf gasping and begging for cock?”
Harry nodded, wiggling back against Remus’s erection and warm skin, letting the man run his large hands over his bare stomach and chest. “He’ll look good, Remi. Fucking good. I know he’ll like it if he just tries it.”
Remus turned his gaze back to Draco, the boy’s flesh even more startling white against Sirius’s black clothes. Red lines and dripping scarlet flowed over his body, artistic more than anything. Even in this the damn wolf was pretty, his cheeks flushed pink against his white blond hair, lips extra red with the stain of blood while Sirius continued to drink the boy’s mouth down.
“Siri, you heard the mutt. Let the wolf have a taste so the pup can see.”
Harry gave an excited gasp at Remus’s order, eyes jumping to Draco’s face to see how he’d feel. It took a moment, Draco’s reactions slowed by the lust potion Harry had spiked the boy with. Harry watched, teeth raking over his bottom lip, when Draco suddenly pulled from Sirius’s demanding kisses to moan, a great shudder going through the beautiful boy as he arched back.
“Oh fuck, he wants it,” Harry whispered, grabbing Remus’s arm for support, riveted on Draco. “Start gentle. He hasn’t tried it yet.”
Harry had hoped to convince Draco over the last weeks, knowing easing into the experience would be best. But Draco just couldn’t relax enough, even when it was just the two of them. Harry was grateful Sirius had known of the potion, because he wasn’t sure Draco would have ever been able to relax on his own. Remus was brutal even with the ones he cared about—There was no way Draco would have been able to enjoy when tensed and fighting every moment.
Sirius kicked Draco’s long legs apart, wrapping an arm around the boy’s heaving chest to hold him steady and upright. “Don’t be afraid to make some noise, Wolf. I always enjoy hearing my praises.” Nuzzling into the side of Draco’s neck, Sirius spelled the boy’s entrance with lube, quickly followed with a thick finger, going slow for Harry’s benefit more than the boy writhing in his arms.
“Holy—oh hell… hell…” Draco moaned, head falling back to land on Sirius’s shoulder, mouth gasping wide, silver eyes mere slits beneath his white eyelashes. “God, that’s… oh… god…”
“Mmm… I had a feeling you were just repressed, you prissy little thing,” Sirius said with a rasp, rubbing his jaw along Draco’s cheek as he worked his finger in and out of the shaking boy. “But we’re going to fix that. Can’t be one of us and have a stick up your arse… Well, unless we shoved it up there to begin with,” he grunted, Draco’s hips bucking, pushing back on his hand.
“Another one, Siri,” Harry demanded, watching Draco’s eyes widen and then flutter shut at the words.
Smirking at Harry’s rapt expression, Sirius thrust two fingers deep into Draco, the pale boy crying out, body jerking and knees giving out all at once. “Oh, you like that, do you?” Sirius readjusted his hold to keep Draco from falling, pulling the moaning boy further back on his body to help support him.
Remus gave a low growl as Draco’s sweat soaked form was stretched taller, cock bobbing with every rough thrust of fingers plunging inside his virgin hole. Harry grinned, pressing back into his alpha’s lap, glad to see the man finally getting into it. “Remi, he’s so hard.”
“Yes,” Remus agreed, chin resting on the top of Harry’s head.
“Tight,” Sirius muttered, a light flush having risen to his cheeks. Draco’s slick passage kept clenching, holding him hard, and Sirius couldn’t help but wonder just how snug he would feel for his cock, not just fingers.
“Oh god… need it…” Draco moaned, legs twisting beneath him, toes curling and flexing. “So hot… so fucking… thick…”
“Shit,” Sirius swore heatedly, removing his fingers and quickly pushing Draco down onto his knees. He tore at his belt, one hand holding Draco around the waist so that the boy wouldn’t fall over in his drugged state.
“Wait Siri,” Harry broke in, eyes wide and pleading. “Three first… Please? I want to see him ride three.”
Remus growled in agreement, hands running over Harry’s waist and digging fingers in tightly. “Three. Then fuck him.”
Sirius hissed out a long breath but nodded. Pulling Draco back against him, he licked up the boy’s throat, Draco’s head lolling to the side and resting while he panted dazedly. “Hang on, pretty wolf. I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re never going to remember what it was like to not be full.” He lined three fingers up with Draco’s hole, pushing in and feeling the boy’s hot flesh open to him and tremble.
“That’s it… fuck, you sexy thing… God, should have fucking drugged you ages ago…” Draco just gaped, body jerking, loud, broken sounds falling from his lips at each plunge of thick fingers. “Could have played with you… Had you under my favorite tree… Fucking tight, white wolf…”
Harry bit the side of his hand, trying to muffle his own moans so he wouldn’t miss Draco’s. The boy was almost completely undone, arms clawing mindlessly above him at Sirius’s hair, back arched and hips rocking with the motion of the man’s pumps. Harry wanted to suck Draco so badly in that moment, the boy’s long dick flushed red as it swayed invitingly. But it would be better if Draco came with Sirius deep inside, the boy really getting a taste for what a good fuck would be like.
“Siri, take him,” Remus ordered, his voice a deep growl of desire. He pulled Harry back against him and ground his hard length into his ass.
Harry whimpered, not sure if he wanted to pull his pants down and be filled, or give his complete attention to Draco’s predicament. He compromised, pressing a palm into his erection through his jeans while watching. “Be slow with him,” Harry added, “So he feels it all.”
Sirius didn’t care how he fucked Draco, just so long as could finally fuck the slender boy. He ran his wide palm over Draco’s trembling stomach and chest, blood collecting and streaking wherever he touched. He then moved down, roughly grasping Draco’s inner thigh and massaging the smooth flesh and tight muscle.
“You’re going to open to me, wolf. On your knees, spread wide like the slut you are. I knew it the first fucking time I laid eyes on you, you pretty, prissy bitch,” Sirius rumbled into Draco’s ear, the boy groaning in reply. He unzipped his pants, pushing the fabric and his underwear down his thighs brusquely. “You’re going to like this, wolf. You’re going to beg me not to stop.”
“Fuck, Siri, just do him!” Harry shouted, eyes hazy, cheeks flushed and body unbearably tight with lust. He wanted to see Draco fucked. Had dreamed of it too many times to be able to wait any longer. And that his beautiful boyfriend was already responding so well, Harry’s anticipation to see the rest was only growing beyond endurable.
Harry’s demand made the two men chuckle. Sirius wrenched Draco’s slender hips back, positioning himself. He pressed his dripping cock against the boy’s hole, hissing quietly as he relished the sensation of the hot flesh. Body bowed forward, chin dripping sweat and saliva, Draco pushed back, opening to the head of Sirius’s straining dick.
“You fucking slut,” Sirius groaned disbelieving. If the boy hadn’t been so responsive since Harry had drugged him, Sirius would not have believed that this was the same prissy, tight-assed Draco Malfoy. Not to say the boy wasn’t fucking tight. He was, hot and tight and clenching as he moaned wantonly and pushed back on Sirius’s thickness and drove it deeper inside.
“Oh fuck, Wolfie… God, look at you,” Harry murmured, breath coming out in harsh pants as he watched Draco rock onto Sirius. His love’s face was the epitome of deprivation, eyebrows furrowed, mouth gasping aching, broken cries, sweat soaking his shoulder length locks and dripping down to glisten on his body.
Sirius held back as long as he could, knowing Harry was loving how Draco was taking what he wanted—because it admitted that the boy wanted it as much as Harry had known he would. The pup had a sixth sense when it came to sex and Harry had been aching, but too shy to push the issue with Draco. Sirius had no problem forcing many a hard issue from the bloody noble, haughty wolf, wrenching Draco’s face back so he could watch his aristocratic features twist in absolute, agonizing want.
“Harry, help dirty him up,” Remus growled into the brunette’s ear, his hands moving down to tear at the boy’s fly and pull his jeans down. Harry scrambled unsteadily to his feet, Remus holding him up while he kicked off his jeans and underwear. Draco was watching him, eyes hazy and not fully aware. Harry wanted to go to him, but Remus was holding him back, a rough hand sliding between Harry’s slender thighs and caressing his balls.
“Cover him in that slutty scent of yours, pup.” Remus pinched the thin skin leading to Harry’s anus, the boy gasping and pushing back into his hand.
Sirius gave a soft hiss, pulling the pale boy back onto him, sheathing in fully and grinding deep. “Fucking tight, you pretty, vicious thing. Fucking mine…”
Pulling away from Remus, Harry ran his hands over Draco’s gasping face, fingers dipping into the boy’s pink mouth, finding his tongue, spilling his saliva. “Draco, you want to suck me? You look so good when sucking me. You like to make me feel so good, and now we get to make you feel good too.”
Draco could not answer beyond mumbled nonsense. He did not resist when Harry pushed his head down further, Draco bracing himself on his arms when the slight boy knelt before him. Draco moaned loudly, Sirius’s cock suddenly pulling out and thrusting deep.
“Oh wow, you’re beautiful,” Harry said breathlessly, Draco’s body jerking, trying to ride the thickness impaling him. But Sirius was holding him tight, keeping the blond from moving his hips. Hands shaking slightly, Harry tightened his fingers in Draco’s silky hair and pulled the boy’s gasping lips further down until they were spreading around his achingly hard prick. “Yes…”
Draco opened to Harry’s cock eagerly, tongue moving in sluggish, hungry laps over the underside. He opened his mouth even wider, urging Harry deeper, to thrust in all the way. “Fuck, Wolfie, you want to be filled, don’t you? Every hole, so full… dripping wet.”
Sirius grunted at Harry’s words, thrusting suddenly into Draco again. The pale boy’s nose jarred into Harry’s dusting of pubic hair, clear fluid gushing from his moaning mouth around Harry’s cock.
Harry knew he wasn’t going to last long. Draco was just so fucking gorgeous, face and neck red, lips swollen, and eyes begging for relief. He pumped shallowly into his lover’s hot mouth, fighting to keep his eyes open to watch Draco’s face with each thrust. Drugging Draco had definitely been the right decision. Anything that made the boy look like this was the right decision.
Feeling his orgasm building and about to crash over him, Harry pulled out from Draco’s perfect lips, jerking his hand a few times over his slick length. Draco gave a groan in anticipation, lashes fluttering shut, head tilting up to meet Harry’s cum when it rained down on his face. Harry gaped silent, small gasps of choked noises escaping him. Draco never let him cum on his face, yet here the beautiful boy was, pressing forward into his cock and trying to get more.
Shuddering, his breathing nothing more than desperate pulls for air, Harry rubbed his palm into the white slick on Draco’s face, streaking it down the boy’s jaw and neck to mingle with all the many other fluids already there. “I think you’re almost dirty enough,” Harry whispered, watching as Draco blinked dazedly back at him.
“Almost,” Sirius agreed hoarsely, bending over Draco now that Harry was through. He ran his hands possessively over the blond’s tingling skin, tweaking his nipples, wrenching his flesh, squeezing his shaking thighs. Remus pulled Harry back into his embrace, breath exhaling noisily in the boy’s ear while he watched Sirius torment Draco closer and closer to ecstasy.
“Listen to him,” Remus mused, tongue licking up over Harry’s ear. “That is how a fucking filthy wolf howls.”
Draco was howling, beautiful, desperate cries and moans as Sirius began to fuck him in slow, earnest thrusts. Harry had never known Sirius to be so restrained, and he had a feeling it was only because Harry had pleaded so nicely, on his knees only hours before. Sirius pushed Draco’s chest down to the ground, pinning the boy’s head beneath his heavy hand. Draco spread his pale thighs wider, fingers flexing uselessly on the floor while he groaned.
Sirius’s control was slipping, the hand on Draco’s hip tensing, knuckles going white as he rammed into the tight boy. Harry whined low in his throat, his entire body throbbing with every hard thrust Draco took. “Oh god… he’s almost…” Draco was arching on the floor, squirming as he pushed back onto Sirius’s cock, urging it to jet deep inside.
Sirius snarled, snapping his hips forward a final time and forcing all his weight onto Draco’s hips, slamming the boy down into the hard floor as he filled his clenching passage with hot spurts of cum. He quickly snaked his hand around the boy’s hips, grabbing onto Draco’s erection and pumping it hard, forcing the boy to clutch even tighter around his cock before the pale boy spilled his seed all over the dusty floor.
Harry wanted to get up and go to Draco, kiss his flushed face and still moaning mouth. The boy was beautiful—absolutely overcome with his desire. Apparently Remus agreed, the man standing behind Harry and settling the dark haired boy on the couch to watch. Remus stooped to kiss Sirius, plundering his lover’s mouth with hard, hungry movements.
Watching him, Harry’s anxiety slipped away. Remus was ready. He wasn’t going to deny Draco from the pack now that he had seen how raw and uninhibited the wolf could be with a little help. That was, if he would stop pawing at Sirius first.
Sirius did not resist when Remus pushed him back to the ground and stripped the tall, strong man of his black shirt with a rough pull. “Did you like him, Siri? All delicious strawberries and cream?”
Groaning weakly, Sirius grasped Remus’s thick biceps, eyes widening when his werewolf love straddled his hips and fixed him with a heated glare. “Remi, Harry asked me to—”
Remus growled, pulling Sirius shiny black hair back with a sharp twist. He dipped his head, nipping at the man’s neck, coarse bristle prickling his lips. “Did you like him?” He demanded with a low snarl.
“Y-yes,” Sirius admitted hesitantly, going limp in Remus’s hold. “He was very tight.”
Growling louder, Remus slammed Sirius’s shoulders flat against the floor. Sirius didn’t move except to lick his lips, eyes warily trained on Remus’s gold glare as the man bent down and scraped his teeth over Sirius’s throat again. “Good,” Remus murmured huskily, tongue flicking out to sooth the bites he had just inflicted away. “You looked as though you liked him. Very much… You looked very fucking nice, Black.”
Sirius relaxed fully into Remus’s touch, head falling back heavily. Remus finished pulling Sirius’s pants down his legs, throwing the man’s boots aside.
“Remi! Claim Draco and then play with Siri!” Harry said with a huff. Remus snapped his head around, glaring over his shoulder. Harry narrowed his eyes back, hands on his hips. “If you get too tired, the spell won’t work.”
Remus rolled his eyes, annoyed that the pup was right. He gave Sirius an apologetic kiss, grinding the man’s mouth against his as he bruised Sirius’s head into the ground. “I’m not done with you, Black. You better be stretched and hard by the time I get back.” He gave a wrench to Sirius’s hips, his lover hissing and jolting his hips up in reply.
Crouching, Remus turned and glared at the panting mess strewn out on the floor, pale, bleeding and covered in dust, cum and sweat. Still pretty after all that, the little git. Pretty, but no longer insufferably proud, and that was going to have to be good enough. “Malfoy, I’m going to make you mine. I know that you understand what that means, otherwise you would have never walked in that door tonight.”
He grabbed Draco by his hair, turning the boy so that his heavy lidded silver stare could be seen unobstructed. “You will be part of my pack. You will answer to me, and only me. Your parents are fucking nothing anymore, do you understand? No more playing around with that shit Dark Lord. You will submit and you will be loyal, or I will make sure you suffer.”
Draco’s eyes were intent on Remus’s mouth, but the werewolf could not be certain just how much the potion in his system was allowing information to get through to the boy. He looked over to Harry, the pup supplying the answer before he had to ask.
“He knows, Remi. He’s scared, but he understands. Draco’s parents are pretty fucked up.”
Remus was well aware, one of the big pros and cons to this whole agreement. Stealing Draco from Voldemort right from under Lucius’s nose was very much a sweet victory. But there was always the fear that the wolf would turn, hurting Harry in the process. After Wormtail, Remus really couldn’t trust anyone the same way.
“We will protect you from the Death Eaters, Malfoy. And you will grow a backbone and learn to protect Harry, as well.” He straightened, stepping out of his pants and toeing them aside along with his shoes. Kneeling, he hauled Draco up by his forearm, the boy gasping, eyes widening in what Remus could only hope was fear. Sweet, naïve little pup. Chasing after a wild mutt like Harry only to end up in the den of a pack of werewolves. Did the white thing really think he was going to survive this intact and as clean as he entered? Remus knew better.
Remus pulled Draco back against his body, holding the dazed boy up in his hard grip. He could hear the boy’s heart, racing in fear, small puffs of breath exploding from his mouth as he shook. Remus’s scent alone did it to the boy. Knowing that the werewolf was going to bite him next probably wasn’t helping. He glanced up, Harry shimmying down onto the floor from the couch, hand outstretched to trace Draco’s features gently.
“Stop being so syrupy, pup. It will be over in a moment,” Remus snapped, pulling Draco back so that Harry would not touch the boy. He ran his face down the side of the pale neck trembling before him, breathing deep, learning Draco’s scent of flesh, honey and wolf. Remus began to salivate, the werewolf inside craving blood and sex, and the many screams that came along with those desires.
Harry sat back, biting his lip. He held Draco’s gaze, knowing that even with the lust potion the boy was terrified. Wolves and werewolves just didn’t mix. Hopefully that would change after the bite. “Only once, Wolfie. It’s just this once,” he promised.
Remus suddenly wrenched Draco’s head to the side, tearing his fangs into the boy’s long throat. Draco howled in pain, hands coming up to try and claw away the arm holding his jerking body down. Remus was much stronger, clamping fingers into Draco’s hip and pulling the boy onto his large cock with hard, sure movements. Draco’s cry broke off, replaced with a silent gasp that eventually turned into a low, desperate whine of despair.
Remus was slavering, huge and brutal, and didn’t know how to be any other way when the werewolf was controlling him. Harry watched, Draco’s face full of divine pain as the boy was forced to open up to the claiming thrusts. Harry knew it hurt, remembered still how much it had hurt him when Remus bit him. But Draco was so beautiful, even like this when his body was taut in pain.
Remus looked like a complete savage as he mercilessly fucked the slender boy, blood pouring from his mouth and down Draco’s body. Draco had found his voice again, yelping sobs of ache bursting free every time Remus slammed deep inside him. Power was rushing over the two of them in waves, cresting gold and black as the werewolf tied Draco to him.
Remus came with a roar, the spell crackling in completion over his skin, the pretty white wolf’s presence being added to his own. He released his clamping jaws, lapping hard swipes over the quickly bruising wound. He did not pull out just yet, pressing forward in the tight, slick heat of Draco’s channel, feeling every clench and shaping the boy on the inside as his own.
Draco was a whimpering, trembling mess, just hanging onto consciousness. “That’s it, my little white pup… You did well… You’re still awake and everything…” Grinning wickedly, Remus wrapped his fingers around Draco’s half hard arousal, pumping it to full size and girth. Draco gasped, long legs kicking out, smearing dust and sweat over the bare wooden floorboards with his flexing feet.
Making a noise between a croon and a growl, Remus ground into Draco’s ass, the boy a murmuring mess of pleas and exhausted pleasure. “Come for me, you amazingly brave thing. Come for your werewolf master.” Shuddering, head falling back and body curving tight, Draco did as he was ordered, his cum scalding over his stomach. Remus rumbled in approval, lapping up the other side of Draco’s neck, hands moving over the heaving boy in soothing, possessive touches.
Seeing that Remus had finished and was in a much safer mood, Harry approached cautiously, kissing Draco’s heated cheek until silver eyes blinked weakly at him. “The hard part is all over, Wolfie. Just relax and we’re going to take care of you now.”
Draco opened his mouth to speak, but only a croaked moan escaped. Harry smiled sweetly, licking up Draco’s face, pressing his flesh against him. Draco caught Sirius smirking down at him, the man quickly falling to his knees to lick the cooling seed off his trembling stomach. Draco let his eyes fall closed, completely exhausted, giving in to the sensation of tongues and palms moving over him in soothing, cleaning strokes.
He had survived. It had hurt but he had survived. He could mate with Harry finally. And now, Draco had protection from Fenrir Greyback, the terrible mountain of a werewolf that had started traipsing through Malfoy Manor over winter break as if he owned the place. Draco had deliberately failed to mention that particular problem to Lupin, and he wondered briefly if it would come back to bite him on the ass.
Then Draco stopped wondering anything at all, Remus’s hot tongue swiping down between his cheeks as he lifted his hips, Harry trailing saliva over his nipples and Sirius delving laps between his thighs. His body was a trembling puddle of sex and relief, and Draco could not focus on anything else.
SCENE #Bullies and rulebreakers
Harry was almost late for Potions class the next morning. Waking up in the Shrieking Shack surrounded by his pack and soon to be mate, he had lingered, hoping for someone to have enough energy to fuck him. Last night had been all about Draco. Although Harry didn’t mind that, he was aching for sex, his entire body crying out to be filled after watching Draco being spread for the first, and possibly last, time. But everyone was exhausted, to the point that Harry wondered if Remus would be teaching DADA that day and if Draco was even going to bother waking up.
Snape, as usual, was in a foul mood. Harry knew the professor didn’t have a clue as to what Harry was getting up to with Remus. Snape just hated Harry for being around Remus in general. Remus had said it reminded the man of Harry’s father. Harry smirked openly as he took his seat, Snape’s dark gaze settling on him. Draco, Snape’s little teacher’s pet, was now in Harry’s pack. Talk about fucking irony there. Harry had dealt the man a huge blow and Snape might never even know.
Harry tried his best to pay attention but it wasn’t really worth the effort. He was way too horny to truly focus, last night flashing through his mind again and again. God, Draco was beautiful. He would be even more beautiful when spreading for Mutt, Harry’s animagus dog form. But Harry had no idea how to convince his love of that. It had been nearly impossible to get Draco to do what he did last night, and that was with a lot of help.
Harry bit his lip, burying his head into his hands while Snape droned on about some boring history of some boring potion. He was so hard. Harry had a permanent concealing charm on all his underwear, just to hide the many erections that popped up during the day. But this time was very different. Harry had seen the most damn arousing thing he’d been dreaming forever to see, and then everyone had gotten too tired to take care of him. He was pretty sure he was going to burst if he didn’t get something hard and thick up his ass, and soon.
He should have just stayed in the Shack and gotten a note from Remus to dismiss him from class. Hell, what if Sirius was already awake, hard and ready to go? Harry bit back a whine, his hole clenching tightly. Snape would have totally docked house points if Harry had failed to show for class, note or no note. Draco could get away with stuff like that, but not Harry.
There was a mean snicker, and Harry snapped his eyes up, looking to the right and slightly ahead from where he was sitting in the back of the room. Goyle was throwing things at Neville while Crabbe laughed. Little bits of… boogers—fucking gross—at Neville’s back. Neville, almost as small as Harry, with soft ash blond hair and large blue eyes, was ducking further in his chair, as if he could disappear and the idiots would leave him alone. It didn’t work that way. Harry knew all too well. Assholes like Crabbe and Goyle only understood one thing—pain and power.
Looking around, Harry knew no one was going to help Neville. No one ever did, not even the other Gryffindors. Harry barely paid the boy any attention, Neville just too much of a pansy. The boy reeked of victim, flinching and ducking, slender and quiet, and always mumbling instead of speaking up, which was probably why he was always being picked on. Harry had used to help Neville—had even asked Ron to help—but then Harry had stopped helping anyone, so consumed with the constant ache inside him that only made him think of sex all the time. Ron was more a bully than anything else without Harry to guide him, and wasn’t going to help the weakest of their dorm.
Looking at Crabbe and Goyle, Harry thought maybe he’d kick their asses, just this one time for Neville, if they didn’t let up.
Harry got mean when he was horny, and he was practically always horny. Not to his pack—Harry had no reason to be mean to his own kind when they were more than happy to fill him the way he needed. But around others that didn’t understand him and his strangeness, Harry became vicious and snapping. Remus liked to call Harry a wild mutt, and times like this, Harry definitely felt like one.
“Mr. Longbottom, would you kindly stop knocking things over and pay attention?” Snape drawled as Neville, in his desire to duck from another bombardment—this time spitballs—knocked a book to the ground. Harry glared at the man. Snape knew Neville was being picked on. What a messed up teacher for letting his own house bully other students. Harry wanted to hurt Crabbe and Goyle, just to hurt Snape in that moment, the twisted, fucked up man.
There was only another ten minutes left in class and Harry waited patiently, his anger growing with every disgusting thing the duo of oafs threw at Neville. It was almost a relief, the wicked ache in Harry dulling as he was finally able to focus on something else; beating the crap out of some Slytherins.
Harry hung back when everyone started collecting their things, not wanting to be seen hunting down the two when leaving. Neville ran out of the room like a little twittering mouse, nearly dropping his notebook from his bag in the process. Crabbe and Goyle lumbered after him, and Harry paused, eyebrows raised when he caught sight of the taller of the two idiots. Crabbe was sporting a boner, face flushed as he left the room. Did the sick fuck get off on picking on Neville?
Snape was suddenly in front of Harry, towering over like a tall crow and leering down superiorly. “Mr. Potter, I would like to talk to you about your failing performance in my class.”
Harry’s lips twisted in a grimace and he shoved his books in his bag. “Sir, I really don’t have time right now.”
Snape sneered right back, his dark eyes boring into Harry. “Your grades have been getting worse. I feel if something isn’t done soon, you’re going to fail. I really don’t want to have to repeat another round of potions with you because you couldn’t keep up.”
Harry paled at the notion. He hadn’t been talking to Hermione much, the little witch upset with how Harry had called her bloody nosy when she wouldn’t stop asking where he went all the time. Without Hermione’s help, Harry really just couldn’t keep up in the class.
“There are dozens of study groups, Potter. I dare say one of them will put up with your abysmal ignorance for a chance to claim they helped the great Harry Potter.”
Harry glared, Snape speaking the word ‘great’ like he was really talking about the most abhorrent thing he could imagine. “I’ll think about it, Professor,” Harry muttered, slinging his book bag over his shoulder.
Snape let him go after another calculating look, Harry scowling as he walked out the door. Fucking Snape, managing to insult him while pretending he gave a crap at the same time. What an ass.
SCENE #The dodgy coyote
Harry had forgotten all about Neville and his oversized bullies. Walking down the corridor towards his next class, his senses suddenly jolted him into awareness. It was the smell of sex, just a trickle wafting through the air, but it was enough for Harry’s ache to flare to full arousal, his knees going weak with want. Maybe his pack was still in the shack. Maybe someone would be awake enough—Hell, they didn’t even have to wake up. Just as long as someone was hard enough to put it in him.
Harry leaned on the wall outside a slightly ajar door, panting as he tried to get himself under control. He had thought the classroom empty, dim torches the only light flickering within. But someone was whispering to someone else, and Harry strained to hear, his canine senses again taking over as his body ached.
“Bite it and I’ll fucking kill you.”
“Why are you even letting him near you? Millicent would suck you in a second if you asked.”
“None of your business. He’s much… prettier than Millicent.”
“He’s a boy. There’s something wrong with you.”
“Shut up and don’t look if you don’t like it. No one said you had to go next.” There was a shuffling, Goyle huffing in annoyance. A zipper tore through the air, followed by the rustle of clothes and a low whimper.
Harry knew he should go in. He should stop Crabbe before he crossed the line. But his knees were so weak, and he was aching so bad. If Harry went in, it would be on his knees and he had no interest spreading to those fucktard Slytherins.
“That’s it… oh fuck… open wide… Fucking tight, Longbottom… I bet you do this a lot… yesss…” At least Crabbe would be quick. He sounded like he was close already, Neville choking him down, whimpering and gasping softly.
“You’re fucked up, man,” Goyle said with a grunt. “What are you, some sort of queer?”
“No… he is… fucking queer… fuck… fuck yes…” There was a clatter, a desk being pushed back. “Wider, you fucking queer… Yeah… make sure you swallow… You better fucking swallow my cum…”
“Shit, you’re right. The poof is hard—fucking sick! He likes it, the sick fuck.”
Crabbe didn’t answer, still whispering harshly. “That’s it… oh god… that’s how you like it… gonna… gonna give it to you… so hard… uhn…” He came with a groan, Neville coughing and gasping for air moments later. “Fucking… bitch… I told you to swallow.”
There was the sound of fist hitting flesh, another desk clattering back. The ache eased in Harry, the fresh scent of blood rising up above the scent of sex. Fighting. Harry could definitely handle fighting.
Harry slammed the door open, his knees still a little rubbery. He was not expecting the sight before him. Crabbe, hand pouring blood, was clutching his robe and trying to wrest the material from the jaws of a desert colored coyote while Goyle scrambled on the ground, looking at Harry with hope in his beady eyes. The moment Goyle reached him, Harry kicked him sharply in the gut, the large boy curling in pain on the floor. Shutting and locking the door behind him, Harry slipped his wand from his pocket and stunned Crabbe, the coyote stepping back as the brunette walked further into the room.
The coyote was the color of Neville’s ash blond hair, soft and creamy, with bright blue eyes currently looking up at him, blood speckling its maw. The creature wagged its tail hesitantly, giving a low whine at Harry’s approach. He was smaller than Padfoot and Wolfie, closer to Harry’s mutt size but with delicate, thin legs, sharp face, and fluffy tail. He was a very pretty coyote, but Harry preferred Draco’s stronger, noble wolf.
Harry had no doubt that the creature was Neville and not some wild coyote wandering in the school. For some reason animagus forms were almost otherworldly in beauty compared to their real counterparts, their fur silkier and bodies graceful. It was as if the magic it took to make them wanted to make sure the beasts stood out from nature.
“Neville!” Harry snapped, glaring at the transformed boy. “Are you out of your fucking mind? Do you know how much trouble you can get in for getting caught being an animagus without a license?” Harry whirled, stunning Goyle unconscious as well. “These idiots would tell the whole fucking world, just to see you in jail.”
Shaking his head, Harry bent over Crabbe, trying to think what to do next as he made sure the boy was out cold. He could go to Remus and have the werewolf wipe the Slytherins’ memories. Or maybe the stunning would be enough. It was dark in the classroom and everything had happened so quickly. People tended to forget what happened right before they were stunned. Maybe the two idiots would think some dog had jumped in and attacked them, instead of Neville transforming.
He moved towards Goyle, musing over what to do next. Probably dump the idiots in the yard outside. Then if they mentioned a dog, the teachers could think they meant something from the Forbidden Forest…
“Fuck—Get off me!” Harry gasped, Neville’s coyote form suddenly barreling him to the floor and clamping deadly teeth into the back of his neck. “What the fuck, Neville? I’m trying to help—Oh shit…” Harry groaned, the ache rising up in overwhelming strength as he felt a hardness push against his thigh and begin to hump him.
“Neville stop… you don’t understand what I am…” Harry tried to fight the heat rising up in him, his body in so much need after being left unsatisfied last night. Harry was always in need, a pack bitch with an unusually small pack. His slender body anticipated sex and it called for it, too. Especially to canines. Every time Harry needed, he was needed in return and he had no way to control his scent. “I have a pack, and they will… oh fuck… they will kill you…”
Neville didn’t seem to care, teeth clamping harder on Harry’s neck—as if the weak fucker could actually claim him even if Harry wasn’t in a pack. “Listen to me, you bloody idiot,” Harry tried again, the heat of the coyote’s breath hot and dizzying, each eager push against his thighs making him want to spread his legs. “You aren’t thinking clearly. You don’t want to do this… There’s a person in there, and it knows this is wrong…”
For a moment, Harry thought he had gotten through to Neville, the teeth on his neck relaxing, the wild humping abating. Then claws were tearing down Harry’s back, scratching his skin and catching on his oversized jeans and pulling them down his thighs. “S-stop!” He moaned, fire rushing over his skin as fur pressed against his bare ass. Harry loved fur against his flesh. He loved the feel of fur and hot precum, both currently rubbing onto his tight behind as the coyote humped him anxiously.
Harry wanted to be fucked so bad. He was in so much need, and Neville only wanted to help. The stupid boy probably couldn’t stop himself, completely ensnared by Harry’s sex scent, especially now that the brunette’s loins were exposed to the air. But Harry had to stop this. Remus had been very clear that Harry was not allowed to fuck anyone outside of the pack without permission. There was no way his alpha would let a weak, shy thing like Neville get into Harry’s hole.
“Stop, Neville… You have to stop… I don’t want you to get hurt…” Harry groaned louder as claws scrabbled down his back, hurting so fucking good. He needed to fight back but his body was going limp, submitting to his unbearable need. Maybe just a little… maybe just enough to calm the ache a bit, and then Harry would stop the beast. Remus would have to understand. Harry just needed so much and everyone was too tired to fill him.
Harry pushed himself up to his knees, smirking at the growl Neville made in response, teeth suddenly tearing into Harry’s shirt and shoulder to keep him there. He moaned, flushing from the delicious sensation, body shuddering for more. Stretching forward, Harry wiggled his hips to get his jeans and underwear out of the way. He gaped, eyes fluttering shut as more precum splattered on him, now slicking his inner thighs.
The coyote whined, more of Harry’s scent filling the air, driving him crazy as he wrapped forearms around Harry’s chest and surrounded the boy with silky fur and heat. Blood dripped slowly down the brunette’s collar, the coyote refusing to release Harry’s shoulder, determined to keep the small boy there so he wouldn’t escape.
“Come on, Neville… Fuck… Give it to me…” Harry pleaded softly, pushing back into the renewed humps that weren’t even fucking close to his aching entrance. “Shit, have you fucked anything?” He growled in exasperation. God, he needed it so bad. Just needed to be filled so the ache would stop and he could fucking think again.
Harry angled his hips down, spreading his thighs wider, trying to guide the damn beast. Each wild thrust brought splashes of hot, dripping seed and Harry needed that inside so bad, needed the wet to fill him deep and soothe the burning inside. “Come on, you pretty thing… God, you’re so close… just a little higher… Come on, you fucking shy bitch—Fuck me!”
Gaping in shock, the coyote’s thick, wet cock head suddenly bruised into Harry’s hole, wedging in. “Oh… my… fuck…” Harry hadn’t stretched. He had been in so much need, he had forgotten to stretch. Even though Neville’s coyote form looked smaller than the larger canines Harry loved to let fuck him, his pulsing dick did not feel much different in size, especially when Harry was not stretched first.
“S-stop… fuck… too much…” Neville ignored him, thrusts renewing in vigor now that he had managed to find Harry’s tight hole. The coyote grunted in his ear, pouring hot saliva and blood down Harry’s chest as he pumped deeper into his clenching flesh, pushing against the tense muscles with hard jolts. Harry cried out with each inch gained, his hole stretching to the thickness, opening reluctantly and letting the beast in.
Harry’s arms gave out when he felt the knot, the coyote’s cock thicker at the base, determined to fuck and fill Harry properly, even if he was unbearably tight already. Mouth wide, cries caught in his throat, Harry ran his tongue over the floor, dust and musk filling his addled senses. The coyote shifted, forelegs grappling the boy tighter, trying to get some leverage to drive the large knot into Harry’s abused hole.
“Oh hell… that’s it… so fucking big… I need it… need it…” Hips shaking from each wild thrust, Harry tried to push back, needing the wet, needing it so deep until he could be soothed finally. His channel was aching, slick with the coyote’s copious precum and too tight, resisting the wider knot. “Come on, Nev… Get it in there… Fuck me… harder… need it harder…”
Harry shouted, the coyote’s teeth tearing at his shoulder, slicing in too deep and nearly taking a chunk of flesh as Neville used his strong jaw as leverage to finally drive the knot into Harry’s tight ring of muscles. Sobbing from the pain and the sudden feeling of unbearable fullness, red heat and blackness encased Harry’s vision and he wondered blearily if he was going to faint. “Hurts…” he choked out, his shoulder on fire from the vicious bite.
The coyote continued to pound into him, three more hip jarring pumps until the knot was suddenly buried, snug and deep in Harry’s ass. Harry’s hole quickly clenched tight around the thick flesh, holding it in and keeping it deep inside. He moaned in agony and relief. Fucking Neville—fucking inexperienced brutal fuck, taking what he didn’t even fucking know how to take while tearing him to pieces.
Harry couldn’t stay upset, his body so in need, clenching and milking the hard flesh grinding inside him with every pump of the creature’s hips. It was so big… so fucking big and thick and—Oh! Oh the wet, spurting deep inside, jetting against the burning walls of Harry’s passage, filling him again and again with a flood of cum.
Moan after moan fell from Harry’s lips, each surge of seed driving him closer to his orgasm that had been nearly lost with his pain. So full… so wet and full and slick… God, he needed it. Would always need it, just like this, on his knees, full of cock and cum. It didn’t matter what that cock was attached to, just as long as it was fucking him hard and deep. Harry arched back and came with a cry, grinding on the thick, thick flesh inside him. He knew he was a terrible slut for liking it—Even when his room mate was raping him raw. But Harry liked it so much, needed it so bad.
He slumped forward, exhausted, the pain tiring him more than anything else as his shoulder throbbed agony. Neville was still pumping into him, gush after gush of cum soaking him deep. He had stopped biting Harry finally, now licking his slippery pink tongue almost apologetically at the blood streaming from the deep wound.
Harry was starting to find his sanity again, the pain in his shoulder helping all the more. He was so fucked. Remus was going to kill him—Probably quite literally, actually kill Neville. There was no way the fucking idiot boy even knew what he had gotten himself into. Few people knew Remus was a werewolf, and even fewer knew Harry was part of the man’s pack.
Harry groaned when Neville started to whine, the coyote scratching claws over his back as he attempted to pull free of Harry’s clenched hole. “Stop… Stay inside and fucking relax,” Harry muttered, his voice hoarse and weak sounding. “Don’t you know anything? You’re tied to me. We’re stuck until you can calm down.” Neville continued to whine and Harry rolled his eyes. No, clearly the fucking boy didn’t know anything at all.
He stared at Goyle’s foot, the bullies still thankfully unconscious. Maybe Harry should stun Neville and leave the three in the room. Neville getting caught as an animagus would be safer than Remus finding out what the coyote had done to Harry. Neville gave another pathetic whine, lapping up the side of Harry’s sweat-soaked face with elegant licks.
Fuck. Remus was right; Harry was just too fucking soft. He’d have to figure something out to keep Neville protected. Shaking his head at his own pathetic niceness, Harry waited patiently. His body was still quite happy to be filled, the coyote’s cock warm and satisfying as it slowed its rocking and continued to stretch Harry wide.
Harry considered asking Neville to transform back so he could just pull out without the knot of the coyote’s dick to get in the way. But Harry feared that the bumbling boy would manage to mangle that up, and Harry’s insides, in the process. That Neville had managed to transform at all was a bit of a wonder. Harry would wait, if it meant not getting injured anymore than he already had.
SCENE #Unbalanced
Harry had to keep Neville from running away. It was half an hour later and the blond boy had managed to finally untie, transform, and freak out. The many mumbled, tear streaked apologies did nothing to soothe Harry’s bleeding shoulder, and he was fighting the annoying desire to hit the whimpering thing.
“Shut up and fucking listen, Neville. You will not tell anyone about this. Do you understand?” Harry asked lowly, Neville huddled as he sat on a desk, rubbing his sleeve over the stray tears falling over his flushed cheeks. The boy looked like some ridiculous, fragile china-doll, all rosebud lips and watery blue eyes. Extra annoying when Harry though of what Neville had just done to his shoulder. Harry was going to have to go to Pomfrey to be healed, which meant Remus would know Harry had been hurt. It meant another lie to his alpha that Harry did not want to have to tell. Stupid fucking Neville.
“I-I won’t t-tell,” Neville whispered. “I would n-never tell anyone that I… as a-a dog…”
“Coyote,” Harry snapped. The boy didn’t even know what his form was! “Neville, you can never transform again while in the castle. It’s too dangerous. There are people here, that all they have to do is catch a whiff of your scent in that form, and they will know exactly what you are. They will know that you’re in my dorm, and they will get fucking pissed off with the both of us.”
Neville nodded, his eyes wide. He hesitantly lowered himself from the desk, biting at the sleeve of his school robe anxiously. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I can’t… I’m not good at transforming. That w-was the first time it worked, and I’ve been trying to learn since the beginning of the year. I didn’t know it would… would hurt you like that…”
Harry rolled his eyes as more tears trickled down the slender boy’s face. “I don’t care why. Just make sure you don’t transform again.”
“Okay… I’m so sorry, Harry. So, so, so sorry!” Neville said again, grabbing Harry’s arm and looking up at him pleadingly. “I didn’t know the creature would do that! I-I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone like that…”
Harry tried to step away, but Neville wouldn’t let go, only clutching tighter. “Please don’t hate me. I… I like you, and I don’t want you to hate me—I didn’t know it would do that, I swear. And if I had, I never would have transformed. I’ll never transform again, just so I don’t ever hurt anyone like that again. I promise!”
“Neville—Shit, just let go!” Harry growled, tearing his arm away and stepping back before Neville’s scent could overwhelm him. Part of why Harry was finding himself so annoyed with the trembling boy was because for all his tears and professed shock at his own coyote’s behavior, Neville was reeking of arousal.
“I’m fucking pissed with you, but I don’t hate you, okay?” Harry said, trying to be kinder. “And you shouldn’t think your coyote is some sex starved animal. It’s not going to be like that most of the time.”
“But it had…” Neville bit his lip, unable to say what he had done.
Harry nodded, scratching the back of his head and wincing from the pain his shoulder made in protest. Harry hadn’t told anyone but his packmates what he was, mostly because they were the reason he had figured it out. Neville was way too weak to be in a werewolf pack, or probably any pack for that matter. He would likely never come across a creature like Harry again. Harry didn’t want to ruin the boy’s entire animagus future, just because he thought his coyote would always act that way around people.
“You need to promise not to tell anyone what I’m going to tell you, Neville.” Harry said, waiting for Neville to nod solemnly in reply. “It’s not your coyote’s fault that it did that to me. A lot of animals—mostly dog types, and sometimes magical types—want to do that to me. Some can control themselves better than others.”
Neville went back to biting on his sleeve, eyes moving over Harry slowly. He shook his head, finally speaking. “That c-can’t be right, Harry. You’re not—you’re just—that’s not right.”
Harry shrugged, not about to argue with someone so damn ignorant. “You want to do it to me right now. I can smell it on you.”
Neville blushed, turning away, head hidden in his sleeve as he gnawed on the material. “S-sorry… so, so sorry…”
“It’s okay, Neville. I have a scent that makes you feel that way. You can’t help it. And, well, I like it. A lot. But there are only certain… people I can do that with,” Harry added, flinching on the word ‘people.’ He was still shy about wanting dogs as much as he did, such a strange concept in the ordinary world around him. It was difficult even now to speak about it. “Just because I smell that way doesn’t mean you can just—”
Neville lifted his head, peeking back to blink red rimmed eyes at Harry. “You… you like it? That? Even with… with the dog?”
“Coyote,” Harry corrected automatically, trying not to turn red. “I’m an animagus, too. A dog. And my dog really likes… that.”
Neville turned, brows furrowed. “But you weren’t a dog. You were… you were a human, Harry. And you… you were hard.” Neville licked his lips, eyes straying over Harry again. “I heard what you said… asking for it… I could smell how much you… you liked it. When you c-came… It smelled so good. Really good. You smell so good…”
Harry swallowed and took a step back, failing to stop his blush. As a dog, Harry didn’t like to be fucked. Remus couldn’t quite figure out why Harry would want to be filled only as a human, but then, he couldn’t figure out why Harry wanted to be filled as much as he did to begin with. Harry was different, even for a pack bitch. Spectacular, as Sirius would put it, but Harry thought probably closer to fucked up and really slutty.
“Neville, I have a pack,” Harry said sternly, trying to derail the boy’s train of thought. “I’m not going to tell you who they are, because I don’t want you to act suspicious around them. But if they find out what you did, they’ll hurt you. A lot more than you hurt me.”
“Did it hurt? You were… you were moaning so loud, and begging… I think you liked that too…” Neville whispered, staring at Harry as if he were his next meal. The boy had to be a fucking idiot.
“Neville, my pack will kill you! One of them is a bloody werewolf!”
Neville gasped, eyes widening in fear. He stepped back as if a werewolf was in the room that very instant. Realizing Neville might actually think that Harry was cursed and seeing that it was finally keeping the boy from wanting to fuck him, Harry did not deny it. “I’m going to take care of these two, Neville. And you are going to forget that any of this happened.”
Harry used his wand to bound Crabbe and Goyle in ropes, floating them up behind him. “Go ahead and tell me if anyone is coming. If you try to run, I am going to beat the shit out of you. Are we clear?”
Neville nodded quickly, jumping to get ahead of Harry and look out the door. Harry just shook his head in annoyance. Of all the people to learn his secret, Neville Longbottom was possibly the worst. Not because he would tell—No, Neville didn’t have any friends to tell things to. But because the bloody fool probably thought Harry was now his friend, when Harry just wanted to get away and heal the gaping wound in his shoulder already.
“H-Harry?” Neville asked before opening the door again, eyes full of anxiety. “I’m not… I licked your blood. The next full moon, am I going to…?”
Fucking hell. “I’m not a werewolf, Neville. Now hurry the fuck up.” Huffing in annoyance, Harry floated the two Slytherin bullies behind him, keeping to the shadows while Neville ran ahead at each bend of corridor until they were outside. Harry left Crabbe and Goyle in the muddy snow, positioned as embarrassingly as possible, just in case someone came by and found them.
The two Gryffindors went back inside, Harry dreading the trip to the hospital ward that was coming next. Madame Pomfrey always asked questions, and so did Remus. While standing and brooding on the lie he had to make up, Neville reached out hesitantly, pressing at the torn flesh of Harry’s shoulder. Harry stiffened, glaring at the annoying boy.
“I c-can heal it,” Neville whispered as he stared intently, sliding closer, thumb running into the scarlet streams and turning red.
“You’ll only make it worse,” Harry grumbled, knowing damn well Neville was a mess with magic.
Neville’s gaze flickered to Harry’s angry expression, the blond pulling his hand away and licking his bloodied thumb. “No, I won’t. I think… I think I smelled you before you opened the door earlier…”
Harry raised his brows, not sure what Neville was getting at. The red thumb began to trace over the boy’s rosebud lips. Harry tried very hard not to imagine Crabbe doing something very similar when fucking Neville’s mouth.
“Just… I felt calmer… stronger when I caught that scent… Like maybe I could do anything as long as I tried.” Neville smirked suddenly, biting his thumb and staring at Harry’s shoulder. “I bet I could heal you. Easy.”
Harry didn’t say anything, for the first time wondering just how fucked in the head Neville was. The boy had no friends, didn’t seem to want any, and had gotten hard when Crabbe had forced him to suck his dick. Even when Padfoot was at his most brutal, he had never hurt Harry the way Neville had. Maybe the blond Gryffindor had more crazy going on than Harry had bothered to consider before.
Neville took Harry’s silence as permission to try, pulling his wand out and focusing intently on Harry’s shoulder as he whispered an elaborate healing spell. Harry watched, disbelieving while his flesh began to knit together under Neville’s glowing power. The pain was gone completely, and when Harry streaked the blood aside, there was no ripple or pucker of flesh to show there had been a wound to begin with.
“Wow, Neville… Sorry I doubted—Oof! For fuck sake!” Harry hissed when the boy suddenly slammed into him, pushing Harry up against the wall and attacking his healed shoulder with his tongue. “Get the fuck off me!” Harry snarled, slamming his hands down on Neville’s shoulders. Neville made a growling sound, both hands suddenly pulling at the front of Harry’s shirt and putting all his weight on the brunette’s neck until he was fighting not to fall.
“I just want to taste it,” Neville murmured, licking up Harry’s shoulder. “It’s not like you need it anymore.” He pressed closer, Harry feeling the boy’s dick, hard and eager through his jeans.
“Fucking ass—stop choking me!” Harry shoved Neville off him, trying to stuff down the ache that was rising in him again. What the fuck was wrong with this kid? He glared when Neville got to his feet, the petite boy licking the sides of his mouth to capture more of Harry’s blood.
“For someone who smells the way you do, you sure fight a lot,” Neville said, head tilted as he ran his eyes hungrily over Harry.
“Just because I smell this way doesn’t mean I want you to fucking touch me, you shithead,” Harry growled back.
“Oh, I’m pretty sure you do,” Neville said softly, licking at his thumb once again. “I think you like it when I touch you. No matter what you say about it.”
Narrowing his eyes, Harry took a stalking step forward. Neville did not flinch away, meeting his gaze steadily. “Unlike you, Longbottom, I don’t get fucking hard for it when some oaf is raping my mouth. That’s your weird kink, not mine.”
Neville grinned, a new vicious look suddenly transforming the quiet boy’s face. “Actually, Harry, I think it’s just one of those many odd things we have in common.”
Harry started at the answer, a trickle of unease moving down his spine. Harry got hard over everything, even the things he didn’t like, and he didn’t need this fucked up boy to know it.
“Finding out you have a dog form too… It’s just cool, isn’t it?” Neville continued, lashes lowering, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. “My parents are as good as dead, while yours are completely. We both hate Snape, and we both really like boys… I bet I could like your dog as much as you liked mine, Harry,” he whispered enticingly. “I like a lot of things, if someone forces me to, hard enough…”
Neville might just have a crush on him, and was definitely fucked up. “I don’t know what the hell other people have been doing to you, Neville, but count me out. I like strong guys, and you…” Harry didn’t bother to finish the thought. It was obvious Neville wasn’t strong.
Neville fell silent, eyes flickering in thought as he bit his thumb. He nodded his head, as if answering a voice only he could hear and took a step back. Eyes lingering on Harry a final time, Neville gave another disturbing smile. “Okay.”
He was gone before Harry could remind the boy to keep his mouth shut, whistling a strange tune as he walked down the hall. If Harry had anything in common with Neville Longbottom, he really hoped to stop. “Fucking weirdo.”
SCENE #Hedonistic perverted werewolves
Draco awoke late in the afternoon, his body sore and raw beyond belief. The bite on his neck throbbed painfully but dully, only a reminder instead of the excruciating anguish of last night. He stretched naked on the hard floor, groaning as his ass clenched, something warm and wet dribbling down between his cheeks and thighs. Hell… for fuck sake—Fucking hedonistic werewolves. He should have known better than to trust his mutt to keep every cock in the pack out of his hole. Draco could only be relieved that it was a very small pack.
Draco tried to get up, his body protesting with persistent aches from lying on the floor all night and most of the day. Suddenly he was pulled backwards, limbs heavy and complaining as he was wrapped into the muscular embrace of his new werewolf alpha.
“How do you feel, pup?” Remus asked, his expression difficult to read upside down.
Draco stared up at him, trying to figure out the answer to such a complicated question. He wasn’t afraid even though Remus’s scent was surrounding him. That was very different. He also wasn’t as angry as he thought he would be, having to be chained to a werewolf… Actually, Draco didn’t feel chained much at all.
What was that supposed to feel like? He had thought it would be something like the Imperius Curse. Maybe something he had to fight every moment, aware that someone else was in his head, trying to make him do things against his will. Draco wasn’t feeling anything like that.
Blinking up at the golden gaze that seemed to read every thought he had, Draco finally answered Remus’s question. “Sore.”
Remus nodded, running his cheek against Draco’s silky locks. “That is to be expected. The beast in me can be very… passionate.”
“Painful. Brutal, fucking raw painful,” Draco muttered, his eyelashes drooping, breath quickening.
“Are you still afraid of me?” Remus asked, hands moving down Draco’s bare stomach, palms stroking firmly. “Are you going to snap every time I so much as look at you?”
“No… I… uh… Lupin, could you please stop?’ Draco asked breathlessly, head falling back onto the man’s shoulder.
Remus smirked, running his hands lower, gripping the boy’s pale thighs and squeezing. Draco’s cock began to stir, flushing red and hardening in its nest of soft blond hair. “I’m afraid that would be a no, pretty wolf. Harry is off to class and my lovely mate is very tired from what I did to him this morning.”
Draco moaned, weakly trying to pull away from the man. “Harry said… only once…”
“You had to know I wasn’t going to agree to that,” Remus said almost reasonably, pulling Draco closer against his body, his bare skin hot and damp against the boy’s smaller form. “I fuck all my dogs. Including my new, pretty wolf.”
Oh hell. Finding it suddenly difficult to breathe, Draco tried to think of any way to convince the werewolf that he would not want to do that. Then Remus pressed his hard cock against his ass and all reason left him with a cry.
“You want me to fuck you, pup,” Remus softly pointed out while hooking one of Draco’s knees up, spreading the boy’s thighs wide. Draco’s dick rose up, hard and eager. “I can smell it. I can certainly see it. And you are not afraid of me.”
None of that made any sense to Draco, who only a day ago could not consider really wanting to be fucked, never mind being in the same room as Lupin without becoming anxious. “You can’t… stand me…” Draco reminded dimly.
Remus growled lowly, lapping over the claiming bite he had left on Draco’s throat. “You are mine. After some time you will be less sweet… less young and boringly pure. Actually…” He rubbed the head of his cock between Draco’s cheeks, hissing softly. “I’m pretty sure I can fuck the arrogant prat right out of you, if I work at it enough.”
“Oh god,” Draco gasped, eyes wide as he was pushed face first to the floor, Remus’s heavier form pinning him in suffocating heat. He turned his head to the side, swallowing hard. Remus’s eyes were dark, intense as they glared at him, fangs just peeking between his smirk.
“You look confused, pup. Did you think I wouldn’t want you?” Remus ran one of his hands over Draco’s ass, squeezing hard. “Did you think just because I let you fuck my wild little mutt that you were somehow off limits?”
Draco whimpered, his body feeling unbelievably hot, his cock too hard, and hole, hell, his hole was aching. “Lupin, I—”
“Alpha, little pup. I am your alpha and I want you to refer to me as such when we’re alone with the pack.”
Draco closed his eyes, Remus’s voice washing over him like a red wave of desire. So this was what it was like to be owned by a werewolf. Or, at least by a very scruffy, human loving werewolf that refused to turn anyone. “Alpha,” Draco said hoarsely, his mouth dry. “Alpha, I feel strange…”
Remus gave a rumble of approval at Draco’s compliance. “How do you feel, wolf? Hard?”
Perverted werewolf. Draco was owned by a fucking perverted, scruffy werewolf.
“I… I ache… I feel empty…” Draco admitted, biting his lip when Remus’s other hand suddenly moved between the floor and his chest, twisting one of his nipples.
“That is a very good feeling to have around me,” Remus said with another growl, licking Draco’s cheekbone, moving to his ear and then trailing down his jaw. “If you’re lucky, when you feel like that I will take care of you.”
“Take… care…?” Everything was spinning, dark heady musk filling Draco’s senses and addling his mind. His skin felt aflame, Remus’s firm flesh and soft body hair jolting everywhere they touched.
Remus was licking over Draco’s throat and neck, taking a long moment to answer. His wide tongue left slick trails of saliva, only making Draco feel more overwhelmed with each sensation. “I’m going to fill you… When you feel empty… you should be filled… Would you like that, little pup?”
Vaguely remembering that Harry was the one always begging Draco to fill him, he wasn’t quite sure if he should like that. His body, on the other hand, ached greatly at the suggestion and he found himself moaning wantonly. Fingers were suddenly pushing into his entrance, two thick, slicked digits thrusting in slowly, pulling his hole side to side while Draco cried out.
“Harry says I should be gentle with you… Is that what you want, wolf?” Remus plunged his fingers in deeper, Draco’s channel clenching greedily around him. “Should I be gentle with such a proud bitch like you?”
“Oh god… alpha…” Draco had no answer, his body so tight and begging for more. He just needed something so the wildness would stop inside him. His body was burning, his hole aching and he needed more.
Remus inhaled noisily at Draco’s desperate cries, breathing the boy’s scent in. “I’m going to cover you in my scent. Everyone will know you’re mine. Everyone will know you’re being fucked by something dirty and dark. You can look as pretty and arrogant as you like, Draco, just as long as you’re filthy on the inside from my cock.”
Shuddering, Draco gaped from the words, his entire body stretching, trying to open up and get Remus’s fingers in deeper. “Please… please…”
“Say it. Tell me what you want and you can have it,” Remus taunted softly into Draco’s ear, his tongue tracing over delicately. He suddenly bit down, Draco jerking forward in surprise. “Be descriptive.”
Draco groaned, gritting his teeth as fire again raced through his veins. God, the man was such a perv. The fingers were pulled free of his channel, Draco whimpering at their loss.
“Tell me, pup. Or you will be very empty for a very long time.”
“You know what I want,” Draco muttered, refusing to meet the man’s gaze even while his hips pushed back, seeking pressure. Remus would not allow it, holding him still.
“I know what you want. I know what you’re drooling for, wishing I would do it to you even while you refuse to admit it.” Remus nipped at Draco’s shoulder, tongue soothing over quickly after. “But I want to hear you say it. You want to be filled. You want me to fuck you raw.”
Draco’s eyes fell shut, another needy moan escaping him. “Please…”
“After you tell me what you want. It’s that simple.”
Blushing scarlet, Draco fought with his pride. It was bad enough he wanted it—fucking needed it. But having to tell this fucking werewolf, the perverted fuck, just made it so much worse.
Remus ran his fingertips lightly across Draco’s entrance, circling slowly, dipping in only to withdraw whenever the boy pushed back. “I can wait. I can leave you empty and aching—you can get a taste of what Harry goes through ever single day, the desperate slut. I can leave you so hard, you might just find yourself bending to some absolute stranger… maybe another professor… maybe an upperclassman… maybe to Padfoot…” His fingers suddenly plunged into Draco, the boy crying out in agony, sweat dripping over his skin. “Mutt wants to fuck you, little pup. He might just take advantage of your very needy situation…”
Draco didn’t know why everything Remus was saying sounded so fucking tasty at the moment. It was fucked up and wrong, and Draco didn’t like fucked up sex. He also didn’t like Remus Lupin and yet one fucking bite had made it so Draco got hard over the man’s scent. Hard and aching to be filled.
“Please fuck me,” Draco whispered, wetting his lips slowly. “F-fill me… I need you to… oh god… please fill me…”
“Who do you need to fill you, pup?” Remus asked silkily, fingers pushing deeper into Draco’s tightness.
Draco groaned. “Alpha… My alpha… Please fuck me, alpha.”
“Very, very good, white wolf. How shall I fuck you?”
Draco whimpered in frustration. “I don’t care—Just fuck me.”
Remus chuckled, adding another finger and stretching the boy wide. Draco gaped at the sensation, moaning shortly after as he tried to rub his aching erection against the floor.
“The mutt wants you begging for cock, wolf. And I… well, normally I’m content as long as it’s just mine.” Remus ground his erection against the bottom of Draco’s ass. “But I seem to be getting stronger with each new packmate. Definitely getting hungrier. And when I’m hungry, everyone is hungry. It was a fine thing to see you spreading to my mate, crying out as Siri fucked your tight hole. I’d be happy to fuck the prissiness out of you just to see that again.”
Draco whined keenly, trying not to think back to last night, Sirius driving into him—Draco pushing onto the man so desperately, like some bitch slut needing cock. That was Harry, not him. The fucking werewolf wanted Draco to be just as fucked up as Black and Harry.
“You like that, don’t you?” Remus whispered, removing his fingers again and grabbing Draco’s hips. He pressed the head of his cock between Draco’s tense cheeks, rubbing teasingly against his puckered entrance. “You like having men like me and Siri want to fuck you.”
“Oh god… god, please do it…” Draco pleaded, pressing back against the thick flesh that refused to move forward.
“Answer me.”
Fucking perverted fuck! “I… I like it…” Draco muttered, blushing hotly. “Liked it when Black… when he fucked me…”
There was the sound of stretching, Sirius rolling over to grin lazily at Draco, the boy pinned beneath Remus with the werewolf’s large cock nuzzled between his cheeks. “You sure did, white wolf. And I must say, it was hardly a hardship to do the fucking, you tight little slut.”
Draco blushed brighter, biting his lip at the man’s hungry gaze. Remus licked up his ear again, breathing hot air and rocking his hips forward. “Shall we ruin you, wolf? The two of us, fucking you over and over again until you’re nothing but delicious sore pain and gushing seed? Would you like that?”
Shuddering uncontrollably, Draco swallowed hard. His body was so hot, so needy and aching, and these men knew it. They could smell his ache just as much as he smelled theirs. His pack… He had joined a pack of perverted, sex crazed canines and by joining, Draco was expected to be one as well. “Please,” he rasped weakly, knowing he was utterly lost.
Growling in reply, Remus sheathed himself in Draco’s trembling flesh in one slow, aching thrust. Draco cried out, eyes squeezed shut, hands tight in fists. Remus panted loudly in his ear, his grip on Draco’s hips painfully tense as he kept himself from taking the boy too hard. He would be gentle for now because it helped get him what he wanted—Draco Malfoy overcome and begging to be fucked.
“Oh god… oh god, you’re so… so fucking big… god…” Draco had forgotten just how big Remus felt inside, the werewolf larger than Sirius, and so, so thick. His passage clenched again and again, trying to push the hard cock out to no avail. Remus was huge, lodged in deep and fucking heavy. The man’s weight and bulging biceps only helped to wedge his cock in further, grinding as far as he could reach as he completely dominated Draco’s smaller, slender form. It made Draco ache, his body wanting to thrash, his prick pulsing even harder by having his body be so mercilessly full.
“That’s it, little slut. Open up to your alpha’s dick.” Sirius leaned in to Draco’s face that was resting heavily on the ground, licking the boy’s gasping lips. “You won’t know yourself once we’re done. You won’t want to know yourself, just be hard and aching all the time.” He lapped at Draco’s face, dog like and wet, stealing the boy’s sobs when Remus began to fuck him with slow, forceful thrusts.
It was too much, the werewolf too large and heavy, suffocating Draco in dust and saliva while Sirius continued to devour his mouth and cries. His hole was stretched so wide, Remus’s thick length rubbing burning heat along the walls of his passage with each relentless plunge. The rhythm was too slow, forcing Draco to notice every movement, his body clenching tight, only to be pushed open wide, over and over again. He was pure anticipation for each deep thrust of cock only to whine in despair when it was taken away again.
“Remi, you should see your new slut,” Sirius muttered hoarsely, tongue wiggling up Draco’s cheek as he stole a stray tear mixed with the sweat soaking his pale skin. “Such beautiful agony… He gives in a little more with each touch of your magnificent cock.”
Remus smirked down at Sirius, raising a brow while a trickle of sweat dripped off his nose and onto Draco’s pale skin flushed pink. “You’re being poetic, love.”
Sirius gave a huff, licking his lips as he sat back to watch the two of them. Remus was moving so slowly, his muscles rippling with each controlled, restrained movement. His golden skin was glowing in the dim afternoon light filtering through the boarded windows of the shack. The white wolf was groaning between aching cries of want and agony, creamy smooth flesh surrendering to each piercing assault of the werewolf’s large cock. Remus was drawing it out, pulling wave after wave of torturous need from the beautiful boy’s body.
Draco felt lost, his flesh trembling sweat and desire while he gasped for air. Remus kept pushing deep inside him, his passage clenching and gripping, trying to hold the thick length in each time. There could be nothing better than this terrible, wild agony. The ache, filled and emptied, veins throbbing fire, skin electrified and dripping wet.
Remus growled lowly in his ear, Draco moaning in agreement as his hole clenched down again on the cock filling him so completely. Remus’s thrusts changed, burying deep and then grinding shallow, faster jolts into his tight flesh. “That’s it, little bitch… Get tighter for me… Yes… clutch it hard… so hard…”
Draco moaned loudly, his chin sliding on the floor from the sweat that had collected there. Remus’s pumps were harder, slapping flesh and slick suction sounding in his ears as Draco was ground forcefully into the floor, thighs spreading further. It felt so good… so fucking big and thick and achingly hard… He needed it… needed it so bad… Just like the fucking perverted werewolf had said.
“You’re a little slut, aren’t you Draco? My little… pretty… slut…” Remus murmured in his ear, voice low and hoarse, breaking slightly with every plunge into Draco’s sore hole. “You like… being fucked… by your alpha…”
Remus was grunting, harsh breaths exploding out as he rocked his body harder on top of the smaller boy’s. Draco could feel the man swelling inside him, larger, throbbing within him, so big it could barely move. Tears streaked from Draco’s eyes, mingling with his sweat, his body so tight, his thighs and ass so tense as Remus fucked him, holding them on the edge, rocking them closer and closer in agonizing slow motion.
Remus gave a sudden groan, slamming Draco forward on the floor, spurting deep into the boy’s clenching flesh. He pinned Draco’s hips down, the boy sobbing loudly, his trapped erection spasming, jetting his seed onto his stomach and the dust covered ground.
“Oh god… oh god… oh…” Draco couldn’t stop mumbling, couldn’t stop clenching again and again, needing to keep Remus deep inside, stretching him wide. “My god…”
Remus collapsed onto Draco, tongue moving languidly over the back of the boy’s neck as he calmed his heaving body. He peeked his eye open when he heard Sirius shift, his mate looking particularly aroused as he fixed wild blue eyes on him. Remus watched, head tilting when Sirius crawled to him, the brunette’s hand shaking as he tangled fingers into Remus’s shaggy locks. Sirius kissed him slowly, desperately, mouth wide and wet and full of need.
“You are so goddamn beautiful,” Sirius said roughly, pulling at Remus’s hair, elbows knocking painfully on the ground as he pushed forward into the kiss and whispered heatedly into the man’s mouth. “Mounting that pretty bitch… Filling him so completely… He was crying, you were that perfect… I am so fucking lucky…”
Remus growled, trying to remember when Sirius had gotten so queerly romantic. It had to be the pretty wolf altering the dynamic of the pack. Harry always got so syrupy around Draco. Hopefully Draco would be corrupted as the days went on… Not that Remus was complaining about the raw need in Sirius’s voice as his mate kissed him. Sirius was a ravenous kisser, especially when horny, and Remus never complained.
SCENE #Merciless and begging
“Black—you ass! S-stop!” Draco moaned, his ass cheeks flushed red and stinging as the man smacked his sore flesh again with his large hand.
“I know, you aching slut… It feels so good,” Sirius taunted, tongue licking over Draco’s heated flesh in long, hard swipes.
“Fucking hurts, you shithead,” Draco hissed, unable to ignore just how hard his cock was as he complained. Sirius had thrown him over the arm of the couch, stomach crunched uncomfortably against the rough fabric, ass up in the air while mumbling something about strawberries and cream. “Oh fuck… stop biting, you sick perv…”
Sirius groaned, teeth sinking harder into Draco’s smooth, creamy thigh, the boy jolting in his trapped location. Mouth opened wide, he ran his tongue and teeth over the boy’s pink stained ass. He gave another painful nip to the delicious flesh before him, Draco yelping in reply. He was going to teach the nasty mouthed prat a lesson, whether the white wolf wanted it or not.
As if reading his mind, which Sirius would not be surprised if his honey eyed alpha were to ever admit to such a feat, Remus summoned up some candles, lighting one and leaving them on the side table. He nudged a thick one into Sirius’s hand. It was pink and Sirius couldn’t help but grin. Remus went to sit on the other side of Draco, sprawling out nude on the couch, the boy’s flushed face panting between his knees. “Alright, Siri,” Remus said softly, petting Draco’s silky shoulder-length hair. “Make the sweet pup scream.”
Draco groaned at the words, Remus’s musky scent overbearingly strong. The werewolf was already half hard, Draco having the perfect view to watch as each gasp and yelp he made brought Remus closer to full arousal. Draco suddenly gaped, burning hot hell trickling over the top of his ass. “Oh fuck—What the fuck!” He yelled, his body tense with pain and tingling with desire.
Sirius growled, watching the wax harden and bubble on the boy’s skin. He’d wait to pull it off. Clearly the little wolf had never played with pain, and Sirius wanted to paint his tight little ass first before fucking it again. Oh, and again. Poor Harry, stuck in class. The slutty pup was so fond of the candles, especially when… Humming in anticipation, Sirius spilled the rest of the melted wax that had gathered, spreading it over Draco’s lower back, the boy jerking and hissing. He then wedged the base of the thick candle into the boy’s well abused hole, Draco crying out in surprise.
It was cool against Draco’s aching flesh, the edges sharp and pinching as Black forcefully pressed something thick between his cheeks and twisted. “Oh god… oh…” Mouth hanging open, Draco breathed out harshly, the candle being pushed in, rocking back and forth, wedging and stretching him too wide. Remus soothed fingers over his face, but Draco barely noticed, his awareness completely on his hole.
The thick intruder was suddenly withdrawn, Draco’s cheeks aching to have been stretched so far apart. Then jolting pain, splashing over his right ass cheek, dripping down and burning, tingling his already sore flesh. Black’s hand was suddenly ghosting over the spot where the burning was fading, Draco hissing as it cupped and curved to his flesh. “You fucking—Ass!” He yelped, anticipating the slap right before Sirius smacked him hard.
Draco buried his head in the couch cushion with a moan, flinching slightly from the feel of the fabric on his face. He was so hot, his skin so sensitive and fucking Black kept— “Fuck!” Biting him. He felt like he was going to go crazy if the man didn’t let up. Which meant he was probably going to go crazy, because Black was a merciless beast, just like his fucking werewolf alpha, and as long as Remus was watching, Sirius would draw out the show.
“Put it in him, Siri,” Remus ordered, fingers wrapping around Draco’s chin and pulling his face up so he could see the boy’s tormented expression. There was another hot splash of searing fluid dribbling down Draco’s other cheek and he cried out again. Only to moan, tears stinging his eyes, when the foreign object was suddenly pinching into his hole again, stretching him wide while Black tried to fuck his ass with something impossibly too large to actually fit.
“That’s it, pretty wolf. Howl filthy for me.” Sirius wiggled his tongue below the candle pushing against Draco’s entrance, slicking the sore flesh between the boy’s cheeks, teasing at the deliciously stretched hole. Draco gave a shattered moan, hips jerking fitfully. Sirius twisted the candle, Draco crying out again, louder and desperate.
“Bite him. Bruise that impossibly pale skin,” Remus said with a growl, glaring down at Draco’s gasping face. The boy was coming undone quickly, no longer swearing. Sirius would push Draco’s body to its limits, show the boy just how fucking much he liked it, and then do it again.
“Oh shit—oh—damn it, you bastard!” Draco yelped, Sirius suddenly biting at his ass cheeks with a fury, nipping again and again, jolts of burning pain barely having a moment to soothe before another one followed.
Candle safely on the table, Sirius nipped harsh bites over Draco’s pert ass, leaving violet welts to bloom. He moved down, the boy’s legs trembling as he bit the smooth thighs, tongue lapping out to soothe. Groaning, Sirius buried his face between Draco’s cheeks, nuzzling, licking over the boy’s balls. He delved his tongue deep in his crack, tasting Remus and his own cum from the last hours of fucking they had already done to the boy’s ruined hole. Sirius wanted to bury himself into Draco again and make it so the little bitch would never be as tight as when he had first had him.
He grabbed Draco roughly by the hips, holding the squirming boy still as he plunged his tongue into his sweet, slick heat. Draco started to whimper, low keening moans falling again from his swollen lips while Sirius tasted and devoured his hole. He wanted to stretch the wolf so wide, he would always be gaping, always ready to be fucked whenever Sirius wanted the beautiful boy.
And Sirius wanted him. Remus’s magical scent was strong in the air, driving Sirius’s powerful body again and again to each heated orgasm. He wondered blearily if this was what it was like for the slutty pup, always needing it, always seeking it. Harry could have a dozen orgasms in a session—Sirius was glad to not have reached such madness just yet. Surely he’d be dry of seed by the end.
“Remi, I want to fuck the bitch,” Sirius said with a groan, tearing himself from Draco’s dripping entrance with a final lick.
“Bite him. See if he complains.”
Sirius did eagerly, loving the feel of the unnaturally pale flesh as it firmed and resisted against his teeth. Draco howled in agony, each new bruise another jerk of hips and twitch of cock. “That’s it… give in to it, pup… Give me all your pain… and pleasure…”
“Once more with the candle,” Remus said after a moment, thumb pressing to Draco’s dripping bottom lip. “Then you can fill him.”
Draco whimpered in relief, knowing the current agony was at least going to end. Remus rubbed over his slick red flesh, pushing his thumb into Draco’s mouth. Draco met the werewolf’s eyes, golden gaze searing down into him. Remus grinned wickedly, warning enough for what was going to come next.
The burning trickle started at the top of Draco’s crack, the boy hissing loudly. But the waterfall of wax did not cease, Sirius spreading his tight cheeks wide, sizzling wax cascading down in rivulets of agony. Further down, spilling at the pucker of his hole, Draco shouting while Remus held his chin and kept him from looking away. Whimpering, moaning, lost, Draco only had a moment to realize Sirius was not done yet, the soft flesh of his sack drizzled in burning liquid that quickly solidified, catching on the fuzz of hair and pulling.
“Oh god… oh god… I can’t—no more…” Draco begged, tears spilling from his eyes, his breath lost and elusive as he gasped madly. Sirius didn’t care, Draco’s now burning hole again stuffed full with the candle, the base jarring into his tender flesh, pinching unbearably, and being rocked back and forth to gain further admittance.
“Little more, Siri… just give it a little more…” Remus grunted, cupping Draco’s face while the boy wailed. The candle was pushed in harder, rocking more persistent, Draco’s hole stretching impossibly wide, flesh burning with each push.
“Listen to the little slut… Just loves it, doesn’t he? Sweet little bitch, begging for a hard fuck.” Sirius ground the candle in harder, Draco’s entrance opening even more. He smiled as wax dripped on his fingers, droplets landing on Draco’s exposed opening, the boy yelping at each touch.
Draco’s cries were muffled, Remus burying his large cock into the boy’s gaping mouth. He held Draco’s hair in his fist, pushing his head back and forth while thrusting deep against the back of the boy’s throat. Draco struggled to breathe, to think and do anything more than feel at that moment. He was drowning. In cock, in cum, in pain and in pleasure… So much feeling running over his skin, tearing at the edges of his consciousness as he opened up to Remus’s hard pumps.
Suddenly the pain in his hole was gone, his cheeks again released to feel unbearably sore. Only to be replaced with damp, hard flesh, Sirius plunging his dick deep into Draco and thrusting furiously. He would have shouted if he could have, the man’s movements brutal, snapping hips jarring him forward, Remus’s cock head bruising his tonsils each time.
Draco was practically in the werwolf’s lap, arms shaking and useless as Sirius fucked him over the arm of the couch. Remus pulled Draco’s head back by his cruel grip on his hair, licking his lips when the boy was able to renew his cries of pleasured pain. “The wax, Black. Now,” he demanded fiercely. He watched Draco’s expressions intently, his other hand fisting his large, saliva soaked cock and pointing it at the boy’s lips.
Sirius growled lowly, slowing his slamming jolts so that he could peel away the splashes and streams of wax decorating Draco’s back, ass and thighs. Each tear of pink from pale skin was a renewal of the initial burn, Draco’s body jerking as air hit the spots. “Oh don’t… not there… oh fucking god… hate you…” Draco moaned weakly, Sirius reaching between his spread cheeks to pull the wax away from his raw crack and hole.
Pulling Draco’s hair tighter, Remus pushed his cock against the boy’s lips, his orgasm spurting out in long, hot streams over the boy’s face. Draco shuddered, cum dripping wet below his nose, down his chin, into his mouth to turn bitter on his tongue. The scent was all around him, inescapable. Draco knew he had to look a degraded mess, especially with the werewolf smirking so smugly, eyes running over him full of desire. Remus continued to hold him, not letting the blond turn his head while Sirius peeled an agonizing strip of wax off his sack.
The taller man was grinding Draco hard into the couch, using his hips and cock alone to hold the slender boy still. A final, painful welt of pink wax was pulled off of Draco’s thighs, Sirius growling in anticipation. He took both his hands and with perfect accuracy, slapped Draco’s red welted ass cheeks hard.
Draco gaped, eyes rolling back, vision going dim for an eternity. Fucking Black!
Chuckling, Sirius gently rubbed his palms over Draco’s stinging ass, the boy finally finding his voice enough to give a devastated groan. “It hurts good, doesn’t it, wolf?”
“Hate you…” Draco answered when Sirius pinched his ass hard. “Damn… bastard…”
Sirius curled closer to Draco’s body, getting his mouth right against his ear. “Little bitch, if you don’t admit you like it, I’m just going to keep tormenting you.” He nipped at the boy’s ear, Draco gasping lightly. “Or maybe… you want me to keep tormenting you, hmm?”
Draco groaned, Sirius grinding his cock deeper into his clenching flesh. Whatever answer he gave would just lead to more fucking. That was the only thing Draco knew for certain. For some terrible reason the damn men were not getting tired and they were just going to keep fucking Draco till the end of time.
“I think he’s enjoying himself, Siri,” Remus said, only half teasingly. Draco met the werewolf’s eyes, licking his lips under the hungry stare. “Tell me, pup. Do you like it? All sore and tight?”
Knowing he was doomed anyways, Draco answered the perverted werewolf truthfully. “Yes, alpha.”
SCENE #Missing pup
“He needs to eat, Remi. You need to eat,” Sirius insisted.
“Fine, Siri, but you’re the one fucking him into the wall,” Remus said with a sigh, hands moving over Sirius’s sweat-soaked, taut body as his mate plunged into Draco’s hole again and again. He curved up against the taller man’s back, hips rocking with Sirius’s jerking thrusts. God, he was so hard. Still. It was dark outside again and Remus was still hard. He had gone through something similar when Harry had first joined the pack. Remus could only hope that it would settle down just as quickly. He had classes to teach.
“Oh fuck… fuck me, Remi…” Sirius groaned, pushing back into Remus’s hard length while Draco whimpered in front of him. “Need it.”
“Food, Siri. You wanted us to eat,” Remus reminded, wiggling his hips and nudging his cock between Sirius’s damp cheeks.
“After you fuck me,” Sirius said hoarsely, burying himself deeper into Draco’s tightness. Draco gave a moan, head falling heavily on the wall in front of him.
Remus grinned, biting Sirius’s shoulder hard. “Wolf and werewolf sandwich, with my lovely dog dripping cum in the middle. I couldn’t possibly refuse that.”
Sirius gasped, groaning loudly when Remus sheathed himself inside with slow, forceful thrusts. “Oh yeah… that’s it… fuck…”
Holding his mate tight, Sirius pressed hard up against the wall with Draco panting loudly, Remus had a terrible thought. “Where the hell is Harry?”
“What?” Sirius asked with a grunt, head turning to meet Remus’s questioning gaze. “Class… right?”
“Class ended hours ago,” Draco muttered, pushing back against Sirius’ hard body, rubbing slowly to get friction on his tense ass and thighs.
“Shit,” Sirius said, eyes closing. “What if he’s as bad off as we are?”
“That’s… oh yeah… that was what I was worried about…” Remus said, jaw tightening when Sirius clenched tight around his cock, holding him in deep.
“T-training…” Draco reminded. “He’s had months… to control the ache…”
“Right… months…” Sirius agreed, pulling Draco’s head back by his hair and kissing the boy.
“Still…” Harry had not come back. All he had to do was look at the Marauder’s Map. Remus’s slutty pup could tell that his pack was together and had chosen not to join in. Something had to be wrong. Remus gave a tremendous groan, pulling away from the delicious tightness of Sirius’s ass. Sirius whimpered despairingly to lose his mate’s impressive cock.
“I’ll go,” Remus muttered, seeking out his pants among the mess of clothing on the floor. His shirt had managed to become tangled around the foot of the couch. “You two… Just keep doing what you’re doing… I’ll try and remember food.” He gave a final burning stare to his mate and new packmate, Draco looking particularly anguished. The boy had to be exhausted, even if still rock hard again.
Harry was going to be one happy pup when he realized just how much Draco had adapted to pack fucking. He had always been disappointed when his pretty wolf wouldn’t join in, waiting aside for Harry to be done with Remus and Sirius before having the slut. It didn’t look like that was going to be a problem anymore.
Now if only Remus could find the little bitch…
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SCENE #Sirius Teaches A Hard Lesson
“Come on, Har, don’t tell me you’re taking off again.” Harry looked up from where he was rummaging for his cloak, shrugging unconcernedly at Ron’s overly anxious face.
“It’s Saturday. Do you really expect me to hang around the castle all day? There are only so many games of chess I can play.” Harry huffed, throwing the found invisibility cloak over his shoulder. “I’m going stir crazy—and so help me, if I run into that shit Malfoy again, with his stupid Dementor mimicry, I’m going to break something, preferably the little git’s head.”
Ron put his hands up to ward off the verbal attack. “Geez, I got it—you’re going nuts. Fine. Quit it before the room starts shaking.”
“Sorry,” Harry muttered, his brows still furrowed angrily. “Anyways, don’t mother me. I’ll be fine.”
Ron sighed, ruffling his red hair awkwardly. “Just watch your back out there.”
“I’ve got the cloak and it’s broad daylight. Nothing nasty is going to catch me.” Harry tucked the Marauders’ Map into his back pocket, opposite his wand, moving around Ron to get to the door. “And don’t go squealing to Hermione this time. You know how she gets.”
“She’s top of our class for a reason, Harry.”
“Bloody whatever.” Harry rolled his eyes, quickly shutting off any response Ron may have made by throwing the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and walking out the door. He was so sick of everyone looking out for him, or as Harry saw it, running his life.
He was bored, he was agitated, and he needed something to do besides all the stupid shit everyone seemed content to do every damn day. The forest seemed a perfect haven, full of the unknown and wild. A place Harry could find some damn fun, maybe even some danger, as long as he was careful enough.
Ron didn’t like the forest, and Hermione, hell Hermione was about ready to start telling McGonagall. Like the little witch had any right to decide what Harry needed in his life. Harry was tired of being bossed around by people that just seemed so sure to know better than him.
The Forbidden Forest was green, warm and welcoming, and Harry was quick to discard his sweatshirt and put it in the pack he had grabbed before leaving. He stayed to the main path, keeping an eye out for anything that might tear him to pieces while he looked around for a nice place to make camp and eat lunch. He was already feeling better, away from the constant hum of children among the cold stone of Hogwarts. He felt alive outside, something he hadn’t really understood until realizing he hadn’t been feeling very alive most days.
There was a huge tree up ahead, large branches creating a comfortable clearing of grass clumps and roots beneath in the dust. Harry sat against the trunk, back pressed to the bark as he pulled out a sandwich to eat. He tilted his head, hearing a rustle behind him, but couldn’t see around the large tree trunk. Shrugging, he brushed it aside, having another bite of his peanut butter and jelly.
“Have you lost your mind, boy?” Harry jumped to his feet, eyes wide in surprise at the low, harsh voice.
“Siri?” He guessed, brows furrowed as he looked around for the man. Another rustle, and Harry looked up, trying not to gasp. Sirius was in the branches, face grim and wild expression in his startling blue eyes.
Sirius glared down, hands wrapped firmly around strong tree limbs as he leaned his weight to peer closer. “What are you doing out here, you little fool? Don’t you know Voldemort would dream of a chance to get you alone in the Forbidden Forest?”
Harry flinched from the angry glare, scowling back. “I brought my wand—I’m not an idiot, Sirius. I have the cloak and everything…” Harry gulped, eyes widening as Sirius jumped from the impossible height and landed in a crouch in front of him. The man was long legs and tight muscle dressed in black, rough stubble on his face and dark hair a dangerous whip in its ponytail. Harry tried to suppress the shiver that ran through him as his godfather lengthened and towered over him.
He knew he shouldn’t be afraid of Sirius, but sometimes he just seemed a crazed brute, ferocious energy crackling right beneath the surface. He wondered if Sirius had been like that during his school years, or if Azkaban had changed something in him, drawing up dark power to combat the darker creatures that guarded there. The man was intimidating in his hot energy, full of fire running unchecked in his eyes.
Sirius ran a hand through his hair, then took his palm and bit it absentmindedly as he continued to glare at his godson. “I don’t know why you can’t seem to understand this, Harry. Its dangerous out here. There are beasts that would see a thing like you, and tear you asunder. I want you to go back to the castle, right now.”
Harry’s scowl grew, hands fisting at his side. “Sirius, I’m fine! Why does everyone treat me like a damn child! My dad and you guys went out to the Forbidden Forest all the time when my age.”
Sirius growled, and Harry took a step back, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. The man was angry, mania glinting in his eyes, jaw tight with restrained force. “Harry, mate, we never went out alone. We didn’t have Voldemort looking to kill us. And, quite frankly, we were a different breed of animal than you.”
Harry narrowed his eyes at that. “What the hell does that mean? Are you saying I’m not strong enough to be out here?”
Sirius reached out quickly and grabbed the boy by his shirt, twisting the fabric and pulling Harry in close to his face and right up to the wild blue eyes.
“What I’m saying, little boy, is that you are not an animal like I am. And the other animals in the forest can sense it, and they are drawn to you.” He breathed deep, smelling down Harry’s neck and shoulders, and fanning hot breath on the flinching boy. “Someone is going to gobble you up if you don’t leave here now.”
Harry gave a shattered moan, trying to pull away from the death grip on his t-shirt. “I’m fine!” He insisted, glaring while trying to slow his racing heart. He didn’t understand why Sirius was so angry at him, but it made him feel strange, achingly so. “Siri—Let me go!”
Sirius just stared at him, smirking cruelly as the boy struggled in his grasp. “If you can’t fucking get away from me, how are you going to fight off the other beasts in this forest? How are you going to stop Voldemort? I only need one hand to catch you, you little scrap of a thing.”
Harry growled, and with vicious intent bit Sirius’s arm. He was expecting the man to rear back, let him go, but instead all he got was deafening silence, Sirius smiling wider at the pain.
“Is that the best you’ve got? Moony’s given me worse in his sleep,” Sirius murmured, pulling Harry closer and burying his face in the boy’s neck. The man smelled him again, breathing up the side of Harry’s throat and hair, a mild, confused look crossing his face. “Harry… you smell different since last… musky…”
Harry whimpered, Sirius so much stronger than him and currently licking his neck in long swipes, as if cleaning him. “Siri, please… just let me go.”
“Promise me you won’t come back here.” Growling, Sirius slowly moved his head back, Harry grasping at the arm holding him to keep from tipping. “Promise me, Harry.”
Harry bit his lip, refusing.
“Harry…” Sirius was near threatening, and now his other hand was on Harry’s shoulder, biting in to the tender flesh. “Promise.”
“No!” Harry snapped. “Stop telling me what to do. If I want to come out here, I will, and there’s nothing you can bloody well do about it!” He realized his mistake before the words were fully out, Sirius’s eyes turning black with rage.
“Really?” Sirius’s voice was so soft, Harry had to strain to hear. The hands holding him suddenly let him go, and Harry bent, panting for air. Why Sirius had let up the second he was the angriest, Harry didn’t know, but he was glad for it. “Are you going to leave?” Sirius asked, and Harry heard the warning then, the dark promise of punishment if he disobeyed. Harry blatantly ignored it.
“No. I’m just as tough as anything else here, Siri. Stop being an ass.” He swallowed hard, taking a step back as Sirius took one large stalking step towards him. “Sirius… come on… you’re overreacting…”
Sirius grabbed Harry’s shoulders and turned him, pinning the boy up against the hard bark of the tree, face scraping, glasses falling to the ground. Harry squirmed, mouth gasping for air as he tried to understand how everything had suddenly changed from light and green, to dark with the sudden smell of bark and sharp sting of pain.
Sirius breathed over Harry’s ear, his tongue and teeth tasting as the boy’s heartbeat escalated. “Harry, love, I am going to teach you a hard lesson here. You’re not going to like it, but better I teach you it, than the creatures walking this forest.” He tightened his grip, pushing the boy harder against the tree. “When I am done, you are going to go back to the castle and never return to these woods again. Do I make myself clear?”
“Siri…” Harry whined, pushing fruitlessly into the hands holding him down.
“Harry.” Sirius’s rough fingers grabbed a fistful of Harry’s thick hair and pulled back hard, until Harry cried out. “Answer me.”
“Fine.” Harry whispered angrily, tears stinging at the back of his eyes.
Sirius growled at the surrender, dipping his head and biting Harry’s shoulder hard. Harry yelped, jerking from the feel, head smacking into the tree trunk as Sirius knocked him forward. His shirt was pushed up, Sirius tearing it from Harry’s narrow form, ignoring the gasps Harry made from his bare chest being pressed into the tree, nipples roughly ground in until he cried out.
Sirius placed his knee to the center of Harry’s lower back, pinning him firmly in place. The boy squirmed from the uncomfortable pain, groaning loudly, jeans slipping down his hips. Running wide callused hands up the boy’s narrow sides, Sirius suddenly gripped hard, digging fingers in until Harry gave a soft whimper.
“Siri… s-stop…”
Sirius nuzzled into Harry’s throat, biting the soft flesh harshly as he pushed his hips into the rebellious boy. “The monsters aren’t going to fucking stop, Harry. You should have listened when I gave you a chance.” Harry gave a pathetic groan, his fists thumping into the tree when Sirius thrust harder against him, grinding his erection in anticipation.
“This is going to hurt… So you don’t forget, Harry.” Sirius’ voice was husky as he breathed Harry’s scent in again, his body more than eager to teach the beautiful boy a lesson. He slid his hands quickly down into the band of Harry’s over-sized jeans, fingers finding and cupping his ass. Shifting, he slid his leg between the boy’s, resting Harry on his thigh and lifting him higher.
Harry’s head fell back against Sirius’s shirt, feeling the man’s breath heaving in restraint. He didn’t know why Sirius was doing this, just that everything felt very hot, and it was difficult to breath. His body was stinging, covered in scrapes from the tree bark. Sirius’s hands were rough on his flesh, and he could smell the man completely, warm dirt, peppermint, and the faint scent of dog.
Harry whimpered, his body arching, mouth gaping in shock. Sirius had touched somewhere wrong… very fucking wrong, a thick finger pressing into him between his cheeks, slick with something wet.
“Siri… why… oh, ohhh…” Harry breathed out shakily, eyes closing, feeling very dizzy and suddenly nauseas with the realization that the man was touching his asshole. Why was he…? It was so dirty—so wrong… The finger was persistent, pushing against the sides of his tight hole, pulling and stretching, then breaching deep.
Harry tried to breathe, fire and sick consuming his senses as his hole was pulled, up and then down, side to side with the crook of the thick finger, Sirius grunting and panting in his ear. He noticed blearily a burning hardness pressing into his lower back where Sirius kept rubbing against him, and Harry furrowed his brows, fairly certain it must be the man’s dick.
The finger left, leaving Harry feeling strangely empty, only to return with another, this time the two much thicker trying to push into his hole. “Stop… no!” He gasped, but Sirius only growled and slammed him back up against the tree, his cheek and shoulder stinging from the rough bark. “Oh god… stop… stop… why are you…” He whimpered mindlessly, the fingers relentless in his tight channel, moving faster in him than before, stretching and thrusting in a rhythm that Sirius repeated with his hips, trapping Harry in place.
Harry was emptied, gasping, trying to understand what Sirius was going to do next. He was let down, swaying on his feet, but those big hands were tearing at the front of his jeans, undoing Harry’s fly and letting his pants fall around his ankles. Harry looked down blindly, surprised to see he was hard and straining against his underwear.
“Siri… I feel strange…” He gasped, feeling a terrible ache inside him, making him want to bend over… fall down, and bend before the man.
“Quiet, and take your punishment, Harry,” Sirius murmured lowly, pulling the boy’s underwear down, and pushing him back against the tree, this time Harry’s face trapped against Sirius’s hot body while his bare ass stung against the bark.
Harry was lifted up, legs pulled and positioned to cling to Sirius’s sharp hips. Hands were on his ass again, fingers pressing in, roughly thrusting in and out and burying deep inside. Harry cried out, throwing his arms around Sirius’s neck and holding tight as the hot sensations consumed him.
Dimly, he felt Sirius shift, the sound of a zipper faint in his ears. The hands were grabbing his ass cheeks, pulling them apart as something… something large, and hot pushed up against his hole.
“No… Siri, no…” Harry choked, pain lancing up as the impossibly thick rod slowly pushed against him, and then into him. He could feel his body clenching, trying to push it out, the intrusion far too big as it forced its way in. Nothing was supposed to be up there—Especially not that. It was too dirty and wrong…
“I warned you, Harry,” Sirius growled in his ear, biting the boy’s cheek firmly. “I warned you to go home… and… fuck… fuck yes… you’re so tight…” He thrust into the yielding heat, pulling a broken sob from the boy. “The forest… isn’t… safe…” Sirius grunted, thrusting with each word until he was fully impaled into the quivering flesh.
Harry was lost, head rocking side to side, saliva soaking the shirt in front of him. He clung to Sirius, smelling his flesh and sweat, and encased in his heat. “Please… please take it out… god… I’ll be good… I’ll be… noo—Oh stop… stop…”
“Take it,” Sirius insisted heatedly, hands changing their grip to hold Harry’s hips in place. “Take your punishment.” He ground into the boy, pulling his tight, slender body down on his length, burying himself deep, throbbing within as Harry shuddered around him, begging for him to stop.
Delirious, Harry whimpered and thrashed, his body aching, the flesh impaling him too large for understanding, and so full… so full inside. And now, it was moving, sliding out, but before Harry could feel any relief, it was thrust back in again, somehow even deeper. “Nooo…” Harry groaned, his body arching up. Sirius gave no sign that he heard, and the thickness receded and thrust in again, and again.
“You’ll listen next time… won’t you, Harry?” Sirius demanded, his thrusts growing in need and power as he fucked the sobbing boy. “Fucking listen for a change…” He dropped his head, trying to make sense of what Harry was babbling. Sirius slammed in again as he caught the whimpered yes. “Fuck, that’s it… Good boy.”
Unable to hold back any longer, the man shoved the boy back on the tree, hands keeping Harry down as Sirius pounded into him with unrestrained passion, taking what he needed from the boy with long, hard thrusts. And giving, giving the lesson that clearly Harry was in need of.
Sirius came with a groan, grinding deep and hard, imprinting his seed and shape on the inside of the boy as his own. It wouldn’t keep the other monsters away, but Harry would fucking know who he belonged to.
“Shit… that’s it…” Sirius pressed a hard kiss to the boy’s sweaty face, waiting for the moans to slow as he remained buried in Harry’s clenching flesh. God, but the boy was fucking tight… And smelled like a rutting bitch, like he was just begging for it… Looking down the scrawny limbs and bruised skin, Sirius caught sight of Harry’s erection, achingly hard even after all he had been through.
“Look at that, you sweet little slut… Did you like that, Harry?” He asked, Harry whimpering against his neck in response. Sirius wrapped strong fingers around the boy’s dripping dick, pumping slowly until Harry tensed and cried out, spurting his first cum on Sirius’s palm.
Harry moaned as Sirius finally withdrew, his stretched hole sore, thick, warm fluid dripping out, and feeling unbearably empty inside. He couldn’t speak, could only gasp for air. Blearily he felt Sirius lay him down, tree roots digging into his back as he looked up at the flushed man. He had a wand in his hand, and was whispering a spell Harry didn’t recognize.
Harry thought Sirius’s eyes were almost regretful right before everything went dark.
SCENE #Dirty Inside
Harry awoke in bed, the windows black from the settled night. He lay there, trying to remember just when he had gone to bed… trying to remember what day it was, and what he had done only hours before.
He sat up, and flinched. His body hurt from head to toe. And… he closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath as his thighs moved, revealing an unbearably sore ache between his cheeks, followed quickly by a sick feeling of being dirty. Had he been in an accident?
He reached for his glasses, not only feeling sore, but sticky. The smell of dirt was strong, as if he had breathed in a dust cloud… and peppermint. Shaking his head, Harry decided a shower was in order.
The bathroom mirror revealed bruises and cuts not only on Harry’s face and hands, but on his neck, hips, thighs and ass. His hips and ass especially, small round bruises littering like spots. When he touched them his body rocked, as if remembering some motion associated with how they came to be.
He couldn’t understand why his mind was so desperately blank whenever he tried to think back to the last day. He had eaten breakfast, Ron had told him off for planning to go to the Forbidden Forest, and… nothing.
Stripping off his underwear, Harry stepped into the shower, and then stopped. He swallowed with difficulty, catching the remains of a once thick, nasty goop on his knee. He followed it up with his hand, the streaks of dried liquid flowing over his inner thighs and… Harry closed his eyes, his finger pushing hesitantly against the aching flesh of his entrance.
He moaned softly, his once tired body springing to life at the simple touch. It was wrong… so dirty inside him… but he had to know. Pressing further in, he could feel the remains of fluid inside. He shuddered, crying out, his body tightening around his fingers. His prick was hard and he grabbed it, pushing into his hand with slow thrusts.
Whimpering, he let the pressure build, tensing his muscles and feeling the agony of the sore flesh. “Oh god…” he gasped, his orgasm tearing through him with surprise as he pushed down desperately on his fingers, trying to bury them deeper than they could go.
He blinked down at the fluid now running down his stomach and on his hand in front of him. He brought his hand up, staring at the stringy mess, knowing what it was, and that it was supposed to be wrong to do what he had just done. It was dirty and bad…
Weakly, he pulled his fingers out of his sore hole, mouth gaping at the feel, eyes fluttering shut for long moments. He brought that hand up as well, staring woefully at the dirty fingers, fluid and black under his fingernail. If the first one had been wrong, this one was far worse, far more bad to do, never mind to want.
That it felt good—God, there was something wrong with him. He was sick, just like the Dursleys had said. He had to be some sort of freak to like something like that.
Harry moaned, quickly washing his hands in the spray, bending his body as his hole ached behind him. God… he wanted to touch it again… wanted to feel something inside him… even though it was so wrong. Gasping under the shower spray, Harry took deep breaths, trying to get himself under control. He tried to convince himself that as long as no one knew just how good he thought it felt, they wouldn’t find out just what a terrible freak he really was.
SCENE #Looking For More
Harry didn’t return to the Forbidden Forest for weeks. Not that he didn’t think about it constantly. The majority of his thoughts were consumed on the dark place and what had happened the day he couldn’t remember. And when he wasn’t thinking of that, he was thinking of the night he awoke, his body aching for something he was certain was very wrong.
Harry hadn’t gone into the forest, a part of him very much afraid of what he was beginning to understand must have happened. Someone… or something… had put itself in his dirty hole… had cum inside him the same way he was now squirting every morning, waking up hard and tenting his sheets… and he had liked it. His hole twitched every time he thought of it, reminding him that he must have liked it, because even though his hole hurt, it also made his prick hard. He would walk the edge of the forest sometimes, feeling eyes boring into him, forcing him to think of the ache that night and how his body wanted more.
Harry was restless again, bored with no one to talk to. Ron and Hermione had started getting real lovey-dovey, and Harry hated being around the two like that. It only reminded him of how alone he felt, how fucked up he was for wanting these strange, abnormal things, while everyone else was content with being average.
Remembering that his godfather was hiding in the forest, Harry thought maybe he could talk to him. Not so much about the strange ache—he didn’t want to talk to anyone about that, knowing very well he was terrible for it—but just to have someone to talk to that wouldn’t care that Harry wasn’t just like everyone else. Sirius never seemed to like Ron and Hermione, had thought they were too soft and childish, so he probably wouldn’t mind that Harry didn’t seem to fit in with the two of them anymore.
Sirius was waiting for him, it seemed, sitting in a clearing next to a large tree with branches that spread out forever.
“Hey, Siri,” Harry waved, running up to meet the man. He held out a bag of food, not sure why Sirius wasn’t saying anything. “Sirius, hey, you okay?” Harry asked, sitting next to the strong man and leaning up against him.
Sirius took a controlled breath, trying to keep himself still. Harry was a spitfire of energy, bright and bouncing, and currently trying to hug him. He could feel the presence of at least two creatures, both having followed Harry to his godfather. They had run at the smell of Sirius, but who knew what would have happen if he hadn’t been there?
“Harry… its dangerous for you to be here,” Sirius said gruffly, even as he opened his arms and embraced the boy. Harry held on tight, breathing in to Sirius’s neck for long moments, not wanting to let go.
“Oh, Siri, you’re always worried over something. I brought food, good food.” Harry let go and turned to open up the bag, revealing sweets, as well as smuggled lunch from the Great Hall.
Sirius looked Harry over, eye lighting on his proud, beaming smile, and then down to his long, slender limbs and overly large clothes. There was a strange scent to his godson… something Sirius couldn’t put his finger on, but made him keep smelling, keep looking. What he did know for certain was that the boy was free of fear, not only of Sirius but of the forest. Clearly his lesson had not stuck.
Grumbling over how the little fool would have thought it was a smart idea to walk around the forest with food in a pack, Sirius grabbed for something sweet and chocolate. Moony would be very upset with him for punishing Harry. His honey eyed mate was always so stern when it came to teaching lessons, much more reserved and dull, especially when with children.
Although, when Moony was near Harry’s age he had taught quite the toothsome lesson to James, right before the full moon. James had not been one to complain… well, not by the end of it, anyways. Moony had always been very compelling when the moon was on him.
“Harry, love, what happened the last time you came into the forest?” Sirius asked softly, curious to see what Harry remembered after his memory charm. He must have taken too much if the boy felt safe to walk there alone. Sirius had hoped the pain would have stayed with Harry, but then again, pain did eventually fade.
Harry stilled at the question, fiddling with the grass on the ground. “Dunno.” He had a sinking suspicion, not really needing to remember to be really certain that something—something male at that—had coupled with him. But he wasn’t going to tell Sirius that, didn’t want the man to know just how wrong he was inside.
Sirius pressed, studying Harry’s face. “It was only two weeks or so ago. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten so soon?” The boy was worrying at his lip in a fascinating fashion. Not like James at all, really. Much softer and sweet, but still with a familiar steel in those green eyes when facing down danger.
“Siri, were you there?” Harry asked, picking up on the man’s words. “I can’t remember the day, but that something must have… hurt me…” Harry trailed off, not willing to talk more about it as he remembered the wicked, dirty ache.
Sirius stretched his long legs out, giving the boy a side glance as Harry squirmed where he sat, more of that new scent wafting to him. Bitch… it was definitely a bitch scent, or so Padfoot seemed to think as the dog whined persistent in Sirius’s head.
Sirius had been spending a lot of his time as Padfoot while in the forest, and before while in the prison. Most times he felt he had become more dog than man, and unfortunately, Padfoot had not been dealing well with the circumstances, having gone nearly feral. Apparently so was Sirius, because even though Harry might smell like a damn dog bitch, he was clearly a small boy, and Sirius shouldn’t be having such a hard time distinguishing the difference.
Sirius tried to focus on talking, a very human thing to do. “Harry, I was very clear with you last time. It is too dangerous in this forest. Voldemort is looking for any chance he can get to capture and kill you.”
Harry looked up, scowling. “I’m not some sort of weakling, Siri.”
Sirius took a long, deep breath, counting to ten. He wanted to control himself this time. He didn’t want to hurt the scrap of a boy.
“Really? Did you feel particularly strong when you finally woke up?”
Harry shivered. Sirius’s voice was barely restrained of the wild anger underneath. Sometimes Siri was frightening, his jaw tense as if waiting to snap. Harry thought of that night but he could not remember if he felt strong. He had felt… sore… and hot…
Sirius watched a change come over Harry, the boy’s clear eyes clouding, and a flush rising to his cheeks. The scent was suddenly overpowering, damn near irresistible, and Sirius was beginning to feel that strange red from last time when he had lost all control. It was time to get the boy the fuck back to the castle and to safety, and far away from monsters like himself.
“Harry, I think its time you went back.”
Harry shook his head, glaring. “Why are you trying to get rid of me, Siri? Am I so much of a bother to be around?”
Sirius barked in angry laughter. “Harry, if you could remember properly, I believe you’d be running for the hills right now. Now go!” he snarled.
“You’re a prat,” Harry muttered, reluctantly getting to his feet. Sirius was staring, glaring holes into him while the man ran his wild eyes over him. “I’m already here. What’s it matter if I stay a while? Its not like you’d let anything get me,” he whined, still refusing to actually pick up his things and leave.
“Harry.” Sirius’s voice was hoarse and full of warning.
Harry scuffed his sneaker in the dirt, digging a small hole. “What?”
The boy was biting his red, wet lip again, looking crestfallen at the idea of leaving. Sirius really needed to remind him that he should not want to be around him, and Padfoot was agreeing, having many suggestions on how to do that. “Come here.”
Sirius had that manic look in his blue eyes that left little choice to the order. Harry walked over to the man, eyes widening when he was grabbed around the waist and pulled in tight. Sirius’s face burrowed into Harry’s flat stomach, the man’s sharp, white teeth biting into his t-shirt as large hands held him in place.
Heat flooded Harry. Sirius’s face was very close to his groin, the bristle of the man’s jaw prickling where it brushed through his shirt. “Siri, what are you—Hey!” Sirius’s teeth nipped his flesh, pinching between the fabric.
“You’re not being very smart, Harry. Unless you’re looking for trouble… Which… I’m getting the suspicion you are.” He bit Harry again, the boy yelping in reply. The scent was even stronger here, musk, and sex, and fucking need. It took everything in him not to throw the boy down and mount him.
“Now, I am going to let you go.” He groaned, fighting the dog howling in him to continue. “You are going to walk out of this forest. And you are not to return again. Do you understand me?”
Harry shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Sirius looked so odd, biting at his stomach, eyes bright with something intense. “Siri… I don’t want to leave.”
Sirius grabbed Harry’s wrists painfully at the answer, the red rising again at his disobedience. “I won’t warn you again.”
Harry shuddered, Sirius having lifted his shirt up with his face to growl heat into his exposed flesh and making him feel dizzy from the touch. Then Sirius was biting again, nipping painfully at his flesh, pulling yelps and cries from him as he turned his stomach red and bruised. “Stop—Shit! Siri! It hurts…”
His protest only made Sirius bite him harder, pulling on his wrists until Harry was tumbling down to his knees. Sirius pushed him back on the dusty ground, pinning Harry’s hands to his side while continuing his bizarre assault. Now Sirius was licking him between bites, his large, flat tongue trailing hot liquid on Harry’s stomach, making his teeth slip every time he nipped.
He was running out of room, every spot of Harry’s thin stomach having been bit painfully, which forced Sirius to bite over blossoming bruises, lick over burning flesh while Harry quivered, small quiet gasps replacing his yelps as he got used to the maddening sensation.
Noticing the change, Sirius pulled his face up, looking up Harry’s heaving form to find the boy staring back, glasses awry, eyes glaring green, lips parted red as he gasped. Sirius almost stopped then, seeing just how young he was, rebellious and naïve even then. But then Harry licked his tongue out, tracing over a raw spot on his lower lip where he had bit himself to keep from crying out, and Sirius could not stop.
The boy’s flesh filled his senses, scent and sight as he grabbed both of Harry’s wrists in his one hand, tore through his shirt with the other, and pulled the scraps off his narrow frame. Harry gaped at him, eyes wide in shock, and Sirius imagined maybe he was starting to understand what he was in for.
“Siri… it’s wrong…” Harry whimpered, eyes fixed on where Sirius was undoing his fly, long fingers pushing against the surprising hardness hidden beneath Harry’s oversized jeans. Sirius didn’t seem to hear, pulling the zipper apart, one handedly pushing Harry’s jeans down, over his narrow hips, down his thighs and knees, and then off once free of his shoes. Harry was almost nude now, just sneakers, socks, and underwear clinging sweatily while dust filled his senses. Dust, and Sirius’s wild blue eyes, daring him to fight back.
Harry didn’t, breathing heavily and watching dazed as Sirius pressed his palm into the tent in his white briefs, then followed down, cheek and rough bristle prickling against his cloth covered erection, making him gasp and squirm. “Stop… it’s not right…”
Sirius growled, moving up and biting Harry’s waistband and pulling, lifting Harry’s briefs and then hips up with his teeth. Then with his free hand, pushed the fabric down, over the boy’s hips and trembling thighs, tearing it down and off the rest of the way with a jerking motion.
“What makes you the fucking authority on right and wrong, Harry?” Sirius growled darkly, moving back up the boy’s body. “You can’t even figure out enough to keep the fuck out of one forest, even after I left you torn and ruined. You’re hardly someone to take advice from, seeing as you just came back for more of what I gave you last time.”
“No—I c-couldn’t remember!” Harry yelped out, Sirius biting him again, lower on the taut flesh of his hips.
“You fucking knew,” Sirius taunted. “I left you full of seed and covered in bruises. What the fuck did you think had happened to you?” He bit the other side of Harry’s bony hip, running hot breath over the boy’s straining dick as he moved, laughing cruelly when it twitched in want.
“I didn’t—Stop! I-I didn’t know… it was you!” Harry choked out, Sirius’s hand grabbing his left knee and pushing his leg up, forcing him to hook over the man’s shoulder.
“So… what?” Sirius asked silkily, rage glinting in his blue eyes. “You just came back in here, hoping to find what fucked you broken, and feed it a bloody lunch?”
“No, oh god.. stop it, Siri—Fucking stop!” Sirius pushed fingers into his hole undeterred, and Harry threw his head back, shoulders crashing into the ground painfully as he was roughly breeched. “You ass!”
“Did you think I was fucking nice about it the first time? Though I was some sweet lover that was waiting to take you away? Maybe some upperclassman that had an eye on you… stole some kisses behind the bushes…?” Glaring, he watched as Harry writhed, arms trying to jerk free, untrapped leg digging his shoe into the ground to attempt to push off the two fingers Sirius had buried into his hole.
“Siri… oh god… it feels… it feels so full…” Harry groaned, body arching as Sirius thrust his fingers in and out of his clenching channel. “Sore… and full…”
“Oh Harry, it is going to get a lot worse, don’t you worry. I’m going to make you fucking raw, so this time you won’t forget. I’m going to fucking bruise the lesson in, so your body will remember… Is that what you came back for, Harry? To remember what I did to you?”
“No… no…” Harry gasped between cries, head heavy against the ground, rolling back and forth fitfully. Harry could not fully remember why he had come back, something about being bored with his life, and needing to fill the emptiness inside. He had not remembered what exactly had happened in the forest, but his body seemed to, his hips bucking into Sirius’s fingers, impaling him deeper even though his mind knew just how wrong it was to do that.
He was hot all over, body tingling, stomach burning from the bruises Sirius had bitten into him. And hard, he was so achingly hard. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out Sirius’s dark smile, the man hovering over his prick and breathing as he shoved his long, dirt stained fingers into him.
Suddenly Harry’s wrists were free. Shakily, he slammed his fists down on Sirius’s wide shoulders, the man snorting in laughter. Then the fingers were out of him, leaving Harry feeling cold and empty inside, his hole clenching around nothing. He squirmed at the loss, grabbing at Sirius’s hair, the long mane loose today and dusty feeling. He pulled, trying to get the man away from his current position, cruel lips pressing a mean kiss to the top of Harry’s bobbing cock.
“Stop, you bastard!” Harry growled, cuffing Sirius off the side of the head, and then freezing as the man went deathly still. Slowly Sirius met his gaze, large hands grabbing Harry’s hips and pulling him down the abrasive ground, scraping his bare back against rocks and twigs.
“Can you make me?” Sirius asked lowly, mouth resting on Harry’s cheek as his body was folded, knee still trapped on Sirius’s shoulder. “How are you going to defend yourself against Voldemort, if you can’t even stop me?” There was rustling beneath his words, a zipper so familiar in Harry’s ears tearing open, hands pushing at his thighs, spreading him wide.
“Every creature in this fucking forest can have you, Harry, on your back, spread like a whore. You can’t stop them. So stop coming back here.” Then Sirius was pulling him down, his thick, hard length splitting into him, and all Harry could do was sob at the feeling of fullness.
“Look how fucking easy it is, Harry… You’re so fucking easy… How many times will you come back, just so I’ll remind you of that?”
“God …It’s too much—please stop…”
“No… and you can’t… fucking… make me…” Sirius licked at Harry’s gasping face, tasting sweat and tears as he drove into the boy’s tight hole. He hooked his forearm under Harry’s other leg, pulling it up, bending the boy tighter until he could barely move, and then pushed all his weight into his thrusts.
Harry clawed dull nails at his back, struggling to keep his head up so he could breathe. It was too big… too thick and long… and Sirius was snapping into him, making sure it hurt.
But it didn’t just hurt, it burned, his channel clenching tight from the friction, something inside being hit sharply, wonderfully, pulling cry after desperate cry as Sirius moved in him. He could feel a tension building inside him, each jerking thrust bringing Harry closer to something… so fucking close…
Sirius gave a shout, slamming into Harry as the boy bucked and came between them with a great sob. “You fucking slut… you did come back for this… My god… what your father would say…” He continued to slam into the clutching boy, taking his pleasure as the body around him trembled and shook, his small form likely feeling every ache and pain as Harry’s orgasm left him.
“That’s it… that’s it… cry about it, love… Remember that this is what you’re going to get every time you trespass into my domain,” Sirius whispered huskily into Harry’s ear as the boy cried breathless tears. “You’ll remember now, won’t you? Will fucking listen this time… right?” He slowed his thrusts, drawing them out in long, hard movements as he listened to Harry sob.
“Oh fuck… look at you… fucking tight, Potter. I know what kind of animal you are, and so does everything in this forest that smells it on you. The kind begging for cock… my cock, shoved deep inside. I thought I was punishing you… but no, this is what you wanted all along, you little slut… What you need… Yes… fucking mine…” Sirius slammed in a final time, holding Harry’s hips until his knuckles were white, pulling the boy down to meet him, and fill him with his searing seed.
Harry just gasped on the ground, fighting to breathe around the cloying wetness in his mouth and nose. And then around Sirius’s tongue, the man kissing him ferociously, biting his lips sore, tasting his saliva and teeth and tongue with demanding force, until all Harry could do was let him, opening wider, pulling in air when he could.
“What do I take away… this time, Harry?” Sirius asked, now lapping up Harry’s face, tasting him like a dog while his dick was still buried deep inside. “Too much, and we’ll have to do this… all over again. Not enough… and you’ll have to know… just how much of a filthy slut you are…”
Harry jerked at the question, his whole body responding achingly and clutching around the hardness still inside him. “Oh god… Sirius, don’t do this… don’t do this again…”
“Don’t come back here, little boy,” Sirius murmured, tongue curling around Harry’s ear, teeth nipping lightly. “And I won’t have to… Now choose… You can remember… or you can repeat…”
“I can’t… I can’t, Siri!” Harry wailed, Sirius moving in him again, thrusting slow, burning pumps into him. “I don’t want either…”
“Choose… it’s the kindest thing I can offer right now…” Sirius said, fingers probing between them, around Harry’s sore hole where his length was still stretching him.
“I don’t… I don’t want to remember…” Harry moaned, knowing what that meant, knowing he would be back again, folded under Sirius’s weight. Knowing that he had already been, had maybe even made the very same choice and could not remember it.
“That’s it… just like a good slut…” Still slowly pumping into him, Sirius drew his wand, placing it to Harry’s head. “I’ll see you next time, Harry. It’ll be tight, I promise…”
SCENE #No longer numb
Harry woke dazed, the world spinning around him. Slowly, he realized he was on the ground, his pack strewn before him, cuts on the back of his hands resting in front of his eyes.
Oh god… it was that feeling again. Inside him, something hot and wet dripping inside him. He groaned, stretching slowly, feeling his body and every new sore bruise, every muscle he had forgotten he had, aching and tight as if he had just been through a marathon and left collapsed and broken on the ground.
Harry fumbled for his glasses, slipping them on to confirm that he was indeed in the Forbidden Forest. He wasn’t sure how he had gotten there, but he had remembered intending to go, extremely tired of Ron and Hermione being gushy with each other. Sick of feeling alone and numb.
Hell, he wasn’t feeling numb now, though. He hurt, everywhere. Ached, burned, bled. He was anything but numb.
Groaning again, Harry pushed himself to his knees, his body making noises of complaint. Oh hell, he could feel it inside him, slipping out his battered hole and dripping down, catching on his thighs, slick collecting where his underwear pinched his legs. Gaping, he reached with one arm, pressing his palm into his growing erection, wishing he didn’t like how good it felt inside when he knew, fucking knew it was so very wrong.
His body and mind were in disagreement, and his body again was winning. He had stopped trying to get up, instead spreading his legs wide and lying back on the ground, rubbing into the dirt and grass, gasping as he imagined the feel of what had to have been inside him, stretching him wide, pushing him down. Harry’s hand had just made it inside his jeans and around his aching prick when he came suddenly, eyes closing, mouth gaping a wordless cry.
He lay panting in the dirt, face buried in the warm soil. There was something really fucking wrong with him. God, so fucking wrong… Wrong for liking it… wrong for wanting it again… wrong for knowing it had to be Sirius.
He had left his paw prints, familiar collections of toes and pads pressing up from the dirt. They circled around Harry, as if Padfoot had not left until making sure he was all in one piece. The invisibility cloak was there, next to his torn shirt, his jeans and underwear safely on his person. But Harry knew that was a lie, because it was dripping down, inside and out, and he was not intact.
Harry got to his feet unsteadily, his thin limbs shaking under the weight of his body. He felt light headed and groggy, and wondered how he was going to make it back to the castle safely like this. He had his wand. He had the cloak. He was stiff and sore, but he could walk. Wrapping the smooth material around his body, Harry tried not to gasp at the sensation, his flesh seemingly extra sensitive to everything.
Grabbing his things, Harry made his way back, determined not to think of what must have happened, and why part of him liked it so much.
SCENE #The mutt wakes up
Harry spent the next weeks feeling unimaginably dirty. His body ached every time he moved, reminding him of what had to have happened in the Forbidden Forest. And his hole, god, it was so sore, raw, for so long, every time he noticed just how much it hurt, he would get hard. Eventually it stopped hurting, and Harry found he needed to find new ways to make it hurt.
He had tried fingers, pushing his own in, too thin and wiry, too short to give him the relief he needed for the constant ache inside him. Harry ached so much, this strange, numb, empty feeling that just needed filling. He had felt that way for a long time, but hadn’t realized what would fix it. Not until having stumbled across his godfather during a day he still could not remember, and woken up in bed, dripping inside and feeling as if he had once been full and complete.
When he realized the fingers weren’t going to be enough, he had searched for possible solutions around him. It had only made him feel much worse about himself and the empty ache demanding filling. He was looking at everyday things and considering shoving them inside him, dirtying them on his ass. His broom, his pens, hell, even his food as carrots became very interesting. It was horrible, and yet, he couldn’t stop thinking it. Couldn’t stop wanting something bigger, firmer inside him that could reach just as deep as he needed to feel full again.
Harry had avoided the Forbidden Forest since waking up there. It had been as obvious a warning as Sirius could have ever given him, leaving him cum soaked and bruised in the dirt, and forcing him to walk back. Harry wanted to go back, and hated himself for that as well. Hated the idea that he wanted his godfather to do what he had to have done, turning the man into nothing more than something that could fill him, instead of the few friendly connections Harry had in his life.
God, but he wanted to be filled, needed it so bad, ached, every morning, fingers twisting inside him, trying to imagine what it must have felt like. He was on his knees every night behind his bed curtains, head buried in his pillow, ass in the air as he rode his fingers. He hated that he couldn’t cum any other way, not unless he had fingers buried inside him, and Sirius’s wild eyes in his mind.
Harry tried to focus on class. He tried to give his attention to interesting things like DADA, where Professor Lupin was teaching more about werewolves, something Harry was extremely interested in since finding out Remus Lupin was one. The man never seemed it, always look so deceptively shabby and docile. But Harry had noticed once, when Remus had been forced to save a student from their own spell rebounding back, that the man was strong and fast, vicious in his immediate assessment of the threat and lacking hesitation on how to deal with it.
Harry wondered if Remus had been like that during his own years at school. He wondered how Sirius and Remus and his father had gotten on, two canines and a stag. He kept wondering if Sirius had ever filled anyone else’s ache, the way he had Harry’s.
Remus had seemed concerned with Harry lately, almost protective. He didn’t think the man knew about Sirius, because certainly the very proper Professor would have said or done something about it. Harry didn’t want Remus to know. He didn’t want the option to be taken away, when Harry couldn’t find something big enough to fill the ache, and went back into the forest to find Sirius to do it for him.
But for now, Harry tried to do it on his own. Because having to go to Sirius was wrong. It was wrong to drag the man into his fucked up perversion of needing… fucking needing something deep inside him. He was avoiding Ron and Hermione more, unable to deal with just how normal they seemed, while Harry was empty and aching and begging to be filled.
The world seemed mundane and boring, even more so once the bruises healed and the soreness faded.
SCENE #Claimed by Padfoot
It was a Thursday when Harry read the article in the Daily Prophet. Hermione had shown it to him, worry pinching her face as they read the paragraphs together. Sirius Black, the escaped prisoner, was on the loose and had been spotted near Hogsmeade. A search party was being sent out that weekend to hunt down the dangerous outlaw and capture and execute him once and for all.
Harry forgot to take the invisibility cloak with him, running through the twilight to find Sirius and warn him before it was too late. He had remembered his wand though, steady in his hand as he illuminated the brush around him, trying to feel his way back to where he had woken up under a large tree in a glade.
He did not find the glade, instead something large and predatory moving through the forest, making an alien cry as it attacked Harry. Harry managed to stun it, only to find that it was not alone, the strange, magical creatures hunting in a pack. They were more hesitant after he took out the first one, but eventually they must have realized their numbers outweighed his power, and they rushed him together, throwing him back into a bush of thorns, tearing his hands and face and catching his clothes as he tried to roll and fight back.
There was something else in the dark, something vicious and warm, snapping at the creatures as Harry righted himself. He listened, hearing flesh tearing under jaws, alien howls as the creatures were pushed back. And then, as the rustling faded, a growl, low, and dark, and very much directed at Harry.
Eyes wide, Harry watched the creature approach, wild blue eyes staring him down in the fast approaching dark, blood and saliva dripping from its heavy black maw. “Padfoot…” Harry gasped, swallowing when the dog growled in response, crouching at him menacingly.
Harry held his hands up, wand quickly slipped into his back pocket. “Paddy, it’s me… I have to warn you. The Ministry is sending men in to find you tomorrow night. Someone spotted you at Hogsmeade… Come on, Pads… stop growling at me…”
The dog didn’t, fur bristling as it slowly approached Harry. “I was worried, Siri… I didn’t want you dead…” Harry whispered hoarsely, not certain why Sirius was still menacing at him, but suddenly remembering the ache again, in desperate need of filling, and much stronger than the fear twisting in his stomach. Padfoot leaped up, jaws snapping at Harry’s neck but not connecting, paws on his shoulders, pushing him down until Harry gave in and knelt.
Harry knew what the dog wanted, or at least, knew what he thought it wanted, because it was all he could think of as Padfoot continued to snarl at him, snapping at his jeans waistband until Harry unbuttoned his fly and pushed his pants and underwear down his thighs. And then Padfoot was behind him, hot mouth snuffling, pushing into his crack, licking and growling angrily until Harry fell forward on his hands, head bowed down as he panted.
“Oh fuck… Pads that’s… that’s bad, Pads… you shouldn’t—Oh!” Harry gasped, eyes squeezed shut at the dog nipped his ass cheek and then continued to lick his hole and balls with its wide, warm tongue. “Oh god… help…” Harry spread his knees as wide as his jeans would allow to keep himself from falling forward, Padfoot nosing into him again, hard and throwing off his balance.
His face hit the dirt, bent arms failing him as Padfoot jumped on him, silky matted fur rubbing against Harry’s back. Claws tore carelessly at his shirt as the heavy creature braced itself on Harry’s narrow, sloping back and began to hump against his crack. Harry gaped, sweat pouring down his dirty, tear streaked face, the dog’s large cock finding his entrance and immediately plunging into him with fast, hard thrusts.
“Oh… oh stop… oh hell…” He managed to choke out as fire seared through him, Padfoot slick and long, stretching inside his tight hole.
There was something different to the feel of Padfoot’s hard rod, something thicker and sharp that kept bruising into Harry as the heavy dog dug claws in and persisted, fucking him on his knees into the dirt. Each quick, jabbing thrust brought it a little closer, a little deeper, pain searing in his hole as his flesh tried to stretch around the large knot. “Oh god… I can’t… c-can’t… no… god no…” But it was inside, tearing into him, filling his so deep, stretching so fucking wide as the thrusts changed from wild, fast and desperate, to rocking, hip shaking pounds as the dog’s dick tied to him.
Harry could feel his hole closing around and keeping the sharp knot in tight, holding the dog in deep, where it belonged, filling him, filling the ache that refused to be filled any other way. Fuck, he needed help… needed to know that this wasn’t as wrong as he knew it to be, because it felt so fucking good inside him. Especially when the wet started, seed filling him so deep, so hot inside him, making him feel fucking real as long as he was slick, and full, and dripping.
“Fuck Pads… fuck me… fuck…” Harry was whining, face dragging in the dirt, pushing back into the hard pumps trying to break his hips, feeling the silky fur and strong body rocking against him. “Need this… bad… so bad… its so fucking bad… and I need it…” The admission was too much, and Harry came with a cry, hands gripping in the dirt, mouth spilling soil as still, Padfoot reamed into him unrelenting, nails turning his back bloody, cock slicking his hole so wet.
Harry waited, gasping air, waiting for the dog to grow tired, first of fighting, and now of fucking. It was a long while, night fully formed around them, cold settling in. Harry ached, but didn’t dare move, not when Pads growled and snapped at him every time he did, demanding he stay still and open for him to receive all the wet seed he had.
Then he was gone, and it was Sirius, fully clothed and wrapping arms around Harry, pressing his entire weight down on him until he was pinned, flat on the ground with Sirius covering him and panting in his ear.
“You could have been fucking killed, you stupid fool. If I had been in the glade, you would have been. How many fucking times, Harry, until I find you dead?” Sirius growled in his ear, voice hoarse and rough with restrained emotion.
Harry didn’t say anything, just absorbing the heat of Sirius grinding against him, holding him close. Then he felt it, the slick inside him pouring out without anything to stop it, and he moaned wantonly, lips brushing dirt.
“Fuck, Harry. You fucking liked that, didn’t you?” Sirius whispered, biting at his ear while Harry squirmed from the feel of cum gushing out of his sore hole. “You are one nasty little bitch… Fuck… my god…”
Harry was pushing himself up against Sirius, trying to get back on his knees, trying to spread his legs wide as he felt the man hardening behind him. “Siri… need your help…” Harry moaned, pushing his hands into the ground and trying to get leverage. “Need to be filled… so bad…”
“I can see that,” Sirius panted in his ear, shifting and wrapping his arm around Harry’s waist and holding the boy against him as he knelt. “Spread your legs wider… yes… just like that… Tell me what you want.”
“Fuck me…” Harry grunted out, pushing back, only to have Sirius hold him still. “Please Siri,” he whined, throwing his head back as the man started nipping his neck and shoulder. “God, I need it… fucking need it…”
“You do. You really fucking do, Harry… Because you just had a dog fucking you, and you still need more, don’t you?”
“Yes… More…” Harry begged, pushing back only to have Sirius again hold him still, biting harder on his shoulder. “So empty…”
Sirius groaned, free hand running down Harry’s side, pushing the boy’s shirt up and pulling it off. He let Harry go, shoving him forward so he could pull the boy’s jeans off, including shoes and socks and underwear, and then rolled him so he could look down at Harry’s tormented expression.
“Are you some sort of bitch, Potter? Some sort of canine bitch in heat?” Sirius asked, eyes raking over the thin, pale boy covered in sweat and scars.
Harry just blinked up at the man, green eyes so unbelievable wide, lips red and swollen with his face streaked in dirt and saliva, hair messy and feathery around his head. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t, instead a low moan falling free instead, the boy arching from the sensation of cold air over his hot skin.
“You are… you fucking are…”
Sirius stood, grabbing Harry’s clothes, and making sure the boy’s wand and glasses were safe in his pocket, and then hauled Harry to his feet. Harry swayed, blinking around, feet edging away from the thorns trying to prick him on the ground. Sirius held an arm out, and Harry moved to him, letting the man lift him up against his chest, arm secure around the bottom of Harry’s wet thighs as the boy held on to Sirius’s neck.
Sirius carried him to the glade, naked body pressed into his hard warmth, no animal bothering them as long as Harry was covered in Padfoot’s scent. And once in the safety of Sirius’s lair, the man placed Harry down at the foot of the tree, turned him, and shoved him into the bark, much to Harry’s despairing relief.
“Yes.. do it, Siri… need it…” Harry moaned as Sirius grabbed his hips roughly and pulled him closer.
“Hush, love… hush… I’m going to give you what you need,” Sirius promised, mouth pressing to Harry’s neck while his hands began to explore the boy’s back, running over the raw scratches Padfoot had left behind. “How long have you been like this, Harry? How long have you been begging for it?”
Harry groaned, realizing no filling was coming until he told Sirius what he wanted to know. “Long time… empty a long time… Just didn’t know what I needed until… about a month ago…”
“After you blacked out?”
Harry nodded, his nose brushing against the tree trunk and scratching his skin. “Yes… fuck yes…”
“Did you know you wanted men before then?”
Harry shook his head no, mouth opening and tongue pressing to the rough bark before him.
“Had you had sex at least? Some point of reference to know when it changed?”
“No… never even touched myself… It was too dirty…”
Sirius inhaled sharply, pressing up against Harry and licking down the boy’s throat. “Oh love, you were fucking born this way… fucking delicious bitch, begging for it slut…”
“No,” Harry groaned, even as he spread his legs wider, pushing back into the bulge behind him.
“Yes,” Sirius growled, pushing him forward harder, hands flying down to his pants and quickly tearing them open. “It happens sometimes… the inner animagus responds to its own… Fuck Harry, you are one of us. You’re a fucking dog.”
Harry just whimpered, Sirius’s hard, hot cock finally pressing against his hole. “Oh yess… do it… do it…”
“Fucking bitch dog.” Sirius grunted, thrusting in hard, Harry still wet, and slick, and wide from Padfoot. “I got what you need… Now fucking take it…”
“Yes… oh god…” Harry cried, arms wrapping around the wide tree trunk, legs spreading further as Sirius began to drive into him. “God… so big… so fucking big… just right…”
Sirius growled, pushing the boy’s face down into the tree while snapping his hips forward. He slammed in while Harry fucking thanked him for being thick enough, long enough, and hard enough to fill him just the way he needed it. It was just the way Sirius liked to give it to him, and it was all Harry had ever fucking wanted or needed.
Sirius could not draw it out, not with Harry begging and pleading so prettily, so clearly slut and easy, and all fucking his. How Harry had made it so long, not bending over to some rough fuck was beyond Sirius. Now awakened, the boy didn’t seem to know or want anything else.
“Fuck… that’s it… that’s it… so tight… Fucking mine… you’re fucking mine, Harry…”
“Y-Yes… make me yours, Siri…” Harry sobbed out, cheek crushed against the bark as Sirius continued to smash his head down, the hold on his hair uncompromising.
Sirius filled him with a snarl, slamming so hard that Harry lost his footing and nearly fell, only to have Sirius pin him into the trunk, bark scraping painfully against his erection until Harry came with a weak cry.
“Little longer… fuck yes… fuck…” Sirius ground him forward, smashing Harry’s hips into the tree, loving the feel of Harry clenching so demanding around him as the boy took his hot cum.
With a great groan, Sirius pulled out of Harry, grabbing the boy by the shoulders and pulling him away from the trunk that had left bits of bark clinging to Harry’s skin. He tugged the boy down to the ground with him, wrapping his larger body around Harry’s pale, nude form, and spooning him tight while the boy shook and gasped, trying to calm himself.
SCENE #Harry joins a pack
Sirius was not expecting Remus, but realized he should have, considering it was past midnight, Harry was still wrapped in his arms, and the Ministry was supposedly going to be hunting for the escaped convict tomorrow.
His werewolf mate came when the clouds moved over the moon, darkening everything so as to hide the golden glint of his eyes when he hauled Sirius up by his shirt and threw the man away from Harry’s sleeping form. They fought in the dark, quiet grunts, fists connecting flesh, dirt scraping under feet and kicking legs, until Remus had Sirius pinned, growling death in his ear.
“What the fuck have you done, Black?” Remus snarled, all hard muscle and deadly intent in the face of Harry’s condition. “He’s a fucking child!”
Sirius laughed harshly, earning him a brutal punch in the face from his handsome love, his nose snapping. “He wanted it… fucking still does…” Sirius panted out while trying to keep blood from pouring down his nose.
“You fucking waste—I knew I shouldn’t have let you stay here. That prison fucked you up, Black.” Remus punched Sirius again, the darker man putting his hand up to block the assault. “He’s not James! You can’t just do that to his son.”
“I fucking know! I’m not fucked in the head, Lupin—I fucking know!” Sirius snarled back, knocking Remus’s supporting arm and smashing the man’s face into the ground. “James didn’t fucking come back after you had him. He ran off and married Lily like a good little boy. Harry, fuck Remus… you don’t even understand what he is.”
Growling, Remus used his full strength, raising himself from the ground and Sirius’s restraining hand. He grabbed Sirius by the throat, breathing scalding heat in his face as he glowered. “Make me understand, Black. Make me understand how ruining that little boy is somehow going to give you more than what I do to you. Or do I need to remind you just how much you fucking need it?”
Sirius groaned, relaxing in the painful grip, eyes glazing over as Remus just looked at him. “Oh fuck… fucking remind me, Moony.”
“Padfoot, fucking tell me!” Remus looked ready to murder him, and Sirius felt the only way to remedy this situation was to show the werewolf firsthand what they were dealing with.
“Let me up, love. Let me show you, and I promise, you won’t be mad… promise…” Remus glared at him long moments, and then relented, releasing Sirius with an angry shove. Wiping his face into something less bloody, so as not to scare Harry, Sirius padded back to the glade, Remus close behind him.
Harry was awake, sitting up and blinking into the dark at their approach. “Siri…?” Harry called softly, brows furrowing when the man came into view. “Where were you?”
“It’s fine, Harry, just talking to Remi. You remember Remus, right love?” Sirius crouched next to Harry, fingers lightly brushing the side of the boy’s face.
Harry glanced over Sirius’s shoulder, finding his professor there, ruffled and vicious looking, all sweetness gone from his expression now out in the forest and in his element. Sirius’s hand was moving, touching Harry’s neck, and without realizing it, Harry was suddenly moaning, fire shooting through him from the simple touch, the ache returning so strong, it was like he had never been filled before.
Remus stepped forward, glaring down, watching Harry arch and then bite Sirius’s fingers, sucking them into his mouth, trying to get them in deep. “What have you done to him?”
“Nothing, not a god damn thing. Well, nothing to make him like this, anyways,” Sirius amended under Remus’s glare. “Smell him. Get close, Remi. See what happens to him… Fuck, it’ll be even better once he figures out what you are.”
Remus took in Sirius’s dazed eyes, and then crouched down beside the two. He carefully extracted the man’s long fingers from Harry’s mouth, grasping the boy’s chin, and forcing his heavy lidded green eyes to meet his. The boy reeked of sex… but not just covered in Sirius and Padfoot… no, the boy was fucking calling for sex, his scent so demanding it was like an assault.
Trying not to breathe too deep, Remus spoke softly to the boy. “Harry, how are you feeling right now?”
“Empty,” Harry murmured, eyes drifting with interest over Remus’s face. It was a very species specific answer, and Remus glanced at Sirius, who was grinning like a shit.
“He’s a bitch,” Sirius said smugly, running fingers through Harry’s hair.
“You’re a bitch, Pads,” Remus snapped, turning back to Harry’s questioning look.
“Only to my fucking alpha, love. You are the only one I will spread for, and fuck, I love to do it for you. Harry here… Harry will spread for anyone in the pack, right Harry?”
Harry turned his gaze to Sirius for a moment, and then back to Remus, eyes drawn to the sharp gold stare boring into him. “I… I’m not in a pack, Siri.”
Remus relaxed his grip on Harry’s chin, letting his fingers splay and trace under the boy’s jaw. Harry watched him, eyes growing darker, lips parting as he began to pant. Remus touched Harry’s throat, not fully surprised when the boy jerked forward, gaping, sweat beginning to trickle down his face. And then Harry was kneeling, spreading his thighs, resting on his hands and staring at Remus expectantly, lip caught between his teeth.
“You want me to fuck you, Harry?” Remus asked quietly, watching the boy’s eyes widen in want. “Want me to fill you, so you don’t feel so empty?”
“Y-Yes… please, Sir…” Harry whimpered, eyes fluttering shut at the wonderful thought.
Staring at Harry for a thoughtful moment, Remus stood back up, hauling Sirius with him in long strides away so they could watch over Harry while they talked. “He wasn’t like this before. I would have noticed.”
“No, he said he’d never touched himself. Some muggle bullshit about it being dirty,” Sirius confided, lowering his head and gazing at Remus through his lashes. “I might have—well, Padfoot likely, woke him up.”
Remus growled, stepping towards the man and grabbing him forcefully by the back of his neck. “What the fuck did I tell you about interacting with these children, you fucking sod? They are not playthings.”
Sirius rolled his eyes. “Everything is a fucking plaything. Just because you’re a halfblood doesn’t mean the rest of the world agrees with your backwards logic. I am strong and they are weak. Tell me Moony doesn’t agree with me.”
“Fuck what Moony thinks. Did you hurt him? Do I have to fucking worry about you being trucked off for hurting fucking children?” Remus was squeezing Sirius’s neck hard, forcing the man down until he was on his knees and looking up at him.
“He came out here reeking of sex, attracting every beast in the vicinity,” Sirius swiftly explained. “I wanted to protect him, but every time he fought me, the wild dog fucking needed to break him. I had to have him—the dog fucking had to have him. I didn’t even realize what was happening until tonight.” He met Remus’s eyes as the werewolf growled. “I wiped his memory of most of it. It was only ever him, Remus, I fucking swear on my life. I don’t give a fuck about anything else here. Just his safety, and you.”
Remus took a deep breath, relaxing his hold when he realized Sirius had at least not attacked anyone else. “And is he safe, Siri?”
Sirius scowled, glaring in Harry’s direction. “I think Padfoot is feeling more calm, having claimed him firsthand. But I can’t say for certain if the boy keeps being so argumentative. He keeps fighting me, keeps returning out here. Came running because he thought I couldn’t handle some fucking Aurors—the boy means well, but damn dim about the way of things. I can’t get him to listen.”
“He needs affection, you stupid prat,” Remus muttered, stepping in front of Sirius’s view and cupping the man’s face as he looked down at him. “Something you may have understood once, before Azkaban ruined your head so. He is lonely. I’ve been watching him, and he is isolated and unable to communicate.”
“All the more reason you should claim him. You can give him those things and make him obedient. I sure as fuck can’t.”
Remus shook his head. “He’s a damn child. He doesn’t even know how to transform.”
“Bullshit. We’re already protecting him, Lupin. Let us fucking have him, and he us at the same time. Stop letting that human muggle backwardness get in the way of things. Moony knows. Moony is fucking drooling over him, because fuck, Pads fucking loved him, Remus. And Harry fucking loved what Padfoot gave him.”
Remus groaned, pulling at Sirius’s hair until the man was back on his feet. “What the fuck am I going to do with a little bitch running around while I’m trying to work and teach these weak children?”
“Fuck him, that’s what he’s there for,” Sirius growled, stepping in and kissing Remus. Remus tightened his hold on the man’s silky black hair, wrenching his head back and deepening the kiss. He drove his tongue into Sirius’s mouth, feeling his mate surrender to him, even now after so many years of hell and pain he had been through while in captivity.
“Has he helped you, Siri?” Remus asked, pulling away to look his mate over, thumbs caressing the sides of his face as he stared into his wild eyes. “You seem almost closer to yourself tonight.”
Sirius gave an agitated shrug, eyes lowering. “He is a dim thing, nearly got himself killed… but… he really was worried. I could smell it on him… I’m not used to that. Not anymore.”
Remus nodded, studying his face and brushing fingers down his cheek. “Do you want to keep him, then? Not just for me… but for you?”
“Yes,” Sirius said quickly, and then winced, as if he had not wished to speak it so readily.
Remus quirked a dark smile, lightly shoving Sirius away. He turned, looking down at the boy that was waiting patiently, shivering in the cold without any clothes to protect him. “Come here, Harry. I’ve decided.”
Harry rose slowly, his knees stiff and body aching in general from all its recent activities. Once standing, he paused, mouth gaping as he felt the wetness in him still, shifting and drizzling down his bare thigh.
Remus noticed, nostrils flaring as the boy stumbled and fell to his knees from the feel of it. He held his hand up, walking to Harry instead, pushing the boy onto his hands and knees and kneeling behind him, hands moving up in the dry crust and now fresh cum sliding down his thighs. “Look at you, such a mess. Sirius was never good at caring for his things…”
“Oh… oh don’t…” Harry whispered, wrinkling his nose as he felt Remus press his tongue to his inner thigh, licking up the thick fluid with dirt and twigs stuck to him. “It’s… it’s dirty…”
“It’s okay… I very much like dirty things, Harry,” Remus assured him, tongue moving in hard, firm swipes, first one trembling thigh, and then the other. “You are a very filthy boy… and I like that a lot…”
Harry made a soft, aching noise, feeling a warm nose press against his hole and exhale as Remus continued to lick up him. “Oh god… oh… oh… I don’t want to be dirty…” he whimpered. “It’s bad…”
“Mmm… it is… very fucking bad…” Remus rumbled into his pink entrance, tongue pressing out and pushing in, seeking more of the cum from his mate, human and dog. “You are very fucking bad for being so dirty… And I want you to remember that every time it feels good. Can you do that for me, Harry?”
Sirius growled, crouching in front of Harry and running fingers through his sweaty hair. “Stop fucking with his head, Remus. You’re going to give him a complex.”
“Shut up, Black. He’s mine, and I’ll do as I please,” Remus snapped back, grabbing Harry’s cheeks and pressing his thumbs against his crack to spread him wide. More milky, hot fluid dripped out, and he lapped it, feeling Harry tremble. “Harry… is it bad to be so dirty?”
“Yes… god, yes…” Harry groaned, stretching forward and pressing into Sirius’s hands as the man ran fingertips over his lips.
“Do you feel good right now?” Remus asked, tongue driving in again, wiggling the thick muscle and making Harry gape breathless.
“I do… I do, Sir…” Harry cried out
“That makes you… a very bad boy, Harry… And do you know…. what we do to bad boys?”
Harry shook his head, whimpering.
“We fill them, love… Fill them so deep… so full… that they never feel empty again…”
Harry gave a wide gasp, crying out at the idea. Grinning, Sirius pressed two fingers to Harry’s tongue, the boy quickly curving his flesh to them.
“So… maybe you don’t want to be such a good boy… right Harry?” Remus asked, smiling as Harry shuddered from the heat of his words. He ran a hand up the boy’s cleaned thigh, rubbing his balls and brushing his hard length. “Good boys don’t get filled… but filthy… naughty… bad boys… they get more than they can handle…”
“Oh god… oh please… I wanna… I wanna be dirty…”
“Siri, you heard the boy,” Remus murmured, smirking at just how quickly Sirius was tearing down his fly as he stood. “Harry, Siri is very good at dirtying things…. not so much at cleaning, but I don’t hold it against him.”
Harry just nodded, eyes widening as they focused on Sirius’s hard dick, the man’s large hand doing nothing to disguise how big it was now that it was nearly level with Harry’s face. “I… I don’t know…”
“I’ll show you,” Sirius muttered gruffly, thick fingers pressing into Harry’s mouth, thumb on his chin urging his red lips wider. Harry opened obediently, eyes caught in the wild blue stare. The boy was fucking stunning, more so without all the defiance of before, Harry now just full of trust and want. And if Sirius ruined that trust, well, he could always wipe the boy’s mind and try all over again.
Harry’s tongue reached out to meet the man, running over the head of his cock, shivering against his flesh in hot, needy motions. Sirius breathed in sharply, watching the boy lick him as if it was the only way left to breathe, desperate and hungry, and very much wanting it. Hands tangling in the silky mess of Harry’s hair, Sirius pushed himself in, dipping towards the back of the boy’s hot throat and sinking until he found some resistance.
“That’s it…” Sirius grunted, Harry making a small choking noise, eyes watering up in response to the large intrusion. Sirius pulled back a little, pushing in deep again, firmly against the back of Harry’s throat. Hot saliva began to drip down around his cock, Harry’s mouth widening more to accommodate his length. Sirius stayed seated in him, feeling the boy tremble, tongue flickering against his length, small, desperate puffs of air from the boy’s nose as he struggled to breathe.
“Look at him, so well behaved…” Remus mussed, moving around Harry to watch the boy’s flushed lips stretch to Sirius’s dick. Green eyes slid towards him, the boy’s brows suddenly furrowing as Harry made another choking noise, Sirius holding him in place as he pressed again into his throat.
“Harry, do you remember where that big cock was, only hours ago? Right up your tight, hot hole… You are getting yourself absolutely filthy.”
Harry shuddered, his whole body arching, mouth widening to spill hot fluids down his chin. Sirius pulled out to let the boy choke on the spit that had clogged his throat, using the time to rub against Harry’s face with his dripping cock. He watched with interest at how the eyes fringed with black kept following the red head of his dick, as if just waiting for it to be close enough to lick again.
“Open wide,” Sirius said, pressing his tip to the ripe lips. Harry did slowly, tongue again reaching for him. But Sirius was rubbing against his bottom lip still, watching the red flesh indenting to the shape of his cock with each swipe. Remus made a growl of approval at the sight, and Sirius began to jerk his hand over his length while pressing it to Harry’s lips, moving his slick head around the gasping mouth and chin.
The boy began to pant in anticipation, eyes hooded, body stretching and legs spreading, as if Sirius was about to fuck his hole instead of his mouth. Smirking, Sirius reached into his back pocket, unfolding Harry’s glasses single handedly and slipping them onto the boy’s face.
“Fuck, Siri… fuck…” Remus groaned, running fingers over Harry’s wet chin and down his throat while Sirius’s hand made rapid, slick noises as he jerked himself faster, cock now pressed into the glass frames digging into the boy’s face. “Do it, Black… all over his face… He wants to be filthy.”
Harry moaned loudly, pressing forward into the hot length rubbing against his face, mouth and tongue reaching for Sirius’s sack, licking and kissing desperately, covering himself with his own saliva and Sirius’s heavy musk and sweat. “Oh god… please… please…”
Grunting, Sirius grabbed Harry’s hair and pulled the boy back, streaming hot cum onto his face, over his glasses and fringe, across his lips and cheeks. The boy gaped at him, looking for all the world as if he were going to cum right then and there. And then Harry moaned, air shakily escaping, harsh pants exploding out as he nearly fainted, Sirius’s grip on his hair the only thing keeping him upright.
Remus helped pull the shaking boy into his lap, wrapping his arms around him while Harry moaned long, aching breaths. “You are a fucking mess…” he murmured to the boy, watching Harry jerk at the words. “A fucking nasty, dirty mess. Do you like that all over your face? Covered in Siri’s foul cum? Do you, Harry?”
“Y-Yes… oh god…” Harry was squirming, trying to get needed friction on his aching prick. He crawled up Remus’s form, knees straddling the man’s muscular waist as Harry pressed his nude body into his shirt front. Remus deftly plucked the glasses from Harry’s face, holding them out in front until Harry understood and began to lick them clean.
“Good… good, Harry… You are going to be very fun to train…” Remus held his hand out once the glasses were to a proper cleanliness, Sirius taking them and placing them safely back in his pocket. “But first, pup, I’m going to have to claim you. Because there is no fucking way I can let you back into that castle without you knowing who you belong to. You’d be fucking spreading to anyone that had the nerve to growl at you. You wouldn’t want that, now would you?”
Harry tilted his head, lips parting at the thought, while Sirius snorted. “I… I don’t know…”
“Oh, you little slut, maybe you would,” Remus groaned, running his hands down the boy’s back and squeezing his ass. “Well, I wouldn’t want that. I am very possessive of my dogs, Harry. If you want to be in this little pack, you need to understand that no one else touches you, not without my say so.”
Harry swallowed, eyes straying back to where Sirius was sitting close by and watching. “But… if you say so?”
Remus followed, having mixed emotions of the intensity of Sirius’s stare as his mate looked over the small boy.
Remus knew Harry wasn’t James, and was fairly certain Sirius knew that as well. But James had nearly gotten between Remus and Sirius on many an occasion, until Remus had offered a compromise, one James just hadn’t had the fucking balls to follow through with. But Sirius had been through fucking shit years because of the pack traitor, Wormtail, and Remus just didn’t have it in him to get defensive over Sirius’s blatant interest in the boy.
“I would give Sirius the okay, Harry, if that’s what you want,” Remus finally answered, watching Sirius’s face as the man relaxed at the news.
Harry turned back, crooked smile twisting his swollen lips, face streaked with layers of his long evening. “How do I join your pack?”
“How indeed,” Remus mused, Harry squirming again against him. “You just stay obedient, and filthy, and I will show you what we do to such bad little boys.” Hands moving again, Remus pressed a finger into Harry’s entrance, raising an eyebrow as the boy clenched tight around him.
“Harry, I fucking tasted you. You had Padfoot and Sirius not too long ago. How are you so tight?”
Harry didn’t have an answer, eyes fluttering shut, hips pushing back into the hands holding him, his own arms wrapping around Remus’s neck. “Oh… that feels good…” He whispered wetly against Remus’s cheek, lips pressing into sharp stubble as soft hair brushed his face.
Remus was fairly certain Harry wasn’t too god damn picky about what ended up in his ass, just as long as something did. The boy was a fucking slattern for his hole being fucked, and apparently, was designed in a way to ensure that whoever was doing the fucking would be willing to come back for more. Pushing two fingers roughly into the boy, Remus began to work quickly at the tight muscles while Harry cried out and rocked on his hand.
Shit, but the boy liked it rough, made the loudest, neediest noises when Remus lost a bit of control and pushed too hard, wrenched too quickly. He glanced over Harry’s head at Sirius’s ever watching gaze, meeting the man’s smug grin. The fucking bastard had known, had thrown a god damn delicate looking, begging to be broken bitch into his lap, and was just waiting to see him try not to ruin him.
“Harry, turn around and get on your fucking knees,” Remus ordered lowly, watching the boy whimper and jerk at the harsh command. And then he was wiggling, trying to untangle his gangly legs from Remus’s waist, crawling over his lap to get to the ground and spread.
“Up, Harry, just your knees,” Remus added, watching him push up from his hands, swaying unsteadily while Remus pulled his shirt off and undid his trousers. He had not been expecting sex tonight, had not even thought Sirius, so cold and fucked in the head from Azkaban, would be in the mood. They had only been together their return meeting, when Remus had reclaimed his mate, reminding him what it meant to feel again. Sirius had not seemed to want to remember… not until this slutty little pup here. Maybe Harry was going to make things different… better, even…
If the boy could sit still long enough for it. “Patience, Harry, my god.” Remus quickly grabbed the boy’s hand that had been inching to his hole, small fingers just starting to breech. Harry glanced back and up at him, green eyes full of apology and desperate need. “I haven’t forgotten you.”
“Okay, professor… I just… I really, really need it…” Harry whispered, then gasped, turning more to see Remus’s heavily muscled chest and many brutal scars. “Oh… oh wow…” He went to reach out and touch, but Remus caught his other hand, pulling the boy against his chest so Harry was blinking back at him in surprise. “You’re strong…”
“I am,” Remus agreed, releasing Harry’s hands to touch the boy’s pale throat and chest. He looked particularly small and fragile in his arms, thin limbs and slender torso, slight toned muscle only starting to build on his frame. “I’m going to bite you, Harry. You need to understand what that means.”
Harry looked down, then dragged his eyes back, biting his lip pensively. “I, uh, don’t want to be a werewolf.”
“I don’t want you to be one either,” Remus said simply. “And I don’t want you to be my mate. Siri is my mate, and I am very happy with him. Biting you will make you part of our pack. It will let any animal know that you belong to me, the same way they know Siri belongs to me. You are still very weak, very young. It won’t fully protect you from bad creatures, but they will know who they are crossing if they do hurt you. We will protect you, and you must be loyal in return.”
Harry nodded, eyes straying to Sirius and then back to Remus. “How do I, uh, show that I’m loyal?”
“It doesn’t take much, little pup. Listen when we speak to you. Do your best to grow strong and powerful to help protect us, and so we won’t have to worry so much for you. Come to us and spread when you’re in need, and we’re in need.”
“Oh… I want to do that now… that last one right now,” Harry whimpered, pushing back into Remus’s body and rubbing.
“Yes, well I do believe you are going to be in need far more than myself and Siri are used to, Harry,” Remus said with a small growl, holding the boy still so that he could focus. He might have to find another packmate, just to keep the boy filled and quiet. Remus had spent a damn near celibate existence without Sirius, and vice versa with Sirius in such a life draining jail. This little horny pup was likely going to exhaust them quick… delectable as Harry was.
Oh, and he was fucking delicious. Somehow Harry managed to get his hips free, pushing back and finding Remus’s hard, large cock and trying to wedge it between his cheeks. “Shit—Fine, fine, fucking now. Just turn your head this way and let me see your throat.”
Harry did as he was told, eyes closing softly as Remus licked the side of his neck. Remus glanced up, meeting Sirius’s very intent look as the man slipped a little closer, as if not believing Remus was really going to claim the boy. Smiling at his fucking crazy mate, the werewolf rose up and Remus clamped his jaws hard around Harry’s throat, wrenching and digging teeth in while the boy howled in pain.
“Fuck—hurts… fucking hurts…” Harry cried, his body jerking fitfully under Remus’s teeth. Then the man was grabbing his hips brutally, pulling Harry’s ass back onto his cock. “Oh hell… oh god… can’t…” Remus was bigger… so much fucking bigger than what could possibly be normal. Pushing in so hard, not letting up, just pushing forward, and forward until Harry’s hole had not choice but to open up, stretch wide, and take it in.
Sobbing, Harry spread his legs wider, his body still jerking and spasming, now grounded by Remus’s teeth in his neck, and hard cock in his ass. He could feel magic rushing over him, feeling very much like the wolf Harry had sometimes sensed hidden in Remus, dark and angry and dominating.
Sirius, still crouched on the ground, inched another step forward, only to have Remus growl, warning him back as blood dripped down his chin and Harry’s bruised neck. Sirius had never seen Remus claim anyone besides himself, and fuck, it was a damn fine sight, gold eyes flashing, body taut with power, and hard with sex as he began pumping into the small boy. Sirius had forgotten just how fucking hot his mate was, not to mention was noticing how much sexier he had become as he aged, watching Remus bury himself savagely into Harry’s tight hole, holding the boy down, fingers biting in almost as tight as his jaws.
Harry was mumbling incoherent, small mouth wide and streaming liquid, body a quivering shake of waif limbs and heaving chest. Sirius tried to remember if it had been any better for him, so many years ago.
Remus had been younger, less bulked… hell, kind still. He had caressed Sirius first, lapped gentle kisses and then, in one shocking move, had nearly snapped his neck as he had bit into him. It had hurt, and Remus had fucked him for the first time, hard, vicious, until he remembered blacking out for lost moments, only to keep returning to the pain, the fullness, and belonging. It had hurt so good… so fucking good…
Harry’s hands had found their way to Remus’s head, thin fingers tearing at the man’s hair as he rocked into the thrusts filling him. The spell was nearly done, so close to completion, and Remus’s body was moving with it, hips snapping with its climax as Harry cried, again and again with each slamming thrust. Until Remus was still, buried so deep… so deep and hard… pushing into him, spurting long, hot shots of cum into his hole as he filled him with cock, and seed, and all the dirt and filth he could ever hope for.
Harry couldn’t bear it any longer, eyes rolling back, body going so tense with his orgasm, and then very slack, a limp rag in Remus’s arms.
Sirius didn’t approach until Remus had extracted his teeth from the boy’s neck, not wanting to look like he was challenging his mate for the little pup. Together they cleaned the boy while Harry slept, washing his limbs, healing his bruises, and mingling theirs and his scent. And although Sirius so wanted the boy to stay, to curl with him in the dust under his tree, he let Remus take him, knowing it would be better for Harry in the castle, protected by his mate.
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BENDING TIME
A HARRY POTTER FANFIC
SCENE #An uninvited guest
The darkness was oppressive, a palpable weight of inky black surrounding him as Draco made his way back to the Slytherin common room by wand light. He stepped as carefully as his tired feet would allow through the castle hallways, smelling the unpleasant scent of plant guts and dirt even after the numerous cleaning spells he had cast. Somehow the detention had gotten caked into his skin nearly as deep as the gritty anger he felt towards the damn boy that had gotten him in this mess in the first place. Bloody Saint Potter and his holier than thou attitude. If Draco had known he’d end up with detention, he would have done more than call Granger a mudblood. He would have beaten the green-eyed bastard’s pretty face in.
Draco wasn’t sure what the hell it was about Potter that pissed him off so much. If he was honest, it really didn’t make much sense. He felt sorry for the kid. Voldemort was going to kill him—Everyone knew it. Draco had actually spent a fair amount of sleepless nights just that summer in the manor stuck on that very fact. His terrible father and his even more terrifying Dark Lord were going to murder a boy in his class. But then, Lucius had started on about how Draco wasn’t even remotely up to level with where he needed to be in his studies, and then most of those sleepless nights had been about the pain, and how if Harry Potter had just killed the Dark Lord the first time, like proper, Draco’s life would have been a hell of a lot easier. But Potter had half-assed it as a toddler, like the boy half-assed everything. Including perfectly witty verbal sparring until Draco had been forced to bring out the big guns—Just when Professor Sprout had been walking by.
Stupid Potter.
Draco stopped at the portrait of a grim looking warlock, trying to ignore the strange feeling in the air that something just wasn’t right. He glanced behind him into the darkness of the hall, his eyes seeking out anything that would explain the goosebumps threatening to tingle up his skin. It felt like dark magic—Powerful, all encompassing magic just floating in the air after a spell.
“Password,” the portrait prodded, making Draco jump in surprise.
Scowling, he whirled back. “Purity is truth,” he muttered, waiting for the door to swing open.
“Detention so soon in the year, Malfoy? Your father will be displeased.” His scowl only growing, Draco pushed into the common room and refused to say another word to the traitorous portrait. His father was a dick, and could go die for all he cared. He paused in the common room, biting his lip as the door closed behind him. There was no one there. No student staying up late to study, or couples making out in the corner, or anyone to torment him for details of his detention. Still, that feeling of powerful magic was lingering, teasing down his spine and making his steps frantic as he stumbled to the dorm he shared with the other Slytherin fourth year boys.
Peeking in to the large bedroom, Draco was relieved to see that everyone’s bed hangings were pulled tight, no one waiting to ask annoying questions. Snape had been laying the homework on heavy that week, likely to punish the visiting students there for the Goblet competition. Draco had no issue with the extra work, but he knew his classmates were struggling and likely needed all the sleep they could get. Relieved that he wouldn’t have to explain the sticky, exhausting night he’d had with all those deadly plants, he slumped over to his trunk and began to strip.
He hesitated, looking at his hand while reaching for his robe. Somehow the plants had managed to stain his beautiful skin and when he sniffed his fingers, there was the remains of the underlying bitter smell he had been facing all night. He quickly dropped his night robe, refusing to foul his bed clothes. He’d have the house elves change his linens in the morning but there was no way he was letting Potter manage to ruin more than his evening with this damn detention.
Draco threw his bed hanging’s open, stepped inside and froze, his breath catching in his throat. It was that feeling again, all around him, of terrible magic and now, at the source of it, blood. Eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, Draco could just make out the figure filling his bed. Stumbling back, he groped for the wand he had foolishly left with his dirty clothes, his mind whirring wildly. There was someone in his bed. Someone big, powerful, and not a classmate. Just lying there, like the man owned the fucking place. Wand lit with a lumos, Draco approached his bed cautiously, eyes straining to comprehend the figure before him.
Whoever it was, he was dressed all in black, heavy boots, well fitted pants, black shirt and coat… “Oh, for fuck sake,” Draco said in exasperation, quickly closing the curtains behind him and setting up a silencing charm.
“Black, what the hell are you doing here? You scared the shit out of me. Why the hell are you in my bed?” Draco could tell by the tenseness in the shadowed form that Sirius was awake. Scowling when the man refused to answer, Draco rapped him sharply on the leg with his wand. “What, did the werewolf throw you out? I warned you that the man wasn’t twenty anymore. He’s not going to put up with your pranks. Um… Siri…?” He trailed off with a whisper, hand having touched down on the leg before him, heat and muscle greeting him instead of the expected near skeletal form of his wrongfully convicted cousin.
“You surprise me, Drake. I didn’t know you were on speaking terms with Sirius.”
Draco gaped, eyes straining past the light from his wand to find the face that went with the the unfamiliar voice purring lowly in the dark. “You’re not Black,” he managed to croak out, that oppressive energy suddenly pushing down on him, threatening to drown him in its power.
“No.”
“Holy fuck!” Hands trembling, Draco jumped back and drew his wand level with the stranger’s heart. “Who are you? What the hell are you doing in my bed?”
The shadows closed in even thicker around the man, Draco getting no warning when his wand suddenly flew silently from his grasp into the stranger’s hand. Draco gulped, eyes wide as he stared frozen at the glowing tip of his wand that might as well have been in another country for how available it was to protect him right now. “Oh, shit.”
SCENE #Unrealized dreams
The man moved with complete control and ease, knowing he was powerful and expecting everyone else to know as well. Sitting up, long legs bent, arms resting on his knees, he idly twirled Draco’s wand between his fingers while he observed the boy silently. Heart pounding in his ears, Draco fleetingly wondered if he was going to make it through the night alive.
Tilting his head to the side, the man regarded the blond boy with unreadable eyes. “Who do you think I am?”
Eyes snapping to the man’s still shadowed face, Draco wet his lips nervously. “I-I don’t know. You’re face is… It’s too dark to see.” His eyes strayed again to his wand, wondering if he could summon it and hex the man in time to escape. Surely if he managed to wake up all his dormmates… “How did you do that?” He asked, hoping to distract the stranger from his intense stare long enough to run. It didn’t work, the man’s glare boring into him even as he answered the question.
“Combination of voiceless and wandless magic. The last thing I need is for you to do something foolish to prevent this conversation, Drake.” Given his tone, he was definitely expecting Draco to do just that. Waving his free hand, dim light filled the enclosed space of the bed hangings. “How about you try a guess? It would make this a little easier if you figured it out on your own.”
Eyes still fixed on his wand, Draco hesitantly glanced towards the man’s face, flinching away when he met that intense stare fully. There was no way he had ever met this guy before, but he forced himself to look closely, hoping to find something that would keep him alive.
Once Draco started looking, it was difficult to stop, something in the man’s face drawing him in, pulling him step by edging step closer. He had thick dark hair curled loose in mussed waves that fell to the nape of his neck, framing a strong looking face. Dark eyebrows and high cheekbones, combined with a sharp jaw edged with the beginning of a five o’clock shadow gave him a severe, predatory look. But the soft swell of his lips and glow to his eyes lightened his expression to something stunningly breathtaking. He had to be at least in his mid twenties but that was all Draco could discern because he sure as hell had never met him before. He would have remembered a face like that. No one had eyes quite that shade of green—
Draco started, eyes widening in shock. Before he could lose his nerve, he crossed the distance and pushed the thick mess of hair away from the man’s forehead, revealing a thunderbolt scar. “Son of a—How’d you do it, Potter? Aging spell? Potion? I actually thought you were—Ha! For fuck sake!” He smacked Harry on the shoulder, more than a little annoyed when strong muscle met his hand. “I don’t even think the damn Goblet will be able to tell the difference,” he grumbled, looking him over carefully, all his fear immediately gone once he realized it was just Harry Potter.
Hell, who’d have thought Potter would grow up into such a hottie? Well, other than the Weaselette; she’d been saying it for years.
Draco shook the thought away with a sneer. “Right, you’ve rubbed it in my face, you prat. You’re getting your name in the Goblet and I’m not. Now get lost so I can sleep,” he snapped, placing his hands on his hips and glaring. Bloody Potter always found a way around the rules. God only knew how he had broken into the Slytherin dorms… Fuck, but he grew up nice. Draco found his eyes drawn down, taking in Harry’s broad shoulders and narrow waist wrapped in a silk shirt, skintight leather pants revealing strong leg muscles, calve high boots much better than the ratty sneaker the boy always wore. The bastard was hot. Really fucking hot, and sprawled out on his bed like he wasn’t about to leave anytime soon.
“You’re close, but not quite dead on. It’s not a spell,” Harry said, watching the blond’s face intently.
Draco rolled his eyes, getting more annoyed by the minute as a naughty voice in the back of his head thought maybe having Harry Potter sprawled on his bed wasn’t a bad idea. Especially when he looked like sex and felt like powerful magic. “Potion? Glamour? It doesn’t matter. You won; I get it already. Now get the fuck out.”
“No, Drake, you don’t.”
Draco narrowed his eyes, snapping his attention back to the brunette’s face. “Why do you keep calling me that, Potter? I don’t remember giving you permission to call me by my first name, never mind a nickname.”
For the first time since finding him there, Harry’s expression lightened, a lazy, wicked grin slowly spreading across his lips as his eyes travelled over Draco’s practically naked form like a hot touch. Something warm and syrupy curled in the pit of Draco’s stomach from that look. He licked his suddenly dry lips, unable to turn away when Harry’s stunning eyes pinned his. The grin faded as quickly as it had come, his expression dark and consuming once again, and leaving Draco feeling extremely vulnerable.
“I have scars, Drake,” Harry whispered, shrugging out of the long leather coat he was wearing. “Scars from killing the Death Eaters. I earned a bad one on my leg from when I destroyed Bellatrix. This one here…” Harry tore his gaze away from the blond with an effort and pulled his sleeve up to reveal his tanned arm and the mass of scar tissue near his wrist. “This one was a gift from Voldemort. I killed him three days later.”
Eyes falling to the wound in confusion, Draco noted that it wasn’t fresh. “What the hell are you getting at? You aged yourself and got scars in the process? I’m sure they’ll go away when the spell wears off.”
“I haven’t aged myself,” Harry said solemnly, his eyes again locked on Draco’s. “I used a time turner Hermione modified to travel back and fix things.”
Draco’s breath caught in his throat. There was no sign of laughter hiding in Harry’s eyes. The Gryffindor could never keep a straight face… But maybe this version could?
Eyes drawn to the scarred wrist again, Draco tentatively reached his hand out and touched the bumpy flesh that was whiter than all the rest. He had never heard of an aging potion giving you scars before. Not to mention the new powers Potter was wielding with absolute ease. Wandless and voiceless magic wasn’t run of the mill. Potter would have to be monstrously powerful, and have even greater control to use both so easily.
“Can you prove it?” Draco asked quietly, his cold fingers drawn to the heat of Harry’s wrist and unconsciously wrapping loosely around the man’s limb. “How do I know you weren’t sent by my father to test me? It could just be an elaborate glamour.”
Eyes caught on Draco’s fingers, Harry turned his arm slowly, his hand opening up and brushing fingertips lightly to the blond’s pale skin. “Your father tests you? Why?”
“Because he thinks my mother has a bad influence on me,” Draco blurted bitterly, snapping his mouth shut abruptly afterwards. Annoyed with his slip, he glared back at the man. “Even if I did believe you, why come telling me? Go bother you friends or something…” He trailed off, doubt flickering as a troublesome thought sparked in his mind. He carefully extracted his hand from Harry’s wrist, the man’s fingers releasing him reluctantly.
“You’re not here for revenge for something I do in the future, are you?” Draco asked tightly, his fear of earlier tingling down his spine and stealing the moisture from his mouth. Potter still had his wand, still had more height, and muscle, and a shit ton of power compared to anything he could hope to combat in that moment. And he kept staring at him, like he wanted to grab him… crush him… burn him…
“I’m not here to hurt you,” Harry said slowly, watching the emotions flit over Draco’s face.
Draco wasn’t convinced, meeting the man’s glare defiantly. “Then what the fuck are you here for, Potter?”
“To save you.”
Draco jerked as if struck, something painful welling up in him that had no business clutching at his throat and stinging at his eyes. “You’re a fucking imbecile. Save me—I don’t need fucking saving, you stupid saint. You’re telling me you came back in time just for that? Just for me? I’m supposed to believe that you—” Draco turned his body away, his voice having grown shrill, a tear sliding down his cheek that he viciously wiped away. “Fuck! Get the hell out of here. I don’t need your damn help. You’re the one they’re going to kill.”
“They try,” Harry murmured, sliding further down the bed, hair tickling at Draco’s shoulder as he leaned closer to talk to the boy who refused to look at him. “But they fail. So they kill everyone else instead. Everyone. No matter how many Death Eaters I hunt down and destroy, they still manage to pick us off, one by one. Until one day, I kill them all, not a single Death Eater remaining. But there’s no one left to protect, Drake. The wizarding world is on the brink of extinction. Everyone is dead, and I need your help to fix it.”
Draco truly hated Harry Potter.
“What the fuck can I do about it, scarhead?” He snapped, fingers curling into fists. “Look at me—If you couldn’t save them with all your damn power, I sure as fuck can’t. What the hell do you want from me? Not to get the dark mark once I’m out of school? My father will kill me fucking cold if I even suggest such a traitorous thing! What the hell do you think I’m capable of doing that you, fully grown, couldn’t fucking manage? I just—I can’t—Fuck!” Snarling, he whirled, slamming both his hands down on Harry’s shoulders, not caring that the man was a goddamn mountain of muscle and could likely break him apart with a single word.
Harry was beautiful and everything Draco had ever wanted, and he could never, ever have him.
“Out of all the fucking people, you come to me?” Draco said, filling his voice with as much scorn and disbelief as he could muster. “Did someone curse the goddamn brains out of your head? I hate you! I’ve always hated you, and your arrogant, save the fucking world reckless attitude. For all I know, you’re the one that fucking kills me!”
“Don’t say that,” Harry rasped, something dark moving in his eyes. “I would never—”
“You said it yourself,” Draco growled spitefully, pushing down on the man’s shoulders. “You killed all the Death Eaters. I’m going to be a Death Eater. So that means you kill me.”
“I would never hurt you, Drake. I would never, never—I just—It was a long time ago, and no one—” Harry dropped Draco’s wand and grabbed the furious boy by the biceps. “I would never hurt you, beautiful. It would destroy everything I am to ever hurt you.”
Draco scowled, trying to wrest himself from the man’s strong grip. “Like I’m supposed to fucking believe you give a shit about me, or something? Time travel must have scrambled your fucking brains. I just spent my night in detention because of you and your—mmph!” Eyes wide, Draco stared shocked at the dark eyelashes of the man suddenly kissing him. He tried to pull away, but Harry was unmovable, hands holding him in place, hot mouth crushing his lips.
“What the fuck are you…?” Draco gasped out when Harry released his mouth.
“I love you, Drake,” Harry said hoarsely, his eyes wet with unshed tears while he clasped his hands around the boy’s face, holding him reverently. “I miss you so much, baby. When I lost you—God, it all just went to shit without you, and I need you back. You don’t have to do anything, Drake. I just need you to love me again and, and I’ll do everything else. I just need you.”
SCENE #Love that spans time
Draco could only stare, his face flushed, breathing strained as he watched Harry’s eyes roam over his expression like he wanted to kiss every inch his gaze fell upon. “You’re mad,” he finally whispered, eyes downcast to watch the man press a trembling thumb against his bottom lip and rub.
“You’re mine, Drake. My love… my heart… my sanity.” He pressed his lips to the boy’s forehead, then his eyebrows, moving with restrained force as he slowly kissed down his cheek, finding his mouth again. “I’m going to protect you. I’m going to teach you to break past the defenses of my younger self, so that he will grow into the man you need. I’m going to give us a life together.” He teased his tongue between Draco’s lips, urging them to open.
Gasping, lashes fluttering shut, Draco opened to the brunette’s insistent touch, groaning when Harry plunged his tongue deep inside him, the man’s long fingers tightening to prevent him from escape. “Oh god,” he moaned, Harry tasting every plane of his mouth, lips crushing his harder, threatening to swallow him down and eat him alive.
“It’s so hard not to touch you… a lifetime, not touching you,” Harry whispered roughly, releasing Draco’s face and wrapping his arms around the boy’s shoulders. “Tell me you feel it, Drake. How much we belong together. You’re mine and we belong together.”
“I… I don’t—” Draco’s mumble was cut off, Harry kissing down his neck, the man’s stubble prickling across his collarbone deliciously. “Potter, you can’t stand me,” he whispered hoarsely, not able to comprehend what was happening.
“I love you. I’ve always, always loved you,” Harry insisted, kissing and licking his words into Draco’s skin. “I just couldn’t admit it at this age. I didn’t even understand. But I know, looking back, that you felt the same way.”
Draco huffed, trying to rise above the maddening heat thrumming through his body. “You’re crazy if you think… oh… oh god…” he trailed off, Harry nipping at his neck, tongue quickly soothing the pain away. “I hate you.”
“You don’t. You are madly, ferociously out of your mind about me,” Harry said with absolute conviction, raising a palm to cup Draco’s jaw and cheek. “All you do is glare at me, fight every moment you get, unable to think of anyone else as long as I’m in the room. I’m the only one you do it to, the only one who you follow around, hexing homework, listening in to drop a rude comment. You are so lost, beautiful, and you can’t even see it. But I can, and I’m going to show you.”
Draco glared, trying to figure out how to convince this clearly raving Potter that he had no interest in any version of the man, young or fully grown. “I just like hexing you, you imbecile. I fight with you because you’re annoying as all fuck.”
“Liar,” Harry said with a growl. “You can’t stop staring at me. Can’t stop making a big deal over every little thing I do. I was ignoring you today, my scar bothering me so much, but you couldn’t stand that, could you? You had to run your mouth off and say shit about my friends, just so I’d finally pay you some attention.”
“You’re out of your mind,” Draco snapped, his face turning red at the very true account of what had happened to get him into detention. “You were being a total prick by showing off in class. That’s why I said what I said.”
“Bullshit and you know it,” Harry taunted, dragging his fingers through the blond’s silky hair, Draco’s eyelids drooping from the feel of it. “You want me. You’ve always wanted me and hated that you couldn’t even get near me without having to fight.”
“You can’t prove a bloody fucking thing, you arrogant bastard,” Draco growled, trying to step back, only to have Harry’s arm slip down to his waist and hold him tight.
Harry slid the rest of the way off the bed, standing and towering a good head over Draco. He pulled the boy against his body, trapping him to his hard muscles. Slipping his fingers beneath Draco’s chin, he tipped the glowering boy’s face up, gracing him with another wicked, dark smile. “That I am here twelve years in the past, waiting in your bed, is proof enough that you are my lover,” he said silkily, hand fanning out to caress the blond’s jaw and throat.
“L-Lover?” Draco repeated dumbly, unable to look away from Harry’s glowing green eyes.
“Yes.” Harry let the hand around Draco’s waist slide further down, finding the boy’s boxers and cupping his ass. He pulled the blond flush against him, Draco gasping as his growing erection pressed into Harry’s thigh, feeling a mirroring hardness against his hip.
“Oh, hell,” Draco said hoarsely, his eyes falling shut when Harry squeezed his behind and ground his hips against him.
“I would have let them all die, Drake. Every single pompous wizard and arrogant witch that thought their godlike power made it okay to treat everyone else like dirt. They weren’t worth the risk of Time.” Harry brushed his fingers to Draco’s face, tracing the boy’s lips, dipping his head to watch the blond swallow. “But I couldn’t give you up. I would do anything for you, beautiful. I would kill every single one of them all over again, if I could just have you back.”
As mad as Harry had become, Draco believed him. Because it was Potter and in any form, the boy just couldn’t lie. There was such sadness in him but also an absolute darkness in the man’s eyes. Harry had killed a lot of people and he had no regrets about it. But for some reason, Draco held something that had brought him here to this time to change it. “What… what happens to me?” He asked softly, afraid of the answer.
“You die.”
Draco glared in exasperation. “Potter, if you could kindly string a fucking sentence together.”
“Voldemort kills you.” Harry looked away, confusion twisting on his features. “No… You were protecting an area, outdoors in the street… There were muggles everywhere… children. Voldemort was using them as a shield, hoping I wouldn’t attack. I had begged for you to run, to just get the hell out and let me deal with it—but you… He was threatening you… trying to make you hurt the children, and you looked so lost.” Harry turned back, his eyes haunted as he traced Draco’s eyebrow. “You killed yourself. Right in front of me. I couldn’t stop you… I killed Voldemort moments later—I lost it, Drake. I fucking lost it, and everything was just… dead after that…” he trailed off, his voice numb and expression blank.
Draco had no idea what compelled him, his hand suddenly raising to press against the man’s cheek, fingers combing and tangling in the dark waves. It was more than sorrow, it was despair. For all of Harry’s power and strength, he was helpless, still somehow this young man that had tried as hard as he could, and still failed everyone. Draco had seen the pressures put on the boy, to survive, to be the hero because no one else had the guts to stand up to Voldemort. But Harry was just a boy the world was demanding of, just as weak as Draco was at that moment, and even grown and powerful, Harry hadn’t ever recovered from the impossible responsibility placed on his shoulders. Right now Draco could not hide from that pain so clear in the man’s eyes.
Harry’s hand covered Draco’s, the man pressing into the gentle touch, eyes closing as he breathed deep. “I remember third year when I was watching the Ravenclaw Slytherin match. I couldn’t stop looking at you. I wanted to watch Cho, but I just kept getting drawn to you, waiting for that vicious expression you get when you fight for a win.” Harry opened his eyes, his gaze searing into Draco’s as he pulled the boy closer. “Later, when you were mine, I found even more expressions I love on your face. All of them when you’re shaking beneath me, pleading for me to fill you, to make you mine.”
“You need to shut up,” Draco mumbled weakly, swallowing hard, his body readily responding to the words. “I don’t… I don’t like him.”
Harry pressed his lips to Draco’s cheek, resting his head there while he continued to hold the boy’s hand. “Do you remember last year’s tryouts?”
Draco blinked, gnawing slightly on his lip as he nodded. “So?”
“When those two were shagging in the locker room, making all that noise?” Harry pulled back enough to see Draco’s face as the blond’s cheeks began to flush. “And you thought, like everyone thought, that I needed my glasses to see. Even though I had corrected my sight after that damn basilisk and just wore them to mislead my enemies.”
Draco scowled, trying to wrench away, but Harry was still too strong. “There’s no way you saw—”
“You watched me touch myself in the shower,” Harry whispered into Draco’s ear. “You slipped into the stall next to mine, pressed yourself up against the wall, and you gave yourself the hottest fucking handjob I had ever seen all while staring at my cock. You came so hard, I thought you were going to fall. And part of me wanted you to because then I could have picked you up, and touched you, and kissed those beautiful lips of yours until you came again.”
Draco was pretty sure he was going to fall now, blood rushing in his ears. “You… you saw me?”
“I saw you.”
“And you… you wanted me?” Draco mumbled, feeling like an absolute fool for being caught, for Potter ever looking at him and thinking he was hot. Because as much as he loved to look at the boy, and piss him off to get his attention, and hope he didn’t die, he knew Harry would always hate him. The world just didn’t make sense any other way.
Harry smirked, lips again pressing a kiss to the boy’s cheek. “You confused the shit out of me. I kept hoping you’d do it again, hell, just even talk to me, and then beating myself up afterwards because I thought you were a total prat back then.”
“I am a total prat,” Draco said shakily, again trying to push the man away.
“You’re my prat, Drake. You’re mine, and I don’t care how much of an ass you are, just as long as you stay mine,” Harry confessed with a wry smile.
“I…” Draco sighed, slowly raising his eyes and meeting the man’s gaze. It was mad, absolutely mad, but apparently he needed to say it. “I can’t like you, Harry. I’m not allowed to… to let you near me. Because if my father ever realizes that I have any feelings for you but hate, he’ll destroy me.”
Something flashed in Harry’s eyes, a near murderous glow. But it was gone just as quickly, his lips softening. “Is that why? Why you never spoke to me about how you felt?”
Draco scowled, hating how that sounded. Like he had liked the idiot and had just never said anything. That it was true didn’t mean he had to admit it. “I need to protect myself. My father… well, you know, obviously. He’s preparing me to join the Dark Lord, whether I like it or not. And I… I have to be careful with everything I say… everything I do. I can’t just—Hell, I don’t get to have the things I want. You can say all you like about coming back here to save me, but how the hell can I trust you to do it? What happens when you leave and it’s just me and You-Know-Who?”
There was such compassion suddenly in Harry’s eyes, Draco wanted to turn away. Instead he let the man kiss him, sighing softly into the touch, wondering where the hell his sanity was fleeing to. Harry ran his lips softly over his, whispering into his skin. “I know you’re scared, love, but you don’t have to be. That’s why I’m here. I’m going to make sure my younger self protects you.”
“But… but he’s not strong enough to do something like that,” Draco said weakly, wishing he didn’t want such an impossible thing.
Harry caught the boy’s chin again, smiling tightly. “Look at me, Drake. Believe me when I say, he’s strong enough. Next year I’ll start hunting them down, every Death Eater I can find, and I’ll kill them all. Or… or you can help me. Make it so I don’t have be that… that monster.”
Again Draco saw that absolute hopelessness in Harry’s eyes, the despair for what he was. But what Harry was, Draco could only see as strong, probably the most powerful being he had ever come across including his father and Voldemort. And Harry had killed the Dark Lord, so that just proved it, didn’t it? Draco could… He could actually have that gorgeous boy, with his damn reckless smiles, and angry green eyes. And if the boy really cared back, Harry would protect him.
“What… what would I have to do?” He asked, his heart fluttering strangely in his chest.
Harry sighed in relief, suddenly hugging Draco so tight he could barely breathe. “Just show him how he feels. Show him that you’re the goddamn reason for everything, and he’ll do the rest.”
Draco pursed his lips, raising a brow at the odd answer. “I don’t know how to do anything like that. We… we barely talk, and his friends are always in the way.”
“I’m going to help. I’m going to stay a while, and I’ll show you how to get through to him.” Harry stared down into Draco’s eyes, his expression softening even more. “You’re just like I remember… It’s a bit crazy, just how much you’re the same.”
“Coming from the time traveler,” Draco said with a smirk. “I don’t know how to break it to you, but this is how I always look.”
“Beautiful,” Harry quietly declared.
Blushing, Draco shrugged, not really in the mood to argue about it. He was stained with plant guts, his hair was a sweaty mess, and he hadn’t slept yet. He was hardly… “Potter,” he breathed out, Harry suddenly kissing the corner of his mouth.
“Harry, Drake. You call me Harry.” Tangling his fingers in the back of Draco’s shoulder length hair, he held the boy still while delving his tongue slowly into his gasping mouth. “I need to taste you… Need to know you’re really mine. It’s been so long.”
Draco’s halfhearted struggles were ignored, Harry suddenly scooping him up in his arms so he could devour the boy’s mouth with ease. Damn, he was strong. Draco felt oddly delicate in comparison as the man ran his large hand down his ass and bare leg, caressing a calf and moving back up to press between his thighs. Draco moaned, suddenly wrapped around Harry’s hips, legs spread wide as the man’s hand slipped beneath the hem of his boxers and firmly moved over the milky smooth skin of his cheek.
“Wait.. just, oh… oh god,” Draco gasped, Harry’s fingers massaging the flesh between his cheeks, pressing tauntingly at his hole while he summoned something cool and slick, and then began to tease a finger into the heat of his entrance. “Oh… you shouldn’t,” he groaned around Harry’s tongue, the man insisting on stealing his breath as well as his mind.
“I need to… God, you can’t understand how much I need you.” Harry’s movements became bolder, a thick finger thrusting into Draco’s clenching heat, the boy clinging to his shirt as he was breached for the first time. Harry plunged in and out with torturously slow jolts, Draco’s eyes squeezed shut, face buried against the brunette’s throat as he felt every mad, agonizing stretch of his tight muscles loosening. “And I know… I know you need me, too. I’m never going to leave you, Drake.”
Every rational thought in Draco’s mind was warning him how wrong this was. Harry was so powerful, so damn strong, and absolutely dangerous. His father’s enemy, Voldemort’s destined destroyer. He should have been terrified. But all he was afraid of was his father finding out, of being caught and possibly killed for loving every amazing kiss, and touch, and god, that finger—Draco loved Harry’s hands, and long, long fingers.
Eyes blinking open, Draco found himself suddenly face up on the mattress, Harry glaring down at him, the man’s lips swollen from their kisses. Draco took a shuddering breath, the flat of Harry’s hand pressing to his inner thigh, fingers wrapping and digging into his soft flesh. “Harry,” he whispered, waiting for the man to come closer, to kiss him like he needed to.
“I’m trying to hold back, Drake,” Harry groaned, eyes moving over the blond’s slender form, drinking in his gasping pink lips, heaving chest and flat, lithe stomach. “You’re so, god, so perfect… and I know no one’s touched you before. You’ve always been mine and only mine.”
Draco swallowed, watching as Harry slowly moved down his prone body, the man’s fingers grazing over him so lightly as if afraid he’d somehow break him. But whatever was going through Harry’s mind, his desire could not be contained, and suddenly the man was dipping down, tongue licking out to taste a pink nipple. Draco gaped at the intense heat and wet over the sensitive bud, his head falling back on the bed as Harry teased and taunted the flesh, nipping until it was red and sore.
Draco weakly slipped a hand into the brunette’s thick curls, moaning when the man refused to stop his torment, instead using his fingers to pinch his other nipple to the same level of tenderness. “Harry… it feels…” he trailed off, unable to find the right words for the maddening sensation. Then Harry switched, his mouth latching on to the other nipple while his hand squeezed the first. Draco cried out, his hips seeking friction from the body hovering above him.
Groaning, Harry pinned Draco’s hips down with both his hands and ran his tongue up the boy’s chest, over his collarbone and to the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “You’re mine, Drake. I know you can feel it. The pull inside you that makes you mine.” He sunk his teeth into Draco’s flesh, clamping tight and holding while the boy thrashed on the mattress.
Draco cried from the teeth biting deep in the muscle of his shoulder, jolting his body in a way he had never expected pain to do. A weak moan followed, Harry’s teeth replaced by that tormenting, maddening tongue, the hurt easing into pure fire. It felt so wild; flesh, silk, and leather all rubbing against his bare skin to drive him closer to climax. Closer to insanity. Harry was merciless, licking down his pale skin in desperate swipes, pulling moans and cries from Draco’s lips when he nipped too hard, only to soothe again with his tongue.
His boxers were pulled down roughly, Draco’s eyes peeking open to find the man staring at his now completely nude body with consuming fire in his eyes. That he was much younger than the lover the man had lost to Voldemort didn’t seem to matter, except when Harry’s hands touched him, as if afraid he would break but unable to stop himself from finding out. “What are you…? Oh… oh my god,” Draco mumbled, Harry’s mouth descending to the head of his flushed cock, the man’s tongue lapping out to lick a fiery wet path over the straining flesh.
Draco’s head felt extraordinarily heavy but he fought the pull of gravity, eyes riveted on Harry’s swollen lips as the man pressed them to the tip of his dick and slowly parted, swallowing him inch by gasping inch. Draco’s hips kept jerking, trying to push up into the amazing heat, but Harry held him tight. Then those green eyes were blazing into his, holding Draco’s startled gaze, making him wonder if Harry wasn’t going to eat him alive like some ravenous cannibal because, really, who could ever look that hungry from just the taste of him?
Harry descended lower, holding Draco’s gaze the entire time, sinking the boy’s cock deep into his throat and holding him there while clear juice glistened from his lips.
Draco knew this was what it was like to die, his heart demanding to be heard for its last breaths, his lungs burning as his chest heaved—and Harry. If there were ever eyes more consuming and deadly than those staring him down right then, trying to burn into his soul, Draco would never know them. He gaped, muscles tightening, hands clutching weakly at the sheets, his entire body a bow. And in that moment, Harry’s finger pressed inside him again, causing Draco to shout in surprise and pleasure, coming hard in the man’s fiery mouth, his seed spurting from him and immeditely swallowed by the mouth milking him.
Draco fell back bonelessly, unable to hold his head up or his arms, his limbs shaking. He blearily felt his knee being pushed up, Harry’s bristle prickling over his inner thigh, his hot mouth teasing over his sac and lower, tongue flickering where his finger was still buried inside him. Draco moaned unintelligibly, head lolling back on the mattress as his thighs were spread wider and that tongue replaced the finger, probing deep and wet inside him. Harry was relentless, Draco not even having time to enjoy his orgasm before his body was again burning, pulsing in the aching need that he had never felt so strong before until the man had grown it inside him.
Toes flexing in the sheets, Draco couldn’t stop his cries from rising in intensity, Harry’s hands so strong and rough as they firmly pulled his hips down to meet each torturous thrust of his tongue. Then Harry was pulling free, hauling Draco up from the bed, the boy’s silver eyes wide as the world tilted and he was pulled into the man’s lap. Harry kissed him fiercely, desperately, and Draco could only let him, opening to the assault and clinging. Groaning from the taste of the blond, Harry tangled long fingers into Draco’s silky hair and trapped him in place while he crushed the boy’s lips with his own. Draco’s gasps were muffled, Harry drinking his moans and cries while teasing ever more with his persistent tongue, plundering the sweet mouth to exhaustion.
“Did you like it, Drake?” Harry asked heatedly, panting into the boy’s mouth. “I wasn’t too fast—Too rough with you?”
“It was good,” Draco assured, squirming as he tried to wrap his legs around the man’s hips while sitting up. “I just… god, it aches, Harry. What you were doing… It makes me feel… feel like I need something inside,” he admitted with a groan, gasping when he felt Harry’s hardness as he pressed against the man’s hot torso.
“I don’t want to go too fast. I don’t want to hurt you, beautiful.” Harry slid his hand down from Draco’s waist, following the ridges of the boy’s spine, then dipping his fingers between his smooth, spread cheeks. He pressed a finger against the Draco’s hole, the blond moaning loudly at the touch and pressing back, urging it in.
“Please… please, just a little more,” Draco panted, head falling on Harry’s collar as he rubbed his body against the man wantonly. “God, help me. Just need it… more.”
Harry exhaled sharply, his other arm tightening around the blond’s waist so he could crush their lower bodies together. “What do you want, love? Do you want them inside?”
“Y-Yes,” Draco pleaded with a low whine, feeling too hot and desperate to truly know himself in that moment. Whatever Harry was doing to him, he was just a puppet to the man, reacting to each firm touch and desperate sound with burning, unrelenting need. Harry’s finger pushed in deeper, testing his sanity and resolve while Draco did his best not to cry and beg for more. The finger twisted further, Draco feeling it burning, pressing past his clenching muscles and filling him, only to pull out slowly again. “Don’t stop… please, not yet.”
Harry puffed hot air against Draco’s neck in a soft chuckle. “Never going to stop, Drake. I’ve got you now, and I’m not going to lose you again.” Harry pulled his hand up, licking his finger thoroughly, tasting his sweet lover and coating another digit. He pulled back, watching Draco’s lips part in a silent moan, the boy’s eyes slits of silver need. “I want to hear you, love. I want to hear you beg.” Harry pressed his lips to Draco’s, adding lowly, “I’ll give you everything you ask for.”
Draco drew in a breath that shattered halfway, his eyes reaching for Harry’s. “Please,” he murmured weakly. “Please, Harry. I need you… Oh,” he moaned out, not even thinking of refusing.
Harry swallowed hard, eyes drinking in the boy’s desperate expression. “Louder, love. So I never have to wonder if you’re mine.” He trailed his slick fingers over Draco’s parted lips, watching as the boy licked out and added saliva of his own.
“Please!” Draco gasped around the fingers suddenly dipping in and pressing to his tongue. “I want you… I want you to put them in me. Need you now,” he insisted heatedly.
“Oh, that’s perfect, Drake.” Harry pulled his fingers free from the boy’s hot mouth, dribbling saliva over his lips and chin and then stealing a quick, deep kiss that Draco groaned into. “All the way in?” Harry wondered, delving between the boy’s tight cheeks and pressing two fingers against his hole. “How deep do you want it? Can you take it all the way inside?”
Draco moaned, needing it so badly he didn’t really care. “All—just do it all,” he demanded hoarsely. His fingernails bit through Harry’s shirt sleeve, clinging to the man’s arms to keep from falling as fingers slowly breached him. It felt so much thicker, nearly unbearable, burning against the sides of his channel and stretching, causing his flesh to ache madly, his body clenching around the intrusions. Suppressing a sob, he surged forward, biting into Harry’s shirt, the rough taste of fabric grounding him from the overwhelming feel of such thickness moving inside him.
“How’s that, love? That deep enough?” Harry asked gently, pulling Draco’s face up so he could lick away the teardrops that had escaped before claiming his sweet mouth.
“More. I want more,” Draco pleaded, his teeth finding a soft hold on Harry’s jaw when the fingers slipped deeper into him, delving so far until they couldn’t go any further. “Oh… oh Harry.” He gave a low, broken moan when the fingers began to expand, spreading his hole from different angles, refusing to allow him to grow used to the sensation.
Harry groaned as he watched Draco become undone in his lap, the boy’s gasps and cries fueling him onward. “Want another one, love? It feels so good when it’s thick, your body tight and clenching.”
Nodding, Draco thrust his hips back to bury the fingers in as deep as possible. “A-Another… yes… god yes. Deeper.” He arched his back when Harry pulled his hand out and slid three fingers into his tight heat. “Oh, god!” Draco cried out into Harry’s neck, spreading his knees higher in hopes of reaching deeper. He groaned, Harry’s fingers receding out to the first knuckle. “N-n-no, don’t stop.”
“Not stopping, love. Never stop,” Harry assured heatedly, thrusting his fingers into Draco, one arm wrapped tight on his narrow hips to keep the boy from slipping. “Like that? Want it again, Drake, nice and hard?”
“Damn it, Harry! Yes already—Forever yes!” He sobbed out, writhing as Harry breathed into his hair and began rhythmically stabbing long fingers into the boy. Harry pulled out slowly, only to slam back in again, each jolt sending their cocks crashing together and Draco crying out for more.
Shifting, Harry pushed Draco up so he couldn’t get any friction for his leaking erection against him. “You’re doing so good, Drake. Hold on a bit longer. I want you to come while riding four. Do you think you can do that? Can you take four inside you?”
Draco moaned unintelligibly, rubbing his head against Harry’s chest, his mouth and cheek slick from his own saliva the silk shirt had been soaked in. “They’re—They’re so big… I don’t know, Harry. I’m so full already.”
Harry swallowed, brushing Draco’s sweat soaked hair from his flushed face. “It’s okay, Drake. You don’t have to.” He stared deep into the boy’s clouded gray eyes, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Did you want to try, just to see? We can stop whenever you want, love. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“If you don’t do something soon… I’m going to hurt you,” Draco grumbled, rocking his hips back to get Harry moving again. “More, Harry. Now.”
“God, you’re amazing,” Harry whispered with more than a hint of awe, watching Draco’s face as he pulled the digits out and arranged four fingers so they could press against the boy’s stretched hole. “That’s it, Drake… yes… Open up for me, nice and slow.”
Gasping, Draco bit his lip and whimpered noisily as the mass of knuckles and flesh slid into his slickness and spread him wide. All he could do was breathe harsh, heavy pants broken by loud moans. Harry didn’t stop this time, moving the fingers in and out at a maddeningly slow, absolutely relentless pace, Draco forced to feel every sensation rubbing inside him.
“Oh god… Harry— Harry!” Draco sobbed out as the fingers crooked, touching something deep inside that assailed his senses and sent him reeling.
“You’re almost there. I want to feel you come against me.” Harry pulled Draco tight to his body, the boy’s arousal rocking against the man’s covered one as he thrust his fingers into Draco over and over again. “Just a little more, love. You’re so close.”
Draco groaned something into Harry’s shoulder, letting the man forcefully move his narrow hips against his hard form. His own body had turned into a trembling, burning ache that couldn’t move on its own, just beg for more of the mind numbing, pleasured pain. His muscles were so tight, every rock of the man’s body a jerking, dizzying crest of need that he rode, grasping to Harry desperately as the man brought him to maddening heights.
“Oh-oh… Oh god! Harry!” Sobbing wildly, Draco’s hips jolted forward as his channel clenched painfully tight on the fingers buried deep inside him. He came in long spurts, his cum scalding his stomach and staining where he pressed to Harry’s clothes.
Against his cheek he heard Harry cry out, the man’s breath hitching and hips giving a final sharp jab against him before eventually relaxing. Draco felt a minute disappointment, not having seen his new, strong body beneath his clothes. He sought out where Harry’s shirt tucked into his pants, slipping a gap open to press his hand to the man’s flesh hot. The thick fingers deep inside him slowly pulled out a final time, the once barely tolerable sensation quickly turning to something far worse before they were free of Draco’s channel.
Draco gave a bone-weary moan and pulled himself up Harry’s form, settling heavily against the brunette as the man wrapped a protective arm around him and pulled him down to the bed atop him. Magic rushed over Draco, leaving him feeling cleansed and contented.
Wandless and voiceless magic. Harry had gotten powerful.
“You okay, Drake?” Harry asked softly, threading his fingers through the blond’s sweaty locks and brushing his lips to his flushed cheek. “Did you like that?”
“Mmmm… s’good.” Draco sighed dazedly, plucking lightly at Harry’s shirt and staring up at his jaw blindly. He felt safe, probably the safest he had ever felt, and it was an odd feeling to comprehend.
“That it was, love. God, you’re so beautiful.” Harry traced Draco’s features lovingly, watching as the gray eyes flecked with blue began to blink heavily. “You can go to sleep now. We have some time together still. I’ll watch over you… I will always protect you.”
It was very much a confusing, maddening dream to have Harry pledge to him like that, as if they were truly lovers. But then, the man was breathing up his neck, holding him close and loving like there was nothing more natural. “How long were you together? You and my older self?” Draco asked, fighting the pull of sleep as Harry ran his warm palms slowly over his back.
“Always,” Harry murmured. “You were with me when I killed them all, by my side, keeping me strong. You were so brave, Drake. Even when you were afraid, you never let me fall. Now… now I’m going to give us all a better chance at a future together.”
Drake blinked in surprise, breath huffing out. “You mean I… I fought on the light side?”
Harry fell silent, fingers brushing softly over Draco’s skin. “You fought on my side,” he finally said, nuzzling into the boy’s hair. “You were with me, my love. As long as I could keep you with me. Sometimes… sometimes you left. And then, there would be another,” Harry whispered.
“Another what?” Draco asked, eyes closing sleepily.
Harry didn’t answer for a long time, Draco drifting in the sounds of the man’s steady breathing. “Someone that needed to die. You would return to help me. I was always so proud of you.”
Hearing the sorrow in the man’s voice, Draco pressed his lips to Harry’s collar. Somehow he had been able to do that for Harry, hiding as a Death Eater while still standing by the man’s side. Maybe he did manage to grow strong as he aged. Maybe he even grew stronger than his father one day.
Harry had come back in time for him. Whatever the two of them had together, it had been so life altering that Harry had returned to the past to ensure that they could have it for a lifetime instead of short years. Certainly it had to be amazing. Draco had never thought he’d love in such a way, had never thought himself a romantic. But now, with the opportunity in front of him, his heart ached to know the truth.
He wasn’t sure how to get Harry to like him. He really didn’t understand why this older version thought so highly of him. But he wanted to try. Deep inside he had hidden so much away, trying to preserve the little freedom he had of his emotions. It meant having to face those feelings, exposing himself raw and letting the young Harry see him. Draco wasn’t sure how to do something like that, but feeling the shifts in this man, his darkness, his sorrow, and his hope, Draco wanted desperately to help make him whole in the future.
SCENE #An impossible plan
Sitting at the Slytherin table, the Great Hall full of boisterous children, Draco was beginning to realize he had gotten himself in way over his head. He had been working very hard the last week, trying to behave himself around Potter. Harry’s older, blistering, sexy as hell form had felt that Draco should play it cool and refrain from snarking at the Gryffindors, or anyone in general as long as Potter was around to see. Draco couldn’t quite remember how Harry had convinced him into such a ridiculous plan, but it had involved large, rough hands, relentless lips, and that naughty, tormenting tongue sliding all over his body until Draco had mumbled something that must have been taken as agreement.
Heat rushing through him, he quickly took a swig of his pumpkin juice. What the hell had he gotten himself into?
Harry seemed to think that the potions project coming up would be the perfect time for him and Potter to start getting along. He also seemed to think it would take a week for Draco to learn to control his natural instinct to curse every Gryffindor that looked his way. Draco wasn’t supposed to fight, hex, insult—They had decided ignoring was probably the best he could play at for now. Being nice would only make Potter suspicious and being normal would just piss him off. Draco was allowed to stare all he liked though, which he was trying his best not to since Potter and his friends had sat down for breakfast.
Taking another long drink of his juice, Draco let his eyes stray, biting his lip hard. Damn, when the hell had Potter gotten so bloody cute? Potter had always been… yeah, cute. But now when Draco’s eyes caught the boy’s features, he seemed to see them just a little different, closer to the older Harry he was going to grow into. And for some reason, that just made Draco crazy.
He had never been this way before. Never. Draco wasn’t the type to feel all flustered and sweaty palmed around some pretty face. God, but the less he fought with Harry, the more he was realizing just why he had been fighting with him to begin with. Because when Draco wasn’t allowed to snark angrily, or hex, or even throw an elbow in the prat’s side, he had to deal with the fact that he was absolutely, stark ravingly obsessed with the boy.
Shit, when exactly had this happened? He tried to think back to a time when he hadn’t been intent on beating the hell out of Harry, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember. Surely there had been a time when Potter hadn’t been in his life, and that was certainly when he hadn’t been obsessed like some red cheeked, heart racing idiot. But Draco couldn’t even remember what life had been like before Potter and that was just bloody ridiculous.
So not only did he now have to face the fact that he was apparently a crazy person when it came to the damn gorgeous Gryffindor, but he also couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Fighting was out, as was fucking, and Draco just didn’t seem to know much of anything in between when it came to Harry. He was currently doomed to be a hormonal teenager stealing glances at the messy haired brunette while Potter chatted obliviously with his friends and ate.
Very much annoyed to find himself again staring at Harry when he had promised himself he wouldn’t, Draco turned back to his eggs and tried to concentrate on what it was Blaise and Pansy were talking about.
“Did you see the Weasel twins?” Pansy cackled loudly. “The idiots have beards all the way down to their knees!”
Draco glanced up to where she was looking, following the movements of the redheaded duo. They did in fact have beards. “That’s not a great look for them.”
“Fail with the Goblet,” Blaise informed him, taking advantage of the fact that Draco had decided to join the conversation. “What was your problem this morning, Draco? Did one of the upperclassmen bitch you out for coming in so late from detention? It must have been bad for you to lock up your curtains.” Blaise leaned in to add conspiratorially. “I tried to wake you but you had a silencing charm up. Meet some pretty thing on the way back from detention, or were you just dreaming of Professor Sprout?” He snickered, wagging his eyebrows lewdly.
“Don’t be absurd. I just wanted to sleep in without listening to you lot snoring.” It would have been a tad more convincing if Draco wasn’t blushing like a bloody tomato. “Speaking of inappropriate dreams, when I came in I happened to notice you calling out a certain ex-defense professor’s name. ‘Oh, Professor Lupin!’” Draco mimicked softly, laughing when Blaise jumped to cover his mouth before anyone else could hear.
“Don’t you dare tell!” Blaise hissed, looking around the table to see if the stares were because he was holding Draco down, or if they had actually heard what the blond had said.
“Relax, Zabini. Your secret is safe with me,” Draco said solemnly but his eyes were glittering in a way that sent a shiver of misgiving down Blaise’s spine.
“What do you want, Malfoy?” Blaise let him up slowly, glaring at the surrounding students until they looked away.
Draco thought about the possibilities such a question offered, his eyes once again drawn to Potter across the room.
So, Potter had known he had seen him wank last year. And he had wanted him to do it again… Shit, Harry was looking at him. Fighting the strangely recurring blush that kept jumping up at every possible instant those green eyes found his, Draco turned back and whispered to Blaise. “Help keep me from blowing up at the Gryffindorks, especially the Golden Losers, or I tell all on Snape’s chalkboard.”
Frowning, Blaise looked up at the other tables, stopping on Harry and Ron, who were glaring at them suspiciously. He turned a curious frown to Draco. “Why?”
Draco snorted. “None of your bloody business. Is it a deal or not?”
Blaise glanced back at the Golden Trio. Ron had gone back to eating but Potter was watching them with an unreadable expression on his face. Meeting the green gaze, Draco kept his face blank, watching as Harry’s eyes narrowed and flickered to Blaise, who was still inches from his ear.
“Yeah, alright. Seems like an interesting challenge.”
“Great.” Draco beamed. And now there were two.
“Are you two done conspiring? Because I want to withdraw my bet on George,” Theodore Nott interrupted, other hopeful eyes regarding them at the request.
Straightening, Draco glared down at Theodore. “You know the rules; no refunds. You can place a new bet with hopes of winning back your money, but with your luck I wouldn’t recommend it, Nott.”
As expected, Nott slapped his hand down and pushed a galleon into Draco’s waiting palm. “God forbid, but I’m picking Potter. He’s got a talent for getting around rules.”
Draco nodded, Blaise handing him the notebook so he could write in the new bet and cross Fred and George Weasley out of the running. “Pleasure doing business with you Theodore. Good luck in the finals.” He looked up at the surrounding Slytherins. “Anyone else?”
“The Ravenclaws just passed this over.” Blaise handed the note to Draco, reading over his shoulder as Malfoy took down the bets and counted the cash in the accompanying pouch. A lot of them favored that Johnson girl from Gryffindor. She was a good quidditch player but for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine the girl being the school champion.
Draco frowned as he sensed Blaise still leaning over him. “Problem, Zabini?”
“Maybe. Does Potter always glare at me, or is this something new?”
“Huh? Um, he seems rather impartial to you since you don’t bug the whole lot of them.” Draco blew lightly on the ink to quicken its drying time. “He’s probably just glaring at me again.”
“Nope, it’s definitely at me.” Blaise laughed lightly. “I think he wants to kill me.”
“What?” Draco blinked, looking up at Blaise’s grin. He snapped his gaze down the Gryffindor table and flinched at the angry green staring back and to his left where Blaise was leaning.
“Okaaayy… I’m going to just move over here out of the line of fire while you two handle your little problem.” Draco scooted down on the bench away from Blaise, taking his breakfast with him. The last thing Draco wanted was to inadvertently have Potter angry with him.
“Oh, thanks for your support,” Blaise drawled, but he was smiling when he went back to his breakfast, simultaneously keeping Pansy from badgering Draco. It was a job Blaise had earned when Draco had overheard the boy in a little shower play with Oliver Wood. It not only explained Blaise’s indifference to the Gryffindor/Slytherin House war that had been going on, but also his eye for older men. Draco should probably relay to his friend the fact that Lupin was spoken for, but decided it wasn’t worth breaking Blaise’s heart over. He should be thanking Blaise for shagging in the showers and making Potter inadvertently realize he wanted him.
God. Potter wanted him.
Draco leaned back casually and let his eyes wander towards his Gryffindor again. Oh, it wasn’t official in this time line, but Harry would be his. Even if Draco had to be nice to the idiots of the world, he would if it meant having that erratic, brooding, completely foolish boy that could fly like he had wings, and sent shivers through him just by staring at him, or talking to him, or touching… Hell.
It was clear as day now that he knew what to look for in Harry’s face. Draco shut his eyes to block the green that had never stopped staring at him since Potter had sat down and took a deep breath. Patience. It wasn’t Draco’s strongest suit but he could do this. It just made the rewards that much sweeter.
SCENE #Harry collapses
“I’m telling you, something is up,” Ron hissed yet again, sending a furtive glance down the lawn past the other groups of students huddled together. He glared at Malfoy, the blond staring warily at the newest hellion Hagrid had brought for them to play with during their Care of Magical Creatures class.
“Ron, will you give it a rest?” Hermione sighed, careful to keep her hair out of reach of the snapping claws of the Mortecraw turned her way. She was glad to see he had stopped talking about Krum, but the Malfoy topic was far more irritating. “He’s being quiet and hasn’t pelted you with anything sharp or smelly. Be happy. You don’t see Harry obsessing over it.”
“Huh? Well… someone has to!” Ron turned to Harry, who was crouched and looking thoughtfully down at his monster, poking it with a small stick. “Don’t you think it’s weird?”
Harry nodded, not looking up. “I haven’t seen him sneer in three days. He hasn’t pulled a prank in four, and I haven’t heard him call anyone a mudblood since that fight we had where he got thrown in detention last week. It’s bloody unnerving.”
“Told you,” Ron said, frowning at Hermione. “I bet the ferret’s planning something big.” That Harry felt the need to count the days, no one bothered to point out.
“Or he’s stopped caring,” Harry added quietly.
“Harry!” Ron gaped in disbelief. “You can’t really believe that! It’s-it’s Malfoy! He’s got Death Eater written all over him!”
Harry shrugged, watching as a dozen blue, tiny claws ferociously minced the twig he was holding. “I’m just saying it’s a possibility. Hell, aren’t you a little tired of all this pointless fighting?”
“Pointless? Harry, you’re scaring me, mate.” Ron shook his head weakly.
Straightening his legs, Harry stepped back unsteadily so he could look his friend in the eye. He wasn’t in the mood for this conversation, but it had to be said. “Yes, Ron, pointless. Pulling pranks, cheating in quidditch, calling each other names… How about you take a few rounds with Voldemort, and have a whole lot of people die just because you were born, before you start telling me that the childish stuff we play at here is important. If the Slytherins want to back off, then I’m more than happy to accept it. It gives me one less thing to worry about while my scar is burning.”
Ron sighed, his anger fading before it could even start. “Geez, Har. You really know how to lay on the guilt trip. You want to go to Madame Pomfrey’s? You look like you just ate a case of flobberworms.”
“You do look pretty bad off, Harry. Why didn’t you tell us your scar was hurting again?” Hermione placed a hand to Harry’s clammy forehead.
“Because it hasn’t stopped hurting yet,” Harry grumbled, carefully stepping around the snapping claws and sitting with a thud on the grass. The world tilted uneasily for a moment but he blinked it away. “Besides, Dumbledore thinks it’s a normal reaction to Voldemort growing stronger. Course, it’s not his head that’s been splitting with pain for the last three days.”
Hermione and Ron exchanged worried glances. “I think three days is long enough, Harry. We can all go up to the hospital wing after class if you want.”
Nodding dully, Harry pulled his knees up and folded his arms so he could rest his head on them. “Madame Pomfrey wasn’t able to help last time but I’ll try anything at this point. I’ve been seeing spots, it hurts so much…” He trailed off, watching idly as Neville struggled to keep from getting his robes torn in half while Fleur and her group of visiting students giggled.
“Oh, honestly!” Following Harry’s gaze, Hermione stomped over to help save Neville from the terrier-sized crabs with more legs than they could possibly need.
Most of the Slytherins laughed, even a few of his own housemates, but not Malfoy. The blond was watching the scene curiously, his hand resting on his wand just in case he needed it. What he might need it for, Harry wasn’t quite sure. Maybe Malfoy was going to help Neville if things got out of hand. Maybe he planned to egg the Mortecraw on. Maybe he was expecting all the monstrous beings to revolt together with the intent to shish kebab every student in sight, and he was just being cautious.
Harry blinked as gray eyes turned towards him.
Everyone was always saying how much Draco looked like Lucius, but ever since he had gotten a good look at Narcissa, he really felt the blond resembled his mother a lot more. Draco didn’t have that icy frost in his eyes like his father. Nor the look that said if there weren’t any people around he’d have already killed him. No, Draco’s eyes were wide and panicked as he drew his wand and pointed it right at Harry.
The fleeting thought that even if he reached for his wand, he’d never be able to defend himself in time, passed through Harry’s mind an instant before Draco fired.
Huh. Either Malfoy was losing his touch, or he had missed. A screeching noise reached his ears and he turned slowly to find the monster crab he and his friends had been watching wrapped in a sticky substance. Four of the larger claws were clamped on his shirt.
Huh. Harry looked back at Malfoy, who looked a little paler than normal and was putting his wand away. Huh.
“Harry, are y-you okay, mate?” Ron asked, face frozen in shock as he gaped from Draco to the chittering pile of goo on the ground.
“Harry! Tell me it didn’t hurt you!” Hermione swooped down, quickly spelling the crab into the large pen Hagrid had set up. “Harry? Harry! Did it cut you? They’re poisonous! Stop looking at me like nobody’s home and answer the bloody question!”
Huh, and now Hermione was cussing. What the hell was going on? Harry started as he was lifted to his feet, Hagrid’s ham-sized hands picking him up as if he weighed nothing at all.
“You alright there, ‘arry?” Hagrid asked, keeping his hands on the boy’s shoulders to steady Harry’s wavering form.
Shaking his head no only drove home how not all right he was.
Pushing away from Hagrid’s helping hands, Harry fell to his knees and heaved, his breakfast escaping all over the grass. God, his head was killing him. A particularly vicious burst of pain centering on his scar hit him and he grabbed his head with a cry. Something was happening to Voldemort… Something very nasty.
“All of you back o’er there. Round the lil’ ones up, and then get to your next class,” Hagrid ordered gruffly while staring down uncertainly as Harry screamed again, grabbing his head with his hands. He tried to help the boy up, but Harry flailed at his arms, mumbling about demons.
“It’s his scar,” Hermione whispered to Hagrid. “We need to get Dumbledore.”
Hagrid nodded and looked up, trailing over the worried faces of Harry’s dorm mates and settling on the curious mix of Slytherins and exchange students. “You lot, clear out now.”
Pansy rolled her eyes and picked up her bag. “Can’t we spend one class without Potty freaking out?”
“At least it lets us leave early,” Goyle grunted, holding back and waiting for Draco while the class collected their things and began to disperse.
Hagrid led Hermione and Ron to Harry’s side. “You two stay here and make sure he’s not bothered. I’m gonna go fire call the Headmaster. Hold it, Malfoy. Dumbledore may be want’n to talk to you,” Hagrid added when Pansy tried to pull the boy away.
“Huh? Um, sure. Fine,” Draco said hollowly, eyes fixed on Harry quaking on the ground. He waved his friends off, promising Blaise he’d catch up later.
After an exchange of awkward glances, Hermione decided to ignore Ron’s paranoia and approached Draco. “That was really quick thinking, Malfoy. Harry could have gotten seriously hurt if you hadn’t cast that holding charm.”
Draco blinked up, a frown in place. “You’re kidding, right? Look at him; I wasn’t fast enough.”
“What? No, no, Harry just gets these bad headaches sometimes…” She sent a worried glance towards Harry, who quite clearly had just begged for death. All three knelt beside the boy, Ron carefully prying Harry’s hands from the dangerous grip he had on his head.
“He’s dying… he’s dying and trying to take me with him,” Harry whimpered, trying to pull his arms free.
“Don’t you dare, Harry!” Ron growled. “Don’t let You-Know-Who win!”
“What is he talking about?” Draco asked Hermione quietly while grabbing one of Harry’s arms that had broken free. Even in the chaotic situation, he couldn’t help but feel a jolt from the small connection of flesh when Harry’s hand clasped his fiercely. Draco’s chest felt uncomfortably tight as he watched the beautiful boy scream again.
Hermione ignored Draco and started whispering to Harry. “You’re strong, Harry. Stay strong and fight him. You’re too good to lose. Fight him.”
Draco stared, his fear building as Harry’s friends started chanting for him to win. What the hell was going on?
Ron had mentioned Voldemort, as if the monster were there trying to kill the boy. That couldn’t be the case, could it? The other Harry hadn’t mentioned anything like this happening. Biting his lip, Draco gripped the hand in his harder, mentally urging Harry to win whatever battle he was fighting. He didn’t want to think what would happen if he lost… if Harry actually died…
“Back away children. Let us see him.” They looked up and quickly moved away as Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore swooped down, exiting from Hagrid’s cottage.
“Harry… Harry, can you hear me?” Dumbledore asked calmly, placing an aged hand to Harry’s forehead.
“He-He killed Wormtail,” Harry gasped, Dumbledore’s mere presence helping to draw him back. “He ripped him in half like it was nothing… like a demon.”
“Who, Harry?”
“I don’t know… I’ve never seen him before… tall… in his twenties… Powerful. He killed Pettigrew with his bare hands.” Harry took a gulping breath, eyes focusing on Dumbledore’s calm ones. “Voldemort’s gone.”
Eyes widening in surprise, Dumbledore stood and turned to Hagrid. “Send for Severus.”
SCENE #Draco waits
Sitting quietly on his bed, Draco considered the chaotic events that had occurred that day.
The new Defense professor had been found hogtied in his office while the real Mad Eye Moody had dragged himself to the hospital wing for help. All the man could say of his rescue was that he had heard a woman’s voice talking to Crouch before the trunk had been unlocked. By the time he had pulled himself free, Crouch’s attacker had already fled. That, plus Potter’s strange insight to Voldemort’s fall had basically turned Draco’s day upside down.
At least Potter didn’t seem to have any adverse reaction to the whole thing, even though he was resting in the hospital wing at that very moment.
Draco had a theory of what may have happened to Voldemort but he had to wait for his Harry to come back. Two days ago, Harry had left on a mission of sorts but had refused to give him any details. Draco had a feeling today may have been the result of it.
He had wanted to stay awake, really he had, but by one in the morning, and with no Harry in sight, he fell into a deep sleep.
It wasn’t until two-thirty that Harry slipped in through the curtains, automatically casting a locking and silencing charm behind him. Carefully rearranging the blankets, he pulled the covers over Draco’s sleeping form and stripped down before snuggling up beside the blond. Harry wrapped a long arm tight around Draco and dropped a kiss to the boy’s neck. Holding the blond close, the man stared unseeingly out into the darkness, sleep refusing to find him.
SCENE #A love affair with death
“You’re going to be late for breakfast, beautiful.”
“Always late on Saturdays,” Draco grumbled into his pillow, stirring when it shifted and pulled him closer.
“Mmm, I know,” Harry murmured into his ear, combing his fingers through the boy’s silky strands of hair. “He’ll miss you if you’re not there. Mornings are never the same without you.”
Draco knew all too well, hating when Harry was in the hospital ward as frequently as the boy was, not there to glance at or catch looking his way. “Then why so quick to get rid of me?” Draco tilted his head back, seeking out the warm mouth behind him. Harry’s lips were firm and hungry, the man’s hands dragging over his flesh heatedly as he drank long kisses from the boy’s mouth. Sighing, Draco pulled away, blinking up at the strangely somber expression on Harry’s face. “You came back.”
“Of course I did.” Harry ran his fingers over the blond’s jaw, caressing down his throat with a fluttering touch. “You’ll know when it’s time. He’ll be here for you and I’ll be home with my own beautiful Draco to hold.”
Harry was sad today, the man’s glowing eyes filled with the darkness that had started to lift the longer spent with Draco. Something had changed while the man had been away and Draco suspected he knew the answer. “Something happened to your younger half yesterday. He was screaming and his scar hurting.”
Harry nodded, the darkness in his eyes growing. “He’ll be fine soon enough.”
Draco sighed, eyes downcast. “I thought he was going to die. Thought that somehow I would manage to lose you and him all in one impossible instant. It was like the Dark Lord could just steal him away even though the monster wasn’t even there.”
Wrapping his arms around Draco’s slender torso, Harry rested his chin against the boy’s shoulder. “Voldemort’s not going to bother you anymore, love. I made sure. So don’t waste your thoughts on it. Harry will recover and much faster than I did when I killed Voldemort in my time.”
Although Harry’s tone sounded so dull, so full of darkness and sorrow, his words unfurled something warm and shining deep inside Draco. Voldemort was gone—Harry had wiped the monster away. So impossible and yet, he had moved through time to do it.
“You’re amazing,” Draco whispered, glancing to the side where the man was pressed to his cheek. “You break all the rules and I’m so glad for it.”
Eyes brimming with a torment of emotion, Harry cupped the boy’s cheek, turning Draco’s face so he could kiss him slowly. “I need you, Drake,” Harry said hoarsely, deepening the kiss, Draco groaning in reply as the man wrapped him tighter, pulled him closer.
“Oh.” Pushed flat on his back, Draco blinked up at Harry, the brunette’s expression intense as he pulled the blankets down, revealing Draco’s nude, slender form next to his own. He tried not to blush under that searing stare, feeling so beautiful and completely desired by this man. “I missed you, Harry,” he admitted softly, Harry’s gaze snapping to his, such need and darkness flickering deep within the green glow. “I waited last night, but you…”
“I warned you if I didn’t come back to make love to you by last night, I must be dead.” Harry dipped his head down, fingers brushing to Draco’s parted lips. “You were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you.”
Draco nodded silently, tongue flicking out to taste the fingertips pressing lightly to his mouth. “But you’re here now,” he pointed out, eyes straying to the man’s broad shoulders, hard chest, rippling stomach. “And I haven’t changed my mind. I want you. All of you.”
Sucking a sharp breath in, the hand pressing to Draco’s mouth gave a tremble. Harry’s next intense stare made him blush despite his best efforts, blood flushing over his skin in a hot wave of desire.
“You know, if you still want to,” Draco added with a wicked smirk, only to yelp, wide eyed when Harry surged forward and began to passionately kiss down his throat and chest. “Okay… oh god,” Draco mumbled, hands moving over Harry’s back as far as he could reach, the man pinning him down into the mattress with his heavier form.
Harry’s mouth found its way to the side of his neck, sucking vibrant, desperate welts, then licking his tongue out, wetting and soothing each hurt. Harry’s hands were everywhere, large palms touching firmly, grasping the soft flesh of Draco’s thighs right below his ass, moving up over his hips and sides, dragging to the front to press his thumbs into the furrow beneath the blond’s ribcage.
“You’re mine, Drake. Tell me you’re mine,” Harry demanded lowly, something breaking in his voice and sending a shiver down Draco’s spine.
“I’m yours,” Draco whispered, finding the man’s eyes and the many terrible things he had done deep within. “Make me yours, Harry.”
Nostrils flaring, Harry’s hands moved lower, cupping Draco’s ass, fingers probing between his cheeks and spreading them apart. “I can’t stop,” Harry warned in his ear, his tongue tracing along the curl of flesh. “I need you too much. I need to be inside you, now, and I know I can’t stop. But I’ll be as gentle as I can. Just… don’t be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” Draco said, gasping as he felt Harry’s spell tingle through him, lubricating his channel. “Oh… oh yes,” he moaned, a finger plunging into him roughly, Harry stretching him with more haste than the other times he had fingered him. Draco raised his knee, using the leverage to rock with each thrust, burying it deeper.
“I know, Drake. You’re the only one that can still look me in the eye.” Harry nipped his teeth into the boy’s neck, groaning softly when Draco wrapped fingers in his hair and pulled. He relented, moving up to the boy’s mouth, drinking the blond’s sweet moans while he pushed another digit into his clenching heat.
“Harry, I… oh, I need you,” Draco pleaded, saliva streaming down the corner of his mouth, Harry’s teeth nipping at his bottom lip and tugging.
“Tell me, Drake.” Harry shoved harder, spreading slowly once Draco was full of his long fingers. “I want to hear you beg.”
Groaning, Draco readily answered. “I want you inside me. I feel like… oh, like I’m going to die… if you don’t finally take me… Please, Harry…” Draco trailed off, Harry’s other hand sliding between his thighs, spreading him wider, massaging his tight muscles while he continued to pump his fingers deep inside his passage. Harry was watching his face again, eyes searing in, and Draco met his gaze with a desperate plea. “Please Harry. Please fuck me. Make me yours.”
His breath exhaling in a burst of air, Harry withdrew his fingers, lining three together and quickly stretching into Draco’s hole. Draco gaped silent, then groaned, head thrown back as Harry held his hips in place and began to fuck him with his hand in jerking, slamming bursts.
“Oh god… oh… Harry.” Biting his lip, Draco held back a sob when Harry suddenly pinned him down again, the brunette’s fingers buried deep inside him while the man ground his hard body down on top of his.
“You feel so good inside, Drake. So tight… so hot… so mine,” Harry growled into the soft flesh of the boy’s neck. “I want to fuck you so bad. You’re so perfect. You were always so perfect and I need to claim you.”
“Do it,” Draco whispered, lifting a shaking leg up and trying to hook it to Harry’s hips. The two of them were sweating too much and he couldn’t seem to stop from slipping. Harry clasped one of his large hands on Draco’s trembling thigh, withdrawing his fingers from the boy’s aching channel with an audible groan. Rolling back on the bed, Harry pulled Draco on top of him, sliding between the boy’s legs and pushing them open wide.
Draco blushed, his mouth going dry as Harry’s eyes moved over him while he straddled the man’s hips. Harry was all hard muscle, Draco’s fingers straying over his sweating hips, up to his flat stomach, then further. He leaned down, kissing one of the man’s nipples. Harry stilled beneath him, fingers curling around the base of Draco’s neck as the boy lapped his tongue out and taunted the bud the way Harry always did to him. Then, smiling impishly, Draco gently bit down, Harry gasping in surprise.
“You’re learning so fast,” Harry rasped, palm sliding forward to trace across Draco’s sharp jaw. Meeting the man’s gaze, seeing the whirl of so much when Harry looked at him, Draco grabbed his hand and sucked two of Harry’s fingers deep into his mouth.
“Teach me,” Draco said once pulling the wet digits from his mouth. “That’s why you’re here, so make sure it’s everything.” Still holding Harry’s hand, he led it down his body, glowing green eyes following as Draco pulled a wet streak down his lithe, pale torso. He kept going until Harry’s fingers were wrapping around his cock, tugging loud gasps from the boy’s body.
“We’re going to go slow, beautiful. You’re going to ride me.” Releasing Draco’s dripping length after teasing a final drop of precum over the head of his flushed tip, he grabbed the boy’s hips firmly. Draco wiggled back when Harry shifted, eyes closing from the feel of that hot, thick dick pressing against his ass cheek. Anticipation tingled up his spine, his lips parting to pant. One of Harry’s hands snaked below his thighs, Draco lifted slightly, bracing his arms on the man’s chest as Harry guided the head of his cock to between his cheeks.
“Oh… Ohh!” Draco gasped, Harry pushing firmly against his hole, his cheeks spread wide to the hot length, each small, grinding push forcing him to realize that Harry was actually quite large. The fingers did not compare, not in girth, not in smoothness, not in the absolute, mind numbing ache that shook his body when Harry gave a more forceful push and Draco’s body began to open to the thick flesh.
“Oh… oh, it’s big… Harry, I can’t.” Draco gaped, his body overwhelmed so completely by the feel of that hot, large flesh forcing its way into his channel. Big. Really big. God, just… His fingers tearing into Harry’s broad shoulders, Draco pressed his face against the man’s chest, crying out with each thick inch that sank into his tight passage.
“I got you, Drake,” Harry groaned in his ear, his arms so strong as they kept him still, kept him from going too fast. “Just relax—God, you’re perfect inside. So tight. Never thought… Look at me, Drake. Let me see your eyes.”
Draco blearily raised his head, tears streaking his face, his mouth dripping saliva. Harry was staring at him, eyes glowing with lust, power, and that madness the man revealed only when looking at him.
“Breathe, love. You’re doing so good.”
Draco swallowed shakily, leaning forward to press a kiss to the man’s full lips. He gasped against Harry’s mouth, releasing a shattered breath as the brunette’s large hands tightened on his hips and began pulling him down, that hot, hard flesh pushing deeper into him, stretching his passage thoroughly. “Oh god… oh god… so much… Please, I… I can’t, Harry. It’s… god, it’s so big.” But he was already inside, grinding so deep, holding Draco’s form tight as he buried as far as he could inside the boy. Fingers fumbling around Harry’s neck, Draco clung as best he could, drawing loud gasps of air in, trying to rise above the wild burning of his tight muscles.
“Focus on me, Drake. You’re doing so good… Hell, so tight. God, you’re tight.” Harry held the boy down again, grinding slow, aching thrusts deep into Draco’s clenching heat. With a groan, he began kissing over the blond’s face, across his jaw, nipping hard, hungry welts over his already bruised throat. “Mine… You’re mine Drake. You’re always going to be mine.” He palmed the boy’s thighs with his rough hands, sliding up to rub the tight globes of his ass. He ran a finger between Draco’s cheeks, circling the aching hole stretched so wide around his cock. “Full of me… Like that, love?” He rubbed harder, thumb stretching the boy a little wider, Draco shuddering and crying out in reply.
“God… Oh god, what are you… doing to me?” His back arching, Draco raised up, the cock within him receding momentarily. Harry’s hands tightened on his hips, pulling him back down, thrusting that thick flesh relentlessly inside him again. “No, oh god, Harry… I can’t. I… I can’t.” Draco shook his head frantically, tears streaming down his face in torment from the feel of it all. So big. So completely full and, god, it was moving inside him, his flesh burning in slick friction. He clutched onto the man’s large biceps, his entire body shifting with each rock of Harry’s hips. Dizzying. Thick, and hot, and dizzying.
“You’re doing so good, love,” Harry growled, his head burying into the boy’s silky locks. He lifted Draco’s hips, forcing the boy to sink back down on his length. “Follow my rhythm.” He lifted Draco again, holding the boy’s slender hips and helping him ride his cock. “That’s it, just let it in. Take me all inside, Drake. Don’t fight it.”
Eyes squeezed shut, Draco could only answer with babbled cries and loud whimpers. His wildly rocking hips and leaking arousal were Harry’s only indication the blond was enjoying himself.
“You’re so slick and tight, Drake… Tighter than I remember, stretching around me.” He ran his tongue over Draco’s ear, licking a wet trail while pulling the boy down again, harder this time, making Draco cry out sharply. “Wider, love. Spread those gorgeous legs of yours wider.”
Draco struggled to comply, his legs trembling uncontrollably as he spread his thighs wider. Harry hooked one of his knees, spreading Draco’s legs until the blond fell against him heavily, the man’s cock jarring inside him.
“That’s it. God, yes, take all of me in… I’m yours.” Harry changed his grip, arms under Draco’s spread knees, holding the boy’s thighs and ass hard. Draco sobbed, gripping Harry’s damp hair hard when the man slammed in him again.
“N-No—Oh god! Harry… Oh god, again.”
“That’s it, Drake. Doing so good.” Harry thrust again, reeling from Draco’s cries. Holding the boy securely, he rolled them on the bed, pinning Draco beneath his larger body. He pushed the boy’s knees up, running his hands roughly over his thighs, forcing him to stretch beneath him. Placing a brief, hard kiss to the boy’s perfectly flushed lips, Harry pulled back, using gravity and leverage to fuck the boy ruthlessly into the mattress.
Hands fisted tightly, Draco held on for all his worth. Cries fell unceasingly from his dripping wet lips, his body so hot, burning wild from each stroke of Harry’s thick cock pounding into his tight passage.
“God, yes… clench around me, love. You’re doing so good… God, opening to me so soon. Such a good boy. So tight. So fucking tight.” Breathing harshly in the boy’s ear, Harry slid a hand down between them, caressing Draco’s sweating skin, finding the boy’s hard cock and wrapping fingers around him. With every thrust deeper, he pumped Draco, building a rhythm so intense that it couldn’t last.
Draco sobbed, hips thrashing, body arching. He was so close. God, so close, and Harry was big. Deep inside him, fitting so perfect, overwhelming him and making him his. He couldn’t take much more. So much. So big, and hard, each thrust a slick madness. “H-Harry… I can’t.”
“Almost, Drake. God, I can feel it. You’re close.” He thrust harder into the boy. “Don’t fight it. Just let go.” Bracing a hand against the headboard, he bent down and kissed the boy’s sweet, gasping mouth. “Almost there.” He slammed in again, deeper, pulling a loud sob from Draco. Then again, the boy arching, his body held so tight, clenching so hard. Harry could feel Draco’s cock swell in his hand, his ring of muscles flutter, clench after aching clench. “Yes. Come for me, Drake. Show me you’re mine.”
Harry slammed a final time deep inside his young lover, swallowing the boy’s screams when Draco’s body jerked, the boy’s seed spilling over his hand and splashing hot onto their stomachs. Grinding hard into his searing passage, Harry let Draco’s muscles milk him to completion, his cum spurting into the blond’s tight flesh in long, rocking streams that seemed to have no end.
They lay there for what felt like hours, Harry crushing Draco down, the boy moaning softly as he rested bonelessly into the mattress, still full of the man. Harry eventually found the strength to roll, pulling Draco’s shaking body into his embrace, holding him tight and placing kisses wherever he could reach on his cooling, pale flesh.
“Love you so much, Drake. You alright?”
Draco nodded weakly, a crooked smile on his face as he snuggled deeper in the man’s arms. “Kiss me,” he demanded softly. Harry happily obliged, pulling Draco up his body so he could press his lips to his. Draco leisurely tasted his mouth, his elegant hands exploring Harry’s sweat-soaked chest.
“You were amazing, love. I think… I think you’re about ready.” Harry pulled back to push Draco’s hair from his face, his eyes slightly somber. “What do you think?”
“I think it only took you a week to turn me into a degenerate,” Draco teased, his spent body twitching with renewed interest at Harry’s touch.
Harry nodded, a small smile on his lips. “That was what I was going for. Needed something to inspire you to seduce a poor little Gryffindor. You’re as stubborn as I am. I needed a way to motivate you.”
Draco nodded, biting his lip as he again saw that flash of darkness growing in the man’s eyes. “Is he truly dead?”
Blinking, Harry relaxed back against the bed, his fingers combing into Draco’s hair. “I broke him. Having a time traveller kill him opens up the possibility of him being thrown out of time. The consequences would be devastating. I ensured that he will never regain his original strength from my blood. I made him mortal. He will be weak when my younger self faces him. Vulnerable and pathetic.”
Harry’s eyes darkened, and Draco leaned forward, hovering over the man’s face. “Tell me.”
“You don’t want to know, Drake,” he whispered, his voice full of pain.
“I’m not afraid of you, Potter. I’m not ashamed of you. You told me I was with you every time, every death.” Draco gave him a stern look. “Well I wasn’t there yesterday, so you’re going to tell me.”
Eyes brimming with despair and love, Harry nodded slowly. He cupped Draco’s cheek, brushing his thumb over the boy’s lip. “I killed a man. I injured many, but I killed one. He recognized me for who I am and I had to make sure he didn’t tell.”
“Who?” Draco asked, keeping his eyes glued to Harry’s.
“His name was Pettigrew. He was a traitor—” Anger suddenly flashed in Harry’s eyes, his hand curling in a fist. “He’s the reason my parents were murdered. He betrayed them, betrayed his only friends. And I wanted him to suffer. Every time.”
Draco waited, Harry’s anger slowly draining, that empty darkness again replacing the heat in his eyes. “So you killed him. Were you hurt? Did you hurt someone else by accident?”
Blinking at him in confusion, Harry shook his head. “I… I lost it, Drake. He was nothing more than… than pieces by the time I was done. I let the magic fill my hands, and I… I…”
“You tore him apart,” Draco finished when Harry couldn’t.
“Yes. With my hands.”
Lips pursed, Draco let himself relax against the man, the heat from Harry’s body warming him completely. “That must have been intense.”
“Yes.” Harry let his fingers slip into Draco’s hair again, holding the boy against his chest. “I almost didn’t come back. I… I didn’t want you to… to see me after that.”
Frowning, Draco nipped at Harry’s flesh, the man gasping in surprise. “Idiot. You came back and gave me the most, hell, amazing experience. Don’t you dare wish it away.”
Falling silent, Harry studied the top of the boy’s head for long minutes. Draco eventually raised his head, seeking the man’s eyes, wanting to prove that even now he could meet his intense gaze. Eyes again full of fathomless emotion, Harry pulled the boy to him, kissing him slowly, deeply.
“I’m never letting you go, Drake. I just can’t do it without you,” he said softly.
Grinning wickedly, Draco licked the tip of the man’s nose. “Good. Because I’d be really fucking angry it you decided to ditch me after all this, Potter. I get hard just looking at your younger self now. You really don’t want to piss me off.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong,” Harry murmured, lapping his tongue out to taste Draco’s lips. “Because you yelling about stupid shit makes me hard. I love pissing you off.”
Draco didn’t know whether to glare or moan, the idea of Harry fighting with him because it got him hard too much to comprehend. “Should I be vicious with you?” Draco asked, pulling Harry’s curls sharply. Harry’s pupils dilated, the man breathing deeply.
“Don’t scare him off… But yes, rough is definitely good.” He grabbed Draco’s hand, gently unfolding his fingers from his hair. “Did you study up on the potion? The more you know, the less likely he’ll bumble things up during partner work next week.”
“You are rather horrible at Potions.” Tilting his head, Draco smiled tauntingly. “If not for Granger, I’m pretty sure you would have flunked out by now.”
“Just hard to concentrate when you sit right in front of me,” Harry said with a shrug. “You’re bloody distracting while bent over a steaming cauldron, Drake. Puts naughty ideas in my head.”
Draco’s eyes widened and he swore softly. “Seriously, Harry, are you just saying that, or do you really think that when we’re in class?”
“I had a very active imagination back then, love. And you were my favorite thing to look at,” Harry answered with a small smile. “Still are, actually.”
Draco shook his head weakly, a frown tugging his lips down. “I’m not going to be able to look you in the eye without getting hard.”
“Trust me, that couldn’t hurt.” Harry slid his hands slowly down Draco’s form.
“Stop that.” Draco gasped at the sensation and then wriggled comfortably back into Harry’s arms, his eyes downcast in thought.
He might just be feeling more than he had intended for the green-eyed powder keg. He might just be feeling a lot of everything recently, and most of it good.
It was difficult to comprehend but all of yesterday, Draco’s heart had been tripping small jumps of exuberance as he began to slowly realize that Voldemort was really gone. He now had an actual future ahead of him. A future that went beyond war and death. The more Draco began to embrace this idea, the more he realized he would do anything to keep it from changing even if it meant standing against his father and any ambitious madman hoping to fill the spot Voldemort had left empty.
“Oh hell.”
“What?” Harry peeked an eye open, Draco’s comforting weight slowly lulling him to sleep.
“I think… I think I may be turning into a reckless Gryffindor,” Draco admitted with a dejected groan.
Huffing in amusement, Harry tackled the boy lightly with kisses before settling entwined together, soothing into a needed nap until noon.
SCENE #Potion partners
“Mr. Potter, I have tried to make exceptions for your unique medical condition but I must insist. If you are not well enough to continue, then you are merely an interruption.”
“Err?”
“Wake up, Mr. Potter!” Snape hissed, vindictively smacking a heavy book onto Harry’s desk. Harry jolted to his feet with a yelp, wavered, and then fell back into his seat. “Up, up! On your feet!”
“Huh? Wha…?” Harry rubbed his bleary eyes and stood unsteadily, oblivious to his classmates laughing in the background. “Was there something you wanted, Professor?” Yawning, he stretched his arms over his head and cracked his back while Snape glared at him. He blinked in confusion as his eyes fell on Dean, who was standing to his left and hiding his smile behind his hand. He lowered his arms and turned back to Professor Snape expectantly.
“Lest you have forgotten, we are starting partner work today. I pity the poor unfortunate that has gotten stuck with you. Pick up your things so Mr. Thomas can have your seat, and move out of the way.
“Oh, alright. Sorry about that, Dean.” Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and picked up his textbook.
“Over here, Potter.” Snape pointed to an empty seat in the back. “Class is almost over, so use this time to read about your project and set up times to meet for any extra studying you may need. Try not to cause your partner too much grief.”
“I’ll do my best, Sir,” Harry said, keeping his face blank while Snape glared at him. His professor’s sneer barely had an edge ever since the dark mark had faded from his arm.
Harry caught Ron’s pitying look, the boy silently mouthing, ‘sorry mate,’ to him. He raised a brow in question and then noticed that Ron had been partnered with Pansy. Hell. Snape had mixed them in with the snakes. Oh well, dreading wasn’t going to help any.
Harry studied his feet, pushing his way past the other students still waiting to be paired off, and took the empty seat wearily. The potion Madame Pomfrey had given him to help with the lingering effects of his incident left him horribly tired, and he was already halfway asleep again when someone sat down in the empty seat beside him.
“Could you at least turn that vacant stare at page eighty seven? You don’t have to read, but I don’t want Snape breathing down our necks through this whole thing.”
Spine tingling from the familiar drawl, Harry focused as his book was opened and slid under his nose. He chanced a glance to his right, following the elegant hand on his book up and stopping at Draco’s bemused expression. “I think Pomfrey may have let you out a little too prematurely, Potter.”
Malfoy had been more of a mystery than usual recently, but still, he had to be seeing things. Blinking, he looked from Draco’s face to his hand, and finally back up to his face again. “Are you smiling?”
Draco snickered, pulling his own book open. “You’re drooling a river.”
“Err, shit.” Harry scrubbed his face into his sleeve, licking around his mouth just to make sure he got it all. “The meds I’m on keep knocking me out,” he muttered sheepishly.
“Yes, I heard McGonagall gave you detention. Literally heard. She was yelling that loud trying to wake you up.”
“What—She gave me detention!” All Harry could remember of Transfigurations was waking with a headache two hours after class had gotten out.
Eye’s widening in surprise, Draco hid his face behind his book as he tried to keep from laughing aloud and drawing Snape’s attention. “You should see your face,” he chuckled lowly.
Shivering at Malfoy’s strangely melodic laugh, Harry gave another wipe to his face, turned to his book, and took a look at the ingredient list. Oh. Some of this was expensive. Snape would not be happy if it was wasted on his lame attempts at potion making. Malfoy probably wouldn’t be that happy either.
“This looks complicated.”
Draco nodded in agreement, waving a hand airily. “It’s not really, you just need to work it out clear in your mind before you try to do it in real life. Even Potion Masters research a new potion before they create it. Just commonsense, really.”
Harry waited patiently for Malfoy to add on how he was lacking in commonsense, but it never came. Draco just went back to his book, his fingers idly playing with the corner of a page as he read. Draco really had beautiful hands. Not short and stubby like most people, and yet not too delicate that it made flying in quidditch difficult. His long fingers could pick a snitch out of the air and hold onto it while weaving past other players…
“Problem, Potter?”
Harry snapped back to reality, eyes flying to Draco’s face. “Err, uh… zoned out, I guess. Been doing that a lot.” Hell, Malfoy’s eyes were wild up close, sparkly with glints of blue and light.
Eyes trailing Harry’s features for a frozen moment, Draco eventually returned to his book. “Careful, Potter. I tend to make it a rule to hex anyone who stares at me.”
Swallowing thickly, Harry turned his flushed face back down to stare blankly at his book, a dazed smile curling his lips. “Maybe I should have a rule like that. It’d keep everyone from staring at my scar.”
“It’d never work for you. Your Saint Potter image works against you. You’d end up having to actually hex them all.” Draco sent him a wicked smile. “Do let me know if you try it out. I’d love to see the results.”
Harry’s stomach did a little flip and his mouth went dry. If he ever planned on cursing a bunch of annoying people, he’d definitely invite Malfoy along to watch… The boy was rather good at watching, he recalled heatedly, letting out a shaky breath.
God.
Pushing the memory aside, Harry did his best to focus on the book in front of him and not on the boy beside him.
SCENE #Caught flirting
“Har. Come on, mate. Snape’s going to fry you for loitering in his class.”
Harry blinked his eyes open, rearranging his glasses on his face. Hell, he had fallen asleep again. “Sorry, Ron. I’m moving.” He yawned, looking up and around him. The classroom was almost empty, but he could clearly make out Snape sneering from his desk.
Harry smiled sheepishly and looked up at Ron. “Malfoy’s gonna kill me. We were supposed to decide what time to study. How’s work with Parkinson? I missed who Hermione got stuck with.” He bent over and picked up his bag.
“You’re drooling again, Potter.”
Face going bright red, Harry sat back up and noticed for the first time that Draco was standing behind him. “Didn’t see you there, Malfoy,” he mumbled, wiping his mouth yet again.
“I’m not surprised when you’re so busy snoring. Do you have any free time tonight or is sleeping the only thing you’ll be doing? There’s no point if you’re going to be like this the whole time.”
“Sorry, Malfoy.” Harry sighed, standing a little too quickly and almost tripping over his feet. He leaned his back heavily against the desk to brace himself and looked up slowly, taking the opportunity to ingrain Draco’s form in his mind for later study.
How long would it take before Malfoy hexed someone for staring? The urge to push the limit was overwhelming.
“Damn, dizzy.” Harry smiled weakly while ruffling his hair to cover his flush. “I have to go see Madame Pomfrey next, and you know how the majority of her cures consist of nasty potions, plus bed rest and lots of it. How about tomorrow? I have fourth period free.”
Draco nodded, his eyes sparkling intently as he returned Harry’s interested gaze. “I’ll meet you in the library. If you’re still out of it, send an owl or someone to let me know and we’ll come up with something else.”
“Sounds good.”
“I imagine it does.” Draco smirked and slipped the strap of his bag over his shoulder. “Weasley.” He left with a curt nod to Ron and a polite smile to Snape.
Harry smiled to himself, taking a moment to regain his senses before collecting his things. “Coming?”
Ron just gaped at him. “What the hell was that!”
“Huh? What are you talking about?” Harry asked blandly, leading the way out of the room and away from Snape’s meddlesome ears.
“Come on, Harry, I’m thick but not that bloody thick! What the hell was that between you two? I almost thought—No, I don’t even want to say what I thought… But I thought it, and anyone else who had seen that would have thought it too!”
Huh, Ron couldn’t even realize he liked Hermione and yet, there you go.
“You’re off your rocker, mate. If you’re not even going to tell me what you’re referring to, then I can’t possibly explain myself, can I?” Harry looked at Ron expectantly, knowing damn well his friend would never utter such a blasphemy.
“But it’s—It’s Malfoy!”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, your point? We have to make this potion thing together if we want to get a good grade. Are you getting along with Parkinson?”
“No, and after seeing you two together, I’m completely thankful that we still hate each other!”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re reading too much into this. Now really, I have to get to Pomfrey’s before I fall asleep in the hall.”
Ron didn’t look even halfway done with the conversation, but he was conscientious enough to let it go until Harry was healthy enough to get angry like he was supposed to.
SCENE #Relieving tension
“Hey, Draco! I need to talk to you about the Yule ball—Draco!”
“Fuck off, Pansy. I have a headache and I’m going to bed,” Draco snarled, taking the stairs down to his dorm two at a time.
“But it’s only five—!” The slamming of the door cut Pansy off satisfyingly. Ignoring the empty beds, he stalked over to his own bed hangings, spelled them open, and locked them shut behind him.
Harry’s sexy man form looked up with a small grin, his long legs stretched out in front of him on the bed while he read. Draco had learned that Harry had an Animagus form of a dark panther that he tended to take just in case some house elf surprised him unexpectedly. Draco was more than relieved to see Harry’s human form now.
“Everything alright, love?” Harry asked.
Draco answered by throwing himself at Harry’s stunned form and attacking him with his lips. Straddling his hips, Draco pushed Harry’s shirt up with a single, firm order.
“Strip.”
SCENE #Library rendezvous
Harry blamed it solely on his lack of time spent in the library over the years. Hermione would have known, but this really wasn’t something he wanted to ask her about. Mostly because then he would have to explain why. And then somehow Ron and her would team up on him about visiting the son of a known Death Eater that wanted to kill him in a secluded spot, even if it was for Potions work. And he just really didn’t want to go through all that.
Harry had heard enough of that particular topic after Herbology class that day. So he had been certain not to be around anyone when he had opened the note that Draco had slipped to him in passing that changed their study meeting to seven. Meaning now he was stuck wandering down the side corridors of the library among the walls of books, hoping to catch sight of the Slytherin before he was officially late and Malfoy angry.
Thankfully, three quarters of the way down, in a secluded area hidden away from the few students there to study, Harry spotted Draco’s platinum blond head glaring up at a bookcase. Malfoy was doing that thing with his lip, the thing he did when he was sizing something up, and in this case it was the bookshelf.
Eyes intent on his prize, it took Harry a moment to get his legs working and moving properly again. Tightening his grip on the bag slung over his shoulder, he made his way over to the blond and hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he felt.
“Hey.”
“You’re late.” Draco didn’t turn, just continued staring up at the books.
Harry glanced at his watch. “The note said seven. It’s six fifty-five.”
“Oh.” Draco gave the boy a long side-glance, taking in Harry’s disheveled hair and baggy clothes, and settling on the watch glinting on his wrist. “That’s muggle, right?”
“Yeah.” Skirting away from Draco’s eyes and the feeling they left in his stomach, Harry waved blankly at the bookshelf. “Find what you want?”
“Most certainly,” Draco whispered. Gasping involuntarily at the words breathed on his neck, Harry snapped his eyes to where the blond was smirking in his personal space. “Could you get that book for me? It’s just out of my reach.”
“Err, sure. This one?” Harry placed his book bag out of the way and searched the shelf. Standing on tiptoes, he reached for the maroon colored spine Draco pointed to. Only half a head taller than the blond, the book slipped from his fingers twice, the momentum of the third attempt sending Harry backwards.
“Bloody—!” He cursed, grabbing blindly for the shelf to keep from falling, only to find a pair of hands tight on his waist, pushing him back forward against the wall of books.
“All right there?” Draco asked softly.
Harry shook his head. He was pretty certain he was fine but with the way his head was spinning, and the sudden heat that seemed to be suffocating him, he might have caught a fever. “I’m still on that stuff from Madame Pomfrey. It, uh, leaves me dizzy,” Harry finally managed to get out, wanting but not daring to look over his shoulder to where the blond was mere inches from his face.
“I see.” Draco took a deep breath, Harry biting his lip when he felt the hot air move over his neck. “Let’s hurry.”
“W-what?” Feeling decidedly lightheaded, Harry gasped as arms wrapped tightly around his waist and pulled him close. Holy hell.
“Hurry and get the book before you get dizzy again,” Draco explained quietly. “I’ve got you.”
“Oh. I—um, well, I haven’t quite stopped being dizzy just yet,” Harry confessed, his mind reeling. “Just give me a moment.” Blushing even more, he tried desperately to stop the world from spinning. A part of him was beginning to suspect that his disorientation had more to do with the boy holding him up and resting his chin on his shoulder, than any medicine Madame Pomfrey had given him.
Draco leaned forward, his chest now pressing to Harry’s back, his lips brushing lightly to his ear. “Sure. Take all the time you need.”
Harry was pretty sure he was going to lose his mind. “Err, you can let go if you want.”
“I know. I don’t want to.”
“Oh.” It was at this time that Harry remembered how an easy flick of the wand could simply call books down from the high shelves. Something Malfoy had used on more than one occasion. Harry gulped, eyes staring blankly ahead. “Oh.”
Draco chuckled, watching as the back of Harry’s neck turned red right before his eyes. “We can’t have you falling.”
Harry licked his lips nervously and allowed himself to readjust his arms while he racked his brain for something beyond monosyllable sounds. “I uh, I suppose not. So, um… see any good quidditch games lately?”
“Potter.” Draco gave a soft snort and pulled his arms free, shifting away. “Is quidditch all you think about?”
Confused by the sudden lack of contact and the odd question, Harry turned his head, resting it on his arms. “What do you…?” Meeting Draco’s molten gaze, Harry’s knees nearly gave out from the look the blond was directing at him.
“Name me one thing you think about besides quidditch.” Draco stepped forward and carefully guided Harry around so his back was leaning against the towering shelf and he could look at him unobstructed. He left his hands resting lightly on Harry’s hips, thumbs rubbing gently through his jeans. “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”
Harry swallowed thickly, finding a hole in his shoe suddenly very interesting. “Right now? Like, this very instant?”
“Yes.” Draco leaned in, looking up through his lashes to snare Harry’s eyes. “Right now. This very instant.”
“I, uh, I don’t think my brain is working right now,” Harry whispered, his eyes caught in Draco’s gaze. The boy’s hands cupped his face, finger cool against Harry’s flushed cheeks. Before he could realize what he was doing, he grabbed Draco’s wrists hard, turned them both, and slammed the blond up against the bookshelf.
Draco gasped loudly, Harry’s eyes drawn down to the way the boy’s neck was arched, so long, so pale. He was beautiful. There really was no better word to describe Draco Malfoy. Beautiful. Dangerous as hell. Total git. Son of a Death Eater. But still, absolutely beautiful.
Harry shook his head, trying to fight the strange heat curling around him. God, what was he doing? He was pushing Malfoy up against the wall like some, hell, animal. There was something wrong with him to be doing this, no matter how good the boy looked… or smelled… God, or sounded, panting those soft gasps.
“Remember what I said about staring, Potter?” Draco taunted breathlessly, his back arching and pushing his body firmly into the brunette’s. “The same goes for touching.” His eyes fluttering shut for a moment, he let out a soft moan, arching again against Harry, their chest pressing together harder.
God. He was touching Draco. And really, what was the worst the blond could do to him besides hex him into next year? Harry was willing to take that risk. At least his hands seemed to be, moving down the boy’s long arms he had pinned above, roughly grasping his shoulders. Trembling, his fingertips traced down to the small flutter frantically pulsing at the base of Draco’s long, smooth throat.
“And what if it’s both? Staring and, uh, touching?” He asked hoarsely, just speaking the words aloud sending the world rocking around him.
Gasping, Draco’s head fell back on the bookshelf, giving Harry’s fingers more access to caress over his skin. “Oh… normally I’d say death.”
“Normally?” The little pulse had sped up even more, drawing Harry in until his lips were flush against Draco’s throat. He could feel the beat throb against his lips. He darted his tongue out, sighing as he got his first real taste of the blond’s skin. Perfect. He licked him again, more boldly, pressing his tongue out and lapping up the boy’s long neck and hoping to make him moan again.
“Yes, but for you… oh god… For you I’ll make an exception,” Draco said weakly. Harry gently sunk his teeth into his throat and the blond’s knees buckled. Draco scrambled for a hold on the shelves, sending loose books dropping to the ground. Harry pulled him close possessively while the two kneeled, wrapping his arms tight around Draco’s gasping form and continuing to suck on the blond’s neck. He refused to break contact, even when a heavy book toppled onto his back.
“Potter… Potter—Oh hell!” Draco cried out, his entire body jerking when Harry bit the hollow of his neck sharply. He began to shake, muscles going limp, nearly boneless in the brunette’s embrace.
Harry forced himself to stop, seeking the boy’s face. “Did I hurt you?” He bit his lip, Draco’s eyes hazy, his cheeks flushed, lips red and parted.
“No, don’t stop.” Draco snagged the collar of Harry’s shirt, pulling the boy closer.
Heat rising to his face, Harry hesitated. “You yelled… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“It was a good yell,” Draco assured firmly. “A bloody brilliant yell and if you stay, I’ll be very happy to show you why. Now come here.”
Harry didn’t resist, Draco pulling him down and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. The boy smelled amazing, his fingers shaking as he pulled Harry’s glasses from his face. “Want to kiss me?” Draco traced down the narrow bridge of the brunette’s nose, ending with his finger resting on the boy’s ripe lip. “I won’t hex you. Promise.”
Harry really wouldn’t mind if Draco wanted to hex him. Swallowing hard, he slowly nodded. He could feel the boy’s hot breath against his cheek, could see small glittering blue in his silver eyes, and for a brief moment of clarity, he realized just how long he had been dreaming of this. Before he could let doubt, or the butterflies in his stomach win, he pushed forward that last inch and pressed his lips to Draco’s.
It was like kissing fire. A soft, yielding fire that was determined to burn Harry alive, drink him down, and consume every inch of him. He groaned, pushing harder against Draco’s lips, the blond’s mouth opening to him, his tongue urging him in, teasing, taunting. Draco’s hands tangled in his hair, pulling him roughly, sparking wild heat inside Harry he returned with just as much fervor. Mindlessly, he clutched at Draco’s shoulders, pushing the boy back against the bookcase, digging fingers into the back of his long neck and devouring every taste, every growing moan with maddening abandon. He had to touch him, had to have him, had to make him his. Draco was his and Harry had to show him.
It didn’t matter that this was in fact their first kiss. Didn’t matter that Harry couldn’t trust Draco, not truly when he had a Death Eater for a father that wanted him dead. He wanted Draco. Needed him. Was going to have him.
“Oh fuck… Potter, oh… God.” Draco arched under Harry’s quidditch rough palms as he was pushed down to the floor, his shirt torn up, legs spreading as he thrust back against the brunette’s body. Harry pulled him tighter, roughly, grinding his hard dick against his hip boldly while pressing him down to the floor.
The blond was rock hard against Harry’s thigh, crazy wild heat that he had to touch, had to have. Wrapping one arm around Draco’s slender hips, he pulled the boy harder against him, forcing his cock to grind against him as he rocked with him in heady, jolting movements. Draco moaned, clinging to Harry’s neck, eyes shut as he shuddered and thrust into the boy’s every touch.
Draco’s unceasing moans eventually drew Harry’s attention. He pulled his mouth away from the boy’s throat again, staring at Draco in awe. He was flushed and gasping, his head thrown back, lips swollen in a silent moan as he rocked with need.
“Fuck, Malfoy,” Harry gasped, leaning closer to whisper in the boy’s ear. “Are you already… already there? You look it—God, you look so good. Are you going—Oh!” He groaned, one of Draco’s hands sliding down between them, his palm pressing into his bulge.
“Quiet, Potter… If we’re quiet, oh god, we might get away with this… Oh, Harry… Harder. Please, harder.”
Groaning again, Harry knew there was no way he could be quiet. Not with Draco looking like that, moving like that, fuck, and saying his name. It just made him want to pull more gasps and moans from the boy’s red lips, louder, desperate sounds. He shifted until their erections were rubbing against each other, then kissed the boy, deeply, thoroughly, muffling both their cries while building that delicious rhythm of wild thrusts.
Draco locked his arms behind Harry’s shoulders, lifting one of his legs to wrap around the boy’s thigh to gain more friction. Harry growled, his hands cupping the boy’s ass, pulling him harder to him, crushing them together as their desperate grindings slowed, getting closer… So close to relieving the madness inside…
Harry’s hips gave a fierce buck, his cum scalding his own navel. He held Draco tighter, feeling the blond’s taut, straining form jerk again and again as he came against him, their lips locked tight to swallow every scream.
God. Holy hell.
They lay panting in the muffled library, slowly catching their breath and their senses, until Harry finally opened his eyes and groaned. “Hell, I can’t believe… I can’t believe we just did that,” he whispered hoarsely, his eyes staring without focus at Draco’s heaving chest. “That was bloody amazing.” Insane. It had been insane.
“Better than that.” Draco agreed, smiling like a loon. “That was intense… and wild. Fuck, that was hot, Potter. Imagine if we hadn’t even had clothes on? I think the books would have gone up in flames, it was that hot. Actually, maybe we should try and see if that might actually happen.”
Harry started, staring at Draco’s sated expression, the boy’s heavy gray eyes looking up at him with mischief. Harry suddenly felt very nervous under that intense gaze. Not necessarily a bad nervous, but a nervousness nonetheless reminding him just who Draco Malfoy was and what the boy was capable of.
Harry shakily pulled away, raising onto his knees and searching for the glasses he didn’t really need anymore.
“Wait.” He jumped as a hand grasped the waistband of his jeans and tugged him back. He found Draco’s wand pointed at him and his eyes widened in alarm until a brisk, cleansing sensation ran over his body, revealing the cleaning spell.
“Don’t want you walking around all sticky,” Draco murmured, his voice losing a bit of its warmth once catching the fear in Harry’s eyes.
“Yeah, uh, did you do that without speaking?” Harry asked tentatively, momentarily forgetting his intent to move away.
“Neat, huh? I’ve been learning wandless too, although at the moment I’m rather rotten at both. You, uh, you want to see?” Draco asked a little too hopefully.
“Err, sure.” Harry didn’t quite relax but once seeing that Draco had only intended to clean them up, he lost a bit of his unease.
Draco suddenly smirked, rocking his hips suggestively. “Wanna get off me first? You on me like this, it’s, uh, sort of difficult to concentrate.”
Blushing, Harry scrambled to his feet, feeling lumbering and self-conscious when Draco rose gracefully, combing his blond hair in place with his fingers. Harry hastily patted his own dark locks down and straightened his clothes, realizing he must look a sight next to the immaculate boy beside him.
“So how’d you…?” Harry stopped when Draco placed a finger to his mouth, the blonde’s brows furrowed in concentration as he raised his empty wand hand towards one of the fallen books.
“Wingardium Leviosa.” The book gave a tremor and rose, hovering for a brief moment before falling like a rock. Draco shook his head, turning back to Harry with a sheepish grin.
“Like I said, I’m rubbish at the moment. I figure it will take a good couple of months until I can get a real grasp of it. Course not everyone can even do that little thing there, so I guess I shouldn’t complain too much.”
Harry nodded, his mind whirring as he watched the dust rise off the fallen book. Absentmindedly, he began picking up the books and putting them away manually. It wasn’t until he had all the books put away and a certain maroon colored book in hand, that he turned to Draco with an unreadable look. “So your father is accelerating your studies then?”
Having watched Harry the whole time, Draco wasn’t caught completely off guard by the question. “He might be. But he’d never be so reckless as to teach me voiceless or wandless magic. He doesn’t have any talent for it, and it would be dangerous to give me a power he wouldn’t be able to control.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “And why’s that?”
Draco met the jaded gaze, smirking a tinge on the insane side. “Because I might just kill him, given the chance.”
Staring, Harry tried to read just what the hell Malfoy meant by that. Did he hate his father? Want to overthrow him? Maybe Draco was on Voldemort’s side, and hated his father all at the same time? Maybe Lucius was a suspicious bastard thinking even his own son would try to kill him if given the chance? Or maybe Draco was just fucking with his head by saying something like that with the intent to trick and possibly trap him. Obviously, Malfoy wouldn’t be about to tell him right out.
“How’d you learn it then? I’ve looked for wandless magic techniques and they have nothing at Hogwarts, not even in the Restricted Section. Apparently you need to reach a certain level of power to even be allowed to study the art, never mind the paper work and evaluations they do on you before you’re allowed to actually use it.”
Draco laughed, turning and leaning against the table with a flourish. “Only you would focus on the rules I’m breaking. Is that really all you want to know?”
Frowning, Harry walked slowly around the boy, still trying to figure out what was going on with him. “For now… Later it might be different.”
Draco’s smirk fell. “So there’s a later for us, then?” He asked in a nearly bored tone, although when he looked away, Harry could see a glint of vulnerability he never would have expected.
He was on Draco in an instant, pushing him hard against the desk, grabbing a fistful of his silky blond hair and twisting roughly. “I don’t know what your game is, Malfoy, but don’t think I’m going to let you go that bloody easily.”
“Ha, you think you’ve caught me, Potter?” Draco softly taunted, his back arching as he was pushed down. “Just because I gave you a little tumble doesn’t mean I’m suddenly yours.”
“I caught you our first day on the Hogwarts Express, Draco. I just took my time letting you know,” Harry growled lowly, biting the boy’s ear.
Draco’s eyes fluttered shut and he moaned. “Want to learn wandless magic? I might just teach you, if you ask nicely enough.”
“Oh, and what’s considered nice enough?” Harry ran his hands over the blond’s form, feeling his firm flesh, flat stomach, smooth thighs all just beneath his clothes.
“Mmm, well you’re heading in the right direction.” Draco moved up into the heated palms.
“Like this?” Harry’s fingers found the clasp to his trousers. He rubbed his thumb over the quickly reviving bulge.
“Yes… god, please.”
As suddenly as he started, Harry pulled away, eyes shuttered and cold. “I don’t make deals with enemies.”
“Hell, Potter,” Draco groaned, weakly pushing himself upright against the table, his hair sticking up on end as he slowed the wild beating of his heart. “You’re positively killing me.”
Harry shrugged, his eyes heatedly trailing over Draco’s slumped form. He wasn’t quite a fan of how unbalanced he felt around Malfoy himself. It was like the blond brought out every intense emotion he always did his best to control. Anger, righteousness, his darker nature. And now this… this beast rearing up inside him.
Harry hadn’t known why he had said those things just then, but they were true. He had caught Malfoy all the way back on their first day of Hogwarts when he had turned down Draco’s friendship. And Draco had caught him shortly after. He wasn’t sure of the exact moment but it had left him recklessly chasing after the blond on a broom he shouldn’t have known how to use.
Even so, they had always been on opposite sides and it was stupid of him to think that would ever change.
“Listen, do you still want to do this Potion thing or what?” He asked abruptly, tossing the book on the table followed by his backpack. He wasn’t quite sure how well he’d be able to concentrate but it beat thinking himself into a brooding mess.
Draco nodded wearily, sliding down the table and taking the nearest chair. “Have you had a chance to read over the chapter?”
“Briefly.” Harry sat, avoiding Draco’s gaze, and pulled his notes from his bag, only to have them plucked deftly from his hand.
Draco quickly read them over, grabbing a quill and scribbling some notes in the margins before handing them back. “Good, you just need to be clearer on a few parts or you’ll find yourself pulling a Longbottom.” He pointed out a paragraph halfway down. “You have a dangerous habit of not putting any measurements. It’s a good way to botch up a potion.”
Harry rolled his eyes, tensing at the small dig at Neville’s expense. “I know what I mean. Besides, I always write up a fresh ingredient list and double-check everything before I start a potion.” Actually, Hermione was usually the one to double-check it and fix any confusion, but Harry really didn’t feel like admitting that to the blond.
Draco shrugged, dropping the subject. “Just making an observation. You can’t expect to remember everything, especially with all the other classes we take.”
Harry grunted, shifting so his arms blocked his parchment while he read over Draco’s additions. “What’s with this extra boiling? The book never mentioned that.”
“If you boil it beforehand, it will become more potent, helping to speed the time it takes to root out the byproduct toxins from the first step. I read up on it and it’s perfectly safe.”
Considering this was also Draco’s grade at stake, Harry doubted he was lying. “Do you always put so much thought into your potions?” He gave Draco a long side-glance, watching the boy flush.
”I, uh… I like to make use of my brain. It’s fun,” Draco said quietly, his fingertips playing idly with the pages of his book. “I like solving problems and riddles, and if you look at it right, potions are just filled with riddles. Most everything is, really.” He bit his lip, looking up to find Harry staring at him. “What?”
Harry raised a brow, slowly shaking his head. Malfoy was the biggest riddle of them all. “Malfoy, do you, err, do you… well… think?” He asked tentatively, leaning his head on his arms and turning towards the blond with an unreadable expression. “You say you like to use your brain, but do you ever use it on the stuff going on? Do you bother looking for riddles in all the fear spreading? In You-Know-Who?”
Draco sat back with a long exhale. “I’m not giving out this sort of information freely, Potter. I could get myself in a bit of nasty trouble if rumors started going around on just what I think about.”
Harry closed his eyes, sighing. “No deals for enemies.”
“Maybe I’m not your enemy. Maybe I’m just your rival. Or maybe I’m not even that anymore.” Draco studied his hands. “Maybe I’m tired of fighting a fight that has no meaning to me.”
Reaching over, Harry wrapped his finger around one of Draco’s, plucking lightly at the digit.
“Potter…”
“There are things I really want, Malfoy. Things I’d like to believe.” He looked up into Draco’s troubled face, surprised with just how easy it was to say. He had hidden this inside for a long time but the words were easy to find when he reached for them. “Because of that, I have to be extra cautious. I can’t just believe because there is always the chance that I’m only fooling myself. I can’t make a deal with you when your father is connected to Voldemort. All I can do is promise that I won’t use anything you tell me here against you. How you want to go from there is up to you.”
“You’ve got nerve.” Draco grabbed Harry’s hand, holding it still. His voice was soft, taking the edge off his words. “You sit here clothed in arrogance, allowing me to have my say. You expect me to trust your word at face value when you can’t even do the same for me.”
Harry pursed his lips, not denying it, but also not enjoying the fact either. After a long moment of contemplation, he decided he could at least make an effort to trust Draco.
“So, come on and spill. Just what does Draco Malfoy think about?”
Draco smiled mysteriously and abruptly stood. “Did you honestly think I’d tell you, just like that?”
“Malfoy,” Harry growled warningly, his hands tightening into fists on the table.
Draco rolled his eyes, playfully tugging Harry’s arm. “Not here, you fool. Unlike you, I don’t have quite an abundance of recklessness to just throw my life away with a few unheeded words.”
Harry stood at Draco’s insistence. “You say that a lot, you know, but I find it hard to believe.”
Draco blinked, turning back from where he was picking up his books. “What?”
“He’s still your father, you know. I can’t imagine that he’d really hurt you…” Harry trailed off at the look Draco gave him. Obviously he was very wrong.
“I’ll excuse that because you’ve never had parents to control your life, Potter,” Draco said tightly. “Our main code is loyalty. And loyalty to my father means absolute compliance and submission. If there is the slightest hint that I may not be loyal, then I become a worthless traitor in his eyes. As it is now, I’m nothing more than a loyal heir that has failed my father on too many occasions to be able to sleep easy.” Draco looked away, his good mood gone.
Harry stared at the back of his head, chewing his lip thoughtfully. Was that how Lucius treated his only son? Like some sort of tool? Harry had enough issues with the Death Eater Malfoy, having seen through Voldemort’s eyes just how fucked up the man was at times. That Draco seemed to hate him… Well, that gave him hope, messed up as it was.
He wanted Voldemort and Lucius out of the way so he and Draco could have a chance to… Well, a chance to figure out what was burning between them. He wanted it so much, he was willing to risk his own damn life for it. It wasn’t good. It wasn’t smart. But it was honest.
Shaking his head, Harry reached around Draco and grabbed his bag. “Come on, I know a good place for privacy.”
SCENE #Fearless
It was disturbing, really, when Draco realized just what had gone wrong. Who would have thought walking down a bloody hallway side by side would have caused such a huge commotion? In that moment, he also realized he resented two new things. Every student in the school—besides Harry—and more importantly, the hallway where all four houses converged before leading to the Great Hall. God, he hated that hallway.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re up to, but if you think—” “Get your fucking hands away from—” “Everyone calm down! Hey!” “—Bloody kill you!” “What the hell do you think you’re doing—!” “So help me, Crabbe, you will remove your wand from my throat, or I promise you, you will regret it.” Harry’s quiet voice broke through the loud rabble, everyone falling silent and staring stunned at the brunette.
There was nothing significantly different about Harry. He wasn’t looking particularly angry, and his wand was still securely in his pocket, his hands loose at his sides. Yet there was an aura of power around him that commanded attention, and as Crabbe alone was privy to, a new edge in his eyes.
Never moving his gaze from Crabbe’s face, Harry stepped forward, the lumbering boy relenting with a gasp before stumbling away hastily. “Come on, Malfoy. We’re wasting time.” Harry nodded his head towards the staircase, indicating they should go up.
Draco smiled inwardly, heat flooding his entire body. Fuck, he loved the glimpses of raw power he knew Harry kept hidden away. “I don’t know, Potter. Do you imagine they’ll kill each other if we start acting civil?”
Harry turned fully, eyes jumping from Ron and Seamus, to the fourth year Slytherins and the kids gathering behind them all. The whole lot of them looked rather murderous, except the handful of Ravenclaws strategically standing at the edge of the group. And Dean, but Dean hardly ever got angry.
“If they want to act like idiots, then that’s their problem. Let’s get out of here before it gets too late. I’ve already missed enough Potions work as it is.”
Draco strolled over to where Harry was standing, smirking impishly. “I bet it would be a fun show. Come on and shake my hand; I bet they’ll start hexing everything in sight.”
Harry caught the way Draco was looking at him, just like he had back in the library before he had pounced. Pulse speeding up, he smirked back, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I would, but I wouldn’t want to catch anything.”
Draco narrowed his eyes, stepping closer until he was side by side with the brunette. He causally leaned in to whisper challengingly. “Afraid to touch me, Potter?”
Harry was pretty sure that question had already been answered half an hour ago. “You have a lot more to lose than I do,” he replied quietly, not bothering to acknowledge the stares he knew were directed their way.
Draco frowned, glancing at the students watching intently. Any one of them could easily report to the wrong person, getting him in a heap of trouble with his father. Yet the closer he got to Harry, the less he feared. “Do you think I’m afraid?”
“I don’t know what you think, remember?” Harry’s teasing smile was gone.
Draco stepped closer and for a moment, Harry thought to step back, push the blond away before he did something really stupid. But then Draco’s hands were on his face and by the gasps he heard, Harry wasn’t imagining the sudden soft heat against his lips.
“I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Malfoy…” All Harry could do was stare in shock, watching the smug smile on Draco’s face slowly dissolve. He didn’t dare look away, didn’t dare try to gauge just what every other person there was thinking. Even so, it was clearly reflected in Draco’s gray eyes.
“Potter, I think I just did something really stupid,” Draco whimpered, his voice going up an octave.
“I think you might be right,” Harry agreed with a gulp, slowly grabbing the shaking hands still on his face.
The silence stretched unbearably, neither boy looking anywhere but at each other. Draco wracked his mind for some way to take it all back, but no sensible solution would make itself know. Finally, Draco realized he was stuck falling back on familiar territory. “Punch me.”
“What?”
“I can’t bloody well punch you given I just did that. Punch me or they’re going to think you like me!” Draco whispered furiously.
Harry was starting to wonder why Draco kissing him was a bad idea. If the school knew the blond was his, then Harry wouldn’t have to worry about anyone trying to take Draco for themselves. If he kissed him back…
“Potter!”
“I’m not going to punch you… err.” Harry slowly turned his gaze to the side, staring in confusion at the dark hand on his shoulder.
Dean’s calm voice broke the silence. “Listen, Harry, if you’re going to wear that pheromone stuff to get the girls, fine, but don’t do it around the Veela halflings. It’s just trouble, is what it is, and I’m sure Malfoy will be right embarrassed by the whole thing.”
“Veela halflings?” Harry parroted in confusion.
“Pheromones?” Blinking, Draco gave Harry a curious look. “Isn’t that a bit, well, desperate? You’re seriously not bad looking, you know.”
“It was Seamus’s. I was just playing with—Wait a minute, you’re part Veela?” Harry yelped, red faced.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Draco yelped back, just as red.
“Well, obviously something, you prat! I’m not the one who just bloody kissed his rival because of some cologne, now am I?”
“The percent is so small that I’m not even considered Veela. Do you see me jumping all over Finnigan? I can smell that shit all the way over here and it has no effect on me whatsoever. Use your bloody head, you idiot!”
Sighing in exasperation, Dean smacked both boys on their foreheads. “You’re both idiots, and you deserve the shit you’re going to get for it.” That said, he walked away, pulling a befuddled Seamus along with him.
“Harry,” Ron broke in with a confused whimper, his hands limp at his sides.
Oh, hell. Seeing Ron’s dejected face, Harry figured it was time to try and make an effort to make things right. Unfortunately, no good ideas were forthcoming. So he punched Draco.
The blow was ridiculously light, a tap really. Draco stared at Harry in surprise, more concerned with the way his knees were trembling than the fact that Harry had actually punched him. Suddenly, without his consent, Draco’s legs folded beneath him and he fell in a small heap.
“Did you just tap him and then he fell over?” Ron finally broke the growing silence, his voice a mix of confusion and amusement.
“Uh, yeah,” Harry replied weakly, staring down at Draco’s dazed face. “Malfoy, are you all right?”
Draco shook his head slowly, the world spinning oddly. “No… no I’m not. I feel, ah. Strange. And hot. Very hot.” He tugged at his shirt with shaking fingers, hoping to pull the restraining material free.
“Obviously! You just kissed bloody Potter. Someone must have hexed you,” Pansy Parkinson snarled, pushing her way past Crabbe to get to Draco’s side. “Come on. Let’s get you to Madame Pomfrey’s.”
“Here, I’ll take him.” Blaise quickly stooped down and pulled Draco to his feet before Pansy could get her clingy claws on him.
Draco gave a soft moan, eyes seeking out Harry and smiling enticingly once he caught him in his gaze. “I want Potter to take me. Will you, Potter? Will you take me?”
“Err, I would, Malfoy, but, uh…” Harry flushed at the suggestive tone sent his way, unable to tear his eyes from where Draco had managed to unbutton his top. Pink, tantalizing marks—his marks—were peeking from behind the buttons.
“No he won’t!” Ron and Pansy interrupted together, glaring at both boys. Blaise shrugged with a small chuckle, slowly pulling Draco down the hallway before anyone decided to follow.
No one noticed the panther shaped shadow that padded down a side hallway, catching up to the boys before they could get to the Hospital Wing. Both Blaise and Draco felt an immediate improvement to his condition at this time, allowing Draco to insist on just going to bed and not bothering the mediwitch when he had no symptoms to show for his odd problem.
Harry stared long after, the butterflies in his stomach growing as he thought of Draco aroused while in the arms of Blaise. Had it all been a hex, then? A big joke on Malfoy that had suckered him in as well? More importantly, why the hell did that realization make him feel so horrible?
Harry shook his head unhappily, ignoring Ron’s attempts to drag him to the common room. He needed to think and he couldn’t do it around a bunch of concerned and angry Gryffindors. He considered going to the Room of Requirement like he had first intended, but ended up slipping into a certain girls’ bathroom on the third floor and wandering the Chamber that it hid.
SCENE #Lust spell
“What did you do to me? It was like… I dunno, like a lust drug or something. Not that I’m complaining, mind,” Draco added with a laugh, rubbing his head into Harry’s neck and shoulder while the man held him tight in his lap. “Saved my bloody life and felt wonderful, to boot.”
“Did you like it? I can do it again, if you want.”
Draco considered for long moments and then shook his head. “Not something I need. Just touching you is usually more than enough for me.”
Harry growled, green eyes reflecting mischief. He ran his hands over Draco’s thighs, pulling a pleased sound from the fair boy. Then, without warning, he grabbed Draco’s wrists, moved them behind the boy, and bound them with a silent spell. Letting go, he traced a finger over the blond’s jaw as the boy got used to the position, gray eyes growing heavy with want.
“A new lesson today, love.”
“Yes…?” Draco’s breath hitched. He loved his lessons with the older Harry, usually learning either tricks to entice and subdue Potter’s younger self, or just amazing ways to increase pleasure. He had a strong feeling that Harry didn’t mind teaching these lessons no matter how exhausted and sated they always were after.
“Yes.” Harry pushed Draco’s already unbuttoned shirt back, letting the material bunch at the crook of the boy’s elbows. “Its time to see what that pretty little mouth of yours can do.” He wrapped long fingers in the blond’s hair, pulling back firmly and increasing the pressure until Draco gave a low moan of approval.
Draco watched silently as Harry assessed him, eyes burning over his form. He wondered how his Harry would have him tonight. Given the intense expression on the man’s face, jaw squared and dark hair doing nothing to hid his predatory look, he had a notion that it would be merciless. The thought shook a hot shudder through him and he moaned again.
He liked this, Harry in absolute control, taking him whenever the thought struck. Sometimes he wondered if the man would misjudge and hurt him, taking too much too fast out of a crazed need. Even that thought was delicious. As if sensing his thoughts—and Draco had a strong suspicion that he was more than capable— Harry pushed him back on the bed, roughly bouncing him against the mattress, arms pinned beneath him. Draco watched as thick, leather clad thighs straddled his much narrower waist.
Harry pushed a pillow carelessly under the blond’s head, relieving some of the neck strain as the boy watched with growing anticipation. Skillful fingers swiftly untied the laces doing very little to keep Harry’s large erection from breaking free.
Draco swallowed, the position somehow magnifying Harry’s already impressive arousal. He watched as the same fingers began to caress the hard flesh, waking it to full attention. And then suddenly Harry was leaning over him, knees pinning the pillow under his head, one strong hand pushing hard on his pale shoulder as the other guided the man’s thick cock into Draco’s mouth.
There was no time to think as Draco’s senses were surrounded by the rustle of clothes and dark, heavy heat. Harry gave him no reprieve, stretching his mouth to new widths as he slid in with a smooth, unrestrained motion until he was firmly pressing against the back of Draco’s throat.
Draco wanted to moan, wanted to move and escape the suffocating feeling of the thick flesh, not being able to breathe as his saliva started to build. The smell of Harry’s musk and sweat was overpowering. He could hear Harry groan, feel fingers bite into his shoulder as the man gave an irrepressible thrust against his tonsils. Slowly, the thickness inside his mouth receded and heedlessly Draco followed it up, his head bobbing and tongue outstretched to feel the column of flesh.
Harry growled, watching Draco wrap swollen red lips around his straining cock. “Again,” he demanded heatedly, grabbing Draco’s jaw with bruising fingers and opening the sweet mouth wider as he pushed in.
Draco made a soft chocking noise, eyes squeezed shut, hips rocking upwards to reveal his enjoyment of the rough treatment. Harry could feel the Slytherin’s tongue rubbing frantically against his dick in a maddening fashion. He couldn’t stop from surging forward, burying the beautiful boy beneath his body as he thrust into the eager mouth.
It was getting harder to think. Draco wondered if he was going to asphyxiate, so difficult it was to breathe with the saliva again blocking his throat. His jaw ached from being stretched so wide. The liquid too much, he half swallowed, half choked, but it was still a small reprieve allowing him to drag air through his nose and the rough cloth pressing against his face.
Draco was so hard; he wanted Harry to touch him, to fuck him, to take him again and again. Instead the man pulled out a few inches and began thrusting into his mouth in shallow strokes, the hand once pinning his shoulder now tangled painfully in his hair.
Draco was overly aware of his teeth, the only unyielding part of his mouth, as he tried to keep tender flesh from tripping on them. Harry pressed his hand onto Draco’s throat and, along with the firm heat, he felt something loosen up inside, relaxing and opening up as the man surged forward and seated himself fully inside, balls flush against his chin, nose tickled by wiry pubic hair.
It was surreal, feeling every inch of the hard dick inside. It took so much self control not to move, not to panic or snap or beg to be taken. Harry was glaring down at him, hand tracing Draco’s features. The eye contact was too much and Draco’s hips rose… but release didn’t come. He could feel a pressure at the base of his erection keeping his fluids intact. Harry and his magic surely was to blame.
Draco knew he must be the picture of complete agony, but he couldn’t move safely, couldn’t cry out for more. Harry could read him, yet still the man watched, hungry, ravenous even. Draco struggled with the bonds at his wrist, but couldn’t gain any leeway. Harry was moving slowly inside, no, swelling…
Draco’s eyes squeezed shut, his throat automatically milking the seed spurting into him. It seemed to stretch on for hours, feeling the man move and jerk inside him, his throat swallowing in perfect rhythm to the cum flooding hot inside him. Harry slid out slowly, leaning down to kiss Draco who was now free to roll his head feverishly.
“Harry… Harry, please,” Draco begged, voice raw, tears sneaking from his lids to mingle with the saliva that had streaked his jaw and neck. He rocked his hips again, crying out when Harry pinned them down. It had been so intimate, so unbelievably vulnerable and amazing the way his throat had closed around Harry’s cock and pulled it in, moving together perfectly. He needed to complete that feeling, finish the bond.
“Tell me,” Harry growled, biting deep into Draco’s shoulder and making the boy cry out again. “Loudly.”
Draco nodded. “I want to cum,” he whined, not quite recognizing himself when sounding so desperate. He opened his eyes as Harry’s fingers grabbed his jaw again and met the hungry stare. Draco realized he had only increased the burning desire in Harry instead of sating the man.
“I need you. Fuck me.” When Harry showed no sign of hearing, Draco snarled, biting the fingers running over his lips. “Now!”
The pain startled Harry into action. He rolled off of Draco and grabbed the boy’s pants, struggling with his fly and tearing them from his pale, long legs.
Harry paused, breath hissing out of him slowly as he looked Draco up and down. He grabbed he blond by his hips, bending his own body down to run a hot tongue over Draco’s arousal. “Mine,” he growled lowly, possessively.
Draco had no interest in arguing. “Hurry,” he bit out, his jaw clenched. He wanted his hands free, wanted to force Harry to give him what he needed. The infuriating man insisted on going at his own pace and driving him mad.
“F-Fuck!” Harry moved lower with clear intention, tongue ferociously stabbing at Draco’s entrance. He couldn’t stop from squirming, delight and agony warring in his body. “Harry,” he gasped, helpless to the hands that lifted him suddenly, rolled him over, and pushed him down into the bed.
Harry grabbed Draco’s immobile hands, using them to pull the boy up and back, bending his knees until he was spread out, ass up in the air. Harry’s breath fanned over his smooth cheeks, pulling desperate gasps from the blond.
“Now?” Harry asked once, steel control slipping as his fingers bit into Draco’s tender flesh.
“Yes!” Draco growled, his body pure fire, anticipation alone all that was left of him. He felt Harry break behind him, the man whispering dark obscenities as he mounted the aching boy.
How Harry could be hard again, tearing into him, Draco didn’t know, but he needed it too urgently to question. There was no kindness this time, no sweet meeting. Without purchase, Draco’s face and shoulders were pushed down into the pillows as he was slammed forward from the first thrust.
At Draco’s cry, rough fingers found his mouth, slipping over his lips, touching inside to meet his tongue. Draco licked at the sweaty digits, sucking and nipping mindlessly.
Another tremendous thrust from Harry and Draco’s knees were slipping wide. Harry wrapped his muscular arm around his waist, lifting the boy easily, holding him in place as he pounded mercilessly into his tight entrance. Draco did his best to hold on, darkness slipping at the edge of his vision with each powerful thrust.
“Harry,” Draco begged with a single word, tongue working around the fingers still plunging in his mouth and spilling warm fluid down his chin. His body was sore, raw, and bruised. Harry was unceasingly grinding into him with a fury that seemed to have no end. Draco was aching for release but the stopping pressure would not let up. “Please… god…. please…. I can’t take any more.”
Harry heard him, a carnal yell his only answer.
Draco’s legs were trembling, his body covered in sweat, his energy nearly gone. All he could do was give in, give in to Harry’s fierce and very thorough claiming. Each thrust felt like he was being reshaped on the inside, being marked, being named by Harry over and over again.
“Please,” he moaned, turning his head to the side, his wet cheek heavy on the bedding. “No more… please.”
Tongue, mouth, and teeth soothed over Draco’s shoulders and neck, sucking, licking, biting into the lighter marks left by the young version of Harry just earlier that day. “Draco… hold on, love.” Harry released his wrists and pulled the blond back against his chest, holding him securely. He did not change the intensity of his movements, but did change the angle so that each thrust hit the perfect spot deep inside Draco.
Draco’s cries grew in pitch, hands reaching above his head to wrap into Harry’s hair. “Yesss… more,” he hissed lowly, a sob breaking free. “Again!”
It was so thick… so full. Harry was… Harry… Draco clutched as Harry gave a final savage thrust, hot liquid coating Draco’s insides and dripping out his impossibly stretched opening. “Harry.”
Not missing a beat, Harry lifted Draco again, throwing him onto the bed among the strewn sheets. Draco looked up blearily, impossibly dark green eyes meeting his before disappearing down between his legs. Harry’s hot mouth engulfed him, the spell keeping him from ejaculation suddenly removed with the touch.
Draco arched, his heavy release filling Harry’s hungry mouth in shuddering spurts. The man drank greedily, thirsty, and Draco wondered dazedly if anything would be left of him.
He moaned low as Harry’s tongue once again found his raw hole, probing languidly, tasting the man’s seed mixed with his fluids. Draco felt the world spin and smiled sleepily in response.
“Draco, love, are you alright?” Harry asked, voice rough and husky.
“Uh, yeah… yes, love,” Draco answered weekly. His limbs felt extraordinarily heavy. Harry was so beautiful, looking down at him with concern. Draco made the effort to reach out, pulling the man down next to him. “That was magnificent.”
“My god, yes,” Harry agreed, pulling the boy into his arms, arranging him so Draco’s back was trapped against his chest. He rubbed the pale limbs, doing everything he could to sooth their shaking.
Within his sleep addled mind, Draco began to realize what had happened to his Harry.
He turned his head back, reaching until Harry met his kiss, ferocious even now, stealing his breath, feeding his fire. Harry was leaving soon, back to his time. The man would not know if he had succeeded in changing the time line until he went back. Harry wouldn’t know if there would be a Draco Malfoy of his own waiting for him.
Draco settled in, melting into his dark Gryffindor. He would give what he could while Harry was there. He’d give him everything the man needed and more.
SCENE #Heir to evil
Draco would not accept the older Harry’s help when he devised his plan. He knew he had to do this part on his own. He was going up against his father and Lucius Malfoy deserved a proper battle.
Draco had to admit, he was frightened. It was not just the retaliation he was opening himself up to, which was great given his father’s rage. It was the fact that this move was basically his step into adulthood. He would have no family after this. There would be no one to turn to if he needed help, no shelter to take or funds to fall back on.
Draco Malfoy was on his own the moment he had set his plan into action and the thought left a terrible churning deep in the pit of his stomach even now, days later.
There had been only one way to definitively prove to the Golden Boy that he wasn’t loyal to the Dark Lord. Draco had made sure the evidence would not be missed by anyone.
Sunday morning, sitting in the Great Hall surrounded by his oblivious peers, Draco tried to ignore the way his pulse was racing. Harry and his friends were sitting at the Gryffindor table, laughing to each other about something. He thought of his gorgeous Harry waiting for him in his bed. Draco wished desperately to be there in the man’s embrace. Dully, he could hear the owls brushing wingtips against the door as they flew in.
Hogwarts received the Daily Prophet late, hours so compared to Malfoy Manor. Even as the papers could be heard thudding on the head table, Draco caught sight of a flaming red envelope clutched in the talons of his mother’s eagle owl. It was heading his way.
Draco closed his eyes, feeling the envelope flutter down, brushing his fingers and burning where it touched. He took a deep breath, and another, counting as the letter began its howl, the noise growing in volume until everyone in the Great Hall fell silent. Draco could feel them turn, feel them stare. He kept his eyes shut and focused on his breathing.
It was his mother’s voice, raised in an exaggerated shriek of rage that boomed off the walls of the Hall. He heard gasps from his classmates, whispers, and then shouts. His mother was vicious, coldly stripping him of family, funds, and protection. Promising him his father and aunt would find him and destroy whatever was left of him. The howler faded, his mother promising his death one last time before bursting into flames.
Well, it could have been worse. It could have been Lucius.
When Draco opened his eyes, literally everyone in the room was staring at him.
He calmly picked up his fork and placed a waffle on his plate, dabbing butter on top. He slowly poured syrup, flooding his plate. He was in desperate need of comfort food. Draco cut a corner piece, careful to keep syrup from the edges of his mouth. At his first bite, the Great Hall broke into a roar. Draco ignored them, chewing very thoroughly before swallowing. It tasted wonderful but felt like lead in his stomach.
His roommates were trying to get his attention but Draco shook his head no and had another bite of his waffle. He would not talk about this now, not in front of the entire school.
“Malfoy?”
Harry—god, young reckless Harry—was standing on the other side of the table, confusion, concern, and joy warring on his scarred face.
“I’m eating, Potter.”
Harry scowled, narrowing his eyes. He pushed Pansy and Zabini apart, sitting between them on the Slytherin bench across from Draco. Harry threw the paper he had been carrying down on the table. “Is this for real?”
Draco glanced at the paper, his face on the front page with the headline, ‘Heir To Evil,’ blazing across the page.
Well, he hadn’t expected it to be subtle, that’s why Draco had asked for the interview in the first place. Ignoring Harry’s searching gaze, he picked up a spoon and began to drink up the syrup on his plate.
Zabini was the first to pick the paper up, skimming through the article. “Holy fuck.” Pansy snatched it from the boy’s hands, tearing to the second page. “Are you bloody insane, Draco? Your father is going to murder you!”
Draco nodded quietly in agreement. He grabbed the syrup server and stuck his spoon into it, relishing the thick, sweet flavor while he could.
“Malfoy?” Harry wasn’t giving up, it would seem. Draco tilted his head side to side, loosening his shoulders. He caught sight of the Werewolf Professor and Snape, both approaching with concern on their faces. It reminded Draco that he still had Sirius, as useless as the man could be at times. Maybe he wasn’t completely alone family wise.
He glared when Harry reached across his plate but the boy was only placing a mug of—Draco grabbed the hot chocolate with a growl, sipping the warm liquid possessively. He locked gazes with Harry over the rim of the mug. No longer worried, Harry had an intense, manic look in his eyes that made Draco swallow hard. He had another sip of chocolate, letting the liquid slowly calm his anxious nerves.
“Mr. Malfoy, we would like to speak with you in my office,” Snape said, finally reaching the table. Remus was with him, honey eyes touching on Harry and then Draco, moving between the two.
“What do you say, Potter? Wanna go for a chat?” Draco asked offhandedly as he stood and removed himself from the bench. Harry jumped up, answer enough, and followed quietly as the four of them walked to the dungeons.
When they left the Great Hall, all volume intensified. Harry glared back before wrapping an arm protectively around Draco’s shoulder.
“Ignore them,” Harry muttered darkly.
Draco nodded, letting the arm stay. “I plan on it. Until someone tries to attack me.” He raised an eyebrow at Harry’s answering growl.
Remus turned at the sound, scrutinizing Harry’s face in silence. Harry noticed but only shook his head to ward off any questions.
Harry had not had a chance to talk with Draco for days since the library incident. The Gryffindor had naturally gotten himself injured during Quidditch practice and had ended up in the infirmary. He felt bad leaving Draco to do their potion’s project alone, but Harry had a feeling that the blond was probably better off without his terrible help. Harry had been glad at the time, grateful for a chance to think.
During third year,he Harry had admitted to himself that he had an extreme attraction to Draco Malfoy. He had allowed himself to fantasize at night and watch the boy during the day, but that was it. Harry had never thought to get close, never thought he would ever have an opportunity with the Slytherin without a curse being the source of it all. That night in the library, Malfoy had given Harry an opening and to his own surprise, he had readily taken it. Very readily.
Draco had not been under a spell that night, not until the hallway when things started going to hell. Harry was certain once he had gotten a chance to step away and think in silence. He knew because it was a familiar spell to him, one he had come across while sneaking through the Restricted Section huddled beneath his cloak. It had been a spell he had fantasized on using one day in the future on Malfoy. Just a little, just for a moment so he could see the blond in the position he had third year, lithe body under the shower, taut in pleasure…
Harry swallowed, trying to push the image away.
“Potter? Your hand…” Draco squirmed, Harry’s fingers biting into his shoulder.
Draco almost wished it could just hurt, but Harry and pain meant different things to him now and he struggled to keep his breathing checked. Harry didn’t seem to hear him, a far away, dark look in his eyes that Draco recognized from his own Harry right before the man did something naughty and delicious. Hell.
Draco grabbed the arm still clutching him and pulled it free. Harry’s eyes widened in surprise as Draco twisted his arm and pinned it to his back at an angle. “Potter, you’re being very rude right now.” Draco whispered in the boy’s ear, tightening his grip until Harry made a noise of pain.
“That hurts, Malfoy.”
“You like it.”
Harry shuddered at the words, his eyes closing on their own accord. Yes, yes he did.
Draco noticed Harry’s surrender and had to let the boy go before he did something he would likely regret while two of his professors were watching. “Right, so no more of that, Potter. Understand?”
Harry nodded, unable to take his eyes off of Draco. “Understood,” he whispered. He forced his feet to move, following again. This time he didn’t touch Draco, ignoring the pull inside that very much wanted to.
SCENE #Magical beast within
Sirius was waiting in Snape’s office, pacing the room in large strides. When the group came in, he stopped, stepping to Draco to make sure he was unharmed. He frowned, his enhanced dog nose reeling from the slender boy.
“Cousin, you reek of sex.” Sirius met Remus’s eyes, who made a slight head tilt towards Harry. Baffled, Sirius sniffed his godson. Yes, Draco was covered in Harry’s scent, head to toe, likely inside as well as out. Sirius narrowed his eyes, noting that Draco’s scent was barely on Harry. Very likely Remus had noticed the same thing because the wolf was far better at scenting than him.
Ignoring the exchange, Draco just shrugged, in no hurry to explain his sex life to anyone.
The last few nights his Harry had become quite possessive after learning of Draco’s plan, last night the most so. The man had spent hours taking him, bending, turning and positioning the boy in every way possible. Draco’s body had ached once finally finished, feeling hollow and empty without Harry buried inside him while holding him down. He suspected the man intended to drive him insane so that he would have no choice but to seek Harry’s younger form out if he ever wanted to feel complete again. Draco really, really didn’t mind at all.
Draco licked his lips, giving Harry a quick side glance. Harry was staring at him again, green eye boring in. But he was speaking to his godfather.
“Apparently, Malfoy is part Veela.”
Sirius nodded. “Only a very small percent. You, on the other hand, are your mother’s son, it would seem.”
Harry furrowed his brows, not sure what to make of that. “Huh?”
Snape pushed passed them, ushering Draco to a seat. “We’re here about Malfoy’s uncertain future, not that suspected Siren of a mother.”
Remus continued, feeling it was too important to ignore. “Harry, we don’t know for certain what Lily was, not with her muggle roots and all. But once she settled on James, there was no persuading her and anyone that tried to get in the way ended up in a world of hurt. You need to be careful.”
Sirius nodded in agreement. “She was a very intense woman when it came to James. Nearly obsessed. In all other things, she was fairly normal, but when anyone messed with her mate, she was destructive and violent.”
Sirius perched himself on Snape’s desk, ignoring the glare sent his way. “It was a for life thing. You need to understand what you’re getting yourself into, Harry.”
Harry was still very confused. “I don’t… What exactly are you saying here?”
“Potter, you’ve got some sort of beast in you,” Snape interjected with a sneer. “You’re one of the many wizards out there whose blood has mingled with magical creatures. It’s nothing to write home about, just be careful with anyone you intend on buggering. Now, if we could please get back to Mr. Malfoy?”
Snape placed his own copy of the Daily Prophet on his desk, fixing Draco with a hard stare. “You, boy, are in an immense amount of trouble.”
Well. Draco spared a glance at Harry, who looked very confused and was intent on biting his fingernails in anxious thought. That explained a lot. Potter had a beast. A very dominant, sex ravenous beast that had fixated on him. Actually, hearing it for the first time, Draco wondered how he hadn’t guessed weeks ago when his Harry first showed up.
“Mr. Malfoy, I’m waiting for some sort of explanation. You have exposed yourself, left yourself completely vulnerable to anyone who would like to get into the Dark Lord’s good graces. We will need to arrange some sort of protection for you, not to mention shelter during the summer.”
“He’s staying with me, Snape,” Sirius said bluntly, pushing off the desk and standing next to Remus. “We traitorous Blacks have to stick together, after all.”
Remus nodded. “We can take care of Draco during the summers. You can’t give away your loyalties, Severus, by taking Draco in. It would be too dangerous for the both of you.” Remus turned to Draco questioningly. “Unless you have a preference?”
Draco shook his head. His cousin would be interesting and Remus would keep anything too dangerous from occurring with his calming influence on Sirius. “No, my only real concern right now is if I have to worry about retaliation. I gave away more than just my family’s secrets in that interview; I named ten families as Death Eaters.”
“That is a genuine concern, Mr. Malfoy, one I would have hoped you had thought of before giving such information away,” Snape drawled, long fingers tapping on his desk.
Draco stiffened at the remark, then shrugged elegantly. “I had my reasons.”
“Clearly self preservation was not on the top of the list.”
Draco glanced at Harry again, the brunette chewing on the side of his thumb while deep in thought. “They were good reasons. Anyways, I’m not too worried about my dorm mates. Some of the other Slytherins, maybe, but my roommates have all struggled the way I have. They understand and will help protect me.”
Remus seemed to be convinced. “I think anyone having read that article will completely understand.”
Draco studied the heavy oak desk, fidgeting with his hands. He had been very blunt about his father’s abuse and behavior, not softening or exaggerating any of it. His parents weren’t complicated people by any means. They had little love for any but themselves and demanded loyalty at all costs. Draco had once thought that was what it meant to be a family but coming to Hogwarts and seeing how many other families were, he realized how wrong he had been.
“Was there anything else, Sirs?” Draco asked, wishing he could go hide away. It had been a long Sunday morning already, and he had not slept much the night before.
“Not for now. We’ll speak with the headmaster and see if he has anything else to add. I believe Severus has some fires to put out concerning this but nothing that needs your attention. Harry,” Remus turned to him, pulling the brunette from his thoughts. “I was hoping you’d be willing to keep an eye on Draco for a bit, just until things die down.”
Harry met Draco’s eyes, apprehension flashing in his green depths before quickly looking away. “Yeah, Remus, of course.” Harry ruffled his hair, waiting for Draco to get up, and the two left the room, neither looking at each other.
The three men exchanged glances, Snape the first to speak. “So, we’re in agreement that Malfoy has done this for Potter, correct?”
Sirius nodded. “Malfoy is bruised. I saw his wrists and a bite by his collar. And he smells… strange.”
“He smells like Harry, but different,” Remus elaborated. “Darker, somehow. Powerful.”
“Like what you smelled on Wormtail’s body?” Snape pressed, his expression grim.
Remus took a long moment to nod. “Yes.”
The three men fell silent. Whether they would tell Dumbledore or not was the question, and so far they did not have an answer.
SCENE #Something waking up
“Malfoy, will you just—Malfoy, hold up!” Harry growled, chasing after the blond git. Why he had ever agreed to protect the infuriating Slytherin was beyond him. Maybe because he had been foolish enough to think they could be friends. Clearly Draco had no interest because he had made a point to dodge out the moment he had his back turned.
Draco looked back to see Harry, anger in his eyes, barrel around the corner. He couldn’t hold back the smile at the sight, until Harry locked eyes on him, looking mildly murderous. Draco took a step back, and then another, turning to run again.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Harry shot his hand out, ropes flying from his fingers and wrapping around the blond’s legs. Draco, eyes wide in shock, fell to his knees. He stared up as Harry approached.
“Wandless and voiceless?” Draco yelped. “Fucking bastard. Everything is just so easy for you, isn’t it? I showed you once—Once!”
Harry ignored the obscenities as Draco continued cursing his name. “We need to talk. Please.”
Draco rolled his eyes, sitting on the cold hallway floor. He pulled at the ropes binding his lower legs, slowly tearing the knots apart. “What’s in it for me?”
Harry narrowed his eyes, sitting next to the boy. He pulled out a chocolate frog from his back pocket. “Truce?”
Draco took the frog, biting off one of the twitching legs viciously. “I told you, I’m not fighting anymore.”
“Right.” Harry fell silent, observing the boy intently. “Why did you do it?” He finally asked.
“Do what?” Draco replied, intentionally being oblivious. At Harry’s growl he added smartly, “Oh, is that your beast asking?”
Harry snapped his mouth shut at that, once again consumed with thoughts of what he apparently was.
Draco finished untying the ropes, throwing them aside, and made to get up. Harry grabbed Draco by the arm before he could go, pulling him down with a dull omph. “Tell me.”
Draco stopped, eyes closing momentarily. He could hear his Harry in that voice, low and tantalizing, promising rewards if he would only speak the truth. Draco licked his lips nervously, reminding himself that this was not his Harry but a young, wild boy that didn’t know what he wanted yet.
“What was the question, again?” Draco asked while staring resolutely at the floor, doing his best to ignore the heat radiating off the boy next to him.
“Why did you publish that interview? Why did you betray your family?”
“Oh, that.” Harry’s hand had covered his own on the floor and Draco found it difficult to focus. “My family… my family had already betrayed me, Potter. They were ready to hand me over to You-Know-Who the instant he asked. I had… I have different plans for my life.”
It was the truth. Draco had wanted a different life for himself. But he had never thought he would risk so much to pursue it. Harry coming back from the future, explaining how his life would be if he didn’t try had convinced the blond that the risk was worth it.
Draco looked up but still avoided Harry’s eye. “I’m not your enemy, Potter. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m exhausted.”
Harry watched Draco get up and dust off his clothes. For some reason it was very difficult for him to understand that Draco wasn’t his enemy. Maybe because he had spent so long building a barrier, a wall of self control by telling himself that Malfoy was in fact a foe and that wanting him was too dangerous to allow. But Draco had just gotten himself disowned and placed on Voldemort’s ‘to kill’ list, along with the lists of at least ten Death Eaters and their families. And Draco had done it to be free.
“Malfoy.”
Draco turned from his hesitant walk away, stopping dead as he watched Harry rise from the floor, power shimmering around the brunette, muscles tense with controlled energy.
“Potter?” he whispered, voice suddenly dry.
Harry noticed, noticed the boy’s tension, his hunger. He crossed the small distance between them, stopping a little too close. Draco didn’t step away, didn’t sneer or shout insults at him.
“Malfoy, I…” Harry didn’t know what to say. Commending the boy seemed lame and cruel considering what Draco had given up. But he was so glad Draco had, so glad he had gotten away from his fucked up father and frigid mother. “You’re not my enemy. I understand that now.”
“Good. That’s good, Potter.” Draco still didn’t move, looking at Harry searchingly. “Was there something else?” He pressed.
Draco’s eyes were like a heated storm, Harry found, small flecks of sky swirling in the depths. And his lips, always pink, recently had seemed flushed and swollen. “Yes… maybe.” Harry slid a small step forward, now able to smell Draco’s skin. He reached his hand up, lightly touching the boy’s sharp jaw. Draco was so still, as if any sudden movement was going to lead to something explosive. Harry realized that he would very much like to see what that explosion would be.
“I’m supposed to keep an eye on you,” Harry said, breaking free of the heat stealing his mind away. Malfoy had bigger things to worry about than whatever beast was dwelling in him right now.
Harry stepped back and went to turn, hoping he could control the wild feelings very loud in his chest. He heard Draco’s snarl, the only warning before the blond was on him, fingers clawing at his hair and stealing his glasses away. Lips burned over his face, his ear, his neck. Harry steadied the frantic form that crashed into him, hands moving up Draco’s sides.
“Malfoy… wait.”
Draco wrenched Harry’s head back, making sure the exasperating Gryffindor was paying attention. “Shut up, Potter.”
Eyes narrowed, Harry gave a terse nod, picked Draco up by the hips, and walked them to the stone wall, crushing his body against the slender blond’s. He kissed Draco, slow, painfully slow, until the boy calmed somewhat. And then he kissed him again, ravenously because Harry couldn’t remember why he had wanted to stop.
“Harry… please,” Draco moaned, pushing his hips forward into Harry’s growing erection. Even now, in a hallway where anyone could discover them, Draco couldn’t think to say no, couldn’t bring himself to ever move away from Harry’s wondrous taste. And he wanted to taste him desperately.
“Malfoy… Draco—Shit!” Draco turned them, slamming Harry hard into the wall, just missing cracking his head. Harry dully felt a draft around his hips, his only warning before Draco’s molten tongue found his cock. “Oh shit… shit,” Harry gasped, hands falling to Draco’s bobbing head and tangling in the silky blond locks.
Each soft babble was wild approval to Draco. He slid his hands over Harry’s hips and back, cupping the boy’s firm ass while pulling his leaking erection down deep into his throat. He tightened his grip when Harry inadvertently thrust, bucking forward for more. Draco pulled back, relaxing his grip to allow the boy to thoroughly fuck his mouth.
Draco was certain he was going to come then and there just from the excitement of it all. Harry’s hands were holding his head in a desperate grip as he thrust slowly in and out between his swollen lips. Draco made a low moan in his throat, earning him a particularly wild push against his tonsils.
Harry was pulling at his hair, whimpering something foolish about stopping. Draco could feel the smooth flesh swelling against his tongue, and he surged forward, opening his mouth wider to drink it down. Harry gave a shudder, crying out softly as he came, hips bucking against the blond’s face. Draco wanted to moan in approval but couldn’t around the wonderfully spasming flesh.
Draco looked up, catching Harry’s gaze and causing the boy to gasp. Reluctantly, he slowly pulled away, releasing Harry’s softening cock. He licked his saliva off the sides before gently rearranging Harry’s trousers back to proper order.
Harry stared at Draco, speechless and very much in awe. When the boy stood on stiff legs, Harry grabbed him, crushing him in his embrace. He kissed Draco’s deliciously red lips, tasting himself on the talented tongue. He started nipping, loving the feel of the swollen lips between his teeth and the sounds Draco made.
“Oh god… fuck me, Harry,” Draco begged, rubbing his straining erection against the boy’s thigh.
Harry shuddered at the words. He felt something inside him rear up in anticipation, wanting very much to claim the boy. But they were in a cold hallway, of all places, right by the dungeons, and it didn’t seem like the most romantic of settings. Because as wanton as Draco was, he still wanted to give the boy a soft bed and gentle caresses. Well, not all gentle, but certainly some.
Staring at Draco’s gasping mouth, Harry reached between the crush of their bodies, finding the zipper to the boy’s pants and pulling it down. Draco’s cock practically sprang into his hand and Harry quickly untangled it from its silky-clothed prison.
“Shhh,” he whispered at Draco’s cry. He kissed the boy, gently swallowing each whimper and gasp. Draco’s legs were shaking, threatening to give out. Harry took the hand that was holding the back of Draco’s neck and wrapped it around the boy’s waist, offering his strength to keep him upright.
Draco threw his head back, eyes fluttering shut. “Harry… god.”
“What, Draco?” Harry asked, glad he had looked up lubrication charms as the blond’s slick cock moved rhythmically in his grasp.
“Bite me. Hard.”
Harry did without hesitation, finding the crook between neck and shoulder and biting down firmly. Draco’s body gave a great shudder, his cry muffled into Harry’s hair.
“Again,” Draco pleaded, his body tight and beyond close.
Harry moved up to the side of Draco’s throat, clamping his teeth into the perfect flesh. He bit harder this time, feeling when his teeth pinched through and drew blood. Draco cried out, hands clutching uselessly at Harry’s shoulders as he came, his cum spurting hot between Harry’s fingers. He nearly fell with his release, but Harry pulled him back against his body, leaning on the stone wall for purchase.
Harry took his hand still covered in Draco’s cum and offered it to the gray-eyed boy. Draco licked slowly, thoroughly cleaning his palm and digits. Harry then pushed Draco’s hair back, noting the smell of his sweat and sex.
“Harry?” Draco couldn’t read the brunette’s expression, the boy having gone quiet and thoughtful.
Harry tilted his head, tracing Draco’s curl of an ear. “I’m going to fuck you soon, Draco,” Harry promised. “I’m going to fuck you and make you mine. And you are going to love it.”
Draco groaned at the words, pressing into Harry. “Yes. Oh, please, yes.”
“And if I find out that whoever has taught you tries to touch you again, I am going to kill him. Do you understand, Draco?” Harry’s fingers bit into Draco’s hip, bruising and possessive. “You are going to be mine, and only mine.”
Draco threw his head back, his body aching at the thought. “Yes, Harry.”
“Good.” Harry held the boy, breathing in his scent, trying to ingrain it on his soul. He felt wild, like an animal chasing down prey. But the prey was Draco and he had little interest in killing.
SCENE #Without goodbye
Draco spent the rest of Sunday outside with Harry, enjoying the crisp autumn air and trying not to succumb to the heated look Harry had pinned him with since the incident in the hallway.
Eventually, it was time for dinner and Harry grabbed them both full plates and the two ate in the library to avoid questions and comments about Draco’s interview. They both resisted bed, not wanting to leave each other’s company. But Draco was exhausted and Harry needed time to brood alone.
Harry left Draco in the corridor in front of the Slytherin portal, thoroughly kissed and painfully aroused. Slipping in, Draco was glad to see that no one was waiting to curse him. It was the same in the dormroom he shared. Everyone was asleep and Draco stripped, shimmying his way behind his bed hangings.
He was alone, no Harry waiting for him.
There was a copy of the Daily Prophet sitting on his bed, the pages torn to pieces except the picture of Draco, cut gently from the shreds. Next to it was the clawed necklace Harry had worn every day since he had arrived. Draco picked it up, feeling the strong protection charm. He slipped it over his head and crawled under the blankets.
Unbidden, tears streaked down his face. Harry would not say goodbye. It was foolish, but still, Draco would miss the man greatly.
SCENE #Harry’s revenge
Remus got to the body first, Narcissa’s floo call to the Ministry alerting the Order to the events at Malfoy Manor.
The woman lived, barely. Bent over, she held her gut where a large, painful wound leaked from beneath her hands. She had been forced to watch as her husband was tortured for hours and eventually, mercifully, killed. She did not recognize the man who had done it but man she had insisted, even as Remus scented Harry’s distinct power in the air.
Remus wasn’t allowed to dwell on it, Narcissa throwing a trunk full of items at the werewolf. Photos, clothing, wealth, and family mementos clattered at his feet.
“For Draco,” the woman bit out, clearly in pain. “He still keeps his name—Lucius never had time to sign the papers to disown.” She grabbed Remus by the shirt. “Whatever it takes, just don’t let that monster back in here. Whatever he wants. Just keep him out!”
Remus glared at the clutching hand. If Draco Malfoy was a monster, it was because of this woman and the man torn to pieces in the study. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from your son,” he snapped, pulling away.
Narcissa gave a hysteric shriek, deranged laughter flowing out of her broken body as she fell to the floor. “Not that weak creature. Not my child.” She ran blood soaked hands over her face, streaking her pale flesh red. “Potter. Keep fucking Potter away.”
Stilling, Remus tried to breathe. Narcissa looked like an injured bird shaking on the floor. “You said it was a man in his twenties.”
“It was. It was a madman with green eyes and a scar on his forehead.” She curled in on herself, staring blankly at the floor. “He told me what he had done to You-Know-Who. Told me why Lucius had to die. Why I would die if I hurt Draco—Give him his things.” Desperate again, she clawed at Remus’s boot. “I will pay for any house he wishes, any life he wants. Anything. Just keep that creature away!”
“You will not speak of this to anyone, Narcissa,” Remus gritted out, bending down and grabbing the clutching hand. He used his full strength, feeling her bones shift and snap. “That will be how I keep Harry from you. Your silence. Understand?”
“Yes,” she hissed, tears streaming down her pain twisted face.
Remus left the house, trunk tossed over his shoulder, to arrive at Hogwarts by floo. He sought Harry out, barging into the Gryffindor common room. At four am, no one was up. He stalked up to the fourth year’s bedroom, listening for signs of movement.
Harry was asleep, bed hangings open, arm falling over the edge of the mattress. He awoke at Remus’s approach, having too many threats on his life to truly be as vulnerable as he looked.
“Moony?” Harry asked, brow furrowed at the sight of Remus. He sat up abruptly, reaching for his wand. “What’s happened? Is it an attack?”
Remus shook his head, staring at Harry as if the boy were a lie. There was no blood in the air, no scent of Lucius or Narcissa on Harry. The boy… Draco. He smelled like Draco and the castle, but that was all.
The tension left Remus in an instant and he more fell than sat on Harry’s bed in relief.
“Remus, what is it? Moony?” Harry grabbed the man by the shoulders, taking in his disheveled appearance and blood stained fingers. “What’s happened?”
Remus gave a great shudder, tears filling his warm eyes. “Nothing Harry.. I thought… No, its nothing.”
Harry gave the man a searching look, then got up, scribbling a note that he attached to Hedwig. Sending his owl out, he pulled his bed curtains around, shielding Remus from the rest of the room. He set up a silencing spell to make sure they didn’t wake up his friends. “Padfoot is on his way, Moony. We’ll just wait for him together, okay?”
“Okay.” Remus closed his eyes, not sure how to voice what he had thought. Not sure if he even should.
The note must have been convincing because Sirius was bounding up the stairs as Snuffles only minutes later. The man transformed once hidden behind the bed hangings, looking Remus over as if he were expecting the man to break before his eyes.
“Moony, love, what’s happened? You’re covered in blood.”
“It’s not mine.” Remus turned his eyes away from Sirius’s burning stare. “I just came from Malfoy Manor. Lucius is dead. Narcissa barely survived.”
Sirius raised his brows in surprise. Lucius was not a weak wizard by any means. Catching him in his own home with ancient wards in place and overpowering him was very unlikely. “What happened? Do we know who they were?”
“One, Sirius. Just one man.” Remus looked at Harry again, eyes reflecting confusion. “I had thought…”
Harry bit his lip, brows furrowed. “What… That I had done it?”
Remus just nodded. Harry bit his thumb, trying to figure out why the werewolf would think such a thing.
Sirius grabbed Remus’s shoulder. “Are you saying it was the same? Wormtail? Voldemort?”
“Yes, and… and Narcissa thought the same as me.” Remus ran a shaky hand through his sandy locks. “Clearly we’re wrong, though. Harry was asleep here. No blood, no scent at all of the Manor.”
“Draco’s mother thought I had attacked her?” Harry pulled at his messy hair in agitation. “What the hell is going on? Why would she think that? Why would I kill Lucius?”
Sirius carefully untangled Harry’s hand from the death grip on his hair. “I imagine because of Draco.” He glanced at Remus. “Right?”
“Yes. Narcissa certainly thought so. She would not tell me what the man said, only that he had said it.”
Harry thought back to the day he had collapsed, Voldemort screaming in his head as the monster was struck down. He thought of who he had seen through the Dark Lord’s eyes in those final moments…
It had been a vicious man, dark hair and muscular. He used no wand to inflict his magic.
Harry slowed his memory, focusing on the man’s face. Most was hidden in shadows, eyes dark in the unearthly glow of power surrounding the man. Thick curls crackled from the energy, shifting as if a great wind were blowing. Harry couldn’t make out anything recognizable, the shadows too thick from the light… except… on the forehead… a faded mark where skin had once torn and healed into a distinct lightning bolt.
“Harry?” Sirius saw the shift in the boy, watched as horror took Harry’s features.
“It was me… It was me.” Harry grabbed at Sirius’s offered hands, clenching the fingers painfully as if to let go would be to crumble. “The scar, he had my scar. Voldemort saw it right before… right before I killed him.”
Harry went still, head tilting, tongue flicking over his bottom lip thoughtfully. “I must have come from the future. If anyone saw me, they would assume I was trying to put my name in the Goblet. I went back in time and killed Voldemort, Wormtail… and Lucius. Why would I do that, Siri? I was so powerful; why would I need to go back in time?”
Sirius shook his head, trying very hard to not feel the horror threatening to overtake him. He did not want to think of Harry as the source of such mangled violence. Wormtail’s body had been pieces, barely recognizable as anything beyond meat.
“Whoever that man is, Harry, he’s not you,” Remus said resolutely, a hardness in his eyes that left no room for question. “Whatever happened in the future, its not going to happen now. If anything, he has seen to that with passionless efficiency. You will not become that person.”
“I… I don’t know.” Harry shook his head, the image of his older self right before striking Voldemort burned into his mind. Dull pain reached his shoulder and he looked down, finding Remus’s hand gripping hard.
“You will not, Harry. Push this from your mind and let your life unfold without it.”
“I don’t know if I can,” Harry finally replied.
Sirius sat up, eyes narrowed. “Than we’ll obliviate you. You won’t have to ever know.”
Harry swallowed, thinking that would be quite perfect to never have to worry he would awake into… into whatever he had become. But there was the beast inside, warning what he could lose.
“No.” Harry shook his head, pulling away from the two of them. “No, how can I protect Malfoy? No. I will have to figure this out a different way.” He glared, realizing they might not give him a choice. “Do not. I will figure this out.”
Sirius looked as if he wanted to argue but Remus stopped him with a touch to the arm. “You are, if anything, resourceful. Come to us if you need help with it. We won’t judge you, Harry. We all battle our beasts, some just better than others.”
“Yes, Remus. I promise that.” Harry stood up, throwing shoes on. “I need to walk a bit. Before everyone is up.”
“Be careful with the Malfoy boy,” Remus added hesitantly. “He… The man let Lucius live for nearly a whole month until that article came out. It can’t be a coincidence, Harry.”
Trepidation filled Harry and he wondered not for the first time just how out of control he might end up whenever Draco was involved.
“Harry.” Sirius grabbed the boy into a hug. “It’s going to be okay.”
Harry nodded mutely. He wished he could believe that.
SCENE #Harry fights his beast
Draco was well aware that Harry was avoiding him, although why, he couldn’t say.
News had come on Tuesday of the attack on Malfoy Manor and the death of his father. His mother had refused to disown him with Lucius dead, something Draco did not fully understand. His mother was not the sentimental type, not even to her only child.
Lucius’s death had been a relief, if Draco felt anything at all for the man’s passing. It was his Harry’s final parting gift to him. He had no doubt of that. The older Harry had been very concerned for Draco’s safety. It seemed natural that the man would ensure it with the ease that came with such power.
Draco sighed, glaring at the current manifestation of Harry as the boy picked at his food in the Great Hall. Harry had been suspiciously missing from any class he shared with Draco and there was talk that he was thinking of dropping Quidditch. Draco was not pleased. It had been over two weeks since Draco had any physical contact with the maddening Gryffindor and he was certain he was going to lose his mind.
“I don’t understand why you just don’t go talk to him,” Blaise muttered, not oblivious to Draco’s forlorn sighs.
Draco frowned, not sure either. Potter had made his choice and he had to respect that. If Harry truly wanted him, he would have made an attempt, any kind at all, to see him. “He’s not interested.”
“Oh, he’s interested. He’s so interested, he has to make an extreme effort to look at anything but you,” Blaise said with certainty. Draco raised his brows, watching Harry with purpose. The boy was deliberately not looking near the Slytherin table at all. The bastard.
Blaise gave a dangerous smirk. “I bet I could fix it for you, Draco.”
“Oh?” Draco pulled his eyes away from Harry to find Blaise giving him his most suggestive look. “Ah, that might be a bit dangerous,” he warned, remembering Harry’s very possessive insistence that he belonged only to him. Then again, Harry had refused to talk to him since, the ass. No, he was not happy.
Blaise shrugged. “Well, if it doesn’t work, at least I got a kiss out of it. But I’m pretty sure you’ll have Potter at your feet pretty quick if you remind him what he’s missing.”
Draco eyed his friend, who was now leaning precariously close to his face. Blaise was looking for trouble, he realized. Probably tired of being single. Not that Blaise was bad looking. It was odd that the boy was still unattached, being handsome and intelligent. There was something very wrong with the other available men in this school to pass Blaise up.
“So, what do you say?” Blaise asked, whispering into Draco’s ear, lips brushing against the shell lightly.
Draco’s breath hitched, not from the contact but because after two weeks, Harry was very definitely staring at him. Draco didn’t have to look; he could feel the brunette’s angry stare like a touch when the Gryffindor finally turned his full attention to him from across the room.
“Blaise, as glad as I am this is working, I am very concerned for your safety right now.” Draco carefully pushed Blaise away, troubled when the boy resisted. “I don’t want to see you get hurt and believe me, that is exactly what is going to happen if you don’t back off.”
Harry was glaring holes and Draco had to close his eyes, very much missing the boy. He didn’t have any anger in him at the moment, just a hollow feeling inside that grew when Harry made no sign of approach. Feeling rejected and tired, Draco decided it was time to crawl under his covers and sleep the Saturday away.
Draco got up and stepped over the bench. He walked to the Great Hall doors, refusing to look at Harry; he had wasted enough time on the idiot as it was. Draco tried and failed to ignore the pain it caused.
There was a commotion behind him, a tense murmur. Draco chanced a peek over his shoulder, covering his face with his hand when he caught sight of Blaise stalking to the Gryffindor table. Harry was watching the boy approach, a familiar scowl on his face. Well, shit.
“What the hell is your problem, Potter? I used to think you were a decent bloke. But what you’re doing to Malfoy is fucking ridiculous, not to mention damn cruel.”
“What, exactly, is it to you, Zabini?” Harry asked in a low, warning tone.
“Oh, like you suddenly care?”
And there it was. Draco watched warily as Harry rose, a curtain of power rising with him. If Blaise noticed, he gave no sign, glaring at Harry with his hands on his hips. But Granger was on her feet, as was the Weasel and Thomas. Ron went to grab Harry’s sleeve and then thought better of it when a spark of energy cracked where he was reaching.
“Harry, I think you’re overreacting a bit here.” Ron tried to get between Blaise and Harry. But the Slytherin seemed to have a death wish, pushing the boy aside so he could get into Harry’s face.
“You’re being an absolute ass, Potter.”
“What’s it to you?”
“He’s my friend!”
“And you better fucking keep it at just that, Zabini.” Harry was growling and Draco figured it was time he intervened before said friend was a pile of ash on the ground.
Draco stalked over to the table, grabbing Blaise’s arm and pushing the boy behind him before Harry could think to throttle him. “If you two are done embarrassing yourselves, I have better things to do this Saturday.”
Draco did not meet Harry’s eyes, instead turning to go. Hermione was blocking his way, her expression unreadable.
“Malfoy, would you mind staying for a bit? Just until Harry calms down?”
Draco bit his tongue to keep from swearing. Fucking Potter always got his damn way. “I suggest he be quick about it.” Blaise was still glaring at Harry, so Draco gently pushed the boy backward. “Go sit down. Or leave. I don’t care, just stop fighting my battles.”
Blaise gave a smug smirk. “Told you it would work.”
Draco rolled his eyes, wondering how he had gotten such an idiot friend. No wonder the boy was single.
“Malfoy…”
“Do not talk to me, Potter. You lost that privilege when you ignored me for two weeks straight. Now sit your ass down, eat your breakfast, and let me leave.” Draco sat across from Harry, making a point to stare at the table and not the boy.
Ron, unfortunately, felt the need to try to talk to him. “So Malfoy… How are you handling your father’s death?”
“Ron!” Hermione looked aghast. “You seriously need to work on your small talk.”
Ron shrugged. “I thought I was.”
“No, there is no way you thought anything just then!”
Draco gave a long suffering sigh, placing his head in his hands, elbows resting on the table. Bloody Gryffindors. He started, rearing back from Harry’s hand, finding it suddenly inches from his face. “Stop that.”
Draco turned his head but Harry persisted, fingers on his jaw until he finally met his stare. It was as painful as he had expected. Connecting with Harry’s gaze brought tears to his eyes.
“Fuck… leave me alone.” Draco closed his eyes, sitting back so Harry couldn’t grab him again. He needed to get out of there before he did something stupid.”Hey—Stop it!” Draco tried to turn from the hands again, to no avail. “Potter, so help me—”
Eyes flashing in anger, Draco froze, staring at Harry, whose breath he could suddenly feel. Harry, who was crouched on the table. On top of the table.
Draco looked around, trying to see if he was imagining Harry very clearly on the table leaning over him. Hermione was looking displeased and Ron, well, Ron had stopped asking stupid questions, which was about the best Draco could expect from the annoying git. Everyone in the damn hall was looking at them though and Draco was tired of being a spectacle.
“Potter, were you raised in a barn? Get off the bloody table.”
Harry shook his head, wrapping fingers in Draco’s hair. “I didn’t realize… I’m sorry. I thought I was helping.”
“Sorry?” Draco swallowed, trying very hard to stop his eyes from their persistent sting. “I just lost my parents, my only home, and got a damn huge target on my back, and—and you just up and disappeared, acting like I had j-just cursed you or s-something after saying how I’m yours and all. You suck, Potter. I mean really, fucking suck.”
“I thought I was protecting you,” Harry whispered. “Th-there’s something wrong with me and I didn’t want to hurt you.”
So help him, he refused to cry in front of all these people. Draco grabbed at Harry’s very warm hands, finally pulling himself free. “Ignoring me is about as cruel as you can get, Potter. Now Let. Me. Go!”
Once again, Draco found himself blocked from a proper escape. Remus was behind him, his hands automatically closing on Draco’s shoulders. “Perhaps this conversation would be better suited outside. Harry?”
Harry did not seem pleased to be interrupted but eventually he agreed and jumped from the table. He tried to grab Draco’s arm but Draco was having none of it, placing Remus between them.
“I have nothing to say,” Draco snapped once they were in the hallway and free of prying eyes. “I just want to go back to bed and sleep.”
“Draco, please, will you just listen to me?”
“No! Two whole weeks—Were you even going to talk to me today or was that because of Blaise? Do you even give a fuck at all?”
“You don’t understand!”
“How can I when you’ve been avoiding me!”
“Enough.” Remus held his hands up. “Harry, I warned you about ignoring these feelings. Even if you’re strong enough to endure the pain, you can’t expect Draco to be.”
Harry bit his lip, stuffing his hands deep in his pockets. “I didn’t want to hurt him.”
Draco glared at the ridiculously stupid answer. “Seriously Potter, how the hell are you going to hurt me?” He watched Harry flinch, as if the question was too much to handle.
“There’s something crazy in me, Draco. Something messed up, and, and it doesn’t seem to know that pain is bad. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”
To Draco’s great annoyance, he was starting to understand why Harry had been avoiding him. “God, you are the biggest moron sometimes. Why didn’t you just say something to me?”
Harry crouched on the ground, hands covering his face. “Gah, because being around you makes me crazy! The things I want to do, Draco, are… are—I need to get out of here,” Harry said abruptly, standing upright and taking a step away. “I’ll, uh, owl you or something.”
“Harry Potter, you will stay here and talk to me like a fucking man or I am going to tear you apart,” Draco growled.
Harry froze but refused to turn back. “Malfoy, that is really not helping this.”
“Do I look like I give a fuck? Get. Back. Here. Now.” And Harry did, seemingly against his own accord, feet taking hesitant steps back to stop in front of Draco.
Draco studied Harry, from his tanned hands currently clutched tight in fists, to his wide shoulders that seemed to be holding up the world, to the bowed head with thick waves blocking his face. His heart clenched, thinking of the older version that had left him. Every day Harry was growing closer to being that strong, loving man. But today, in that moment, he seemed at war with himself and very afraid.
“Tell me the worst that could happen,” Draco asked, hoping to calm Harry’s fears. “Let’s say you lose it. What’s your biggest fear?”
Harry met his eyes, expression of pure anguish on his face. “I don’t want to kill you, Drake.”
Draco closed his eyes at the nickname. He had missed it, had wondered if he would ever hear it again.
“You’re not going to kill me, Harry.”
“How do you know? I don’t know. How can you know?”
Sighing at the annoying logic, Draco tried to explain. “Because I’ve seen you… different, I guess is a good way to put it.”
Remus, who had been standing back to let them talk it out, suddenly looked up in interest. “This different Harry wouldn’t happen to be older, would it? Maybe a fair bit darker, battle scarred… manic?”
Draco narrowed eyes at the werewolf, wondering what the man knew. “Maybe.”
Remus nodded as if he had known the answer all along. He pushed himself away from the wall and gave Harry a pointed stare. “Tell him and stop holding back. He’s not afraid of you nor should he be.” With that, the man walked away to return to what was left of breakfast.
“Afraid?” Draco gave a derisive snort. He looked over at Harry, who had suddenly found his sneakers very interesting. “Well?”
“Er… He seems to think ’embracing the beast’ is the only way to stop this crazy feeling,” Harry mumbled, using his hands to accent his words.
“Well, yeah, I’d imagine the werewolf would understand a bit about dealing with a beast inside.” God, Potter was annoying. The boy always made things difficult. “Come on. Lets find a proper place to talk without the gossips running into us.” It would give him time to think of how to convince Harry that the idiot wasn’t going to hurt him.
“Alright. I know a place.”
SCENE #Secrets revealed
The Room of Requirement was a cozy contrast to the chill hallways outside. The crackling fire seemed to put Harry at ease the moment he stepped into the room. Warm butterbeer waited for them, steaming next to a single couch by the fireplace.
Draco took a look around while Harry sat and sipped at his mug. Harry must have slept there on nights his scar burned too painful for him to ignore. There was a bed in the corner, boardgames stacked on a dusty bureau, and a scattering of toys on the table and floor. Draco picked up a fluffy plush lion off the floor, fiddling with the long mane.
Harry was still ignoring him, staring very intently at his now empty mug. Draco walked up behind him, resting one hand on his shoulder, feeling the muscles tense from the touch.
Harry blinked, confused as a stuffed animal began to walk its way onto his shoulder. “Look out Potter, the beast is going to get you.” Draco made a mock attack, only to have the lion turn to him. “Oh no, its got me in its sights. I’m a goner. Oh, the humanity!”
Harry peeked his head behind the couch as Draco fell to the floor, the little lion sitting on his chest in victory. Harry’s laugh stuck in his throat. Hair mussed, eyes alight with mischief; Draco was fucking gorgeous.
“Come on, Potter, cheer up.” Exasperated, Draco got up, throwing the stuffed animal at Harry and grabbing his drink. He sat next to the boy, deliberately ignoring the strangled noise the brunette made.
Draco drank in long gulps, willing courage from the buttery concoction.
“Alright. What’s changed since that Sunday when things were perfectly fine, to the next day when you started running away from me, Potter? Is it because of my father? Do you feel some bizarre guilt or just think I’m a mess over it?”
“Uh… well… yeah, actually. The guilt part. Sort of.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. Harry Potter feeling guilty about something; not a damn shock there. “Well, you didn’t kill my father, so you are very much absolved of all guilt, Potter.”
“What if… what if I had, though?” Harry asked quietly, gnawing on his lip.
“Then I’d give you a damn big thank you hug for making my summer a hell of a lot more enjoyable.”
“You can’t mean that. Not really.”
Draco closed his eyes and counted to five. “Potter, I am extremely grateful that my father is dead. I know it’s in poor taste to say, but if I’d had the chance and the power, I would have killed him first.”
Harry was silent, brooding again.
“Why do you care, Potter? Why is this coming between us? Everything was going so damn well!”
“Uh, well… Remus said something to me. About you smelling… uh, well…” Harry couldn’t seem to finish the thought, his neck turning a bright red.
“I don’t smell,” Draco said warningly.
“No, uh, that’s not what I mean.”
“Well?” Draco was about to hit the idiot over the head if he didn’t speak up.
Harry stood and started pacing. He held his hand up, stopping Draco from saying anything else.
“Okay, alright… Let’s say for the sake of argument that I, Harry Potter, killed your father… and Voldemort. Lets just say that…. and that I was terribly powerful and maybe a bit crazy… Alright like, scary crazy… Tearing people to bits, crazy.” Harry stopped pacing, his face clouded in dark thoughts. “You… uh… you wouldn’t want anything to do with someone like that. Right?”
Draco sat back on the couch. So the werewolf had figured it out. But telling Harry hadn’t seemed to have been a good thing—the boy was clearly distraught. “Potter, what exactly can I say to make you stop caring about this?”
Harry looked ready to break. “I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to tell you about him? He really wasn’t a bad guy.”
Harry looked up at that, staring at Draco warily. “So you… uh, you did meet him?”
Draco smiled darkly at the words, thinking back to his Harry. “Meet seems a bit tame.”
Harry walked back over to the couch, staring down at Draco. “So Remus was right… about his smell being on you?”
Draco shrugged. “I don’t know what werewolves smell, Potter. I always showered after.”
“Then you…?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Fucked, Potter. Buggered, screwed, made love, had sex—Pick a word, already.”
Harry glared. “You had sex with him.”
“Yes. Amazingly delicious sex.”
Harry started pacing again, refusing to look at Draco. A moment later, he was back to the couch, very angry. “Why would you do that? You didn’t see how he killed Wormtail, what he did to your dad—The guy’s a damn monster!”
“No, he’s not,” Draco growled out. “And if you suggest it again, I’m going to beat you. He was a damn amazing man, dealing with a lot of fucked up people trying to kill him.”
“Malfoy, he tore a guy in half!”
“Shit, Potter, stop judging! Those people deserved to die, my father especially. You would rather defend the fucking Dark Lord’s right to live, than accept the fact that you might just be an okay guy. Stop hating yourself!”
Harry snapped his mouth shut, looking away. “I don’t hate—“
“Yes you do. You hate that you survived when your parents didn’t. And later, when you’re him and you’ve watched everyone you’ve sworn to protect die, you hate yourself even more. The only difference between the two of you is that he’s had time for his power to grow and even more time to repeatedly fail saving the damn world.” Draco stood, trying to let his anger fade. Harry looked rather pathetic, shoulders hunched, head bowed. Damn, but he was infuriating at times.
He grabbed Harry’s hand, holding it in both of his. “So he came back to give you a chance for things to be different. Happy. He wanted me to survive this time around. Wanted the Wizarding World to make it. I can’t fault him for any of it.”
Harry stared at his trapped hand. “I hate that he touched you… Hate that you… that you…”
“I fucking loved it.”
Harry growled at the admission, pulling Draco’s arms to him. “I hate that.”
“You sure about that, Potter? Sure it doesn’t get you fucking hot just thinking about it?” Draco smirked at Harry’s wild glare. “He showed me how to enjoy the things you want to do to me. Believe me when I say, I know how to be taken by you.”
“Stop. Talking.” Harry grabbed Draco’s shoulder with his free hand, pushing the boy back. Draco’s legs hit the couch and his knees collapsed, forcing him to sit.
He let the anticipation tingle through his body, watching Harry lean over him. He was learning to recognize when the beast was looking at him, staring out of Harry’s eyes with possessive intent. Draco reached for the collar of his shirt, slowly unbuttoning as Harry watched.
Harry knelt, hands kept carefully on the couch inches from Draco’s thighs. He could feel the heat radiating off of the fair boy, could smell his flesh and sweat. The pale hands had stopped their task, last button free. Harry grabbed the shirt, pulling it off Draco’s shoulders and arms.
Draco smirked, head tilted. Harry was panting, fingers twitching as if wanting to touch but holding himself back. “See something you like, Potter?” He taunted softly.
“Very much.”
“Well? What are you waiting for?” Draco asked, eyebrows raised.
Harry let out a shaky breath, trying very hard to not give in to the red heat curling around his mind. “Don’t want to hurt you.”
Draco grabbed a fistful of Harry’s hair, leaned in, and snarled in the boy’s ear. “Hurt me.”
Groaning, Harry ran shaking hands up Draco’s bare sides. He turned in the hand still clutching his hair, kissing Draco fiercely. Draco’s other hand was clawing at his shirt, so Harry pulled away long enough to tear his t-shirt off. Humming in approval, Draco pulled him down, raking short nails across his now bare back.
The pain flooded Harry with heat and he couldn’t hold back a groan. He grabbed Draco tightly around his waist and threw him over his shoulder while standing. Draco laughed and kicked off his shoes. He held onto Harry’s upper arms for balance as he walked them around the uncomfortable couch and to the bed.
The world tipped again, Draco finding himself face up on the cool bedspread. Harry was straddling him, bare flesh glowing orange in the firelight. “Fuck, Harry.”
“Soon,” Harry promised, bending down to kiss Draco’s neck.
“Hard,” the blond insisted, grabbing Harry’s shoulders and digging his nails in. Harry bit down in response. Draco bucked his hips up, groaning loudly. Harry bit him again, pushing his hips down into the other’s thrust.
Draco’s hands skirted down Harry’s back, finding the band of his jeans. He slipped fingers underneath, walking them around until he found the button keeping them on. He scrabbled at the metal clasp, frustration growing each moment it resisted release. “Harry… pants. Now.”
“Demanding.” Harry rolled off, ignoring Draco’s cry of disappointment, and undid his fly and kicked off his shoes and pants. He stopped at the band of his boxer briefs, seeing Draco’s interested look. The gray eyes were burning as Draco sat up, crawling to the edge of the bed where Harry stood.
“Come here,” Draco ordered, hands reaching for Harry’s hips. He pulled the brunette in hard, mouth fanning heat over his flat stomach. He breathed deep, memorizing the scent. Draco lapped slowly, then bit down.
Harry slipped fingers into Draco’s hair, watching the boy ardently nip at his flesh. He swallowed as hands found the band of his underwear. “Draco.”
“Hmm?” Draco rubbed his face against Harry’s shorts, enjoying the sound the boy made in response. He kissed Harry’s bulge with an open mouth, tongue laving against the fabric.
Harry tightened his hold on Draco’s head, grinding his aching length up against the very eager mouth. “Take off your fucking pants.”
Draco shuddered at the harshly spoken command. When Harry’s hands released him, he fell back on the bed, hips raising to push his pants and underwear down. Harry helped, pulling the slacks off and throwing them aside. He grabbed Draco’s ankle, pulling one sock off and then the other.
Harry’s eyes raking over him, Draco felt himself arch unbidden. Everything felt so hot all of a sudden, so desperately hot. He watched Harry take his underwear off and kneel on the bed. Draco clawed at the mattress, gripping hard as Harry crawled up his body.
Harry firmly grabbed his jaw and forced him to meet his eyes. “Alright, Drake?”
“Yes, love, yes… Just a little overwhelmed.” Draco whimpered, head lolling back onto the bed. Harry pulled at one of his nipples, squeezing hard. Suddenly strong hands were on his ass and Harry’s weight was pressing him down into the bed, delicious skin touching skin. “Harry… please.”
Harry pressed his mouth to Draco’s ear while pulling the boy’s knees up, thighs flush around his hips. “What do you need?” His fingers found the base of Draco’s spine and followed down, sliding around his entrance. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes,” Draco said with a whine, trying to push into Harry’s hand. “Do you… know how?”
Harry used a lubrication charm, gently probing the soft flesh around Draco’s entrance. “Yeah, I practiced on myself, just to make sure I wouldn’t hurt you.”
“Oh, fuck,” Draco gaped, mind reeling at the images of Harry fingering himself. “Did you like it?”
Harry bit Draco’s lip, smirking. “Wouldn’t say I complained.”
“Fuck.” Draco leaned up, kissing the boy passionately. He could feel Harry’s finger growing bolder, pushing up against his hole. Draco wiggled his hips until the digit sunk in. “More, Harry.”
Harry groaned, sliding down Draco’s body until his head rested on his heaving chest. He kissed at the flesh there, nipping and licking as he pushed two fingers into the eager blond. He looked up, full attention on Draco’s face as the boy cried out in pleasure.
“Draco, you are so hot inside… God.” Harry could feel the muscles tighten around his fingers. He began moving his digits in and out slowly, loosening the clenched flesh. He could feel Draco’s cock, hard against his abdomen, rubbing with the friction of their sweaty movements.
“Oh, god, Harry, fuck me now… please… I can’t wait any longer.” Draco was thrashing on the bed, hands tangled in the sheets, feet digging in to the mattress for leverage so he could push onto the fingers.
“A little more, Drake.” Harry added a third finger, his eyes closing when Draco’s channel pushed back. “Relax… You’re fucking tight.” It was difficult to focus, difficult to remember why he wasn’t flipping Draco and pounding into the desperate boy.
“Now… damn it.” Draco grabbed at Harry’s shoulders, holding tight and wriggling down the boy. He hooked a leg around the brunette’s hips, adjusting until he could feel Harry’s hardness burning against the inside of his thigh. “Fuck me. And don’t you dare hold back.”
Harry groaned, low and throaty. He slid his hands over Draco’s smooth cheeks, pulling them apart, thumbs digging in. He rubbed his erection over the still very tight opening, feeling Draco shudder at the contact. Guiding his cock to the right spot with his hand, Harry pushed until the flesh began to yield around him.
“Don’t stop,” Draco whispered, hips rocking, pushing against Harry’s hardness. He could feel the tip pressing in, slowly stretching his opening wide. “Yes… fuck, yes.”
Harry could barely breathe, the impossible tightness and heat of Draco’s channel stealing his senses away. He gripped the blond’s hips, trying with all his might to keep from thrusting and hurting the boy. But Draco was insistent, using his leg to push himself down, trying to impale himself faster. Harry could feel his control slipping, the beast rising up inside him answering Draco’s plea.
Harry surged forward and sunk deep into Draco’s body, pulling a shout from the boy’s gasping lips.
“Uhnnn… again.” It was barely a whisper but Harry heard. He looked around dimly, finding a pillow and lifting Draco long enough to shove it under his narrow hips. Harry wrapped his arm around one of the long pale legs, running his hand up his thigh and gripping hard.
“Oh, hell, yes!” Draco cried as Harry began to fuck him, thrusting slowly in and out of his body. The brunette was growling into his neck, hands holding Draco down with bruising force. Draco could feel every inch of Harry moving through his slick channel, achingly filling him.
“Do you like it, Drake?” Harry asked, biting into the boy’s shoulder.
“Y-Yes! Oh, Harry… harder.”
“God, you keep begging.” Harry gave a particularly brutal thrust, only to have Draco cry for more. “Fucking hell.” He pulled out, not giving the blond time to protest, and dragged him down the bed.
“Turn,” Harry demanded heatedly, helping him stand on shaky legs. Draco complied readily, bending himself over the bed without Harry even asking. Harry grabbed the boy’s hips, pushing him forward and down until Draco was kneeling on the mattress.
“Harry… please.”
“You can wait five bloody seconds, Malfoy. Spread your fucking legs and shut up.” Harry pulled the boy back, quickly finding his hot little hole and pushing in.
“Oh, fuck,” Harry groaned, once again seated in Draco’s tight heat. Draco was still babbling something about ‘more’ and ‘harder,’ so Harry began pumping into him, running hands over the pale sweaty limbs and pulling at Draco’s silky hair.
Draco could feel the pressure building but resisted, not willing to have the moment end. Harry was so big inside him, fitting perfectly, hitting that spot inside that made his sight dim over and over again. God, he’d missed this.
Draco bent forward further, his arms unable to hold himself as well with the force of Harry’s savage thrusts. He buried his head in the sheets, reaching above his head while spreading his knees wider.
“Tell me you like it, Drake… Tell me how hard you are right now.”
“Oh god, Harry, I think I’m going to die, I’m that hard.” Draco could feel Harry swelling, his thrusts slowing and reaching deeper. “Don’t stop until I’m yours, Potter. Fucking claim me so hard that I can’t ever question it again.”
Harry pulled Draco’s hair until the boy was arched back and sobbing in need. “You are so fucking mine, Draco. I didn’t even have to touch you. Every time I bury myself in you, your body tells me you belong to me.”
“Yours.” Draco’s entire body was aching, muscles tense in ecstasy.
Harry ran a hand down his lithe body, down to Draco’s leaking erection. He wrapped strong fingers around the hard length, letting the boy move in his grip. “God, but you need it like this, don’t you? Brutal… and dominated… On your knees.”
“Fuck, Harry… I’m so close.”
Harry’s eyes fluttered shut, Draco’s body tightening painfully around him. “Hell.” He renewed his thrusts, pulling desperate sobs from Draco’s trembling form. Leaning down to the blond’s neck, he bit hard, drawing blood and a long, intoxicating moan that didn’t stop until Draco’s hot cum spilled all over his hand in erratic spurts.
Harry shuddered, Draco’s tightness unbearable. He forced the boy’s rocking hips still, burying himself as far as he could go, pushing impossibly forward into the suffocation heat.
“Yes… yes… fill me.”
“F-Fuck, Draco.”
“Come on, Harry… Make me yours.”
Harry came with a strangled cry, filling Draco’s tight body with his seed. Draco cried out with him, pushing back, channel spasming as if to pull every drop of his claiming cum inside him. Harry fell forward, crushing Draco beneath him as they gasped for breath.
“Fuck… oh, fuck, Drake.”
Draco groaned, feeling Harry move. “No, don’t pull out. You feel so good.”
The whimpered words made Harry want to take Draco again, drive him hard into the bed, or the bureau, or the wall. But he was exhausted, as was the boy still shaking beneath him.
He kissed Draco’s shoulder gently, licking at the drying blood and bruise quickly blossoming on his perfect flesh. Draco was pushing back against him, rocking his hips slowly, clenching around Harry’s softening cock. “Shit, Draco… You’re kidding me, right?”
“Harry… I-I need you… I love you.”
“Holy hell.” As tired as Harry felt, his body was still responding to the boy’s desire. Draco gave a delighted moan when Harry hardened, filling the boy again.
“Draco, I think I very much love you as well… But I’m tired.” But Draco pushed back again, grinding against his dick until Harry shoved the boy down. Draco was not deterred, rocking back again, letting Harry guide his pale hips up and down the renewed flesh. Harry pulled away with a groan, climbing off the boy before Draco could convince him otherwise.
Draco rolled over, licking his swollen lips and looking up at him. Harry couldn’t pull his eyes away, staring at the sweat-soaked boy now covered in pink bites and blue bruises. Cum had found its way to Draco’s stomach, not to mention was leaking out of his very raw looking hole.
“My god, Draco… you are so gorgeous. So fucking unbelievable.”
Draco gave a weak smile and spread his legs open wide, pulling his knees up. Harry felt fire shoot through his body, his vision fading for a moment. When his focus was regained, he found himself nuzzling Draco’s spread thighs, tongue caressing and tasting the abused flesh dripping with his seed. Draco was only half hard when Harry first licked up the side of his cock, but under his kisses and licks it quickly stiffened in full interest. He could hear Draco moaning, head thrashing on the mattress in delight.
God, but he wanted the blond again.
Rising to his knees, Harry pulled Draco’s ass up onto his thighs and sunk into the willing body. Draco made a mewling sound, unable to gain any purchase with his hips above his shoulders. Harry began to pound into the boy, fucking him hard, pushing him back until Draco’s neck and shoulders were trapped against the headboard, his body bent, legs pushed up high and caught on Harry’s shoulders.
“Fuck, Draco, you are very good at this,” Harry growled, remembering fleetingly why that was. He changed the direction of his thrusts, rewarded with Draco’s cries when he found the boy’s prostate. He would make the boy forget about his other version, erase any touch the man had bestowed on the beautiful boy. Draco was his, and only his.
“Harry…” Draco was flushed, nearly lost in the sheets with his head at an awkward angle against the headboard. Taking pity, Harry stopped, pulling the boy up. Draco quickly turned, grabbing the sturdy headboard and getting on his knees. Harry pulled the boy’s hips to his and then buried himself into the eager flesh again.
“Yes,” Draco sighed, head turning to look at Harry’s over his shoulder. “Kiss me,” he demanded. Harry did with vigor, slowly building his rhythm as the blond melted into his embrace.
“Oh, give it to me, Harry. Hard… I like it hard… Don’t worry about me… I can take it.”
Harry closed his eyes, surging forward. Draco was very good at this.
“Fuck… fuck… again,” Draco murmured, lost in the intensity of the brunette’s thrusts. Harry wrenched at his flesh, fingers biting wherever they touched, teeth sinking in again and again over Draco’s neck and shoulder. Harry shifted slightly and Draco saw stars, coming with a surprised shout from the pressure on his prostate, his cum coating his navel and the headboard before him.
Harry wasn’t done, thrusting into Draco’s quivering body and pulling deep, desperate moans from the aching boy. “Oh Hell… Harry… so full… too much.”
Harry snarled, grabbing the headboard on both sides of Draco and using it as leverage to soundly pound into the boy. “I know you can take it,” Harry rasped out, biting the wound he had left on Draco’s shoulder and making the boy sob for mercy. “Come on, Draco… take it… fuck… mine!” He came with a shudder, slamming Draco into the headboard with a cry.
SCENE #Bonding
Harry awoke, hours later, in a tangle on the bed. Draco took longer, not opening his eyes until Harry was dressed and gently washing the boy’s face with a cold cloth.
“I’m sorry, Draco. I didn’t mean too…” Harry trailed off, unable to put into words what he had done to the boy and how a part of him was not sorry and wanted to do it again.
Draco just blinked up blearily, sighing as the cloth touched his face. “It was good, Harry. Fucking amazing.”
“But I hurt you,” Harry reminded, licking his lips as Draco moved to sit up.
“Mmmm… I adored it.” He grabbed Harry’s face, kissing him slowly. “You’ll do it again, right? Promise?”
Harry nodded silently, unable to say no to the boy.
“I’m hungry. What time is it?” Draco looked around the room but there was no clock.
Harry glanced at his watch, furrowing his brow. “Uh… we might be able to catch a very late lunch. After I patch you up first.”
Draco nodded, stretching his arms above his head. He was sore, but in a thoroughly shagged way. He caught Harry watching him and he smiled back. “Come on then, hurry up. I think I could eat a hippogriff.”
Harry pulled the blond to him, burying his face into his hair. He ran light fingers over Draco’s bruises, using a healing spell to fade them away. The blond was whimpering once Harry let him go, his silver eyes alight with lust.
“Come on, get dressed.” Harry handed Draco the pile of socks, pants, and underwear, and got up to find the boy’s shirt. It took a moment for the blond to get moving again, but eventually he was shimmying into his clothes and throwing his shoes on.
“How’s my hair?” Draco asked, no mirror in sight.
Harry combed fingers through the silky strands, flattening any strays. “Perfect, as always. How about me?”
“Mess, of course.” Draco smirked. “Although, you forgot your glasses.”
Harry shook his head. “I decided it wasn’t worth keeping up appearances over. Tossed them.”
Draco stepped close, looking Harry over heatedly. “I’m very glad to hear that. You’re fucking hotter than hell and I enjoy seeing it.”
Harry took a steadying breath, reminding himself that Draco needed fuel if the boy was going to endure a proper fuck. No matter how much the blond begged for it now. He grabbed Draco’s arm and pulled him to the door, leading to the Great Hall and whatever was left of lunch.
SCENE #The last loose ends
Hermione Granger, 27 and scarred, waited for Harry to finish the slow, torturous execution of Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione was beyond powerful, which was to be expected as one of the few to survive the destruction of the Wizarding World. She discovered early on that power was the only way to survive a friendship with the beast Harry Potter had become.
She had devised the spell and the modifications to the time turner, Harry’s power the fuel to move them through so many blood soaked years. Hermione had also chosen the time, fourth year, before Cedric died. Before June, when Draco Malfoy’s lifeless body would be discovered.
They had all assumed it had been Voldemort, some sort of sacrifice to the Dark Lord. But the interview in the Daily Prophet revealed elsewise. Lucius Malfoy practiced magic on his disappointing son, hexes and curses so strong that the young boy could barely hold out. And in Hermione’s time, before his fifth year of school, the boy had died.
Killing Lucius hadn’t been in the plan, but having read the paper, Hermione was not surprised to find Harry had done just that. She was also not surprised to find him here, now killing the final relative that would be crazy and powerful enough to try to harm Draco.
Harry had become very good at killing that summer before fifth year. He was maddened at the news of Draco’s death. Insane. Frenzied. The beast sleeping inside of him had woken up with the death of his unclaimed chosen and it would not be silenced.
Harry had killed the Dursley’s, all of them, in a fit of raw magic so strong that the house had collapsed in on itself. And he hadn’t stopped since, stalking Death Eaters and picking them off, one by one until Harry had finally destroyed Voldemort in his late teens.
After that, well, Harry had been left to face the fact that he had no place in the world. What he was could not continue.
Hermione had found him eventually. Harry had haunted the Chamber of Secrets deep in the depths of the broken Hogwarts in his animagus form. Once she had gotten him to talk, she had realized there wasn’t much time. There had been very little left of Harry.
He had found ways to cope, had built up elaborate fantasies and stories to work his way around the destruction he had seen, the horrors he had committed. But there was no relief for the man. All Hermione could distinguish for certain by Harry’s tangled mind was that Draco Malfoy was the key.
He had spoke of Draco—spoke to Draco as if he had been there only moments before. The man had imagined Draco’s death so many different times, all moments before he had succeeded in the death of another monster. He used the memory of Draco as fuel for every life he took and thought, each time, he had failed the boy.
In Harry’s twisted mind he’d had the option to save Draco, each time just missing and watching the boy die before his eyes. Instead of the cold reality of Harry never suspecting the danger and Draco dying alone.
Hermione had great misgivings letting Harry wander the halls of Hogwarts again now that children actually occupied the castle. But he was in control, for the most part. Ever since she had told him the plan, her friend had pulled his remaining scraps of sanity together. He was desperate to see the Malfoy boy alive.
The screams had stopped. Hermione glanced out the window of the abandoned mansion Bellatrix had holed herself away in, catching the position of the moon. Not much longer.
At Harry’s bloody approach, Hermione held her arm out, welcoming him. He came to her as if he were a child, chin resting atop her head. He was stronger today, always so when death was calling.
Hermione would take the memories from him. She had arranged the spell to exclude Harry’s mind from its protection. Harry would forget while Hermione’s younger self would see two worlds develop. One a place of destruction and murder, the other… well.
Hopefully they had done enough.
She had left a diary with her younger self, one that would activate once the first contradicting memory was written in. She would need to understand what was happening. She would need to understand that Draco Malfoy’s life had to be protected at all costs.
Hermione prayed it would work, prayed Malfoy wouldn’t come to some ungodly end after they left. It didn’t matter how or at whose hand; Draco Malfoy’s death would be Harry’s undoing in any time line.
“It’s time,” she whispered, pulling the time turner from her robes.
Harry opened green, anguished eyes. “I miss him.”
Hopefully, Harry would be a better person this time. Hopefully he could be someone that Draco could love.
- Bending Time Comment Area
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THE SLOW UNINTENDED SEDUCTION OF LUCIUS MALFOY
A HARRY POTTER FANFIC
SCENE #Threats of fashion
Lucius had never been a fan of ill fitting clothes. The human body, in all its many shapes and sizes, could always be wrapped just right to flatter. A dart here, a long line there—It didn’t take much, but it was the type of magic that had to be achieved perfectly each time through a skilled eye and unwavering hand, or disaster could befall. Some bodies could get away with more. Lucius knew because he had such a body; tall, muscular, with impeccable grace and posture.
Other bodies… Well, Lucius did not truly understand what it was about Harry Potter’s body that defied the laws of magic when it came to clothing, just that it seemed to happen every day, and in his own manor.
How the boy had come to be there, sleeping in a room off of Draco’s during the summer months, was less of a mystery. Apparently Potter’s relatives were a bit imbecilic. They had gone so far as to label the boy a Satanist, and bar him from ever entering the house again. This had been during the beginning of that particular summer, and in the middle of the night. Lucius had begrudgingly apparated down with Draco, his ever persistent son who had finally managed to get a handshake from Potter and grow a friendship.
Potter had been dressed atrociously. Lucius knew he should have cared more about the fact that the young man was sitting in the driveway on his trunk, looking as if he might have been near tears at one point. He had admitted a tendril of warmth when the boy had glanced up from his morose perch, caught sight of the two Malfoys, and beamed so brightly the night had cleared for a small moment. But then Lucius had noticed the billowing, ratty t-shirt, oversized, baggy jeans cuffed at the ankles to keep Potter from tripping, and plainly disgusting sneakers with holes likely larger than the boy’s feet. The warmth had left Lucius as had, apparently, his sanity.
The Dursleys’ car would not work from that day forward. They were not complex machines, but that particular automobile became a lemon the night Lucius had to bare witness to such a terrifying outfit, and how it somehow managed to make the owner of such hideous garb appear delectable. Lucius should have seen it as the omen that it was and left the little hell-spawn there in the driveway, glowing green eyes, lush red mouth, and hideous, atrocious clothes and all. But Draco was unrelenting; they were already there, Draco had been lonely with his mother living at her sister’s, and the manor certainly held enough space.
Potter had also been extremely polite, in an annoying, roguish sort of way. He had clasped Lucius’s hand, lips curled up in a crooked smile as he said thank you. Lucius knew though, as wide eyed and genuine as he had seemed, the boy was inwardly taunting him. One did not wear clothing like that, the way Potter managed to wear them, while not taunting the hell out of him.
Lucius was also certain of this fact today as he sat at the small kitchen table reading his morning paper. It was six in the morning, the time when Lucius enjoyed the quiet of the approaching day, warmth radiating through the windows to steal away the cold of the night. He was used to being alone during this time, Narcissa and Draco always sleeping in late. Lucius enjoyed the silence, where he could think, and feel, and not be distracted by the bustle of others.
Apparently their new house guest was prone to nightmares. A former associate of Lucius’s, back from when he had been young, desperate, and still his father’s son, had tried to kill the boy. Riddle had managed to kill both of Potter’s parents, but the toddler had proven a match too great, and Lucius had gotten the opportunity to seek better associates as a result. That said boy was gracing his kitchen niche, tartan plaid pajama pants hanging too low below a t-shirt that had to be two sizes too small, was an irony not lost on the man.
The colors were very much wrong, calamitous to Lucius’s senses, and to the senses of any respectable being that could sense in the first place. It did not matter that the boy was unusually quiet—Well, not unusual. Potter barely seemed to speak a word unless spoken to, green eyes always skirting around, crooked smile twisting his lush lips as he took in the many differences of Malfoy Manor to his former abode. The boy was nearly companionable compared to the constant chatter of Lucius’s family. That said, the outfit was loud enough. A marching band leading a circus would have been quieter than the cacophonous mix of red and gold plaid pants, and bright—Lucius stressed the word bright—orange t-shirt.
It was burning a hole through his newspaper, the shirt was that luminous. Lucius could not focus on anything else, the horrible neon color drawing his eye and keeping it as Harry padded barefoot around the kitchen island, steaming cup of tea in hand while he peered out the window at the garden. That such a color existed was tragedy enough, but to put it on a shirt? Lucius had done some terrible things in his time, including torturing a family of muggles in the name of some antiquated idea of pureblood supremacy. This shirt was a hate crime. Against life.
That is was too small, had a large hole in the back where the collar had come apart from the rest of the material to gap golden skin, only revealed that Potter was also a lunatic. Because he was holding onto the damn atrocity. It was falling apart, no longer fit him, and the boy still insisted on wearing it to bed. Maybe the boy was colorblind?
Maybe the boy was just blind?
Lucius put his paper down, debating if leaving and showering was the answer to this hideous shirt. Green eyes glanced his way from the sound of the folded paper, then quickly returned to the window. Instantly Lucius knew the boy had to have been doing it on purpose. The shirt was too terrible to not be an accident. Such alarming things did not happen by accident.
“Potter, if you are going to grace my kitchen with your presence, I would kindly ask that you dress appropriately,” Lucius said evenly, trying to keep the exhaustion out of his voice that such a shirt had wrought him.
Blinking, Harry turned, head crooked sideways. “Sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but what do you mean?” He looked down at himself, fingering the hem of his soft t-shirt, palm ghosting lightly over the gap of flesh revealed beneath the neon color. “The Dursleys would get pissed if I walked around in boxers, but they never seemed upset by my pajamas.”
Something in the words caught Lucius’s attention, and a vision of Harry walking around his kitchen in nothing but boxers flashed in his mind. He wasn’t certain if the idea was appealing only because Lucius could see that the boy had hard, long lines of blossoming muscle underneath smooth, tanned skin, or because it meant the hideous shirt would be gone. He did not have a conclusive answer, but Lucius was certain he hated the shirt.
“If I see that shirt again, I am going to burn it,” Lucius promised, meeting the boy’s wide eyes. “Whether you are wearing it at the time or not.”
Biting his lip, Harry placed his mug down on the counter beside the widow. “Er… I don’t really have a lot of clothes, Sir. I’m sorry I’m not as fancy as you guys, but I really can’t go around naked just because you don’t like my hand-me-downs…”
Lucius was distractedly now envisioning Harry naked, the boxers discarded somewhere at the foot of the table. It was a very appealing thought, especially since the little table would likely fit the boy just so between the plate of bacon and the eggs…
Fire rushing through Lucius, his mouth went dry, and stomach twisted in lust. He tightened his hands into fists, praying he would not do something extremely foolish over this horribly dressed urchin. “Potter, go away.”
“Oh… okay…” Hand tangled in his mess of hair, Harry turned, slowly padding from the kitchen, eyes skittering towards Lucius as he passed.
“Potter,” Lucius growled, the boy jumping in response even though nearly out the door.
“Y-Yes, Mr. Malfoy?” Harry asked, eyes again wide and stunningly green against the flush on his cheeks.
Lucius pointed to the counter where Harry had left his tea. “Ah… right… that. Sorry,” Harry mumbled, slowly walking back to retrieve his forgotten drink. He brought the mug to his lips, dark lashes downcast as he sipped the steaming brew.
Lucius could feel Harry glancing, stolen little touches with his intense gaze while the boy lingered in the kitchen for as long as he could get away with. He did his best to focus on his newspaper, having already read the same paragraph countless times—The happenings of the Ministry just really couldn’t compete with that damn day glow orange, never mind the unearthly green that kept gliding over him. Lucius was just about to get up and go to escape said unbearable colors when the boy gave a soft sigh, placed his drained mug into the sink, and began to rinse it.
“So… do you think you could tell me what it is about the shirt that makes you want to burn it?” Harry asked quietly, hand lingering on the counter top as he turned back to Lucius.
Lucius glared, his jaw tightening. “What, so you’ll go out and buy another one? I think not.”
“Er… that wasn’t why… Mr. Malfoy, I really don’t understand you,” Harry muttered, holding the back of his neck, which had turned a lovely shade of red to match the boy’s cheeks.
“You have been warned, Potter. Now take your abysmal shirt and get out of my sight.”
Huffing, Harry nodded and turned. “Okaaaay…”
Harry pulled at the hem of his shirt as he walked, staring at the faded white letters on the front while the hem rode up on his back, revealing a gap that would have fit both of Lucius’s hands if he had been close enough to touch. Lucius almost got up just to see if his measurements were accurate. Surely it was important to know how many times his hands would fit the length of the boy’s slender waist and back. And then he shook himself, glaring at his paper and wishing he had never allowed Draco to convince him to let the boy stay.
SCENE #A terrifying makeover
“Your clothes are really terrible,” Draco offered unhelpfully while peering in through a shop window where the latest broom models were hovering. “And you know Father. He has very refined tastes.”
Harry scratched his head, sighing softly. “Yeah… but he seemed really… I dunno… Like I was doing it on purpose, you know?” Harry was fairly certain Lucius had been about to drag him out the door by his pajama top and lock him out in the yard. And although the idea of the breathtakingly handsome man grabbing him by the collar had been appealing, the being left out on the lawn had been less so, and Harry was concerned he was going to have to find another place to stay if he could not figure out this problem.
“Just ignore him. Father has been on edge since the separation. Mother has been… difficult, what with taking up with Aunt Bella and going all blood hate crazy again. Hell, it’s hard on me. I’m sure it’s even harder on Father.”
Frowning, Harry put a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. He was being selfish, focusing on his own pointless fears when Draco was dealing with so much crap. Waking up to your mother going mad and wanting to kill muggles was just a bit much. It was hardly the typical midlife crisis Harry had heard about. Harry would just make a point not to wear the orange shirt around Lucius and hopefully things would work themselves out.
“Did you want to go check out the joke shop?” Harry asked, tilting his head enticingly until Draco’s eyes lost their far away look and the pale boy smirked.
“Lorna still working there?” Draco asked, perking up at the thought of seeing the pretty witch.
“I do believe she is…” Harry hummed.
“You know, that is one of the bigger perks of having a poof for a best friend,” Draco drawled, smirking wider at Harry’s eye roll. “No competition. Hell, I think you even help me lure them in with your boy-who-lived crap.”
“Well, I’m glad I can be of service,” Harry said with a snort. “Gotta do something to make up for your generosity.”
Draco shrugged, eyes losing focus again. “He really said he would burn it… while you were wearing it?”
Harry nodded, his good spirits fading. Yes, Draco was a generous person, but it was Lucius that had made everything possible. Getting on the man’s bad side was not ideal to Harry’s living situation. “Maybe I should be looking into renting an apartment? You know, be a grown up about things and all. I have the funds.”
“That’s no fun,” Draco declared loudly, pushing into Harry with his shoulder. “I like having you around—And there’s no way Father is going to let me go off and move out while mother is threatening to steal me away and raise me crazy. I’m sure he was just in one of his moods. I’ll talk to him, okay?”
“Er, don’t do that… I feel like making a big deal out of it will only make it worse,” Harry muttered.
Draco nodded, eyes lighting over the store fronts. “Maybe we should get you some new clothes?”
Harry glowered, shoving his hands into his pockets and following Draco’s gaze. “I don’t like… Shopping for clothes is difficult for me.”
“Come on, Harry, you need a damn bathing suit—What’s the point of having a huge swimming pool if you’re not going to swim in it?” It had been a sore topic since Harry had moved in, one that Harry had refused to explain.
Meeting Draco’s very determined expression, Harry huffed. “If I can get a bathing suit without having to try it on, then fine. And I want a shirt.”
“Is this about your stupid scars? For fuck sake, Potter, you can barely see the damn things.”
Harry bit his lip, glaring silently until Draco backed down.
“Fine, but I get to pick out the one you get.” Draco finally relented, pointing across the street to the clothing store he felt best for this particular endeavor. Harry followed reluctantly behind, ignoring Draco’s haughty expression when the boy waited a good twenty seconds holding the door before Harry finally stepped into the store.
“Stop looking like you’re about to get hexed,” Draco growled, pulling Harry by the arm towards the racks of summer wear. The store was charmed to be a cool relief to the summer heat outside, the air smelling of sandalwood and incense. It probably would have been soothing, but Harry’s heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. Draco had said he wouldn’t have to try the clothes on, still Harry’s palms were sweating, eyes jumping around as if expecting some monster to jump out from the racks of clothing.
Other than Madam Malkin’s, Harry had never gotten clothes for himself. He had tried once, last year when getting his new school robes. He had thought maybe it was time to start wearing clothes that weren’t remnants of Dudley’s slimmer days. But once getting into the fitting room for the first time, a small closet with mirrors and door, Harry had experienced his first panic attack, and quickly decided he was never going to go through that again.
He wasn’t sure exactly what had panicked him about the situation. Harry had been in smaller, darker rooms—He had lived under the stairs for years, after all. And mirrors had never really frightened Harry, except maybe when he was little and he had wondered if another world was staring back at him. When he had taken off his shirt and seen for the first time up close the many white scars littering his back from Vernon’s favorite belt, Harry had stared. And then he had found he couldn’t breath. And then he had known he would not be buying clothes ever again.
That feeling was rising in him now, the difficulty to draw air into his lungs, his breathing too shallow no matter how hard he tried.
“What do you think about this style?” Draco asked, holding up a white pair of shorts.
Harry shrugged, finding it difficult to concentrate. “Whatever—just not white.”
“Well, what colors do you like?” Draco grumbled, Harry sounding too snappish for comfort.
“Anything—Here, this.” Harry pulled the closest bathing suit he could find out and held it up.
“That’s a triple extra large and covered in palm trees… Are you sure you’re gay, Potter? I’m pretty sure there is some prerequisite where you have to be at least this fashionable before you can bone another bloke.” He held his fingers together, the amount of fashion needed not much at all, but apparently Harry lacked it.
“Guess I’ll have to pass my gay card to you, Malfoy. I could never compete with so much style.” Harry put the monstrosity back on the rack and pulled another one out. It was black, it was a large, it was fine. “Here. Let’s pay and get the hell out.”
“Nope, still got to find you a shirt,” Draco said, turning and moving towards the other side of the store.
Harry whined internally, jumping from one foot to the other. He didn’t want to be there. He wanted to leave, leave, leave! He flinched away, Draco suddenly in front of him holding a shirt.
“Quit wiggling—Gah! You bloody bastard, you nearly bit me!” Draco grabbed Harry by the shoulder, snarling his patented ‘do as I fucking say’ snarl. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re a medium or a large. Everything you wear is so damn big I can’t remember. Stop being a child!”
Harry stuck his tongue out, but let Draco pat his enormous shirt down and then hold the shirt up to him. “Alright… this is the best we’re going to get without taking you to a proper tailor. Give me your wallet and get lost. I’m buying you more than you want, and you’re only getting in my way.”
“Draco, this is stupid…” Harry did whine this time, then quickly stepped back before his friend could smack him.
“Shut up and give me your money.” Growling, Harry handed his wallet over. Then, remembering what Draco had said, smiled brightly. “So, I’ll be outside then, if you need me.”
Draco just waved his hand absentmindedly, rooting through racks and pulling clothes out.
SCENE #Tea and taunts
Harry stumbled to the kitchen in what he thought was a more appropriate outfit the next morning. There were no holes in his pajamas and he was not wearing the orange shirt Lucius had vehemently told him he would burn if seen again. But his head was bothering him, having woken from another nightmare, so he was not surprised when Draco’s father began to glare at him the moment he walked into the kitchen for a soothing cup of tea. Clearly he had messed something up again.
Harry tried to make the best of it, taking in the beautiful view of the gardens Malfoy Manor was famous for. He sipped his tea, hoping to shake his nightmare from him. It was the one from the cupboard—The cupboard ones all blurred together. They were all dark and full of hopelessness and the inability to escape. Harry wasn’t sure why he was dreaming them more now, once free of the Dursleys. But maybe that’s when you were supposed to think of the bad times? When you were finally free of them.
Lucius was rustling his paper heatedly and Harry found himself again glancing towards the man. Although he had very little to say to Lucius, Harry enjoyed looking at him. He was very much a work of art, like one of those old Greek statues, alabaster skin and aristocratic features. Except Lucius’s eyes were a piercing pale, pale blue, like a wolf ready to strike. The man sent shivers down Harry’s spine just looking at him. But that was all Harry thought to do with the man, Lucius very much hating him and, of course, Draco’s father.
Harry heard the slight growl and then inhale before Lucius finally broke down and said his name. “Potter.”
Harry turned halfway from the window, raising his brows in question. The man was glaring, penetrating, and Harry felt that familiar tremor go up his spine from the look. Lucius totally purred when he talked, especially in the morning, voice still raspy from sleep. He hadn’t shaved yet and Harry took in the bristle on the man’s jaw, wondering what it would feel like against the sensitive skin of his stomach, or better yet, his thighs.
Sipping his tea to hide his blush, Harry waited patiently for whatever insult was due to make its way from Lucius’s entrancing mouth.
“You’ve finished off the orange cinnamon. I would appreciate if you would inform me of when we are running low,” Lucius muttered, throwing the empty box of tea bags across the table.
Harry blinked, staring down at his tea woefully. Crap. “Sorry, Mr. Malfoy. I can go pick some up today, if you’d like…”
“No, that’s hardly appropriate of a house guest,” Lucius snapped. Harry flinched from the obvious insult, because clearly he was not the right sort of house guest in any sense, even when trying to fix things.
Harry froze, eyes widening as Lucius suddenly stood, empty mug of tea in hand. He was heading straight for Harry and the sink next to him, and Harry had only a moment to decide if he should move or continue to freeze. His body seemed content to stand there like a slack jawed idiot, so he went with his first instinct, watching as Lucius stalked around him with a sniff.
“Potter, that shirt is nearly as bad as the last one.”
Harry glanced down at his old band t-shirt. He preferred the softer, smaller ones for bed, less likely to tangle and get lost in the extra folds of materials when thrashing from nightmares. It was a light pistachio green with blue lettering and white line art. It didn’t seem anything like the orange one he had been wearing the other night.
“What’s wrong with it? It doesn’t have any holes,” he said a little defensively, glancing at the man who had turned from the sink to glare at his shirt.
“It most certainly does—Are you blind? Wait, don’t answer that. It might actual justify some of your wardrobe choices and I don’t think I could live with that.”
Lucius was an ass. Glaring back at the man, Harry looked down, one hand pulling at the hem of his shirt to find this so called hole. “There’s no hole.”
“There are many holes—Here.” Lucius grabbed the front of Harry’s shirt, Harry gasping and nearly spilling his tea. Staring down at the man’s large hand, Harry tried to see where Lucius was pointing. But it was very difficult, the room spinning and the man exuding heat like a furnace that Harry just wanted to press against.
“I… uh, I don’t see any holes…” Harry whispered, refusing to look up at the eyes he could feel burning into him. Lucius shifted his hand ever so slightly and then Harry saw them, three small pin pricks of darkness against the pattern of green, blue and white. “Oh…”
“Eloquent as always, I see,” Lucius drawled, smoothing Harry’s shirt back down, fingers lingering on the planes of his stomach and drawing a small gasp from Harry.
Eyes stuck on the floor, Harry took another swig of his tea, nearly choking when Lucius suddenly touched the center of his back, finger touching his bare skin and sending a jolt of electricity through him. “You also have a hole right here and much easier to see, if you ever bothered to look behind you.”
Harry nodded, very much wishing the man would go away so he could stop feeling like a puddle of heat and mush. “I wear it to bed, so it doesn’t matter.”
Lucius was leaning near his neck, Harry swallowing as he felt the man’s breath brush against his skin. Lucius was about half a head taller than Harry normally, and was currently leaning down to glare at his shirt. “You don’t think what you wear to bed is important? I feel sorry for any lover you may have—Hopefully they’re as colorblind as you are.”
“I’ve yet to have that problem,” Harry mumbled, eyes glancing to where he could see the man’s hand hovering, as if about to touch his shoulder and another hole that was apparently in his shirt.
“They all have perfect vision?” Lucius queried, his finger slowly pressing down and slipping through the ripple of fabric to touch Harry’s skin.
Harry choked back a cough, feeling extremely hot all of a sudden. Why the man kept insisting on touching him while insulting him was just extra infuriating. “No… I just haven’t had… a l-lover…”
“I find that hard to believe, Potter.” Yeah, Lucius definitely purred in the morning. Sipping his drink again, the last of his favorite tea, Harry just shrugged, the move brushing his shoulder up against Lucius’s chest. Why the hell was he so close, anyways?
Harry didn’t really care if Lucius believed him or not. It really wasn’t a topic of conversation he felt like having with the man. He blinked, Lucius suddenly reaching around him to grab his mug. “Hey… I’m not done with that.”
“You took the last of my favorite tea,” Lucius growled, plucking the cup from his grasp. Harry did turn his head this time, meeting the challenging gray eyes. Lucius looked particularly nice in the morning up close, beard just hinting at his jaw, long white blond hair a little rumpled and loose, clear eyes just a tad hazy with sleep. If the man didn’t look like he was going to kill him, Harry would have liked to have seen just how soft his hair really was.
“This is because of my shirt, isn’t it?”
“The orange one, yes.” Lucius agreed. “This one isn’t as bad… but it’s still hideous.”
Harry glared, watching the man leave while drinking the rest of his tea. Lucius was a total ass. Harry turned his glare to the window, wishing he didn’t feel so flushed. His heart was racing again, nearly as fast as when he had freaked out in the dressing room. His clothing and Lucius Malfoy just did not mix.
SCENE #drowned and bloody
Fingers rising to the bridge of his nose, Lucius exhaled slowly. There was a sopping wet Harry Potter dripping on his grandmother’s antique, oriental rug. Right in the center of it, as if the little drowned cat was making sure to soak as much as he could in as little time as possible. That Lucius hated the rug was immaterial. It was most definitely the spirit of the act that was so annoying.
“Potter, is there a particular reason you are flooding my house?” Lucius asked darkly, stalking into the room the boy was waiting in. Harry whirled, ridiculously wide eyes somehow wider without their normal veil of glasses and red mouth much redder since blood was pouring down his chin.
“S-Sorry, Mr. Malfoy. Draco wasss just getting me sssomething for the cut…”
Lucius closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out the way Harry was sweetly lisping. Of course the boy was injured. It was all he seemed to do since arriving—Eat food, wear offensive clothing, and bleed. Today’s offensive clothing wasn’t as bad as normal, black and nearly fitting the boy as it clung to his body, drenched. Actually, it was almost decent and Lucius paused, eyes skirting past said clothing to notice the form it so greedily clung to.
“Harry, I can’t find the—Oh, Father. Great, could you heal him?” Draco asked, wand twirling in his hands. “You know how bad I am with restorative magic and we’re out of the charms we keep for emergencies.”
Harry blushed, shivering in the cool manor air as he remembered all of the emergency charms that had been used on him over the last month. He could not see Lucius’s glare without his glasses, but he could certainly feel it pricking over his skin.
Lucius was glaring, but it was at his son this time. Draco was smirking in a very cocky way, and he was not sure why but it seemed like trouble.
“Do you approve of Harry’s clothes, Father? I imagine you’ll be less incited to burn these.” Draco smirked, watching his father stiffen.
“Draco, get your friend a towel… Make that many towels,” Lucius said warningly. His son was nearly as annoying as Harry was, and he was glad to get the menace out of the room. “Potter, let me see the wound.”
Harry stepped over unsteadily, bare feet sloshing on the carpet—Literally sloshing, he had managed to get that much pool water in it. Biting his tongue to keep from yelling, Lucius grabbed the boy too roughly by the jaw, bending down to look at the damage.
“Where is the—Of course…” Lucius drawled in exasperation. He could not find the source of the blood until Harry smiled unsteadily, revealing a broken front tooth and bloodied inner lip. “That you have managed to not murder yourself in your sleep is amazing enough, Potter.”
“Hey—It’s not like it was on purpossse!” Harry snapped, fresh blood dripping down his chin. “I dived too deep and hit my tooth on the bottom of the pool.”
“Yes, you managed not to drown yourself and instead drenched my carpet, bled all over the floors, and begrimed my pool in one go. You are definitely the victim in all this,” Lucius muttered, holding the boy’s jaw tighter.
Harry gave a soft hiss from the firm hold, eyes fluttering shut. Lucius, who had been reaching for his wand, froze, gaze caught on the unguarded face. Even soaking wet, Potter’s hair was a mess, sticking up in sharp points from his head, brushing over his forehead and in a way that seemed intentional to hide his scar. His skin was clear, olive and dripping crystal drops of water. Heavy brows framed his seemingly heavier dark lashes, which fluttered with each small breath the boy took. If Lucius didn’t know better, he would think Potter was trying very hard not to panic, his breathing very shallow and quick.
Bringing his wand up, Lucius relaxed his grip on the boy’s jaw, using his hand to probe fingers over the bloodied flesh of Harry’s lip. The cut had swollen the lush bottom lip even more, and Lucius pressed his thumb to the swell, watching as the boy’s breath caught. Maybe the little drowned cat was afraid of him? He certainly had reason to be. Lucius had hardly been nice… Well, besides opening up his entire house to the pain in the ass.
Or maybe the little troublemaker just enjoyed fingers touching his lips… Gently thumbing Harry’s red lip down, Lucius caught sight of the cut it revealed. It did not look too serious, for all the blood it had released. “You shouldn’t need stitches.”
“Oh… okay…” Harry breathed out, eyes half opening. Only to widen, finding Lucius very close as the man examined his lip. He swallowed hard, tasting blood and… Oh hell… Tongue flicking forward, Harry gasped, tasting Lucius’s fingertip.
Lucius took a deep breath, nostrils flaring from the ghosting of a touch. The boy was turning red; face, neck, and likely everywhere else. Did the boy flush completely when embarrassed? Would he if aroused?
“Stay still, Potter.”
Harry stiffened, his breathing increasing in speed as he tried to keep from moving. His entire body was tingling, especially his lips where Lucius was touching. It took everything in him not to lick his tongue forward again. There was no way Lucius would approve of such a thing, and Harry was already in trouble with the man. Of course, the more he thought how he shouldn’t, the more compelled he felt to actually do it, and Harry whined internally as he tried to control himself.
Lucius carefully placed his wand to Harry’s lip, wondering idly if the boy would lick that as well while casting the healing spell. Noticing for the first time that Harry had managed to also soak him with water while in the process of healing the brat, Lucius took the hem of Harry’s wet shirt and began wiping up the blood on the boy’s chin. Coincidentally giving Lucius a clear view of Harry’s flat stomach—The boy had just the beginning of hard muscle on his abs, not over done, but certainly revealing strength.
No new blood appeared, but Lucius checked the cut again because Harry wasn’t complaining and his lips were very much delicious to touch. Harry gave another gasp, eyes downcast, and Lucius couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, that was the more pressing one.”
Harry swayed, feeling light headed and very stupid for reacting to the man that clearly hated him so much. Lucius had a wife—Even if they were separated. The man had a son, and you didn’t get one of those without liking women. And yes, Lucius totally hated him.
Lucius straightened, glaring down at his wet clothes. “Now that you’re done bleeding on everything, go dry yourself off. I’ll repair your tooth once I’ve cleaned up the mess in here.”
“S-Sorry, Mr. Malfoy. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to make a mess,” Harry mumbled, looking around at the wet floor.
“And yet…” Lucius turned from the vexing thing, trying to get the boy’s scent out of his mind.
Just then, Blaise and Pansy burst in, laughing and having the decency to not be soaking wet in the house. “Harry, are you ready—Oh, hi, Mr. Malfoy.” Pansy gave a seductive grin, pulling away from her friend to wave coyly at the man. Harry rolled his eyes, exchanging glances with Blaise. Hopefully Draco would get there soon enough to stop the train-wreck that was Pansy whenever around the elder Malfoy.
“You alright, then?” Blaise asked, peering at Harry’s chin.
“Yeah, Draco’s dad took care of it. I gotta go change, and then he’ll fix my too—th!” Harry flinched on the last word, a shrill whistle escaping from around the broken tooth.
“Ha, you should leave it. Maybe you’ll find some special guy that likes the waif, lisping boy thing.”
“Gross,” Harry grumbled, playfully shoving Blaise away. Blaise squawked, his entire side now soaked by Harry.
“I just dried off!” He swatted at the spot, debating if it was worth going to get his wand over. “Harry, give me your shirt. You have half the pool in that thing, and the rest on the floor.”
Harry stiffened, grabbing the hem of his wet shirt and pulling it down his body tightly, managing to spray more water at the same time. “I’m just going to go change, that’s all…”
Pansy, who was being ignored by Lucius while the man spelled the rug dry, walked over to them, tugging at Harry’s shirt. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like we haven’t seen it all before. You’re acting like some self conscious fat girl. And I would know, seeing as I used to be fat.”
“And now you’re fabulous, and we’re all happy for you, Pans. But I really don’t want to take my shirt off, and I’m going now,” Harry said as cheerfully as he could, backing away from his two well intentioned friends.
“Leave him alone,” Draco snapped, walking into the room and throwing a towel at Harry.
“Hey, we’re just trying to help.” Pansy held her hands up apologetically. “He’s never going to catch himself a nice boyfriend and move out of your house if he’s afraid to show off what Merlin gave him.”
Harry scowled, ruffling his hair with the soft, white towel and turning from the group. “I’m not trying to catch anyone. I am perfectly fine on my own, so mind your bloody business.”
“Potter.”
Harry jumped, eyes widening when Lucius suddenly grabbed him by the arm. “S-Sir?”
Giving Harry a calculating look, Lucius raised his wand and cast a no drip spell on the boy. “Stop destroying my house.”
“Er… yes, Sir.” Blushing, Harry turned and shuffled out the door.
SCENE #In retrospect, the worst idea
“Could you at least attempt to be nice to him?”
“Draco, I am doing the best that I can. The boy is a menace.”
“Father, he is going through hell right now, and you are not helping matters. I brought him here because I wanted him to feel safe. He’s terrified of you.”
“Hmph, likely just the side effect of a guilty conscience.”
“That’s not fair. Harry has done nothing wrong. That he has put up with your uncalled for rudeness is amazing enough. What’s your problem with him, anyways? Did he piss in your tea or something? How can you be so normal and nice to everyone else, but an absolute jerk to him?”
Pansy and Blaise exchanged looks while Harry hung his head, stooped over in his pool chair. The two Malfoys had been arguing for the last five minutes, specifically about Harry. That the study window was wide open was only making things much more awkward—If that were possible. Harry had come down, dry and ready to get his tooth fixed, only to find father and son had locked themselves away to have a proper family spat.
“Shit, so I was totally jealous of you being able to live here with that freaking gorgeous hunk of Malfoy man-meat in there,” Pansy admitted to Harry. “But seeing how he totally seems to want to kill you… Not so sure anymore. Lucius is, well, wow—Freaking handsome, and strong, and totally knows how to treat a lady. But when he’s angry, he’s scary.”
Harry shrugged noncommittally. Yeah, Lucius was fucking hot, but he was also an ass whenever Harry was around, and that should probably make him less appealing. It didn’t, Lucius very much extra sexy when his gray-blue eyes were flashing and glaring Harry down. And that Draco thought Harry was afraid was just, well, a relief. He had no interest in his friend, or his friend’s father, ever finding out that Harry was totally just frozen in lust every time Lucius did or said something particularly mean.
That the two were arguing about Harry was more concerning, and he wondered again if maybe it was time to go rent an apartment. Harry hadn’t really thought much about what he was going to do after the Dursleys had kicked him out. He still had one more year of Hogwarts, and he figured he’d know by graduation. But having Draco fight with his father because the man couldn’t get along with Harry seemed more trouble than it was worth. Harry didn’t want the boy to ruin his friendship with his dad—Especially since his mother had become unavailable.
Huffing, Harry stood, walking towards the house and the arguing voices.
“Threatening to burn him in his clothes is not acceptable, Father! I don’t understand how this can be so confusing for you.”
“If you had seen the shirt you would have understood.”
“That is not an excuse to burn our house guest alive!”
Harry rapped on the door, the voices inside falling silent. After a moment, Draco answered, sighing in frustration when he saw it was Harry. “Harry, don’t do anything stupid.”
Harry pushed the door open the entire way, walking around Draco to the middle of the room.
“See, this is what I’m talking about,” Lucius muttered before Harry could even open his mouth. “Look at those pants—Hideous! No one should be caught dead wearing something like that.” Harry was wearing his only pair of jeans, all the other ones Dudley had handed down far too big to even consider wearing.
“Father, stop being such a snob. He can’t help it.”
Harry held his hand up, afraid the two of them were just going to start arguing again, but with him actually in the room. “Alright… so clearly me living here is a problem.”
“No!” Draco snapped, while Lucius answered with a resounding, “Clearly!”
Harry just nodded, not at all surprised. “Mr. Malfoy, is there a way I could persuade you to give me another chance? I could pay rent, if that’s the underlying problem. Maybe do some chores around the house?”
“Harry, that’s ridiculous,” Draco said, glaring at his father. “This isn’t about money or housework. This is about Father taking all his problems out on you.”
Harry met Lucius’s eye, the man not confirming or denying such a statement. “Listen, I don’t want to get between you two. With Narcissa gone, Draco needs you more than ever, and I don’t want to be the jerk that keeps getting everyone angry, whatever the reason. I can find sssome—” The three of them flinched as Harry whistled around his broken tooth again. “I can find a motel to crash in for now, and I can probably get an apartment within the month.”
Lucius growled, avoiding Draco’s angry glare as his son stomped up to him with hands on his hips. “He’s not going to be able to get an apartment, Father. He’s not of age, and you know it. It’ll be some terrible hole in the wall, and likely condemned by the Ministry. Or worse, muggle. The two of you are going to fix this because I will make the rest of our time together a living hell for you. I promise, and you know I keep my promises.”
“Do not threaten me…” Eyes narrowed, Lucius trailed off, knowing his pain in the ass son would very well follow through with such a promise. He instead turned his glare to the green-eyed, bewitching boy that was looking surprisingly calm and collected, given the situation. Harry’s shoulders were squared, as was his jaw, as if waiting for a devastating blow. But he was resolved, unafraid in the face of it all.
“Potter, let me see that tooth. We will figure out the rest later,” Lucius grumbled.
Draco beamed, knowing he had won. “Thank you, Father!” He exclaimed, nearly bowling Lucius over with a hug that he begrudgingly returned.
Harry did not look so relieved. “Wait, I didn’t say I was staying. I mean—You’re just going to fight again.”
“Potter, sit down and let me heal you,” Lucius snapped, waving Draco away to go tell his friends the good news.
“Er… I think I’d rather wait until you weren’t so angry before I let you anywhere near me with a wand,” Harry mumbled, taking a step back when Lucius got up from his desk.
Lucius smirked wickedly, admitting a secret thrill to the boy backing away from him in fear. “That would be a very long wait. Get over here. Now.”
Harry bristled at the order, glaring at the man. Then he swallowed, heat pooling in his stomach and turning his knees to jelly. God, why did he always get like this around Lucius? It was absolutely crazy. Being inches from the man’s disdainful, gorgeous face while getting his tooth fixed was not a good idea right now, and Harry back away another step.
Lucius only strode closer, looking all the world like a predator about to pounce. “Mr. Malfoy… I would really rather wait…” Harry whispered even as the man wrapped strong fingers around his jaw and held him still.
“I have other things to do today, Potter,” Lucius drawled smoothly, tilting Harry’s face up and pressing fingers to his red lips. Harry parted them hesitantly, certain he was somehow getting himself in a lot of trouble when Lucius leaned closer, thumb caressing his bottom lip slowly.
What would Lucius taste like? That tea he drank every morning? Or maybe the wine he had at night with his meals…? Maybe he tasted like he smelled, warm and spicy, with an underlying tang of citrus…
“There isn’t enough light. Move over to the window. Sit.”
Harry pulled away with a small gasp, closing his eyes a moment to keep the room from spinning. He had not wanted to kiss the man just then. That would be insane. He was Draco’s father, and a right bastard, and god… really fucking sexy…
“The chair,” Lucius growled when Harry insisted on staring at the floor. Jumping, Harry sat in the luxurious roller chair, eyes closing as the smell of leather and Lucius encased him. No, this was very much a bad idea.
Harry jolted, the chair moving suddenly as Lucius pulled him towards the window and the daylight glowing in. He watched silently as the man knelt to his level, eyes widening when those icy, predatory eyes fixed on his and refused to look away. Harry wanted to close his eyes, afraid every heated feeling he had could be read if Lucius just kept staring long enough. But he couldn’t look away. He felt like a small animal trapped in the eyes of the creature about to devour him, and it wasn’t a completely unpleasant feeling.
Locking the wheels in place so that Harry wouldn’t roll away and ruin the intricate spellwork, Lucius leaned forward, pressing both his thumbs to the boy’s mouth until he opened with a gasp. “You need to stay very still. Regrowing teeth can be tricky work.”
Harry didn’t say anything, certain he would babble if he did and end up messing up his tooth. But at least now he could close his eyes, and he did so with relief.
Hell, he could feel Lucius’s breath, moving over his chin, touching ever so lightly across his mouth while the man studied the tooth that needed repair. He could feel the heat of Lucius’s skin, the scent of him overpowering, leather yielding on his back and Lucius’s body very much unyielding at his front. God… this was a really fucking bad idea…
Lucius’s hand was moving over Harry’s jaw, holding him still again, pulling forward a little bit, as if maybe the man was going to kiss him. Harry kept his eyes shut, telling himself he was an absolute fool and should not want such a thing from his best friend’s father. He suppressed a sigh, the hand moving again, spreading heat as it contoured to the bottom of Harry’s chin, and then kept sliding down his throat, pausing at his Adam’s apple to feel when he swallowed.
He had to be losing his shit. Lucius was just being careless as he concentrated on his tooth… Right? Harry’s mind whirled, then froze again, Lucius’s hand moving, fingers spreading and slowly dragging around to the back of his neck. The man cupped his spine with his large hand, fingertips digging in firmly, and Harry could not suppress a shudder.
Everything had gotten very quiet, Lucius no longer whispering the words to the spell. And if he wasn’t doing that, then what the hell, exactly, was he doing with his hand on Harry’s neck while he pressed his tingling wand against his lips? Harry could feel his heart accelerating at the very thought, heat rising to his face.
Lucius didn’t have an answer for the unspoken question, having healed Harry rather easily, and now unable to pull away. He had to, there was no question about that—Not because Harry was Draco’s friend, or the same age as his son, or even the cursed destroyer of Voldemort—No, because the boy was wearing the most hideous jeans Lucius had ever had the misfortune to come across, and still managed to look fuckable in them.
“Potter.”
“Y-yeah?”
“Open your eyes.”
“Er… I’d rather not, Sir,” Harry whispered, keeping his eyes closed tight. He swallowed, Lucius’s wand moving against his lips. First, because Harry had spoken against it, and now… Well now, because Lucius was tracing his gaping mouth with it. The tingling tip moved first up, over the bow of Harry’s lips and then slowly down, pressing into the swell of his bottom lip. Harry could not stop the hitch of breath from the sensation. Or the moan that followed when the wand was suddenly pressing forward and into his mouth, tingling against his tongue and moving towards the back of his throat. “Oh fuck…”
“That is… aspiring…” Lucius purred lowly, gripping tighter on Harry’s neck. Watching the boy’s face intently, Lucius drew his wand from Harry’s mouth, running saliva down over his bottom lip, the red wetting, and beckoning, and dripping. Harry licked his tongue out slowly, cleaning the wet away, drawing Lucius in until he was pressing his fingers to his mouth again.
Feeling the rough texture of Lucius’s fingertips brushing over his lips, pressing forward, dipping ever so slightly into his mouth, Harry wondered blearily if maybe the man was so angry all the time because he really might just want to shag him. That was an amazing, dangerous thought. It was such a crazy, wild idea, Harry slowly opened his eyes, wanting to see if the answer might be there on Lucius’s face.
Opening his eyes broke whatever spell Lucius was under, Harry just catching the man shake his head before pulling his hands away. And then Lucius was standing, growling under his breath and leaving, Harry staring blankly after. “What the fuck?”
He touched his front tooth, whole and at its proper size. “Seriously… What the fuck?” Harry leaned forward, running his hand through his tousled hair and pulling sharply. Then he blinked, head jerking up to look through the window where his three friends were sitting at the pool, very much staring back at him looking just as confused.
“Aw hell.”
SCENE #Murderous best friend
Harry wasn’t sure what Draco was going to do to him, but it was going to hurt and would likely be loud. Draco was definitely a yeller. Not to Vernon’s level, but in its own way spectacular and just as impressive for someone so small. The boy was also a hitter—Also not to Vernon’s level. Harry tried not to compare anyone to Vernon in that regard.
The three of them were standing right outside the door to the house, as if waiting for Harry to come outside but not willing to go in and get him. Harry deliberately kept his hands down, just in case Draco was in a punching mood and saw defense as means to attack. Pushing the door open slowly, Harry stepped out, using it partially as a shield.
“Potter!” Draco shouted, wand in hand.
Harry flinched, keeping his hands down and open, and stepping out onto the patio, the door swinging shut behind. “I didn’t do a thing. I didn’t even know.”
“Bullshit! You—you… He’s my father!” Draco snarled, not really sure what Harry had done, but knowing somehow it had to be the boy’s fault.
“I am well aware,” Harry replied evenly. “That is why I’m just as confused. He’s straight. We all know he’s straight.”
Blaise whistled softly. “Is he? I mean, consider his generation. They were all in the closet back then… Hell, he could be Bi, and it just never came up before our pretty Harry here. I’m straight and things still come up for Harry,” Blaise added with a wicked smile and wink.
Harry rolled his eyes, Blaise’s theory that Harry could turn any straight man gay not helping. Especially with the way Draco was glaring at him. “I did not turn him gay. I’ve barely said two words to him since I got here. And all he’s bothered to say to me was to complain about my clothes, and how I get hurt, oh, and messing up the house, and eating everything—Shit, Draco, he fucking hates me.”
Pansy huffed, arms crossed over her chest. “Geez, I wish he’d hate me like that. I thought he was going to make you deep throat his wand—”
“That is not helping, Pans!” Harry snapped, stepping back when Draco snarled and brandished his wand again. “I was just sitting there—You saw me! I had my eyes closed. I didn’t even know the spell was done until… until…”
“Until you were sucking on his fucking wand,” Draco growled, and Harry knew that this was definitely a hitting mood.
Sighing, Harry held his hands out wide. “Fine, whatever, blame me for everything. I wanted to leave and go move into a motel, but the two of you insisted I stay. I was just minding my own business—”
“Oh, don’t pretend you didn’t love it,” Pansy interrupted with a wide grin. “Your face was bloody red.”
Harry glanced worriedly at Draco, shrugging helplessly. Harry was a terrible liar and they all knew it. “He’s… Damn it, just because he’s hot doesn’t mean I was chasing him, Draco. Stop pointing your wand at me.”
“Or he might suck it,” Blaise snickered, Pansy cackling with him.
Harry hated them both at that moment. “You aren’t helping!”
“There is no helping this, so might as well just sit back and enjoy,” Pansy said simply.
“Alright, the two of you go away. I need to talk to him without your weird shit.” Harry waved his hands at Blaise and Pansy, but Draco stopped them before they could go.
“What the hell is there to say?” Draco threw his arms up in exasperation. “He… Gah, he likes you? This is fucking gay—Damn it, literally. This is messed up. Did you—Shit, is this why mother left?”
Harry held his hands up, eyes wide. “Whoa, don’t blame that on me, Draco. I never came over here before then. You said it yourself—Your mom started hanging with your Aunt and got sucked up in her shit.”
“Yeah, but maybe she was going out more because Father was, well, gay?” Draco didn’t look sure about anything, his face pinched with worry.
“Don’t… You shouldn’t just assume, okay? Relationships are complicated, especially the longer they go. Just talk to your dad and, you know, please leave me out of it.”
Draco shook his head. “There is no way I’m talking to my father about this. He was totally going to… Right, kiss my best friend, and that’s fucked up and I’m not talking to him about any of it.”
“It’s not fucked up,” Pansy disagreed sharply. “He’s not ancient. He’s not dead, and your mom is out of the picture.”
“Pansy…” Harry warned, but the girl would not be silenced.
“I’m tired of it. He’s a damn person, not just your dad. You shouldn’t judge him like that.”
“Listen, I’ve ignored your crush on him for ages, ‘cus seriously, you never stood a damn chance,” Draco growled, Harry sighing and shaking his head with Blaise frowning worriedly. “You don’t know a damn thing about my father, and you never will, so mind your own bloody business.”
Pansy did not start crying like Blaise and Harry had feared. Instead the girl stood taller and laughed. “You really don’t know a thing about people, Draco. Maybe once you reach his age you’ll understand. Being happy is damn difficult sometimes, and why should you fight against the things that make you happy? Even your mother, as messed up and sad as it is, went off and did something she found fulfilling. Do you expect your dad to wait around for her to change her mind, like everything is just going to go back to how it was?”
Harry wasn’t sure if Draco was going to yell or breakdown, neither option desired. “Draco, I’ll leave. Right now. No anger, no bitterness—It’s fine. I don’t want to mess up your situation anymore than it already is.”
Draco pulled his glare away from Pansy for a second to turn to Harry. “Shut up, you’re not going anywhere. Pansy, I’m not waiting for my mom to come back, but god, have a little fucking respect. Shit, at least Harry isn’t following him around the house trying to get him alone.”
Pansy shrugged, not sorry for any of it. “Hey, not like you get a lot of opportunities with Lucius Malfoy.”
This was all just getting way too awkward for Harry. “Listen, I’m going to go throw some of my things together and get lost for a bit. I need to think, and this—” He waved his hand at the the world around him, “Isn’t helping.” Before Draco could turn and try and convince Harry otherwise, Harry slipped into the house and shut the door behind him.
SCENE #Lucius might be crazy
Lucius had tried to calm himself by pacing his room, but to no success. The little brat was haunting him, glowing green eyes stuck in his memory as if he were right there in the room with him. That Lucius desired the boy be there was even worse. Surely Potter would clash with everything he owned.
Not the boy, but his wardrobe. Lucius was starting to make the distinction. Every time he was repulsed by the terror of clashing colors, torn worn fabric, and ill fitted sizes, he was being drawn to what was underneath it all. The glimpses of golden skin, toned, lithe form and those ever tantalizing red lips would go with anything. The attributes had even made the cacophony of mess that Potter called clothing bearable. Lucius was certain that without said clothing, the boy would be well suited for his house, never mind bedroom.
Harry had made the barest of noises, soft, uninhibited gasps of pleasure when Lucius had pressed his fingers to those firm, ripe lips. For all Potter’s skittering looks and mumbled apologies, underneath was a fire raging, just needing the right touch to release it. Lucius knew he could do it—The idea of even attempting was exhilarating.
But Lucius had stopped himself. Harry’s eyes blinking open, just ready to go wide and innocent like they always seemed to do, had reminded Lucius that the boy had no one. No parent, no relative, no caretaker. Lucius had too much power, owning the house and deciding if the boy could dwell within it. It was not the right balance, even for something as delicious and tawdry as a fuck in his study.
A walk was in order. Something to get him out of the house and far away from the wild boy and his many annoying quirks. Perhaps an outing by the lake… Decided, Lucius threw his bedroom door open, stepping into the hall and tripping over the bloody nuisance of a boy he had been hoping to avoid.
“Damn it—Sorry, Mr. Malfoy.” Blinking owlishly at the man who had just knocked him halfway across the hall, Harry got to his feet, muttering as he checked his glasses. They were broken, and he growled softly. Nothing was going right that day. He glanced warily at Lucius, the man looking at him as if Harry had intentionally placed himself in his path instead of having been on his way out the door. Harry would fix the glasses later, when not being glared at.
Harry picked up the duffel bag he had dropped, slinging it back over his shoulder. Glasses clutched carefully in his hand, he continued his walk towards the stairs.
“Glasses, Potter,” Lucius ordered, Harry stiffening and stopping mid step.
He really should just go. The man was probably just looking to insult him. “What about them?” Harry asked, shaking his head at his own stupidity. He just couldn’t let it go, could he?
“I was offering to repair them,” Lucius said, stepping forward with his hand outstretched.
“Oh… Fine, if you want.” Harry shrugged, dropping his bag and turning to hand his glasses over. Lucius’s fingers brushed his and Harry stared down, feeling a jolt from the contact. It really was ridiculous just how mad Lucius made him feel.
To think Draco was downstairs certain Lucius was lusting over Harry, when up here it just seemed like the man could still barely stand to be near him. Harry knew it hadn’t been a dream, very well remembering Lucius and his wand… and fingers… But it seemed very far away, Lucius now ordered and proper, and nothing like what Harry remembered in the study.
“Er… Sir, I’m going to need those back,” Harry called when Lucius suddenly turned, walking through the door he had just exited with Harry’s glasses in hand. Sighing, Harry waited a moment but Lucius didn’t return. Tapping his foot, he decided being rude and intruding was likely better than never getting his glasses back.
Being nearsighted, Harry got more of an impression of Lucius’s bedroom than anything of much detail. The smell was the most impacting, very much full of the expensive cologne the man wore. He could make out dark rich woods mixed with white linens, light blinding in from the open drapes. And Lucius, standing in front of a large mirrored dresser, chanting steadily as he spelled Harry’s glasses back together.
Harry stepped closer than he normally would, wishing to make sure the man was repairing his glasses and not cursing them in some fit of revenge for Harry’s many terrible clothes. Harry would not put it past Lucius. “If you’re done, I really need to get going,” he said impatiently, trying to ignore the funny way his stomach was tripping to be in Lucius’s bedroom. It was the man’s inner sanctum, very much seductive and sensual. A dangerous place to be after the confusing incident of early.
“Oh, and where are you going in such a hurry?” Lucius asked, pulling a soft cloth out from one of his drawers to carefully clean Harry’s glasses.
Harry shrugged, really not wanting to get into it. “Out.”
“With a bag full of clothes.”
“Yeah, so? It’s not like I live here or anything. I figured things were getting too weird, and I should start looking elsewhere.”
Lucius raised a perfectly manicured brow, humming softly. “I thought you liked weird things, Potter. You don’t seem to know much of normal.”
Harry gritted his teeth, not sure exactly what the insult was, but knowing it was another damn insult on top of a really fucked up day. Hadn’t Lucius just been sticking his wand down Harry’s throat? Now the man was going to call him weird? “You know what, Lucius? You are a bloody neurotic, rude, absolute pain in my ass. I have done everything to be pleasant to you from the very beginning—Hell, I wanted to be pleasant. You did a really nice thing for me, letting me stay here. It should have been really easy to like you. But you managed to make it impossible.”
“Potter, you have been wearing the most atrocious clothes since the day I picked you up from your relatives,” Lucius said, as if that explained everything.
“So? Who the hell cares? Why does it matter what I wear? More importantly, why does it matter to you?” Harry was almost shouting and he didn’t care. The man was infuriating and messed up, and shouting was much easier than thinking of the other things he’d very much rather be doing with his mouth in that moment.
“Potter,” Lucius growled, wrapping Harry’s glasses in the soft cloth and placing them on the bureau. “You have been taunting me since the very first moment. Wearing such terrible clothes, holes all over the place, one pair of pants I was certain were see through, they had been worn so much. Do you think I’m naïve?”
Harry had no idea what Lucius was talking about. “Naïve? Lucius, I have told you, those are the only clothes I own.”
“I am aware.” Lucius flicked his wand, Harry’s duffel bag soaring in from the hallway and landing at their feet, the door snapping shut behind it. “May I?”
“What, go through all my things and tell me how terrible they look? Knock yourself out, you bloody psycho,” Harry grumbled angrily. And naturally, Lucius did exactly that. The man pulled nearly every article of clothing Harry owned out of the bag—surprisingly not that many, for all the horror Lucius remembered of the clothing—and verbally described each piece in such scathing detail Harry was actually impressed with the man’s extensive vocabulary.
“Are you done?”
Eyes narrowing as the bag was found to be empty, Lucius turned his piercing glare to Harry. “No. Those jeans you’re wearing. Those enormous, disgusting, hideous, thread worn, low-class, shapeless…” Harry tuned the man out, watching as Lucius gasped for air while continuing his rant on the pants Harry was wearing. “…Potter, give them to me.”
“Huh?” Harry blinked, something changing enough in the long chain of insults for Harry to realize Lucius had said something different.
“Give me your jeans,” Lucius demanded, his hand held out expectantly.
Harry took a step back, grinning crookedly as heat rushed to his face. “Er… No. That would definitely be a no.” Lucius was out of his mind if he thought Harry would be handing over his pants.
Lucius ignored the answer, striding forward and grabbing Harry by the hem of his shirt. “This too. This oversized, ugly thing. Look at the holes in it—This is not the way to dress.”
“Malfoy—I don’t care. It’s mine and I’ll wear what I want!” Harry yelled, struggling against the hands trying to pull his shirt up and over his head. Pausing, Lucius gave Harry an assessing look. Then, with an elegant shrug of his wide shoulders, Lucius grabbed Harry’s shirt by the collar and tore the material in half with one harsh wrench.
“Holy crap… You’re a crazy person… Out of your fucking mind crazy…” Harry mumbled, staring down at the rip in his shirt and the flesh it revealed.
Lucius had been considering this, seeing as he couldn’t stop thinking about the hideously dressed brat. But he was also staring at the long patch of revealed skin, and was already understanding that he had been very right. Slowly and gently he pushed the scraps of fabrics off of Harry’s shoulders, watching in relief and anticipation as more of the boy’s golden skin was revealed. “This is better… Much better…”
Harry blinked up, blushing when he found the man leaning very close and staring at his body. “Mr. Malfoy…”
“Lucius.”
“Er… Lucius… Are you feeling okay?” Harry asked, genuinely concerned for the man’s sanity. Draco’s mom had gone crazy and it looked like his dad was on his way. His breath caught, Lucius close enough that even without his glasses Harry could see his sharp gray eyes as they rose to meet his. And as Harry’s shirt fell away, so did a lot of the anger in Lucius’s expression. Apparently the man really hated his clothes.
“You have been taunting me, Harry,” Lucius murmured, hands lighting down Harry’s sides.
“I-I have?” Harry did not remember taunting the man. He had been as polite as humanly possible while living with the jerk.
Lucius just nodded, mouth descending to Harry’s collarbone and pressing a long, open-mouth kiss. “Every day… covering yourself in horrible…”
“Oh hell… They’re all I have…”
“Atrocious… hideous clothing… not worthy of your beautiful flesh.”
“I am not—Oh god, why are you kneeling?”
“You are extremely beautiful,” Lucius muffled into Harry’s stomach, tongue reaching out to lick a wet path. “Even with those terrible clothes… It is mind-boggling just how beautiful you are… Because these are horrible, horrible clothes…”
Harry just nodded dumbly, holding onto the man’s shoulders to keep from falling. His knees were shaking and heat had completely flooded him, and Lucius was really close to finding out just how much Harry was enjoying the man’s mouth moving over his skin.
“Oh, please don’t,” Harry moaned, Lucius’s hands now on his waistband and seeking out the front to his belt. Draco was going to kill him.
Lucius skillfully unclasped Harry’s belt, slipping the leather from the loops and throwing it to the floor. He took his mouth from the boy’s flat stomach, resting his forehead while staring down at Harry’s fly as he slowly pulled it down.
“Stop—Shit, your son is going to kill me!” Harry tried to push Lucius away, shoving at his shoulders, but the man was like a damn mountain and didn’t budge.
“Draco doesn’t care,” Lucius said simply, glancing up at the very red-faced, absolutely stunning boy. Eyes catching, Lucius moved a hand up, pressing his thumb to Harry’s nipple and then twisted slowly.
“Oh god… oh… oh…” Harry, eyes squeezed shut and mouth gaping, completely forgot what he was saying.
“It’s not like he’s in competition,” Lucius continued, gently pulling the little bud and watching as Harry jerked from each touch. “And really, it wouldn’t be much of a competition, Harry. The things I can do to you… The depths of ecstasy I can bring you to… Hell, just the extra reach I have to twist you into any position…” He smiled into Harry’s stomach, both hands again at the boy’s hips as he began to pull the hideous jeans off.
There were too many thoughts swirling in Harry’s mind from what Lucius had just said, many of them very hot and full of inappropriate ways to test those theories out. But… didn’t Lucius have a wife…? “Mr. Malfoy—L-Lucius, he does care… He’s angry… acting like I’ve been… Oh god, seducing you…”
“Seducing… that does seem like what you’ve been doing…” Lucius snagged his fingers under the waist of the boy’s boxers, pulling the band forward as well, careful to move around Harry’s prominent erection. And then the ugly clothes were at the boy’s ankles and Lucius could finally see all of Harry, smooth skin, hard muscle and red flush. “You are beautiful.”
Harry refused to open his eyes, panting loudly and trying to will himself into some state of invisible camouflage like a lizard. This was insane—He was naked in front of Lucius Malfoy. He was naked, and the man wasn’t insulting every inch of him. No, he had saved that for all of Harry’s clothes. Harry himself was apparently beautiful to the man—Which only made Lucius that more crazy.
Lucius’s hands were at his ankles and Harry mindlessly lifted each foot when urged, the man pulling off his shoes and socks, sneakers clattering on the floor some ways off. Then Lucius shifted, shirt ruffling as he stood and pulled Harry to his hot—Lucius was very fucking hot—body and began rubbing his palms over Harry’s back.
“Open your eyes, Harry. I want to see you.”
Harry whimpered, turning his head and refusing. There was no way in hell he was going to face whatever disdain was on Lucius’s face, no matter how pretty his words were at the moment.
Lucius sighed into his hair, moving his lips down and kissing Harry’s ear, cheek and jaw. He gently caught the boy, fingers wrapped around his chin, and turned his face so Lucius could kiss him, slowly, headily, until Harry couldn’t help but part his lips and let the man’s questing tongue in.
Dear god, he was naked… and kissing Lucius Malfoy… while in his bedroom. Harry shuddered hotly, Lucius making an approving noise right before moving his hands lower and squeezing Harry’s bare ass. “Oh god—Oh!” Harry gaped, Lucius pulling him even closer, his sensitive flesh assaulted by Lucius’s clothing, his hard cock jolting into the man’s thigh. He was naked and hard in Lucius’s bedroom… And Lucius was… woah… He was big.
Harry hesitantly opened his eyes, gaze drifting down to the hot, hard bulge pressing into his lower stomach. He moved his shoulder’s back while Lucius nipped at his jaw, squinted down, wishing he had his damn glasses. But he didn’t, so Harry did the next—or maybe just better—thing, and slipped his hand down between the press of their bodies. His fingers cautiously traced the man’s length through his pants, eyes widening as he realized just what Lucius was working with.
“Do you approve?” Lucius rumbled into Harry’s ear, Harry nodding dumbly, blushing, if possible, even more. Harry could not seem to stop himself, and he pressed his palm firmly into Lucius’s hard dick, gasping when the man growled and nipped his neck in response. Suddenly Lucius was lifting him, large hands on his thighs, pulling him up against his body and bringing them face to face as if he weighed nothing at all.
Harry stared, breathing shallowly, thighs stinging raw against the man’s pants as he gripped Lucius’s hips with his legs. Lucius was looking particularly predatory as he ran his startling pale eyes over his face. It was not five o’clock just yet, but Lucius was already stubbly with bristle, and Harry ran fingers cautiously over the rough flesh. It felt particularly nice, and Harry found himself leaning forward, tongue flicking out to taste the bristle like he had been wanting to since he had first stumbled across Lucius in the kitchen after a particularly bad nightmare.
Lucius hissed lowly from the touch. The sound made Harry dizzy, and he twisted his hand into Lucius’s very silky hair, holding the man tight so that he could run his tongue flat over his jaw in long swipes. Harry soon followed with his teeth, moving to the sharp edge to nip, and then down, rough bristle scraping his smooth cheek as he bit and sucked down Lucius’s throat. He was vaguely aware that they were moving, Lucius’s hands holding him more securely, and then bright light flooded his eyes when Harry’s head fell back against soft sheets, Lucius sitting back to stare and work at the buttons of his shirt.
Harry watched, biting his lip. He stared fuzzily at the dusting of blond hair on the man’s broad chest, pale, smooth muscles and tight hard abs. He swallowed hard, Lucius tossing his shirt aside and moving forward, palms caressing over Harry’s legs, squeezing the muscles of his calves and rubbing his knees. Then he was moving up, dragging rough fingers across Harry’s flesh and digging into his outer thighs, pulling a surprised groan from Harry.
Piercing eyes caught him again, a question in them that Harry could not quite decipher. Harry was lying in Lucius’s bed, naked, the man very much breathing on his knee without even a shirt between them. Harry was having a difficult time thinking in general.
“Holy shit!” Harry yelped in surprise, Lucius suddenly gripping his hips and pulling him down the bed with a smooth motion, forcing his knees up and thighs spread wide. Harry had the amazing privilege of feeling the man’s bristle against his inner thigh, prickling him into small, choked gasps as Lucius ran wet, hot kisses down one thigh and then up the next. Harry let his head fall back, eyes squeezed shut, not sure if he was going to die from embarrassment that Lucius’s mouth was inches from his hard dick, or just die if the man didn’t at least show an interest in sucking him off.
Breathing heavily into Harry’s soft, firm flesh, Lucius gently sunk his teeth into his thigh, feeling the boy jerk and cry out. Harry was exquisite—Definitely made to be nude all the time. Even if Lucius dressed him in the finest clothes, nothing would enhance Harry better than fresh air, light, and Lucius’s hands touching the boy. Lucius moved himself up slowly, pressing a chaste kiss to where Harry’s thigh met his groin. And then ran his tongue out, moving through tight curls of hair to find the boys nestled, straining cock.
“Oh god… Oh my god…” Harry mumbled incoherently, hands flying to Lucius’s head, fingers twisting in the man’s long hair that kept brushing over his thighs and hips. Lucius continued to move his wet lips and tongue over Harry’s length, teasing, taunting, and absolutely maddening. Harry whimpered, thrusting his hips up when Lucius breathed hot air right at the tip of his cock, but the man held him in place, keeping Harry from getting the contact he desperately needed.
“Slowly, Harry… I want to savor someone as beautiful as you,” Lucius purred, tongue swiping a path from his balls all the way to his tip.
Harry just gave an exasperated bark of laughter, fairly certain that he was losing his mind. “Savor me later… Suck me now,” Harry pleaded, groaning when Lucius chuckled and ran another wet trail, deliberately scraping teeth ever so lightly against his sensitive length. Harry threw his head back, body arching as Lucius again breathed scalding heat on his tip and then slipped his tongue out, lapping at his slit. “Hell!”
Stretching, Lucius pulled himself from between the boy’s strong thighs, moving up Harry’s body and finding the flushed face and near frantic eyes of the enchanting brat. Tipping the boy’s chin, Lucius kissed him again, Harry giving a soft moan and relenting. “I’m going to burn all of your clothes,” Lucius murmured between long, deep kisses.
“Mister—Damn it… Lucius… that is not… Oh god… Oh, please…”
“I’m going to burn them… and you are going to have nothing to wear,” Lucius promised, settling his knees on either side of the boy’s long, slender legs.
“You’re… crazy,” Harry gasped, head falling back, only to be followed by Lucius’s persistent mouth and tongue.
Lucius shrugged. He figured after all these years he could afford himself some eccentricities. “If you could see just how stunning you are… How fucking sexy…” Harry gave a little gasp, eyes widening when Lucius swore, the sound very foreign and arousing on the man’s lips. “Clothing just hides you away… and that, Harry, is a crime.”
Lucius was a very convincing man, even if he was clearly out of his mind. Harry stared into the demanding gaze, a thrill tingling down his spine. “What… you uh, expect me to walk around naked?”
“Oh, you’re going to be too tired for walking, I think,” Lucius growled, hands moving up Harry’s sides possessively.
Eyes widening at the implication, Harry gaped silently. The man was… well… hot. Crazy and fucking hot. “So… er… Why would I, um, be so tired?” Harry whispered, gulping at the wicked grin Lucius gave in reply.
Hands moving down to Harry’s hips, Lucius pressed his thumbs into the sharp protrusion of bone and rubbed slowly. “Because when you look as you do, especially without clothes, you have to expect that I am going to fuck you. Repeatedly. Until you can no longer walk.” Lucius tilted his head, eyes teasing. “It’s only to be expected.”
“I see…” Harry’s arms began to shake and he lowered them to the mattress. Repeatedly… He had said repeatedly. “And, uh, do I get any say in this?”
“Oh, I suppose.” Lucius let his hands move down, cupping Harry’s ass and running his fingertips down his crack. “You get to say how hard… Oh, and how long.” Lucius bent forward, nipping Harry’s lips while the boy whimpered. “How much more.”
“More,” Harry echoed, eyes fluttering shut and hips rocking up towards the man above him.
“Yes, just like that,” Lucius agreed, pressing a finger against Harry’s tight hole. “Whatever you want…”
“Oh fuck,” Harry gasped, pressing down, urging the finger inside.
Lucius hissed, nipping Harry’s bottom red lip again, holding it between his teeth and releasing it with a wet pop. “That was the plan.”
Since finding Harry sitting on his trunk, next to the ugly metal car and wearing clothing a troll would have discarded, Lucius had been planning on having the boy. He just hadn’t fully realized it, very much distracted by foolish things like morals, propriety, and hideous clothes. Just as much as the boy was made to be nude, he was also made to be spread beneath Lucius, gasping those sweet, desperate cries in his ear.
Lucius called his wand from his bureau, flipping the surprised boy with a quick roll. He paused, hissing softly, noticing when Harry stiffened and did not relax this time.
The boy’s back was littered with scars, long white lines and shorter bright flecks of pain highlighted even brighter with the way Harry’s skin was quickly turning red. Eyes transfixed on the bizarre crosshatch that had no right to be there on the boy’s beautiful skin, it took Lucius a moment to realize Harry was gasping for air.
Moving off Harry and to the side of the bed, Lucius turned the boy onto his side, raising Harry’s face so he could breathe and Lucius could read whatever the hell was going on in his mind.
Having caught sight of those piercing eyes, Harry shut his own quickly, trying very hard to focus on breathing and not the terror and all encompassing shame that was filling him. Lucius was tracing his jaw, almost gentle, and had yet to say anything horrible or otherwise. Harry wanted to disappear into the mattress, wishing he hadn’t forgotten why he always wore a shirt, the heat Lucius had filled him with completely stealing his sanity.
“I sh-should—”
“Be quiet,” Lucius ordered, his voice low and soft. “I want you to breathe deep, calm down, and be very quiet.”
Swallowing, Harry nodded, keeping his eyes closed and focusing on breathing.
Lucius bent over Harry’s gasping form, fingers resting on the boy’s arm. Carefully, as if they were raw wounds and not old scars, he began to trace the lines on Harry’s back. Most were from a belt, a distinct buckle that’s edge had hit the boy’s back repeatedly. The bright flecks were from the sharp pin that kept the belt in place, having dug into his smooth skin on numerous occasions.
Lucius knew it was none of his business, but that wasn’t knowledge enough to stop him from asking. “When?”
Harry jolted as if struck, taking a moment to answer. “S-Summers… Mostly last…”
Last summer Draco had asked his parents if he could have a friend over for a few weeks before school started. Narcissa had become enraged when realizing the friend had been muggle raised and only halfblood. Harry’s name had never even made it into the graceless conversation.
Brooding silently, Lucius spread his fingers, pressing his palms into the boy’s back and slowly massaging his tight shoulders and muscles. Harry stiffened under his touch but slowly, bit by bit, minute by minute, the boy unwound, relaxing and turning onto his stomach to give Lucius more room to work.
His breathing was slower, nearly normal, and Lucius pressed his face to Harry’s neck so he would hear his quiet replies. “Do you have many panic attacks?”
“Only the last year…” Harry sighed under Lucius’s strong hands, lashes fluttering. “The nightmares, and now… I can’t be without a shirt…”
“You choose not to charm them hidden.”
Harry shrugged uncomfortably. “I know there are spells, just… I’ll always know that they’re there. I don’t know if I want to pretend otherwise.”
Lucius sighed into Harry’s neck, sending a shiver down the boy’s spine. “I would like to show you something.”
Harry sat up hesitantly after Lucius pulled away. It was hard to meet the man’s eyes, but he made an effort. There was no pity in the sharp gaze, no cruelty or taunts. Harry relaxed, idly combing his messy hair into some sort of order. He froze, watching as Lucius picked up his wand and waved it over the front of his broad, bare chest.
“Holy crap…” Harry swallowed, eyes caught on the deep long scars that ran across the man’s ribs. There were two and Harry was fairly certain, although having never seen the end result before, that they were done by a whip. Lucius turned slowly, and there were many more on his back, varying degrees of intensity, some so deep looking it was a wonder that bone wasn’t peeking through. “Who…wh-why?” Harry stuttered, hand inadvertently reaching out to touch the small of Lucius’s back where a particularly deep pit slashed white.
Lucius turned, grasping Harry’s hand and staring down at his fingers. “I was young. Younger than you are now… My father did not approve of my choice of lovers. He caught me… I was able to protect the young man I was with, but I was not so lucky.”
“Your own father did this to you?” Harry shook his head in disbelief. “That’s insane.”
Lucius smirked without warmth. “Yes, well that describes my father well. He never let me out of his sight after that. Took me out of school, arranged for Narcissa to marry me and then, some years later, introduced me to You-Know-Who. My father was very determined that I make something proper of myself.”
Eyes moving over Harry’s face, Lucius bent down to where he was sitting on the bed and kissed the boy softly. Pulling away, he reached across the sheets, wrapping his dress shirt over Harry’s shoulders and covering his back. “Perhaps you should go for now. I’ve put myself in a mood, and don’t wish to upset you further.”
Pulling the soft shirt securely around him, Harry’s eyes kept glancing to Lucius’s scared chest. “Oh… if that’s what you want…” He stood, fingers again brushing lightly over the white puckered marks. Lucius gently trapped his hand, raising it to his mouth and kissing his fingertips. Harry swayed, blushing and feeling very hot. Only to gasp, eyes flying to behind the man where Lucius was pointing his wand.
“You’re bloody mad!” Harry yelped, watching his clothes become consumed by purple flames.
“I told you I was going to burn them,” Lucius said simply, cupping Harry’s face and kissing him again.
Harry moaned, trying to pull away from the hot mouth plundering him. “Yes… and you were mad then, too… Now I have nothing… to wear…”
“Such a shame,” Lucius purred, pulling from Harry’s mouth to kiss his forehead firmly. “Looks like you’re going to have to stay a while longer.”
Harry gaped disbelieving at the man. He continued to gape as Lucius returned from the dresser to hand Harry his glasses and then disappear out the bedroom door.
The… the fucker had burned all his clothes!
SCENE #Burnt remains
“Do you smell something burning?”
Harry was dragging his empty duffel bag behind him, hastily buttoned up in Lucius’s shirt that came down to his thighs, when he heard Draco walking up behind him.
“Yeah, all my fucking clothes,” Harry snapped, whirling to glare at the boy.
Draco stopped sniffing the air to look at his angry friend. “What?”
“Your father! He burned all my clothes,” Harry shouted, throwing his empty bag at the blond’s feet.
“That’s insane. Shit, what the hell is wrong with him?” Draco grumbled, kicking the bag to see it was indeed empty.
“I have like one pair of pants left—Pajamas! And those shirts you picked out that I don’t know what you did with. I’m getting the hell out of here. This is crazy. Your father is fucking crazy, and I’m not putting up with this shit anymore!” Harry started stomping towards the room Draco had let him reside in, muttering loudly.
Draco followed after, grabbing his arm. “Don’t go! I’ll buy you some new clothes. Where the hell are you going to go? I’ll talk to… Hold on. What are you wearing?” Draco suddenly asked, his fingers digging into Harry’s arm. “Is that…? You’re wearing my father’s shirt.”
Eyes widening, Harry coughed awkwardly, his anger fizzling in the face of Draco’s quiet rage. “I, er… that is… I needed something to wear?” Harry looked down innocently at his friend, praying for once in his life he could lie like a proper person. Unfortunately, he could not.
“What are these marks all over your neck? Why—Why are your lips all swollen? Holy fuck! Potter, I’m going to kill you!”
“It’s not what you think—Shit!” Harry ducked, pulling out of Draco’s grasp when the boy took an angry swing at him. “I didn’t—”
“You most certainly did! I know a thoroughly shagged look when I see it! For fuck sake, in my own goddamn home!”
“I didn’t—We didn’t! Almost did,” Harry added, a grin suddenly breaking across his face. “I mean, hell, your dad is really—”
“Potter!” Draco swung again, Harry quickly stepping back and nearly tripping. He caught the next swing thrown his way, Draco growling as he leaned his weight against Harry’s unyielding guard. “My father is not some sort of teenage heartthrob! It’s obscene!”
Harry couldn’t help it, he was grinning like a fool and could not stop. “Heartthrob? That man is an Adonis. When he kisses, it’s like—Oh my god, and his tongue—What the hell am I saying? I can’t tell you this. Where’s Pansy? I can tell Pansy this.” Harry let Draco go, turning to find his friend so he could talk inappropriately about Draco’s father properly.
Draco stared after him, his mouth hanging open. “Get back here!”
Harry snorted, turning and walking backwards. “You really want to hear about what your dad can do with his tongue on particular parts of my anatomy?”
Hissing, Draco grabbed for his wand, only to be reminded that Blaise still had it in his possession. Draco was supposed to be up here making things right with Harry, because clearly his father was losing his shit. Now Draco was pretty sure he was about to kill his best friend.
“Potter, you’re not wearing any pants.”
Blinking, Harry looked down at his state of half undress and stopped walking. His manic grin faded back into his frown of earlier. “Fuck, Draco, he burned all my clothes!”
“Well, you’ll excuse me if I don’t feel sorry for you!” Draco yelled back.
Harry stared at his furious friend, scratching the back of his head while he sighed. “Draco… your dad is messed up.”
Draco took a warning step towards him, hands fisted at his sides. “Seriously? Except for your clothes, I really don’t believe you’re complaining, you randy bastard.”
Harry laughed, holding his hands up. “Come on, that’s not fair! If you liked blokes you would totally understand. Your father is just, hell, fucking something. When a guy like that comes on to you there really is no way to say no. I mean—Look at him. I’m lucky I can be in the same room with him and not fall to my knees every time he says hello. That’s half the reason I’ve been avoiding him… The other half being he’s an absolute prick to me,” Harry added with a growl.
Draco had already heard this particular argument from Pansy and even, for some odd reason, Blaise for all his insistences on being straight. Which reminded Draco again that he had come up here to not fight with Harry, but to apologize for blaming him for enticing his father.
Given time to see things clearly, Draco knew Harry didn’t have a damn seductive bone in his body. The boy was an absolute mess, more terrified that anyone might get a peek at his back or find out about his messed up home life, than to ever chase after anyone sexually. It had actually been something Draco wanted to help Harry work on once they got back to school. The kid totally needed a boyfriend. Just, preferably, not Draco’s father.
“Listen, I’m going to let this slide this one time,” Draco said with a growl, his hands on his hips. “But I don’t want you fucking, well, fucking! He’s my father and you’re my friend. It’s creepy. I’m going to talk to him about it, and this is going to not bloody happen. Okay?”
Harry bit his lip, his eyes skittering away from Draco’s demanding glare. “’Kay.”
“Potter, I’m serious,” Draco snarled, knowing that look. “I don’t want you going near him again.”
Harry growled back, his face turning red. “What, like I want anything to do with the asshole that just burned my entire wardrobe? You know how difficult it is for me to get new clothes. I’m going to kill him the next time I see him!”
Draco didn’t fully believe Harry, but was not a hundred percent certain why. Maybe because he had completely missed the boy’s attraction to his father the whole time Harry had been there. Even though Harry couldn’t lie to others for shit, he could lie to himself, and Draco suspected that was what was happening now. “We’re getting you more emergency healing charms so there will be no excuse for you two to be that bloody close. And I’m never leaving you alone with him again.”
Harry shrugged, ruffling up the back of his hair. “Shit, like I care. Although, you act like being in the same room is all it takes to start jumping each other.”
Draco rolled his eyes before pinning his friend with a glare. “What exactly happened when you came up here?”
Blushing even more, Harry glared back. “Shut up.”
“Yeah, so I’m going to be a goddamn chaperone for the two of you. Now lets find you some pants already.”
Harry cautiously walked back over to Draco, the two of them sizing each other up warily. “Sorry I think your dad is hot,” Harry muttered.
“Me fucking too,” Draco said flatly. “None of my clothes are going to fit you. You’re too tall.”
“I know…” Harry sighed, pulling at the open cuffs of Lucius’s shirt. “I could always wear—”
“No, you cannot. And you’re giving the bloody shirt back to him the second he gets back.” Draco grabbed Harry by the shoulder and pulled him into his room to find something the boy could wear.
SCENE #Lucius’s desire
“What foul hell is this?” Lucius grunted, stepping into his dinning room to find his son and Harry eating dinner, Blaise and Pansy gone for the evening. Draco and Harry exchanged confused glances, Harry eventually looking down at his mismatch of clothing when the man continued to glare at him.
“Come on—You have no right to complain,” Harry grumbled, shoveling broccoli into his mouth and pointedly not meeting Lucius’s gaze.
“Father, I want to talk to you about—”
“Not now, Draco. Potter, I’ve arranged for someone to be down here at eight o’clock sharp tomorrow morning. You will be awake, pleasant and accommodating. He is a personal friend, and I will not tolerate rudeness towards him.”
Harry furrowed his brow, forced to look at the man just to figure out what the hell he was talking about. “What?”
“Eight o’clock. He will be understanding of your… condition.” Lucius paused a moment, eyes lingering on Harry’s face too long, only to fall to the pair of hideous pajama pants. Garish banana yellow with blue and red cartoons billowed around Harry’s legs in cosmic mockery of decency itself. Scowling, Lucius whirled and left the room, hands tight in fists.
“Father!” Draco stood up, giving Harry an apologetic look before running after Lucius.
Lucius had made it to his study before Draco caught up. Glancing agitatedly as his son stalked into the room, Lucius reached for the scotch, pouring himself two fingers and sitting in his chair. Harry had been in that chair only hours ago, the memory still hot in Lucius’s mind, along with the one from the bedroom, and the damn scars on the boy’s back.
“So, what is this? Some sort of revenge for telling you I didn’t want to join the Ministry when I got out of school?” Draco asked, shutting the door behind him.
“Pardon?” Pulling his mind to the here and now, Lucius fixed his son with a skeptical look. “Revenge… Have I harmed you in some way?”
“As much as my father snogging my best friend can harm a person,” Draco snapped. “What the hell is going on with you? I preferred when you were just being an ass to him. This is a bit much, Father!”
Lucius raised his brow, surprised. Draco was genuinely upset. “So you do not find snogging preferable to hexing. I’m somewhat confused about that.”
“Father!” Draco stopped himself, taking a deep breath. He went to Lucius’s desk, resting his palms lightly on the dark wood buffed to sheen brightly. “What do you want with him? How can some teenage boy be of interest to you? And why a boy? Pansy has been chasing after you since she first met you. Why him and why the hell now?”
Giving his son an accessing look, Lucius placed his glass down on his blotter. “If I tell you, will you stop taking things so personally?”
Draco sighed, blowing a loose hair from his face. “I don’t know… I guess it depends on the answer.”
It was a fair enough response, Lucius feeling compelled to be open. “Your mother and I have been sleeping with men for a long time. Nearly as long as we have been married.”
Draco flinched, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Oh.”
“Arranged marriages, the good ones, allow for certain accommodations that we chose to indulge. It made life reasonably pleasant,” Lucius continued, watching his son’s face carefully. “With your mother being so erratic and filing for separation, I abstained from any pleasantries, concerned she would… retaliate in unreasonable levels. Bellatrix gleefully informed me at the beginning of summer that your mother has been ‘courting,’ as a polite way to put it, and I no longer felt the need to hold back.”
Staring down at his hands, Draco spread his fingers, making patterns idly as he thought. “So… you’ve been dating this summer?”
Lucius snorted softly. “If that is what you would like to call it, far be it for me to disillusion you. I will not be bringing anyone home, if that is your concern.”
It had been and Draco released a sigh of relief. “And Harry? What is he… just some pretty thing you saw lying around the house you decided to play with?”
Lucius didn’t answer, instead swallowing down the contents of his glass in a long gulp. “Tell me about the scars on his back. The name of the culprit.”
Draco stared at his father disbelieving and slowly shook his head. “No way. Not until I know what the hell you want from him.”
“I don’t want anything from him,” Lucius said evenly.
Draco raised his hands so he could then slam them on the desk. “Bullshit! You burned all his clothes!”
“So? They were repulsive and battered. I intend to replace them with something less offensive to my senses. There is no reason the boy should dress like that, now that he is free from those careless muggles…” He trailed off, eyes sharpening on his son. “It was the muggles, wasn’t it? His guardians?”
“Stop changing the subject!” Draco snarled. “Father, you are the most reserved, cunning, underhanded man I know, potentially matched only by my Head of House who lived his life as a double agent. You do not go into fits of rage and start burning things.”
Lucius smiled slowly, folding his hands on his desk and leaning forward. “Draco, you just found out today that I enjoy the company of men, and have had an open relationship with your mother of many years. You cannot honestly know if I’m not out setting things on fire all the time.”
Draco blinked, paling at his father’s queer expression. “Father… Now I’m even more worried for him. Is… is that what you want? Me freaking out that you’re losing your mind and going to hurt my friend?”
“I am not losing my mind.”
“You sure? Because Mother did, and you’re sure acting like a crazy person.”
Lucius sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his melodramatic son. “Draco, I am a wizard. A powerful one. I am also a powerful man, wealthy and influential. If I want something, I get it through whatever means suit me at the time. I did not like his clothing. He no longer has said clothing—Although I will destroy those pants and I have yet to find that hideous orange thing. My actions are hardly out of proportion to my abilities. Now can we let this drop?”
Draco straightened, staring down at his father silently. Lucius, unlike Harry, was a very good liar, and had never had any qualms about lying to Draco. But Draco had to ask because Harry was not only his friend, but his guest, and he was responsible for the boy’s safety. “Father, what do you want from him?”
“Nothing.”
“Sex?” Draco pressed, daring his father to deny it.
Lucius took a moment to respond. “I desire that. But I do not want it.”
Understanding slowly dawning, Draco nodded. “So the things you want, you have no problem going after. But the things you desire…?”
“Are frivolous, and do not merit my effort.” He said it so smoothly, Draco almost wondered if his father was choosing to lie, but it seemed too much like Lucius’s philosophies in life that he couldn’t be certain.
“To be clear. You do not want Harry, but you do…” Draco raised his brows expectantly.
Lucius graced his son with a thin smile. “I desire him.”
It was an odd thing to even consider, Draco having seen his father only one way for, well, his entire life. Recently, Lucius had to be seen different, no longer with Mother there to do the majority of the household upkeep. His father had even gone so far as to start working shorter hours during the summer months, just to make sure Draco wasn’t home alone. Lucius had even indulged the allowance of Harry to stay, and his friends to come over whenever Draco called. Draco hoped that he could allow his father this new definition without too much struggle. Maybe if it hadn’t been his friend it would have been easier. Surely, if it hadn’t been a boy his own age…
Draco raised his eyes to his father’s, not quite sure he wanted to ask the next question. “This isn’t some weird transference thing for me…?”
Eyebrows seeking his hairline, Lucius held his hand up. “Draco, son, I mean this with all the kindness in the world as your father, protector and provider. You are not my type, and let’s leave it at that.”
Draco nodded hastily, his stomach unclenching from the knot it had found itself in. “Very good,” he said stiffly. “So I’m going to let you be, and finish my dinner, and pretend we did not talk about any of this.”
“That sounds like a wonderful plan,” Lucius drawled, mirth reflected in his eyes. “And that name I was inquiring about?”
Draco turned from where he was leaving, a scowl growing. “His uncle. Some fat, blustery, red-faced prick that kept going on and on about his job. I met him once last year while trying to convince Harry to run away. Still don’t know why Harry didn’t just put the creep in his place.” Shaking his head, Draco left, the door clicking behind him.
Getting up to pour himself another glass of amber Macallan, Lucius considered his options. He would prefer no information to get back to the green-eyed demon in the other room. Troublesome as the boy was, he seemed a bit delicate. Or maybe that was Lucius, transferring a little of his fatherly protectiveness… Death of Potter’s relatives would certainly warrant investigation. But there were so many diverting things one could do that did not lead to death—Not right away, anyways.
Lucius ruminated, images of twisted, repentant muggles slowly evolving to scarred, flushed skin, and swollen, red lips. Lucius had not been lying to his son; he very much desired Harry. But he may have skimmed over the facts of what that meant.
Lucius did not bother to put effort into obtaining the things he desired. He had spent a lifetime desiring many things he had been told he could and could not have. In the end, all of them had been his. Wanting was just the will. Desiring… It was a power that could not be contained or denied. His son would understand eventually, likely long after Lucius had ravished the scarred beauty beyond salvation.
The scars had been a terrible revelation, and the source of Lucius’s current mood. He had not felt this particular dark mood in a long time, but it was as familiar as seeing those pale thin slashes on one as young and as beautiful as Harry. Lucius had never been as innocent as the boy feigned, but he had admitted to some naivety to the consequences of his actions at his father’s hands. He wondered what Harry had done to warrant the many marks on his back… They were likely chronically inflicted. Not like the three distinct fits of rage that had possessed Lucius’s father in face of his disobedience, until Lucius had realized there truly was no hiding things from the man.
Then again, Lucius had killed the elder Malfoy and his father hadn’t seen that coming. Hardly all knowing and all powerful, no matter how he had tried to convince Lucius otherwise.
His father had been successful in one front. Lucius was the epitome of perfection at everything he did, be it torturing the weak, to hunting down and slashing dead the powerful. That he still felt… Well, Lucius wasn’t sure if that was his weakness or strength. It depended on the situation, and currently feeling was not desired.
SCENE #Tipsy toothpaste
“You’re pissed.”
“Hardly.”
“You’re wasted—Totally shitfaced.”
“Tipsy, tops.”
“Yeah, well you just tipsy’d yourself into the bathroom, and I would like to brush my teeth in peace, you drunk-ass, fire happy jerk.” Harry fixed Lucius with a glare through the bathroom mirror. He had his toothbrush halfway sticking out of his mouth, white foam just peeking across his lips in a way that Lucius could not seem to stop staring at.
“You know we have spells for that, correct?”
Harry huffed and returned to what he was doing, determined to ignore the plastered man. There were like fifteen bathrooms on the damn floor. Why couldn’t Lucius go annoy one of those?
Lucius stepped further into the sleekly tiled room, eyes caught on Harry’s pants. “You’re wearing those hideous pajama pants again. I thought I made myself clear that you were not to wear anymore ugly, unnatural color combinations while in my presence?”
“I wasn’t in your presence, you neurotic psycho. I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth.” Harry spat into the sink, filled his cupped hands with water and rinsed his mouth. He nearly choked on the way back up, glasses going askew and head just missing the mirror when Lucius ran his hand over his ass.
“You have a hole,” Lucius grumbled with a soft slur, finger poking into an apparent rip around Harry’s right ass cheek. “I swear you put them there yourself, just so I have to stare.”
“That’s crazy talk—Oh!” Harry closed his eyes, Lucius’s hands slipping to his hips, the man pressing the front of his body to Harry’s back and rubbing against him. Lucius was half hard, his large length slowly coming to life as he ground against Harry’s firm ass. Harry let out a shaky breath, his mouth refusing to close all the way.
“You do, don’t you?” Lucius murmured roughly, teeth biting at Harry’s ear while he breathed the boy’s scent in.
“W-what?” Harry croaked, eyes glancing to the mirror where he could see Lucius hovering. The man’s sharp eyes were hazy, and he smelled of cologne and the smooth scent of rich liquor.
“Put holes in your clothes… How anyone could have so many by accident is just impossible.” Hand moving to the side of Harry’s thigh, Lucius pressed his finger through another small hole, jolting Harry with the feeling of skin touching skin. “It’s either that, or you’re infested with moths. Have you trained moths to put holes in your clothes?”
“You are so totally sloshed right now,” Harry groaned lowly. Lucius pushed him forward with a hard thrust and held him there, Harry’s waist biting into the sink while he grabbed for purchase.
“Buzzed, if anything,” Lucius corrected, fingers moving over Harry’s thighs as he sought out more hidden holes. “Only two? That can’t be right…” He continued his search, fingers biting at Harry’s flesh beneath the thin material of his pajama bottoms. “Ah, ha… I knew it…” He hissed triumphantly.
“Oh fuck…” There had been a good reason Harry had not taken these particular pajama pants with him when packing his bags. They had torn at the inner thigh along the seam, very much not okay to wear around a busy-bodied, pain in the ass, obsessive compulsive, groping Malfoy. He could feel Lucius’s fingers slipping through the fabric, not even pretending to be coy as he went straight for Harry’s rising cock.
“Let’s go to my bedroom,” Lucius growled heatedly, teeth nipping at his neck while he tugged rhythmically on Harry’s dick. “We can finish what we started earlier.”
Harry moaned, falling back against the hard body behind him. That sounded like a really good idea…. But he was already in a lot of trouble over the whole ‘wanting to shag your father’ thing. “Er… Draco said I’m… not allowed in your bedroom anymore,” Harry whispered, fighting the urge to grind back into Lucius’s erection.
Lucius ran his tongue slowly up Harry’s neck. “My son does not dictate whom my bedroom is open to.”
Harry nodded quickly, his eyes squeezed shut. “R-right.. but, oh hell… He’s my friend.”
Lucius sighed, removing his hand from the boy’s length and the tear in his pants. Harry made a small whimper of disappointment, so soft Lucius almost wondered if he had imagined it. “Take your shirt off.”
Harry choked back an incredulous laugh, then gasped as Lucius thrust against his ass again. “Th-that’s only going to get me in trouble.”
“You are already in so much trouble, young man, you don’t even know it,” Lucius purred, wrenching at the boy’s hips. “Do you think I need a bed to fuck you? Do you think I need permission from my son? Harry, I could have you right here… hideous pants around your ankles… your tight, delicious ass clenching around my cock.”
“Oh. My. God.” Harry was pretty sure he was going to black out. His blood was no longer reaching his head, and his vision was totally dark at the edges, body very much taut and tense as Lucius continued to rub his large cock against his ass.
“Do you want that? Do you want to spread your legs wide and have me fuck you?” Lucius asked lowly, fingers pinching at Harry’s waistband, pulling at the elastic material and sending gusts of cool air across Harry’s erection. “You’ll drip with my cum, Harry. That tight, pink hole of yours will trickle white with my seed… down your thighs… the back of your legs… all over your balls.”
Harry really had no proper answer. He opened his mouth, certain he should tell the man he was absolutely crazy, and more than a little tipsy, but all that came out was a long, needy moan.
“You do… You want me to fuck you.” Lucius sunk his teeth into the junction of shoulder and neck, Harry jerking fitfully and moaning louder. “I should have known the instant I saw you in those damnable jeans…”
“Leave… my clothes… out of this,” Harry panted dizzily. He slit his eyes open, finding Lucius staring at him intently through the mirror. The man’s gaze blazing, he raised fingers to Harry’s mouth, touching his red lips until Harry parted them.
Harry watched, vision caught as Lucius began to explore his mouth with his long fingers. Surely it was some other boy, some green-eyed creature living in the mirror that was just pure wanton and wild, wrapping his tongue so boldly around Lucius’s two fingers, pulling them down, sucking them deep. The heavy lidded boy in the mirror looked confident, mouth wide, white teeth flashing as he nipped firmly. He had no shame, tightening his red lips to the thick fingers, creating suction as Lucius thrust rhythmically in and out of his mouth. It must have been some other boy, even though Harry could feel them in his mouth, warm flesh, rough pads of Lucius’s fingertips that tasted of booze, and salt, and a hint of floral soap.
Harry could see now what it looked like when Lucius trailed wet saliva over his red lips, crystal liquid coating and dripping, pulling down further, over his chin, down his throat to the collar of his new black tee. “Come on, Harry… Let’s see what it looks like when your nipples are wet.”
Lucius pulled at the material of his shirt and Harry didn’t stop him. Instead he watched, transfixed as the man pulled the fabric up, bunching it and pulling it tight under Harry’s armpits, twisting the fabric to expose the boy’s chest and stomach to the mirror. “I want to watch you come. I have been dreaming of seeing those pouting lips of yours parted wide when you jet your seed all over your stomach.” Lucius moved slower against Harry’s back, rubbing in a way that Harry was pretty sure meant the man was so goddamn hard he was going to burst if he kept up at the pace. But Harry was just standing there with some liquid on his face—It wasn’t like they were doing anything crazy wild.
Then again, Harry was pretty sure he was going to come too, especially if Lucius kept panting in his ear like that, just with a low, rough undertone of breaking control that was making Harry so hot every time the man did it. Was that the alcohol, or was that just Lucius when he looked at Harry? Did the man want him that much that he would tremor and growl?
Lucius placed his fingers back to Harry’s mouth, and the boy in the mirror was quick to respond, licking hungrily, biting and sucking, and moaning around them.
“Delectable,” Lucius growled, pulling his fingers free and moving them down to Harry’s chest. Face bent over his shoulder, Harry watched Lucius watch his nipple harden and flush under his slick, tight grasp. Harry closed his eyes, gasps turning into groans, his nipple growing sore and aching under the twisting grip. Lucius’s other hand moved down, cupping Harry’s erection through his pants as the man rocked against him.
“Open your eyes… You should see how beautiful you are.”
Harry snorted in disbelief, but slowly slit his eyes open because Lucius had paused what he was doing. The man was staring at him through the mirror, like Harry was some treasured dessert he just couldn’t help but devour.
Harry trembled, wishing he could stop. Wishing he wanted to stop. Nothing good was going to come of this. Lucius was just looking for some fun. Harry didn’t know what the hell he wanted, rarely the type to seek out fun, just avoid pain. All he did know was that the man was fucking sexy, and wasn’t treating his scars like he was a hideous freak—And really, really seemed interested in getting Harry’s pants off.
“Give them up, Potter,” Lucius demanded with more lust than anger. “I want to see that tight, little ass of yours.”
Harry shook his head, grabbing Lucius’s persistent hands wrapped around his waistband. “You’re going to burn them, and then I’ll literally have no pants to wear. You know you burned all my underwear, right?”
Lucius smiled wickedly, tongue licking up the side of Harry’s face and lingering on the stem of his glasses. “Oh, I know.”
Harry glared half-heartedly, his stomach flipping at the answer. “You’re a fucking ass.”
“Maybe… But me fucking your ass just seems so much better.” Since Harry had his wrists, Lucius spread his fingers, digging in to the boy’s hips. He pushed his erection harder against Harry, burrowing between his cheeks. Harry gave a weak moan and relaxed his grip unconsciously. Grinning in triumph, Lucius nipped down the boy’s neck while finally pushing the hideous pants down to Harry’s thighs. “That’s it… Very tight, Harry… Let’s get a better look.”
Harry gasped, Lucius suddenly lifting him back from the sink, his slender torso stretching before him in the mirror. The shirt was still bunched up by his arms and pulled back, flashes of yellow fabric by his thighs. In between, Harry was exposed, warm flesh and very, very hard, his erection bobbing and flushed red. He tried to close his eyes, look away, but Lucius snared his chin and held his face forward. “The eyes are definitely the icing. You can’t shut them,” he murmured into Harry’s ear.
Harry nodded dumbly, swallowing hard and opening his lids slowly. “Oh god,” he gasped, watching as Lucius’s hands began to move over him. It felt amazing, that had never been in question, but it also looked amazing too. The boy in the mirror kept arching into Lucius’s palms, lips parted, head thrown back. “Lucius—hell!” Harry cried out, one of those large hands fisting around his cock, thumb moving up to spread the precum beading from Harry’s tip.
“Yes… yes, much better than I had even imagined,” Lucius growled lowly, his other hand slipping behind Harry so he could undo his fly and push his underwear down. He pressed his heated erection between the boy’s bare, taut thighs, nudging Harry’s balls.
“Oh my god… y-you’re…” Harry couldn’t say it, feeling the hard flesh on his flesh and shuddering in absolute, agonizing want.
Lucius smirked down at the sight of Harry’s dick twitching in his palm. He thrust in slow, languid pushes against the boy, each movement making Harry moan again. “Just want to feel you… Feel you cum… Cover you in mine.”
“Please… Oh please.” Harry tried to keep his eyes open, but his face kept insisting on twisting in lusty ways that was making it very difficult to do much of anything proper. Lucius’s breathing was ragged in his ear, not as loud as Harry’s own desperate pants for air. And his hand—Oh, so hot, fingers tight and slick with sweat and something Harry thought was lube, although he hadn’t noticed Lucius use any. He cried out, Lucius’s thumb again sliding over the head of his straining dick, the short, manicured nail pressing a little too hard against his slit, jolting him with a mix of pleasure and pain. Harry managed to look again, the boy in the mirror completely undone, hands reaching up and back to grasp at Lucius’s wide shoulders and tear at his shirt.
“You’re shaking,” Lucius said teasingly, his free hand gripping Harry’s hip to hold the boy steady. “Are you close?”
“Y-Yes… God yes,” Harry choked out, eyes again squeezed shut.
Lucius purred approvingly, his hips jolting hard against Harry in response. “I’m going to cum on you. You’re going to wish it was inside you, filling you so deep. But you… decided… to wear these damnable pants.”
Harry moaned in agony. He wasn’t going around nude just because… Oh hell… maybe being nude would be okay.
“Potter?” Lucius suddenly stilled, body leaning over Harry to reach for something.
Harry whimpered, pressing back into the man. But Lucius ignored him, growling under his breath and pushing Harry forward.
“Are you—Potter, you’ve been using my toothpaste!”
SCENE #Hygeine issues
“I can’t believe you, you neurotic, psychotic, mother fucking tease!” Harry snarled even while Lucius held his rolled up tube of toothpaste and shoved it under Harry’s nose like it was the crime of the century. Harry pulled his shirt down fitfully, reaching then for his pants and carefully pulling them up around his aching hard on. Being exposed in front of a pissed off Lucius did not do anything for Harry. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What is wrong, you rude, ill-mannered, uncoordinated little hell-spawn, is that guests do not go into a person’s house and use their things without permission!” Lucius said lowly and with barely controlled anger.
“You don’t even use toothpaste! That tube is in the same place I leave it every freaking time! No one else has used it the entire month I have been here—Nor any of the toothpaste in the other bathrooms!”
Lucius narrowed his eyes, nostrils flaring. “You’ve used all of them? You systematically went through every bathroom in this house and used my favorite brand of toothpaste? You inconsiderate—Do you even understand how germs spread?”
Harry spluttered, fairly certain he was going to do something extremely painful to Lucius if the idiot didn’t stop saying such stupid shit. Instead, Harry grabbed the man by the sides of the face, roughly licked him from chin to forehead, and then shoved him away. “How’s that for germs, you goddamn psycho?”
Lucius, apparently, did not like that. Sneering like a wet cat, he grabbed Harry by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in tight. He then stepped forward, forcing Harry back until he was trapped between Lucius and the sink. Harry probably should have been frightened, but it was Lucius and for some reason he just couldn’t imagine the man hurting him. As if to prove the bizarre thought running through Harry’s mind in that moment with the blond towering over him, Lucius growled and returned the offensive gesture. He used so much force, Harry’s glasses went clattering to the ground when the man’s tongue reached them. Harry fought the urge to laugh, still upset with the ass.
“You damn obnoxious, tormenting demon,” Lucius rasped hoarsely, grinding his cock into Harry’s hip.
“Don’t you dare start, you bastard,” Harry panted, head falling back to rest against the mirror while he clung to the sink behind him. “There’s no way I’m letting you—Oh… Oh hell.” Lucius licked up his neck next, his hands tearing under Harry’s shirt. He quickly pulled the boy’s pants back down and off, wrenching Harry’s narrow hips and crashing the two of them together.
“You are going to pay, Potter. On your knees. Bent over every surface I can think of.”
“Oh hell… Shut up, you son of a bitch,” Harry groaned, his hands coming forward to clutch at Lucius’s shirt. “You are so… fucked in the head.”
“I am going to fuck you in the head,” Lucius hissed against Harry’s neck, hands clenching his ass tightly and lifting the boy up on tiptoes so that Harry was moving with every aching thrust as their cocks rubbed together.
Harry snorted. “Who says that… Oh god… oh… Okay.” Hands falling down, Harry gripped at Lucius’s hips. Fingers trembling only a little, Harry reached between them, touching Lucius’s silken length and pressing his palm to the hot, hard flesh so that it would rub against his own even more. He had never felt another’s dick, certainly not a grown man’s and in a state where it was ready to come. He’d always assumed he’d like it, seeing as he liked guys in general. Harry didn’t expect just how much he would want to suck that hard flesh, now that Lucius had put the idea in his head.
Harry did not get an opportunity, Lucius growling fiercely and lifting him up so that Harry was sitting on the sink, cold porcelain against his heated flesh making him gasp. Then Lucius was pressing the head of his cock between Harry’s spread thighs. He groaned softly in the boy’s ear as he wrapped his hand around Harry’s exploring fingers. Then he jerked them together over his large length with long, firm strokes. Harry stared down, transfixed, knowing what was going to happen and full of anticipation to see.
“Yes,” Lucius hissed through gritted teeth, hips jolting with his release, covering Harry with wet streams of cum. Each touch of hot fluid felt like electricity to Harry, moans falling uncontrollably from his lips while he watched his red length, tight sack and trembling thighs become coated with Lucius’s seed. “Come on, Potter… you’re there.”
Lucius grabbed Harry’s face, holding him still and forcing him to meet his blazing silver gaze. And then the man’s hand was wrapping around Harry’s cum covered cock, every muscle in the boy’s body tight and shaking with raw need. Lucius was staring, fixated on Harry’s mouth. Vaguely Harry remembered what Lucius had said about wanting to see his mouth when he came. That Lucius had meant it was just too much on top of everything else. Harry gaped nearly silent, a small, choked cry slipping free from his red lips when his orgasm hit, feeling the intense fire tear through him and then out.
Harry blearily felt his cum scald his stomach, Lucius even then guiding to ensure he got everything he wanted from the boy’s body. Shudder after shudder rocketed Harry, his eyes closing as he realized he had just cum, with Lucius Malfoy, in the bathroom. He had never done… Had never even thought to do something like that…
Holy fuck. Lucius had covered him with cum and then… and then…
“Oh… wow,” Harry whimpered, his body collapsing from the magnitude of it all. Lucius held him steady, pulling Harry’s face closer so he could kiss him. It was a hard kiss, sloppy and scented with sex, alcohol, and toothpaste that the man never ever used, but Harry did, every day and night. Lucius kissed him deep, tongue stealing each of Harry’s gasps. The man didn’t seem tired the way Harry felt, but wilder, more desperate to touch him, as if something had been unleashed with their mutual completion.
The mirror gave a sudden creak behind Harry and then fell, shattering on the tiled floor around them. Lucius growled lowly into Harry’s mouth.
Harry groaned, turning his head slightly so he could drag air in from around Lucius’s lips, saliva running from the corners of his mouth. “Potter, stop destroying my house,” Lucius panted against his cheek, fingers tangling into his dark hair so he could pull Harry in for another needy kiss.
Moaning, Harry opened his mouth wider, tongue tasting tongue and delving deep, before finally freeing his lips. Exhausted, sated, and very much confused as to just how safe he felt with Lucius resting against him, holding him tight in the goddamn bathroom of all places, Harry glared at the infuriating ass that kept assuming everything he did was fully intended to piss Lucius Malfoy off. “Make me.”
SCENE #Tailored fit
Mr. Adler was an older gentleman, just starting to stoop with age. His immaculately groomed form was topped with a salting of gray through dark hair. He merely tutted once when seeing Harry’s scars for the first time, and they didn’t speak a word of them afterwards. Although they were indicated vaguely when discussing what style of shirts Harry would like to wear. Mr. Adler was a tailor, Lucius’s preferred choice for casual wear when the older wizard bothered to be casual.
“I know, but I would really just like some jeans, underwear and a few shirt,” Harry grumbled after Adler listed off another supposed fifty things required of a ‘proper’ wardrobe. Harry was not a proper person, and didn’t care about owning a million things. “Do you guys have t-shirts? Like with pictures on them and stuff? I don’t want to be wearing collars for the rest of the school year.” And probably eternity, seeing as Harry could not bring himself to walk into a clothing store and buy things for himself. Shit, when had things gotten so out of hand?
“Mr. Potter, I understand some eccentricities are to be expected with someone of your fame and standing—”
“What!” Harry squawked, his face going bright red. “I’m not being crazy here.”
“You need a proper wardrobe, not just muggle styled rebellion,” Mr. Adler continued smoothly, his dark eyes steely but not unkind. “You’re coming into your graduating year, and it is important to look the part when seeking employment.”
Harry shrugged, not really concerned about any of that. Maybe he should be. Maybe there was something wrong with him for not caring about what every other person was supposedly caring about. But he couldn’t force himself to. He could only compromise.
“How about you put whatever you want in there—as long as it’s not white—and just add a good dozen jeans and twice as many t-shirts, so I don’t feel like a complete prat?” Harry asked, his tone of annoyance kept back to a minimum. Stripping had been difficult, even with Adler a professional and uncaring of his scars. Harry was grouchy, not having slept well and agitated by the idea of Lucius buying him clothing. The bastard should after burning all of his. But Harry was not happy about anything at the moment.
“I think that is a reasonable solution.” Mr. Adler began jotting down in his notebook. “The layered look is very popular these days with young people. I think it would suit you fine.”
“Whatever,” Harry muttered, sitting with a sigh while the man continued to write away. Draco wouldn’t be up for at least another hour, the boy a complete wreck in the mornings until around ten and full of caffeine. Harry really wondered how his friend thought he was doing any chaperoning at all, considering Harry usually ran across Lucius during the early hours of the day before the man went to work. Draco sure as hell had been useless last night.
Last night had been… Harry suppressed a shudder, his body tingling all over just thinking about it. He had never thought he would want something like that. Harry had known he had liked guys for a long time, but he had never really thought he would want them. Harry hardly considered himself sexual. His body seemed to not be connected to the rest of him, even less so since last summer. Since Vernon. But Lucius, a taller, stronger, and by all accounts, more powerful man, could slam Harry up against a sink and Harry wasn’t afraid. Not even for a moment. With his shirt off and scars exposed. Even when Lucius had smelled of alcohol. No, Harry had been so turned on, he had wondered if he was going to faint.
That boy in the mirror—Hell, he had been a sexual creature. When Harry got lost in Lucius, he was that boy. Unafraid. Wanton. Beautiful. There was something about the man that made Harry feel safe. And when Harry was safe, he was something so much more than what he had ever been before. Harry wanted to be that boy more. Maybe always.
Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands. Nothing good could come of any of this. Lucius was married—To a crazy woman, at that. He had a son—Harry’s freaking best friend. And the man was an arrogant jerk that thought buying him a wardrobe made it okay to completely ruin everything he owned. Yes, it had all been ugly and full of holes, but it had belonged to Harry as much as anything ever had. When you owned so little, not even a room to truly call your own, the things that were yours suddenly became extra important.
“Alright, Mr. Potter. You should expect the first of your clothing within three days, the rest by the end of two weeks.” Mr. Adler summoned up a duplicate of his list of articles, handing the sheet of parchment to Harry. “I will speak with your benefactor on the settling of the bill. If you have any questions, my shop’s floo coordinates are listed, along with my assistants’ names.”
Harry’s mind reeled, staring dumbly at the page while Mr. Adler bid farewell. Benefactor? Why would the man have phrased it like that? Was Harry some sort of charity case that Lucius was taking pity on because of his homelessness and scars? Or was it more insidious than that?
Did Adler think Lucius was buying clothes for Harry in some fucked up trade for sex?
Did Lucius think that?
Harry got unsteadily to his feet, the paper crumpling loudly as he crushed it without thinking. Harry was not a prostitute. He did not need Lucius Malfoy to buy him clothes like some whoring boy toy that chased older men to be taken care of. Harry didn’t need anything from anyone, especially not from an arrogant ass like Lucius.
So what if the man was hot? So what if Harry got weak in the knees and goddamn hard every time the bastard walked in the room? That didn’t give Lucius the right to anything. Not to being rude, not to burning his clothes, and not to touching him. And so what if that had felt goddamn amazing beyond belief? Fuck Lucius Malfoy, the neurotic piece of shit.
This was just another way for the man to piss him off, and control him at the same time. Dressing him like some child’s doll—Ridiculous! Growling, Harry took off for the bedrooms, stomping up the stairs, striding down the hall, and throwing Draco’s door open.
“Draco, wake up!” Harry growled, moving through the door and pulling the curtains open wide. Draco gave a grumble from the bed, face quickly hidden beneath covers.
“Go away… Sleeping,” Draco said with a yawn, only to snarl, Harry pulling the blankets off of him in one move. “Potter! What the hell!”
“Did your dad mention any of this to you?” Harry asked, ignoring Draco’s indignant glare.
“What?” Draco blinked at the paper Harry was crinkling at him, his eyes catching the company name at the top. “Ooh, I love these guys. They once made me—What? Why are you growling like that?” Draco asked, shimmying up the bed to get away from Harry’s angry expression.
“Is he buying me off?” Harry said ferociously. “Is he trying to get into my pants by buying me fucking pants!”
“What… Father? You think he’s…?” Draco trailed off, Harry watching his friend calculate like the Slytherin he was. “He could be. I wouldn’t put it past him,” Draco said finally, Harry scowling at the answer.
“Do I have slut written on my forehead or something? Why would he think I’d—?”
Draco raised his hand in a pacifying gesture. “Harry, not in that way. He’s just used to being able to do pretty much anything. That he bought you clothes to replace the old ones was just selfishness on his part. Likely because he wants to… Well, you know…” Draco trailed off with a frown. “He’s probably motivated by wanting in your pants, but I doubt he just assumes you’re going to feel obligated to screw him for the clothes. He knows you have your own money.”
Something tense and sick feeling inside of Harry loosened at the words and he sat heavily on Draco’s bed. It had hurt. Not just embarrassment, but outright hurt to think Lucius would think of him in such a way. “You’re sure?”
“Pretty sure. I mean, he’s been very different lately… but Father just has too much class to extort you for sex.” Draco gave Harry a long side glance, Harry catching it and blushing while looking away. He really didn’t need to be extorted for Lucius to get into his pants.
Clearing his throat, Draco sat up fully, handing the paper back to Harry. “So, there was one thing he did say to me that I thought you should know. Just so you don’t… I dunno, get your hopes up, or something.”
Again that flutter in Harry’s stomach, twisting painful in a way he just couldn’t fully understand. “Yeah?” He asked, his mouth feeling dry.
Draco tilted his head side to side for a moment, trying to think of a delicate way to phrase things. “He’s been seeing someone… Maybe more than one… He said it wasn’t ‘dating’ per se, so…”
“Ah.” Harry fell quiet, that uncomfortable feeling in his stomach growing to unbearable as the silence stretched between them. Of course Lucius was off having sex whenever he could. Why wouldn’t he? He was a grown man, extremely attractive, and no longer tied to his wife. What had Harry honestly thought? That Lucius actually had a thing for him? That the man might actually care? Lucius had proven time and time again that he could barely stand Harry’s presence.
“I, uh, didn’t know if I should tell you,” Draco said softly, hesitantly touching Harry’s shoulder. “You kept saying you didn’t like him and—”
“I don’t,” Harry said abruptly, jerking away. “He’s an arrogant ass that thinks he can manipulate me into different clothes just by burning mine and buying me new ones. He’s been mean and vindictive from the beginning, and I can’t stand him.” Harry wished his voice didn’t sound so hollow in his ears. “Fuck him,” he snapped, getting up and walking out of Draco’s room.
The next time Harry saw Lucius, he’d refuse the clothes. Whatever Lucius’s intentions, Harry could not handle the idea that the man might think he could win control over him in this way. Lucius was his host, and had been a damn terrible one, just maliciously assuming Harry knew all the rules while never explaining them. Harry should not want Lucius to care about him. That was just insane. There was already enough crazy going around Malfoy Manor without Harry succumbing to lunacy as well.
SCENE #Lonely rebellion
Lucius did not come back that evening, called away to a conference. Or so Draco said, looking at Harry with something akin to sympathy. Harry wondered if the man was off getting laid, fucking someone closer to his own age, or maybe closer to Harry’s instead. He hated every thought, and Lucius for making him think it at all. The bastard. Driving him crazy, poking at him, taunting him—Hell, touching him until Harry felt on fire. And then just walking away. Just to prove that he could. Because Lucius didn’t give a fuck about him.
The next morning Lucius still wasn’t home. In a fit of childish revenge, Harry went through the cupboards in the kitchen and took down all the boxes of tea. He carefully opened up every single packet of Lucius’s favorite tea, slipping the teabags out and replacing them with the mint that Harry had bought weeks ago before he had found the other tea to taste so good. And then he hid Lucius’s away in Harry’s box, knowing the man would never dare touch a brand so low class.
If Lucius thought what Harry did by accident was so terrible, just wait till the man had to deal with what Harry did on purpose.
By the afternoon, Harry was trailing mud through the kitchen. Blaise and Pansy were over again to swim, but Harry was stuck in pajama pants and unhappily dry. Draco raised a brow at Harry’s deliberate attempts to wipe his bare feet off on the inside of the kitchen door, but didn’t say a word. It wasn’t like it would be difficult for Lucius to clean. But difficulty didn’t seem to equate to the level of annoyance Lucius always seemed to reach when faced with Harry’s messes.
By dinner, Harry had ignored a healthy, deliciously cooked meal prepared by the house elves, for a bowl of cereal. He put the empty box next to the rest of the full ones, left the milk out on the table missing its top—which he had honestly accidentally lost—and left his dirty bowl and spoon in the place setting Lucius always sat. It remained there a day, accumulating two orange peels, three empty mugs of tea and a stack of three more bowls that had once contained cereal and ice cream, depending on Harry’s mood at the time.
The third morning when Harry woke up from a nightmare, he cast a sleeping spell so that he wouldn’t feel compelled to see if Lucius was back yet. His anger had left him feeling gritty inside, raw and bitter with the world. Harry didn’t want to feel that way anymore. He didn’t want to feel a goddamn thing at all when he thought about Lucius, and sleep was much easier than anything else.
SCENE #Jealous tea
Lucius had spent a miserable three days battling with the Ministry to stop the rezoning of residential homes for magic users. There had to be some protection. They couldn’t just expect that wizards and muggles could live side by side without proper defenses against prying eyes and twitchy fingers. Just think if a family like the Dursleys lived side by side with Malfoy Manor? They would have called the police countless times over trivial, pointless things they didn’t understand. They were ignorant and powerless, and would always be afraid of those who were not. And what did they do to those they were afraid of? Apparently they beat them and locked them under stairs in cupboards.
Lucius had done some digging, disguising himself and getting the Hogwarts’ groundskeeper so drunk that Hagrid had ended up bawling out Harry’s unfortunate tale. Lucius had spent the rest of the evening in the dark pub, drinking cheap ale and asking himself what the hell he was doing. Potter wasn’t some child in need of rescue anymore. If he wanted to take revenge on his abusive muggles that was completely up to him.
But Lucius also knew the boy wouldn’t. Wouldn’t want to. Might even have forgiven the wretched creatures. It didn’t sit well with Lucius, and he wasn’t certain why.
The Ministry was pushing for some ‘reasonable’ equality lately, and Lucius and his peers had to push back before the neighborhood went to trash. The Dursleys had taken a little boy into their home and had seen him, not for what he was, but as a monster. If such people could be so blind, so cruel to what was right under their noses, what would happen once a fence and lawn was there to make things look even more exaggerated and frightening? It would be torches and burnings all over again.
“Father, you look like shit,” Draco remarked, drinking down his mug of coffee like a fish in need of caffeinated water. Lucius was momentarily surprised to find his son in the kitchen so early, only to remember it was no longer early. Lucius had stayed out too late with Hagrid, the half-giant’s stories rather interesting once the blond had gotten enough pints in his bloodstream. It was Friday, and he could afford to be late for work after the last three days of torture.
“The Ministry was being difficult,” Lucius disclosed, his eyes slowly moving around his kitchen. It showed the remains of hurricane Harry all over it; mud, dishes—Damn it, the milk! “For some reason they think muggles can be trained to be civilized and domestic. I have living proof to the contrary.”
Pulling out his wand, Lucius began spelling everything clean, grabbing the now cottage cheese that had used to be milk and dumping it down the garbage disposal.
“I told you to leave him alone,” Draco said, his voice carrying a hard edge. “He’s not some plaything. He’s pissed you’re playing dress up with him.”
Pausing in front of his boiling water, Lucius pursed his lips. “So he didn’t like the clothes?”
“Don’t know. A rack of them just arrived but he’s still sleeping.” Draco shrugged, watching his father carefully. “It doesn’t matter if they’re everything he’s ever wanted. He won’t except a gift like that. He sees strings, and let’s face it, you’re not really known for your generosity.”
Lucius sighed heavily, feeling his exhausting week sink deep into his bones. “Do you have any suggestions?” He asked his son, knowing Draco was pushing at something.
“Yeah, stay away from him.”
Lucius did roll his eyes this time. “Drink another cup of coffee and then answer me. He needs clothes. He has practically nothing now.”
“All thanks to you,” Draco reminded, drinking down the rest of his cup with a gulp.
Lucius snapped his head up, glaring. “If you think me remorseful, you are very wrong. Those clothes were unfit for anyone. That he’s Harry Potter, and a guest in my house, is just coincidence.”
“Sure,” the boy drawled, hiding his smirk behind his cup.
“Draco,” Lucius said warningly, tearing a packet of tea open and throwing the teabag into his cup. “If you care anything for your friend, you will help me so that he won’t be walking around in the same disgusting outfit for the rest of the summer.”
Draco shrugged, pretending he didn’t care in the least. Lucius scowled, pouring scalding water into his mug and letting it sit. He then turned to his obnoxious son, arms folded over his chest. It was a silent standoff, Draco fixing his father with a long side glance that eventually broke.
“Fine, whatever,” Draco muttered. “But nothing you do is going to work. Maybe a week ago, but not anymore.”
“Why?” Lucius stared at the handprint he had missed on the wall, looking suspiciously of crushed fruity pebbles. Muggle nonsense junk food…
“Because he’s jealous,” Draco sneered just saying the words, slamming his mug down too roughly on the kitchen island. “The bloody idiot is hurt over you. All you’ve done is treat him like shit, and he’s throwing a damn tantrum that you left. You should have seen him when I told him you’re out with other men—I don’t like any of this, Father. He’s more a mess now than when he left those muggles. I never should have brought him here.”
Lucius stiffened at the implication, his mind stuttering to a halt. Drinking last night had been a mistake because surely that was why he was feeling slightly giddy. Harry was jealous… The little, tormenting, green-eyed demon didn’t want Lucius out, screwing other men. It was interesting. Very interesting.
Lucius snagged his mug from behind him, sipping his tea as he thought. He then paused, scowl spreading across his face while he glared down at the green tinted mixture. Head jerking to the side, he picked up the box of tea, flipping the lid open and glaring at the contents. They looked perfectly normal. He pulled out another packet, tearing it open and sniffing hesitantly.
The goddamn hellion.
Draco silently watched his father dump his tea down the sink and begin tearing through the tea packets one by one, until a pile of torn paper and rejected teabags scattered the counter. Harry had suddenly started drinking his own tea recently, avoiding Lucius’s like the plague. Draco had assumed his friend just didn’t want to have anything to do with his father, including his tea. Apparently not the case. Draco had no interest in telling his father where he thought his tea was hiding, Lucius’s angry muttering extremely satisfying after all the trouble he had caused.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Draco asked innocently, holding up the glass carafe to Lucius.
Glaring at his son threateningly, Lucius swept the pile of dreadful mint tea into the dumpster. He had to get to work. He had to get himself together, face his day with the right foot forward, and do what needed to be done. Lucius had done it everyday, even when his father had beaten him near death the night before, even when his son had been born, even when his wife decided that family and duty just wasn’t enough and had packed up and left. Lucius had moved resilient during every instance in his life, letting go of the irrelevant and forging forward as he knew he must.
Today, Lucius had to get to work.
“I’m going to shave,” he muttered to his smirking son, turning on his heel and leaving the kitchen. Once in the upstairs hallway, Lucius ignored the many things he had to do, and instead stalked towards the room Harry was still sleeping in. Work be damned.
SCENE #Spell gone wrong
“My tea, Potter? Every drop of my tea?” Lucius stood in the doorway, glaring into the dim lighting of the room, drapes still closed tight. Harry didn’t stir. Odd, because he knew the boy was a light sleeper, always jumping awake at the sound of people walking by his door. Realizing the brat was playing possum, Lucius shut the door behind him and glided to the bed to loom menacingly.
Harry continued to lie still, chest rising peacefully in rhythm to his quiet breaths of air. He was beautiful, unassuming and taunting at the same time. “Potter, you’re not fooling me. I’ve seen enough people pretending…” Lucius stopped, frowning at just how still the air seemed to be around Harry’s bed.
Maybe the little brat wasn’t pretending.
Glancing around the room to the nightstand, bureau, and even trunk when very little of any items could be found, Lucius sought out Harry’s wand. Surely he wouldn’t… But no, it was in his hand, fingers curled lightly around it, power still active as it drew energy from Harry’s unconscious form. Judging the situation carefully for a few long moments, Lucius eventually reached his hand out, knocking Harry’s elbow so that the wand went flying out of the boy’s grasp and clattered safely on the ground.
“Potter?” Lucius asked, bending over as the stillness began to fade, the spell slipping away without power to drain. When Harry didn’t answer, Lucius gently touched his cheek.
Harry gasped, hands flying out in front of him, eyes snapping open to reveal pure terror. Lucius remained perfectly still, allowing Harry to adjust to reality and release whatever nightmare he had been caught in.
“L-Lucius?” Harry finally asked, his body slowly relaxing. “Why are you…?” He squinted, reaching for his glasses on the nightstand. Lucius grabbed his hand before he could, pinning Harry’s wrists to the mattress.
“What did you do? Was that… intentional?” Lucius asked cautiously, trying to read the boy’s face. All he could discern was confusion and the beginnings of a flush on Harry’s cheeks.
“I don’t understand. I haven’t done anything,” Harry self-consciously muttered, wishing Lucius wasn’t leaning so close. He was supposed to be angry at the man, not pleased to find him in his bedroom. Lucius always disoriented him.
“You cast a sleeping charm on yourself,” Lucius said tightly, Harry blinking back.
“S-So? Ron used to do it all the time, whenever I woke up with nightmares at school and couldn’t sleep. I just… I just wanted to sleep, that’s all,” Harry whispered, looking away from the intense silver gaze boring into him.
Lucius’s frown deepened to severe. “The next time you wake up from a nightmare, you will either wake Draco or me. We will cast you asleep. One must never cast themselves asleep, Potter. Never.”
“W-Why?” Harry asked, gaze jumping back at the almost desperate note in Lucius’s voice.
“Because if you are not discovered, you will sleep to death. That is why we have sleeping draughts and even disposable charms. By Merlin—Do you know nothing!” Lucius pushed himself away with a frustrated growl, Harry rubbing his wrists from the dull pain he had left.
Harry sat up unsteadily, his heart pounding in his chest. He slipped his glasses on, tracking Lucius’s movements as the man paced haltingly in his bedroom. Harry opened his mouth to speak, to explain he hadn’t realized, when Lucius turned and fixed him with a glare. Harry clicked his mouth shut, silent.
“I’m sorry about your clothes,” Lucius said roughly, his teeth possibly cracking for how tight his jaw was clenched.
“W-What?” Harry asked, completely flabbergasted.
“I am sorry I burned your clothes. It was wrong of me. I was behaving rudely. Please accept the new clothing as my apology.” He knew he sounded disingenuous, but Lucius could not think straight, could not smooth himself as needed to say whatever was required to fix this maddening boy. He wanted to yell and roar, and possibly break things—Nothing that was of use at the moment.
Eyes wide as saucers, Harry nodded his acceptance, unable to speak at the moment. Lucius Malfoy did not apologize. Harry knew because Draco never apologized, and the boy was a pale echo of his father’s stubbornness. Lucius went to leave, and Harry snapped to reality. “Wait!”
Lucius froze, glaring over his shoulder. Harry stilled at the molten gaze, but forced himself to continue. “Don’t leave here thinking I tried to hurt myself. I would never—Not intentionally. I’m j-just, well, muggle raised. I don’t always know what everyone else knows.”
Lucius gave a curt nod and was out the door before Harry had finished his sentence. He was down the stairs moments later, growling loudly, the noise growing as he passed the kitchen and garbage full of tea.
“Father, you’re not ready—What’s wrong?” Draco asked, leaning around the corner, coffee mug still in hand.
“I’m going out,” Lucius said tersely, watching his son cringe at his murderous tone.
“But work…” Draco blinked at Lucius, looking all the world like a wide eyed snowy owl fallen from its perch. “Father, you’re only in a t-shirt. At least put on a proper shirt before—” Draco yelped, falling backwards as Lucius sent a vase smashing across the hallway in the opposite direction.
“Watch Potter!” Was all Lucius managed to spit out before rounding out the back door and apparating with a thunderous crack.
SCENE #Draco’s war at home
Harry was just pulling himself free of the bedspread when Draco came rushing in, a mix of fear and confusion on his face. “What happened! Did you fight! Was it the clothes!”
Harry stumbled backwards from the assault of questions, nearly braining himself on the nightstand. Situating his glasses back on his face, Harry blanched to find Draco right in his personal space. “W-what?”
“What happened?” Draco repeated, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and shaking him. It would have been comical if Harry didn’t feel so bloody dizzy and light headed since waking. Sleep charms always left him groggy.
Harry lightly shoved his friend away, falling back to sit on the bed. “I’m not sure,” he said weakly, eyes focusing on his wand. For some reason it was on the floor where anyone could step on it. Harry quickly picked it up and placed it safely on the nightstand.
“My father just mauled a vase while running out of here. Something happened!” Draco hissed, looking Harry up and down. The boy didn’t look particularly ravished, just the same old mess of hair as always. Which just left fighting. But whatever they were fighting about had to be beyond anything normal. Lucius was not the type to have fits of rages. Especially around his family. The man held a steel trap on his anger, Draco suspected because Lucius’s father had been reputed to be brutal with his fury.
Harry shrugged uncomfortably, looking up at Draco. “I think he thought I had done something.”
“The tea? He got worked up over the damn tea!”
“Stop yelling,” Harry urged, wincing when Draco hit one of his particularly screeching notes. “It wasn’t the tea. I woke up after a nightmare and charmed myself asleep. He seemed to think that it was a bad thing to do.”
Draco blinked, trying to process the information. “So? I use charms all the time when I can’t sleep. We all do…”
“No,” Harry amended, realizing he had phrased things wrong. “I used my wand. I cast a sleep charm on myself.”
Draco gaped. Without warning, he reached over and punched Harry in the arm. “Are you out of your mind? You could have killed yourself! If I had tried to wake you and didn’t know it, I could have ended up dead too! Everyone knows—!”
Harry grabbed Draco’s fists before the boy could swing again. “I didn’t. Muggle raised. I never even cast one before. Ron usually did it for me. I didn’t know there was a problem with a simple spell like that.”
Draco snapped his mouth shut, relaxing his grip so Harry would let him go. Draco then punched his friend again, Harry swearing at the obvious sham. “Potter, if this had happened three days ago, Father could have walked in on both of us starved while asleep. You need to think before you act. Ignorance is no fucking excuse.”
Harry knew from experience that three days was not long enough to starve, but it didn’t seem the right time to bring up the fact. “I will never do it again, I promise. I didn’t know. Now I do. I’m more concerned your father is calling to have me admitted for trying to off myself like a nutter.”
Draco shook his head at the words. “He knows you’re an idiot—At least, that’s what he’s always telling me. I doubt he thinks that it was on purpose.”
Harry was not so certain. “He thinks everything I do is on purpose. Like it’s my life’s goal to bother him. I’m sure this is just another in the long list. Get this—He apologized to me about burning my clothes.”
“No he didn’t,” Draco said flatly, wondering if maybe Harry was losing his mind.
“Yeah, he did. Told me the new clothes were to be taken as an apology. He must think I’m off my rocker, saying something like that to me.”
Draco blinked wearily a few times and then sprawled back on Harry’s bed. His life was going to shit. All he wanted to do was have his friend over for the summer so Harry would be safe and he could have company. How did it get so complicated?
Draco knew it was the drawbacks of being friends with Harry; it always had been. The boy was a Gryffindor—The worst offense. He was also an absolute troublemaker, always dragging Draco into so much danger at school just to get them out of it almost as quickly. And of course, he was such a mental headcase, like crazy emotional mess when it came to anything more complicated than holding hands. That Lucius had gotten sucked in was just one more casualty to the wild war that was Harry Potter.
Lucius had apologized. Draco wasn’t certain exactly what it meant, but it was bad. Very fucking bad. Life changing, earth shattering, his father was losing his shit bad. And then he had gotten angry and broken something. Draco was going to be an orphan. Worse, he was going to be Longbottom, having two parents that were so out of their minds they couldn’t do a damn thing. He was turning into Neville.
Harry watched his friend sigh with deep angst and emotion, not sure what to do. “I swear, Draco. I wouldn’t put you at risk like that. I really didn’t know.”
Draco sighed again, covering his eyes with his hands. “Potter, shut up for a second.”
Harry did, scratching the back of his head.
After a few minutes Draco sat up, resolved to face the day. “He’s a grown man. He can take care of himself. Let’s get you into some clothes already and get out of the house. I’ll leave a note, just in case Father comes back.” Draco said it all very deliberately, as if they were planning a military strategy, and not an outing for fun. Harry nodded, not about to disagree.
SCENE #Lucius hunts for answers
Lucius was feeling like a rabid wolf, foaming and confused, and wanting to strike out. So it was no surprise to him when he found himself in the Silver Forest of Zasu, quite literally his old hunting grounds. He used to come out here when he was in his twenties to hone his accuracy and release his frustrations. The sleek and beautiful Basial, no larger than a bobcat with their speed and dangerous claws, had been Lucius’s favorite prey, to the point that he would not kill them for he respected the creatures too much. He would, however, stalk them down and stun the hell out of them.
He was not prepared. No water or weapons beyond his wand. As a wizard, his magic was everything. It could sustain him with summoning liquid, striking down enemies, and even apparating far away if he came across a foe too dangerous. But the intense focus needed for such actions was beyond Lucius right now. He was angry. He wanted to fight something. And he wanted to get hurt doing it.
Beneath his anger was a feeling. It burned his veins. Twisted his stomach. Stole the moisture from his mouth. It compelled him to do crazy, irrational things—Like apologize. Lucius did not want to have this feeling. It had left him after his third lashing, along with the boy he had protected, and Lucius had promised he would never let it in again. He was not some flighty child that could afford such emotion. Even as a young man his father had proven to Lucius he could not afford such weakness.
He stilled, the forest strange around him, different than moments ago. He was not being quiet enough. All small prey had fled with each ill-controlled step he took. There was a thin, soft carpet of leaves beneath his feet, hard packed earth of the old trail peeking through. Trees rose up tall around him, their canopy so thick that the mid day light left dark shadows on the ground, dazzling spots of blinding sun bouncing up at Lucius’s eyes. In one of those large shadows was something… Something too big to be a Basial.
That giddy feeling in his kitchen should have warned him away but he had been foolish. After so many years, he had been confident that nothing could rouse his heart again. Mostly because he had half wondered if it had been damaged the way his body had. For every scar Lucius hid on his body, his heart echoed.
The dragon was small, not fully grown. It was not sleeping, but may have been moments ago. Its tail, slithering over the texture of the underbrush, had caught Lucius’s attention. The stillness of the forest, warning him away from the pile of scrubby brush and broken twigs that on closer inspection were bones, kept Lucius from making the wrong move. His anger drained, to replace with adrenaline. He had come looking for a fight, but a massacre was less of interest.
Lucius knew Harry was powerful. Draco used to come home summers, raving with clear jealousy that the boy-who-lived had exploded another thing, sometimes another person. But he was also so fragile. Something right beneath the surface, fluttering desperate for attention, while at the same time begging to never be exposed. Lucius recognized it. The desperate, helpless cry for affection, even while brusquely telling himself that it was a weakness. The want for protection, even though as a wizard nothing should ever physically hurt again.
Lucius stopped his edging steps away. The dragon swished in its dwelling, puffing dark smoke, warning him that to continue to stand there was to risk more than just claw and fang. Lucius stood his ground.
What was the worst that could happen? The boy could find him too old? Too dull? Perhaps he wouldn’t, not right away. Maybe it would be the rest of summer, only to have Harry go back to school and never think of him again. While something inside Lucius might hurt… Might even break and never heal again. Was that the very worst thing?
The brush gave a shudder as the hiding beast roared, more smoke rising, roiling a dark cloud of scalding steam around them. Lucius cast a spell over his eyes, allowing him to see through the ash. It was lumbering up, long neck twisting, leathery wings unfurling as they cracked through the brambles and thorns of its nest.
Was a burn worth the dazzle of fire up close? Wasn’t that always the consequence? Everyone knew that to stand before a dragon was the surest way to get burned. What about hellfire? The demonic, green-eyed trickster, likely tearing up his house at that very moment, was full of hellfire. What would that burn like if Lucius stayed to find out?
SCENE #A tentative truce
Harry had never worn clothes that felt as good as the ones Mr. Adler produced. Even if some of them made him look like a preppy, stuck up poof, they all felt amazing on his skin. He had never expected that with expensive clothes. He had assumed they would be so formal and uncomfortable that all he would do was itch—Like church clothing. It was a new experience, one purely thanks to Lucius and his messed up behavior.
Harry was wearing a pair of silky dark green pajamas, not made to look particularly spectacular, but somehow managing to look just that, while also whispering over his skin like a caress with every movement. It made Harry think of Lucius’s hands moving over him, firm and warm, sometimes just brushing gently when seeking out holes. But then he started wondering where Lucius’s hands were at that very moment and on whose body. Likely on someone with clothing that had never been owned long enough to see a hole. It was a terrible feeling and Harry ducked his head and huffed.
Harry had been sitting in the kitchen for an hour and forty-five minutes after his latest nightmare. Lucius had not come back again and Harry had been left ruminating on where the man went when not at home or at work. And then he had been stuck brooding on why he had to care so much. Lucius was a bother, a total pain, and he couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Had he fallen for Lucius like some idiotic, love-crazed, hormonal teenager? Shit, Pansy wasn’t even this bad and she’d been obsessed with the man for years.
How the hell had Lucius gotten to him? Harry had so many defenses in place to avoid ever getting close—Or even desiring to get close. People hurt him. Especially people that got under his guard. Harry knew the ways Draco would hurt him, and had accepted that as part of their friendship, the same with Ron and Hermione. Lucius had somehow gotten closer, digging in with his cruel comments and offhanded compliments, making Harry so confused, he had lost his mind and dropped all his barriers without even knowing it.
There was a thud down the hall, Harry listening intently. It was the arrival chamber, the sound of bags banging through the floo. Harry was not surprised when Lucius appeared minutes later, slipping through the kitchen door since the man hated floo travel.
Harry observed Lucius silently as he stepped in, wishing he wasn’t so damn happy and angry to see the man. Then he sat up straight, jumping to his feet in a hurry. “You’re bleeding!”
Lucius grunted, eyes narrowing when he caught sight of Harry. The shoulder of his white undershirt was burnt black and torn, revealing bloodied flesh beneath it. “Potter, why are you always haunting my kitchen?”
Concern lodging in his throat, Harry glared instead. He reached across the table, picking up a still sealed cannister of Floral Delights orange and cinnamon passionflower blend tea. He dropped it into Lucius’s grasp. “I’m sorry I messed with your tea. This has a sealing charm on it, so it’s always fresh.”
Lucius glanced at the canister, a strange smirk twisting his lips for a moment. “It’s looseleaf.”
“Yeah. The saleslady said it’s more potent when you can… What?” Harry sighed at the bemused expression pointed his way.
“I don’t have anything to brew looseleaf tea with.”
“Oh, well, sorry. I can go buy something to—”
“You can’t seem to get anything right.” Lucius cut him off, placing the tea down on the counter and hissing as his shoulder pulled.
Jolting as if struck, Harry really hoped Lucius’s shoulder hurt more than it looked. “Right, so I’m going to go anywhere else but here right now,” Harry grumbled, turning away to leave.
“Everyone else in the house always hated tea,” Lucius continued, hand falling on Harry’s shoulder and holding him still. “It’s very difficult to indulge oneself when you have people nattering about just how dreary your enjoyments are. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Harry glanced to the side. Lucius sounded conversational instead of how he had initially thought insulting. “I enjoy the tea,” he said after a moment, still wary.
“Even though it’s herbal and doesn’t give you a jump in the morning.”
“After my nightmares, the last thing I need is a swig of caffeine. And really, who wants to have to rely on a drug just to be able to wake up?” Harry turned halfway, resting his hip on the counter.
“Exactly. They can’t even get themselves moving without their addiction. I can’t imagine dragging myself out of bed every morning… just hoping for what might be waiting in my kitchen.” Lucius was staring at Harry very peculiarly, his tongue running over his teeth. Harry met the man’s gaze, taking a step back when Lucius grinned wickedly.
“How do you like the new clothes?” Lucius asked, predatory eyes running up and down Harry’s pajama clad form.
Harry blushed and shrugged, biting his lip and taking another step back. He had told himself he wasn’t going to get caught up with Lucius again. That he didn’t want the man to touch him, no matter how nice an idea it might seem at the time. “They’re, uh, soft. Nice on my skin.” Harry flinched internally, hating his brain from bringing up the most superficial aspect of the clothes when Lucius was looking at him that way.
“Are they?” Lucius didn’t step, so much as glide forward until he was trapping Harry into the corner of the counter. He slipped his hand up, running his fingertips over the buttons of Harry’s top.
Harry raised his head, telling himself he wasn’t falling for any of it. “What happened to your shoulder? It looks… Did you get scorched by a dragon?” He carefully touched Lucius’s arm, pulling at the singed fabric, which crumbled beneath his fingertips. “What were you doing?”
“Letting off some steam,” Lucius said simply, unbuttoning the top button of Harry’s shirt.
“You need a healer. I’d do it but with my luck lately you’d end up with another burn.”
“I’m fine.” Lucius pulled another button free, eyes glancing up to the boy’s blushing face. “So you’re keeping the clothes?”
Harry turned his head slightly away, Lucius breathing too close and making him feel hot all over. He was standing only an inch away and Harry could feel the man’s body heat radiating. It was strange having Lucius in short sleeves with his muscles exposed and bulging. Almost indecent after always seeing him in a dress shirt. But Lucius had asked him something… about keeping the clothes…
Harry blushed as the silence stretched. “Yes,” he said awkwardly. “It beats the alternative.”
“Walking around my kitchen nude, right?” Lucius smirked again, lips brushing over Harry’s ear and making his knees shake.
Come on! How did the man do that? Harry ducked away, managing to get under Lucius’s arm and free from the corner. He breathed out shakily, running a hand through his dark locks. “Listen, Lucius. I just need you to know I wasn’t intentionally trying to kill myself… or Draco for that matter, or anything like that.”
“I know,” Lucius said, turning and leaning against the counter and tracking Harry with his gaze. The man was strangely calm. No anger bubbling beneath the surface. Harry actually found it unnerving. At least when Lucius was angry, he knew what to expect. Well, not really—But at least he knew the man was angry. Now he didn’t even know that much.
“I’m serious. I need to make sure you don’t think I was trying to, you know…”
“I do know.” Lucius held his hand out and Harry, for reasons absolutely unknown to him, took it. Lucius pulled him close, wrapping his arms loosely around Harry’s hips, leaving inches again between them. He ran his eyes down the front of the boy’s shirt, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows. “It is the most damnedest thing, you know.”
Harry shook his head, not knowing a thing at the moment, Lucius feeling warm and comforting. This was the feeling he had told himself to avoid. This fuzzy thing that seemed to have less to do with sexual attraction and more with those awful emotions he couldn’t handle.
“You don’t have any holes.”
“I better not. I just got the damn things,” Harry muttered, raising his arm to make sure he hadn’t already torn his new clothes.
“It’s odd,” Lucius said, dipping his head lower, breathing in the scent of Harry’s skin and soft hair. “I think I miss them.”
Harry shivered, fire spreading over his skin. He had suspected as much, Lucius such a neurotic pain that he probably had some secret—or in this case just blatant—kink for his horrible clothes. Maybe now Lucius would leave him alone… Go off and chase his line of wealthy pretty people that would know how to be proper around a man like him. Harry internally scowled at the thought.
Gently pushing at Lucius’s biceps, careful to not harm his injured shoulder, Harry stepped back. “Right, so I just wanted to be clear about that sleeping charm. I won’t ever do anything like that again. And you don’t need to worry.”
“I know.” Lucius kept looking at him, so calm, so intently, and Harry felt like some stupid frozen idiot. He didn’t want to go. He wasn’t angry enough to leave, or angry enough to kiss the man, for that matter. So he was just kind of stuck, resting his back on the kitchen table and holding onto the lip behind him. Lucius mirrored his posture on the counter, eyebrows raised with a small smile quirking his lips.
“Did you want some tea?” Lucius eventually asked.
“Err… looseleaf, remember?” Harry reminded quietly.
“Right, but I also bought some.” Lucius moved, Harry’s eyes following the man’s feet as he stepped around and left the kitchen to grab the bags he had sent through the floo. Harry heard them rustling behind him, Lucius placing bundles on the table. Harry wondered briefly if this was when Lucius would start giving him crap about the tea, and he turned expectantly. His eyes widened, counting quickly while Lucius carefully arranged the boxes in front of him.
“Didn’t want to take any chances,” Lucius murmured when Harry continued to gape. “Anything you take a shine to tends to need quick replacement or you become… lets say, messy,” Lucius drawled, pointing to the cereal coated handprint he had forgotten to clean.
Harry blushed, finding his voice. “I’m not going to drink all of that! You’ve got at least twenty boxes there.”
“Well, that is the hope. That you might be willing to share.”
Harry snapped his eyes up, watching Lucius fight a smile. The prat was mocking him. But not in a mean way… more playful. “What the hell did that dragon do to you?”
“Pardon?” Lucius asked, his smile breaking free.
Harry swore quietly under his breath—Lucius should not be allowed to smile. Not with the morning light turning his gray eyes pale blue, his blond hair fanning soft around his face, and with two days stubble on his jaw. It was very much unfair to his senses. “Do you have a concussion? Fever? Why are you smiling?”
Lucius tried to fight his smile back, but it only worked for a moment, now his perfectly white teeth coming into play. Harry bit his thumb, crushing it against his lips while narrowing his eyes warily. This was a different game from Lucius, and one Harry was not certain he could win.
“I was thinking of something,” Lucius admitted quietly, stepping around the table and snagging Harry’s free wrist. He pulled it up, running his other hand over Harry’s palm, fingers tripping and teasing lightly.
“And what would that be?” Harry asked around his thumb, eyes jumping from his hand to Lucius’s thankfully diminished smile. The full wattage had been nearly blinding.
“Something Draco had said the other morning. About why you were so upset.” Lucius pulled Harry’s wrist up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the narrow flesh.
There couldn’t be any way to turn redder, but he managed. Even though they had a chair between them, Harry felt completely exposed and vulnerable all of a sudden. “Upset?”
“Yes. He had thought you were jealous.” Lucius was smiling again, now against Harry’s wrist. “It was a nice thought, Harry.”
Harry was pretty sure he was going to bite right through his own thumb. Why was it nice? Why was Lucius smiling like that, like someone sweet and caring, and thinking him being jealous was nice? And the way he had just said his name, ‘Harry,’ like it was the best sounding word out there. Like maybe Lucius liked him? Like maybe he might even more than like him… Harry suddenly became aware of his heart racing in his ears, pounding in his chest.
Lucius’s grip on Harry’s wrist tightened, his head tilting slightly, eyes watching as the boy’s breath quickened. “It’s okay.”
Harry shook his head, his lungs feeling tight. “Not… not even.” Fuck, he was having a panic attack. Lucius might actually like him, and his response was to freak out like some weak, crazy idiot, and have a panic attack. Fuck. What the hell was wrong with him?
“Calm down… just focus on breathing.” Lucius stepped around the chair, his smile replaced with concern. Harry stepped back, eyes wide, but Lucius didn’t seem to notice. He pulled Harry’s thumb from the death grip his teeth had on it, and held the boy firmly by the shoulders. “Just breathe. Close your eyes.”
That seemed even more impossible than breathing at the moment, the man’s intense gaze snaring Harry so completely while he struggled to get air in. As if understanding, Lucius gently placed his palm over Harry’s brow and pressed his eyelids down.
“Good. Now just focus on your breathing. Think of how you want to breathe, nice and slow. Try and pull in as much air as you can… Hold it in your lungs as long as you can… And then release it, as slow as possible, making a soft hissing noise.”
Harry wondered how Lucius knew this. Draco had never known anyone to have panic attacks before Harry. He had never told anyone besides Draco, afraid to be made fun of. Afraid if others knew his weakness it would somehow make him even weaker.
“You’re doing fine. I know it’s frightening to not have your breath but it’s right there. It just feels out of reach.”
Lucius was right; it was right there, just hovering out of reach. Harry’s lungs kept moving, spasming like some flopping fish, but he was surrounded by air. He just had to reach for it.
“H-How… do you… know?” Harry gasped.
“My mother. She couldn’t handle my father well… Not many of us could.” Lucius ran his palm over Harry’s back in small, soothing circles. His voice was low, lulling and reassuring. “But when I reminded her she wasn’t alone in those moments, she would eventually calm and breathe again.”
Harry focused on the feeling of warmth moving over his back. The even breaths from Lucius puffing over his cheek, ruffling his hair. The scent of the man, currently charred and tinged with sweat. And the tea, the smell of tea was below it all as the boxes rested on the table.
“There you go.” Lucius didn’t stop rubbing Harry’s back, even as his breathing leveled to something calm and normal. “How do you feel?” He asked, fingers gently pressing to Harry’s cheek until the boy opened his eyes.
“Embarrassed,” Harry admitted, his voice barely a whisper.
Lucius nodded as if it were perfectly okay. “Sometimes our body wants to tell us something so much, it stops everything else until you have to pay attention. Once you realize what yours is trying to say to you, it should stop sending such a loud message.”
Harry looked away, not wanting to think about why he had panicked. “I, um, can smell the tea.”
“Then let’s have some tea.” Lucius turned to put the kettle on, again flinching when he lifted his shoulder too high.
Harry watched him, his mind somehow quiet in the man’s ritual movements. “Tell me what happened to your shoulder.”
“Afraid I burned someone’s luggage?” Lucius teased, glancing behind him to catch Harry’s blush.
“No.” Harry bit his lip, thinking if Lucius had, he’d be really jealous about it. Which was just stupid and crazy. His eyes followed down the muscles of Lucius’s back, catching on the hem of his shirt stained with dirt, belt peeking out below. There was dust and drops of blood, black blood, staining his trousers, the amount increasing the closer to Lucius’s mud covered shoes. This was probably the messiest Harry had ever seen Lucius and he had to admit, he liked it.
Lucius turned, a steaming mug in hand that he handed to Harry to let steep. Harry tried to hold it but still felt weak, and placed it on the table for the moment. There was little room with all the boxes, but he managed.
“Have you ever been hunting?”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t really like guns.”
“No guns, just wands. It’s much easier to catch and release. Although, that is not always the common ideology,” Lucius added with a purse to his lips.
“Was that what you were doing?” Harry scratched the back of his head, taking in the rip on Lucius’s right knee and the tear in the seam of his shirt under his left elbow. Had Lucius been hunting and only managed to get a couple spots of dirt on him? It figured.
“Sometimes you really need to move.” Lucius tried a sip of his tea, blowing lightly while he poked at the teabag bobbing at the top. “Otherwise, you just go mad.”
Nodding, Harry observed the man through lowered lashes. Lucius did seem less mad. “So hunting is good for that? Moving enough to stop being crazy.”
“Sometimes. You’ll find yourself hard pressed to find many sports among wizards that don’t involve a huge team and overly complicated rules. Although flying can help too,” Lucius added, remembering Harry was a seeker in that moment. His eyes lingered on the boy, but still he made no move to do anything but talk. “You haven’t had your tea.”
Harry blinked down, reaching for the mug, his hand unsteady. He could feel Lucius watching him, but the man didn’t comment on his weakness after his panic attack.
“Maybe you’d like to try hunting?” Lucius suggested while Harry fumbled with his cup and finally managed to get a sip of the hot liquid. “It’s much safer with more than one person.”
“Maybe.” The tea was soothing and Harry continued to take long sips from it even though it burned.
“Maybe you’d prefer something indoors?” Lucius continued, his gaze intent on Harry’s face. “With less chance of hazards?”
Harry rolled his eyes, fire rising to his cheeks again. “I’m not going to hurt myself hunting. I’m very good at shooting things that don’t move. I do it all the time, and no one is hurt.”
Lucius smirked, placing his tea down. Harry watched him warily over the top of his mug, but that was also removed by the man’s very steady hands. The boxes were going to get crushed. All that tea smooshed. Harry was having a difficult time caring, anticipation thrumming in him. Lucius pushed Harry back, boxes tumbling to the floor with a dull clatter. Harry gazed up, wondering where his mug had gone even as Lucius pressed ever closer to his face.
“Actually, I was thinking dinner.”
“W-what?” Harry asked, certain he had misheard things. Lucius was inches from his ear, but it was very difficult to hear over the blood rushing in his veins.
“I’d like to take you to dinner. Just the two of us.”
Harry’s mouth felt dry. “Um…”
Lucius was asking him out on a date. The man had gone mad. All this calm was just the beginning of the end because there was no way Lucius could want to date him.
“We could go out or stay in. Whatever you like, Harry.” Lucius had found the buttons to the boy’s shirt again but was ignoring them for the way the material gaped in between. He slipped a finger through the slit of smooth fabric, brushing against Harry’s chest.
“Uh… that is… if you want,” Harry mumbled, eyes fluttering shut at the soft touch.
Lucius pressed his lips to the boy’s ear, then parted them, nipping lightly on the outer curl. Harry breathed out noisily, his shoulders jerking suddenly. “I want to know what you want.”
“Oh.” Eyes blinking open, Harry’s gaze fell to the collar of Lucius’s t-shirt stained with a touch of char and sweat. He reached his hand up, tugging at it lightly, watching with interest when the man swallowed, the hollow of his throat fluttering in response. “What about Draco?”
“He’s not invited.”
“That’s not what—”
“I could send him to live with his mother,” Lucius offered dryly before nipping Harry’s throat.
Harry gasped, then moaned as Lucius’s tongue soothed over the heated mark. “G-Going out might be nice.” So what if Lucius was mad as a hatter? Harry really wanted to go on a date with him.
“Tonight?” Lucius asked, mouth suddenly below Harry’s ear, lightly sucking on the sensitive flesh. “I can reserve us something.”
“Okay… just nothing too stuffy,” Harry added, panting softly. “I get nervous around fancy things.”
“And then you break them. I am well aware,” Lucius purred.
Harry’s eyes widened, hands suddenly clinging to the man’s back when Lucius wrapped an arm around his hips and pushed their lower bodies together. “Hell—Not on purpose.”
“Of course,” Lucius agreed unconvincingly, his mouth opening wider, tongue laving Harry’s neck in a long swipe. “You are extremely well behaved.”
Harry groaned, his head falling back to crush a box of tea. “I am,” he insisted weakly.
Lucius found another spot to suck on Harry’s throat, pulling a heated moan from the boy. “I’m not disagreeing.”
“You are… you jerk.” Harry knew sarcasm, especially Lucius’s special brand of it even when kissed into his flesh. More boxes suddenly thumped to the ground, along with the metallic ring of a spoon, Harry’s retort lost when Lucius pushed him further towards the center of the table.
Hips holding Harry in place, Lucius raised himself enough to finally get the rest of the boy’s buttons. He carefully spread the dark green fabric aside, revealing Harry’s warm honey flesh flushed with want. Harry watched, feeling almost in a dream when Lucius bent his head and ran his tongue over one of his dusky nipples, pulling the nub into his mouth and sucking.
“Oh… oh god,” Harry gasped, his brows furrowed, breathing strained. He wrapped his hands in Lucius’s hair, running fingers through. The table gave a warning groan and Harry whimpered, pulling to get the man’s attention. “Lucius.”
“I know.” Lucius didn’t stop what he was doing, gently biting and tugging at Harry’s sore bud.
“The table’s going to…” Harry tried again, another moan stealing his train of thought.
“You just can’t help yourself,” Lucius said with a sigh, moving to give the other nipple the same treatment.
Harry gaped, his hips jolting up to rub against the man’s hard body. “Damn—Oh hell… oh… You’re heavier than me.”
Lucius hummed into Harry’s chest, tongue moving in languid trails. “I’ve had this table for ten years. Now, all of a sudden, it’s breaking. I’m pretty sure this is your doing, Potter.”
Harry gave an indignant growl, only to cry out, clutching Lucius tight as the table shuddered, the last of the boxes tumbling to the floor as one of the legs snapped. Lucius kept Harry from following, his arm still wrapped around the boy’s hips. He pulled Harry to his feet, Harry feeling dizzy, face full of heat from the change in position.
“You are a troublesome thing,” Lucius murmured, mouth attached to the brunette’s neck once again, bristle tingling and prickling Harry’s smooth flesh. “I’m going to have to ward the entire house against you.”
Eyes closing and body moving into the touch, Harry gave a small shrug. “It couldn’t hurt.”
Lucius growled, pulling Harry closer, hands moving more heatedly as they found the small of the boy’s back beneath his open shirt. “If I kiss you, will you panic?” He asked, Harry noticing it wasn’t quite a joke this time.
“I don’t know.”
Lucius ran his lips over Harry’s face, touching down ever so softly against his cheeks, bridge of his nose, chin, and pausing to hover above his mouth. “You’re still shaking.”
“So? I’m not afraid,” Harry whispered. “You don’t frighten me.” It was true. Even when yelling, Lucius didn’t frighten him.
“But you still panicked,” Lucius reminded gently, hand reaching up to touch Harry’s cheek.
Harry still wasn’t sure why he had done that, not wanting to think about it. Lucius smelled so good, and was warm and close to him. He was also being extraordinarily nice, having gone completely mental, and Harry aimed to enjoy it. “Yeah… but I still want a kiss… A lot of kisses.”
It was convincing enough for a kiss, Lucius only hesitating a moment before descending the last inch to Harry’s lips. Harry felt himself melt, Lucius’s mouth that hot, lips sinking against his, tongue slowly flicking against the boy’s parted moan. The world spun again, refrigerator magnets digging into Harry’s back, something thumping to the ground that could have been a pile of potholders from the counter. Then Harry’s shirt was being pulled from him, Lucius’s warm hands possessively running over every bare inch of him.
“Lucius, I…” Harry trailed off with a groan, the man’s leg pushing between his thighs and rubbing against his hard, silk covered bulge. Harry was certain he was going to be suffocated by Lucius, by his heat and clothing, and strong, firm flesh pressing into him at every spot it could. But Harry could breathe damn fine through it, and had no complaints.
“I want to taste you. Will you let me do that?” Lucius asked, tongue and teeth moving over Harry’s neck until the brunette’s head lolled to the side to give more access. “I want to feel you on my lips, dripping down my tongue.” He rocked against Harry, his hardness tight against the boy’s hip.
Harry smirked uncontrollably, his eyes mere slits of emerald beneath his heavy lashes. “Like I’m going to say no to that?”
Lucius caught the heated look, his hand grabbing the back of Harry’s neck and holding tightly. He kissed the boy hard, demanding until Harry began to grab at his shirt and tried to tear it from him. Only to accidentally hit the man’s burn, both of them flinching at the same time from it.
“We need to heal that,” Harry insisted but Lucius only grunted and surged forward to kiss him again.
Harry resisted, not so much for the wound, but because the magnets were sticking painfully in his back, and he had caught sight of the clock. “It’s almost ten. He’ll be up.”
“Then I’ll have to be content with not savoring,” Lucius said with a lascivious smile that made Harry turn completely red, and if imaginable, grow harder.
“But what if we get caught—Oh… And you’re on your knees again,” Harry groaned weakly, Lucius’s hands already pulling down his waistband while the man licked across his flat stomach. How did he always end up without clothes on in the strangest places of Malfoy Manor?
Lucius’s breath felt unimaginably hot as the blond teased lower, dragging across the thin trail of hair from Harry’s belly button down to where it thickened over taut muscle and parted for Harry’s straining cock. Breath moved teasingly over Harry’s flushed tip while Lucius pinned the boy’s hips in place with his large hands. Harry forced his head forward, refusing to miss anything even if his eyes kept wanting to shut.
Silver eyes blazed up at Harry. His breath caught in his throat, Harry watched transfixed as Lucius parted his swollen lips and licked a firm path up the underside of his dick. “Oh hell,” Harry yelped, hands flying to the top of Lucius’s head and tangling in his hair.
“Quiet now… You don’t want to wake anyone,” Lucius reminded, his voice already a little hoarse, as if just thinking about sucking Harry off could do that to him. He kissed up the side of Harry’s swaying length, tongue flicking out, drawing small wet circles as he went. Harry did his best to be quiet, swallowing down the whine threatening to break free. It wasn’t working and he gave into quiet swears, hoping it wouldn’t draw too much notice if Draco was awake and walking around already.
“Shit… oh shit… Lucius, that’s… oh hell.” Harry, eyes wide, could only stare dumbfounded when Lucius suddenly opened his mouth wide and swallowed him down deep. Harry knew he was pulling too tight on the man’s silky hair, but couldn’t stop himself, feeling almost paralyzed by the intense wet heat wrapping his length. Lucius was dripping saliva, groaning softly, trying to take him even deeper in while bobbing his head. Harry’s knees felt weak from the very sight, never mind feel. “Fucking beautiful…” he rasped out, not sure how long he could last with Lucius looking like that.
Suddenly Harry couldn’t see at all, a finger pressing against his hole making him jolt, the back of his head slamming into the refrigerator. “Oh fuck… Lucius, please… Please.” Lucius must have known what he needed because that finger was working its way deeper in, twisting through Harry’s tight, clenching muscles, seeking something. All Harry could do was squirm while Lucius plunged in and out of him while also sucking him down. His head thrashed fitfully, fire rushing over his skin, and leaving him feeling crazed and demented.
Lucius gave a particularly strong pull of suction, then engulfed Harry down again, deep into his throat. Harry fought back a scream when that taunting finger found something inside him and touched. His entire body tensed, back arching, Lucius’s hand barely keeping him from choking the man with his spurting cock. Harry moaned loudly, able to feel Lucius’s throat swallow around him, over and over again with each jerk his body made of release.
“God… I can’t believe… Oh hell.” Harry really had nothing proper to say at all, not with Lucius still thrusting his finger inside him a few final times, making sure he drank down every drop of cum he might still have inside. The man was amazing… Freaking amazing.
Lucius slowly pulled away, licking his red lips, cheeks flushed with arousal, normally sharp eyes a hazy pale blue. Harry stared down at him in awe, his hands gently soothing over Lucius’s cheeks, brushing bristle and silky strands of bright hair. God, he had liked that… He had liked that, and Lucius had known he would… Had touched him in a way that—Harry closed his eyes, his body shivering.
He had liked it, a lot. And he wanted to know what more would feel like.
“Harry, you are delicious… fresh and wild… The things you do to me.” Lucius pressed the side of his head against Harry’s stomach, eyes closing slowly. “The things I want to do to you.” His voice was a dark, deep purr, hoarse and strained, and absolutely devastating to Harry’s senses.
Harry swallowed hard, slowly sinking down so that he was sitting before the kneeling man. “What do you want to do to me?”
Lucius smirked, reaching down to find the band to Harry’s pajama pants and pull them up the boy’s legs and over his narrow hips. “Everything. Every sinful thing one can do with a young man as beautiful as you.” He found the green shirt, helping to fold Harry’s shaking arms into the sleeves. He then began to button him up, leaving the top two open to peek flesh. “Now come on. Off to your room.”
Confused, Harry made a more than obvious stare at the tent in Lucius’s pants. “I thought you wanted to do things to me?” Harry was only a little nervous at the idea of what those things might be, hand reaching out to tentatively brush across the hard flesh hidden beneath the man’s slacks. Lucius had yet to do anything to him that hurt or frightened him, and even that… Even doing that with the man would probably be nice.
“I do,” Lucius said a little breathlessly, eyes widening as he pushed his straining cock against Harry’s hand for a moment. “But we’ve run out of time.”
As if to prove his point, Draco cursed outside the door, muttering about boxes.
“Crap,” Harry hissed, scrambling to his feet and looking around in dismay. The kitchen was a disaster, boxes of tea all over the floor joined with silverware, paper bags, and Harry’s mug, which had been placed out of the way by the sink but still managed to be knocked over. The puddle had reached the potholders, turning everything a soggy brown. Not to mention the kitchen table was severely lopsided, one placemat still managing to hang on the surface but nothing else. The broken leg had splintered off, the fallen piece dejected and crooked on the floor.
Maybe Harry did destroy the house a lot.
Lucius had gotten to his feet and was reaching for a towel to clean up the spilled tea when Draco stumbled in bleary eyed. He walked past the two of them and straight to the coffee maker, accidentally kicking the mug on the floor across into the wall. He began pulling out canisters and whatever magic was needed to brew a cup of coffee, all of it foreign to Harry since he had never bothered to learn.
“He’s like the living dead in the morning,” Lucius commented dryly. He gave his son an amused look and then made a shooing motion at Harry.
Harry felt very bad for leaving Lucius with such a mess to clean on his own, but he also didn’t want to get caught by an angry Draco once the boy finally woke up. He exited swiftly, but not before Lucius followed, kissed him hard against the hallway wall a final heated time, and let him escape on wobbling knees.
SCENE #Fantasy interrupted
Draco was the one to answer the door, waiting for Harry at the foot of the stairs while his friend found the Frisbee he had insisted on showing off. It was right after lunch, Lucius joining for a few moments to steal all the potato chips with a taunting look towards Harry that had made Draco shake his head and bite his cheek to stop from smiling. His father seemed more like himself, if not much more relaxed than Draco had seen him in a long while. He didn’t bother asking why, just glad Lucius didn’t seem to be going the way of Narcissa at the moment.
“Sir?” Draco blinked, staring up in confusion. The light was bright outside, backlighting Albus Dumbledore and making it difficult to see his headmaster’s expression. “Is this about school?”
“Good afternoon, Draco. I was hoping to speak with your father.” If Dumbledore was twinkling, Draco couldn’t tell. Feeling nervous, he stepped back, welcoming the older man in. He was in full robes, ignoring the summer heat for whatever formalities Dumbledore felt must be needed when speaking with Lucius. Draco’s unease grew and he turned, spotting his father down the hall.
Lucius greeted Dumbledore politely, but Draco could see that he was also confused as to what the headmaster was doing there. “Albus, we weren’t expecting you. Is this concerning the upcoming year for Draco?”
Dumbledore held his hand up. “This is something of importance, Lucius. It took some time, but I was able to trace your magical signature. Is he well? Unharmed? I must see him.”
Draco and Lucius exchanged looks. Harry had said he had owled Dumbledore. It must have been another one of those tricky little lies that Harry had twisted in his mind just right to get past them.
“He’s coming down soon,” Draco said. “Just looking for something.”
“Can I offer you anything, Albus? Drink? Chair? The weather is sweltering and you look as though you’ve been in the sun awhile.”
“Thank you, no. There can be no delay. Time is—There he is.” Piercing blue eyes lit at the top of the stairs. Lucius and Draco both turned. Harry was oblivious, staring at a round plastic disk in his hand, flipping it lightly on his fingertips while he descended the staircase. Only to stop cold, head snapping up when he caught sight of Dumbledore in the hall.
Draco inhaled sharply, watching as Harry took a step back as if considering to flee. What had he done? Some prank gone wrong?
“S-Sir,” Harry croaked out, refusing to cross the distance to the group. “He threw me out.”
“I’ve spoken with your Aunt. You are still family to her. It is still your home.”
Harry shook his head weakly, his shoulders slumping forward. “It’s not… Not ever.”
Dumbledore stood taller, reaching his hand out. “Come now, Harry. It’s time to get you back to the Dursleys.”
SCENE #Harry’s abrupt goodbye
“Albus, I must have misheard you.” Lucius stepped between Harry and Dumbledore, voice unnaturally calm. “You can’t possibly be considering sending him back to those muggles. They threw him out in the middle of the night. Abandon him on the side of the road like a bag of trash with little more than rags on his back.”
Dumbledore ignored Lucius, his gaze fixed on Harry. “You know what will happen if you leave those wards. They need to recharge. There is no other place that can protect you from the Dark Lord.”
Harry felt frozen, numbing bursts of fear sucking him down, darkness closing in and tightening his stomach until he thought he might throw up. He had to go back to the wards. He had to be around Aunt Petunia so the blood wards would renew and keep Voldemort from breaking down the door. No one had seen the Dark Lord in years, had assumed him dead forever. Except Dumbledore, that was. He had set up protections for Harry to make sure he would be safe from the crazed wizard and his followers that had tried to kill the boy so many years ago. What his headmaster didn’t understand was that Harry had yet to be harmed by a wizard, only by a muggle. One muggle. The one living at Privet Drive.
“The Dark Lord? Albus, you’re out of your mind.”
Dumbledore finally turned from Harry. “Am I, Lucius? You, of all people, should know better than to underestimate him.” Harry was taut with fear but he fought it down. Maybe there was still hope? Maybe Lucius could convince the man to let him stay?
Nostrils flaring, Lucius glanced at Harry, his expression unreadable. Lucius began unbuttoning his dress shirt, pulling the material away from his t-shirt with a crisp rustle. His shoulder was bandaged, but that was not where he directed Dumbledore to look. Instead, the blond turned the inside of his arm outwards and held the muscle there to reveal an almost completely faded tattoo. “I would know, Albus. It would be impossible for me not to know if Riddle had returned.”
Harry stepped forward hesitantly, wanting to see the dark mark. Lucius shifted at his approach, holding his arm out to Harry, his expression blank. It was very faded, almost as pale as Lucius’s skin, like a dark bruise that refused to fully heal. Harry touched it hesitantly, wondering somehow if it would burn. But it was just a tattoo, old and without magic anymore.
“That it exists at all is reason to be cautious,” Dumbledore said sternly. “You represent the demented number of men and women that would see Harry dead, just because You-Know-Who failed.”
Lucius stiffened, Draco gaping like he had been struck. Harry met Lucius’s gaze, his fingers slowly curling from the man’s warm skin. Face still otherwise a mask, Lucius raised an eyebrow. Harry nearly burst out laughing.
“It’s okay, Sir. Lucius doesn’t think I have enough fashion sense for murdering.”
Harrumphing, Dumbledore combed fingers through his beard. “You have been too long from the house. The wards are weakened and will not sustain the school year. We must keep them strong as long as possible.”
Draco, still angry at his father being accused of wanting to harm Harry when everyone knew his mother was the mad one, refused to be silent any longer. “So Harry is supposed to live there after he’s done with school? Like, for the rest of his life?”
Dumbledore nodded. “I see your point, but while he has no protection away from Hogwarts, he must have something. Nothing is stronger than those wards. That home is a complete safe house from Voldemort, and will continue to be as long as Harry is welcome there.”
“But he’s not welcome! Don’t you understand what that man does—!”
“Don’t,” Harry snapped, stepping away and glaring at his friend. “There’s no point.”
“Harry, he’ll have to let you stay if he knows,” Draco pleaded quietly, his eyes frantic and slightly watery. “You can’t go back there. You can’t.”
Harry shook his head even as Lucius placed a hand on his shoulder. “Albus, you are running from ghosts. The boy is old enough to make his own decisions.”
“Actually, I’m not,” Harry said flatly, meeting Dumbledore’s heavy gaze. “My Aunt has legal guardianship over me until I turn eighteen.”
“Still,” Draco insisted. “Still, you can’t be expected to go back to a place where you’re hurt like that. Just tell him, and he’ll—”
“He already knows!” Harry hissed. He had told Dumbledore last year. Had written and begged the man to let him come to school early—Anything, just so long as he didn’t have to stay with Vernon. Harry had never gotten a reply. Dumbledore had completely ignored him, even when he returned to school. That was when Harry realized he had to deal with everything on his own. That he had to endure in silence because no one fucking cared.
“You should collect your things,” Dumbledore said but Harry shook his head.
“I don’t want any of my things there with them. Draco, will you take care of Hedwig? Just throw everything else in my trunk and I’ll grab it on the train.”
Draco was gaping at him, very much at a loss of what to do. “Why didn’t you tell me? You always tell me everything.”
Harry shrugged, purposely ignoring Lucius’s searing gaze as well. It had hurt too much and he hadn’t wanted it to be real. Harry didn’t tell many of those things to Draco because speaking them aloud only made everything so much worse. “What good would it have done? It was bad enough I bothered you as long as I did. Sorry for that—Sorry, Lucius.” Harry backed away, hand reaching behind him for the door. There would be no date that night. Probably none ever. It wasn’t like Lucius would wait around for someone like him.
“Wait. This is ridiculous,” Lucius spoke up, his voice full of barely restrained anger. “Albus, you cannot knowingly send him into danger because you want to feed your obsession over a wizard long gone. The muggles gave the boy up and we took him in. No harm will come to him here. Certainly the same cannot be said of that place.”
“If it were that simple, Lucius, I would not be here,” Dumbledore said, sounding almost tired, but still full of conviction. “She is his guardian, and he must stay with her. There are only a few more weeks left. Heaven help if the boy has to stay extra, just to make up for his absence already.”
Harry paled at that, Lucius seeing and stiffening. Before the man could say something else, Harry held his hand up, waving slightly. “I’ll see you at the train station, right? Both of you. There’s nothing to worry about, so… yeah. Just a few weeks.” Harry slipped the door open and escaped out into the burning sun before the two Malfoys could think to follow him.
He could hear them arguing with Dumbledore, trying to make the wizard see reason. Harry knew better. The possibility of Voldemort had always taken precedence over the reality of his situation. Harry sometimes wondered if Dumbledore wasn’t disappointed that Voldemort hadn’t returned and tried to kill him. Maybe it would have justified each year of leaving him with the Dursleys.
Wizards just couldn’t see that muggles could do damage, even when it was right in front of their noses. Harry knew muggles and wizards were all the same, just people. Some people used power responsibly. Some people used it to hurt others. Vernon never needed magic. He was larger, stronger and owned the house, the food and the clothes Harry needed. That was all the power someone needed over another to hurt them.
“Harry, don’t go with him! Don’t go back there!” Draco had run around the house while Dumbledore and his father argued, pulling at Harry’s arm as if to whisk him away. “We can run. Father will understand. He might even help once he realizes what we’ve done.”
“You’ll only get in trouble,” Harry whispered, staring at the front door of the manor, his mind racing. Could he run away? He had been considering living on his own when afraid he had worn out his welcome at the manor. Maybe he could run and just… What?
“Where would we even go? Dumbledore would find us eventually. He was able to trace your father’s magic all the way from the Dursleys,” Harry reminded Draco with a sigh.
“Who cares? It’s a huge world, and you’ve got plenty of money.”
“Not muggle money, though. Everyone knows me in the wizarding world. Once word gets out that Dumbledore is looking for me…” Harry trailed off, biting his lip. “I’d never be allowed back in school. I’d miss my last year. He might expel you too, for helping me.”
“Fuck it!” Draco snapped, his eyes flashing angrily as he pulled more persistent on Harry’s arm. “We’ll make up the NEWTs—Hell, Father might be able to get us in somewhere else. Or a personal tutor. You have options, Harry. He’s not the damn boss of you.”
But that was where Draco was wrong. Dumbledore was the boss of him. He had been from the very beginning, when the headmaster had dangled a new life in front of him with the contingency that Harry would be the Golden Boy he was expected to be. Harry owed Dumbledore too much even if what the man was doing now was terrible. Dumbledore had the right intentions, Harry was fairly certain. It was just the execution that was all messed up.
He carefully untangled his arm from his friend’s grasp. “Draco, I couldn’t bear if I messed up your future over something like this. Or Lucius’s. Going against Dumbledore will only get you both hurt and your family has been through enough already. Considering your dad’s an ex-Death Eater, I think we’re both lucky Dumbledore didn’t come in here hexing. It’s only a couple of weeks.”
Draco growled, clutching his fists at his side. “That was when he hurt you the most last summer,” he hissed lowly. “That was when I healed you on the damn train, and had to find you fucking food, you were that dizzy, and made sure you got your trunk because you couldn’t lift your bloody arms.”
Harry stepped back but Draco grabbed both his hands, eyes pleading for him to listen to reason. “He threw you out. What the hell is going to happen when you walk back in!”
“Just stop,” Harry whispered hollowly. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m a wizard and I’ll be fine.” The door slammed open, Draco and Harry jumping at the noise. Dumbledore walked out stiffly but it was Lucius, looking like fury incarnate, that had opened the door. Harry had never seen Lucius so angry, not even when bitching about messes in the house and him nearly sleeping to death.
“Harry, it’s time to go,” Dumbledore said, holding up a portkey.
Draco looked near tears again and Harry felt sorry for his friend. “Harry, I’ll write. You should take the owl, so you can get messages out—Damn it! Don’t do this. Please.”
Harry smiled halfheartedly for Draco’s benefit, taking a step back. “I’ll see you soon. It’ll be a breeze, that’s how fast time will fly. Say hi to Blaise and Pansy for me, ‘kay?”
“Potter, I’ll be by to check up on you,” Lucius practically boomed from the top of the stairs, anger radiating off of him in waves.
Harry pursed his lips, his heart beating wildly once caught in that searing gaze. He wanted to run to Lucius. Let the man tell Dumbledore to fuck off. They could all go somewhere far away and never care about any of this. But that was a child’s dream and Harry had to face reality. “You shouldn’t visit. If you come around, it will just make him angrier. Same with letters. He doesn’t like reminders… Don’t make it worse.”
Harry didn’t say goodbye. He reached out and touched the portkey, letting the illusion of safety jerk away in a whirl of color and plummet of stomach.
SCENE #The monster at Privet Drive
Aunt Petunia was afraid. Harry noticed it the moment she opened the door, Dumbledore ushering Harry into 4 Privet Drive before she could think to shut it. The thing was, she wasn’t afraid of Harry or Dumbledore, so much as the presence of the man currently missing.
The house on Privet Drive felt so much smaller and darker than the last time he had been there. It had only been weeks, but the manor had done something to him. Everything seemed so ugly in the cramped space, especially the people.
Dudley was watching TV even though it was the middle of the day, turning his head to glare at Harry with beady eyes hidden within rolls of fat. The boy had gotten even larger, as if the meager scraps Harry had used to eat had somehow fueled Dudley to greater grotesque girths and rolls. His fingers were sausages now, of an almost purple color, and Harry wondered if the boy might be at risk of a heart attack.
Dumbledore and Petunia had a terse conversation where the headmaster promised Harry would behave himself and keep from using magic at all times. Harry tucked his wand into the inside band of his new jeans, knowing if Vernon were to ever find it, the man would destroy it. Ignoring Dudley’s sneer, he walked upstairs to see what had happened to the second bedroom.
It was full of Dudley’s things again. Not even in order, just full to the brim with toys, electronics and boxes of Dudley’s winter attire and gym equipment. Harry’s room had barely been larger than a closet—although bigger than a cupboard—and it was now being used as a closet. Harry heard Dudley come up the stairs. He couldn’t help but notice with the way the boy was wheezing, the stairs creaking warnings under his heavy weight.
“Hey, ya freak. Don’t think you’re getting my room back.” Dudley smelled of Slim Jims and Fritos, and something sour with a sickly sweet undertone like rotting teeth and soda. “Just wait till dad comes home. He’s going to fucking flip when he finds out.”
Harry turned to face Dudley, glaring up. Anxiety was twisting in the pit of his stomach. “What do you mean? Doesn’t he know I’m back?”
“Do you think you’d be in the fucking door? He’d have been on the steps with a shot gun.” Sneering, Dudley went to punch Harry in the arm, only to stop, inches away, uncertainty flickering on his too wide face. “Don’t touch my things, you shit eating freak.”
Harry stepped away, Dudley pushing into the small cluttered room and sitting his bulk in the middle like a territorial, blob shaped dog. For all Harry knew, the boy would start pissing on everything just to mark his space. Harry wouldn’t put it past his crude cousin. He walked back to the kitchen but Dumbledore had already left without saying goodbye. Petunia was hunched, grabbing the back of a kitchen chair as if holding it to keep from falling. She snapped upright when she caught sight of Harry, her eyes narrowing in on him.
“You shouldn’t have come back!” She hissed viciously, knuckles turning white. “Disrupting everything again. He had the priests over—It was finally getting quiet! You’ve ruined everything.”
Harry glared, trying not to flinch at the unfair words. “I didn’t want to come back. You’re the one that agreed. You should have told Dumbledore no.”
“What, and have him kill me stone dead? Do you think we’re allowed to say no to creatures like them? Like you?” Her eyes tore into Harry and he took a step back. “Anyone that is touched by that evilness ends up dead or ruined. Even my own sister. I will do what I can to keep my family safe even if it means taking you in. You will leave for school and never come back here again, boy. Never.”
Harry didn’t want to come back. He didn’t want to be there now. “Why haven’t you told Vernon yet?”
“Because I don’t know how,” Petunia snapped, releasing the chair to have it clatter against the floor. She had been holding it so tightly she had lifted it.
“Well, you better figure it out. Him walking in here with me sitting at the dinner table is not going to work.” Harry wished it was anger compelling him then, but it was the cold pit of terror ever growing in his stomach. He could feel his breath threatening to slip away and leave him gasping. He held control of himself, knowing it would do no good to panic now. He was in the middle of it and had to deal moment to moment if he was going to make it through.
“It’s Saturday,” Petunia said grimly, her eyes glancing once to Harry and then away. She went to the stove, arranging items idly, her hands in constant motion to hide the shaking.
Harry gaped. He had forgotten. He hadn’t had to worry about the days of the week for a month. Had been so blown over by suddenly being torn from the beautiful fantasy of Malfoy Manor and dumped into the horrors of the Privet Drive so abruptly, he had forgotten how things worked. Harry had woken up without a bed again, without clothing, or food, or a space of his own. On a fucking Saturday.
“Maybe he won’t come home,” Harry whispered, wrapping his arms around his body.
Petunia shook her head sharply, sponging down the counter top with brisk, cutting movements. “He doesn’t know you’re here and I can’t reach him on the cell. He’ll be home. He’ll be drunk.”
Hissing under his breath, Harry stepped around her, heading out the kitchen door into the backyard. He never should have come back here. Never should have listened to Dumbledore. But what choice did he have? Really? He was underage. Wasn’t even allowed to use magic outside of school or without the supervision of a wizarding household. Harry had no rights for another year and Dumbledore had been happy to exploit it.
Maybe Lucius would come anyways? Maybe he would ignore his very reasonable request to stay away and come and save him before everything went to shit? Harry shook his head even as the thought hit him, immediately dismissing it. He was such a child. Such a weak, damn child waiting for someone to fix it all for him. God—He wanted someone to fix it!
It was easier, still in the shadow of the manor, to tell Draco he didn’t need help. Harry had felt stronger there, protected by magic he was allowed to use and the support of two amazing men. Harry had felt like a real person there, allowed to speak his mind and for the worst receive an annoying snark back. God help him, he had thought maybe he had even felt love there, as maddening a delusion as that must have been. Because he was not to be loved. The Dursleys reminded him of that every day.
Here, Harry was not a full person. He lost his voice in the house on Privet Drive. He lost his power. He lost his rights to exist as he was made to be, angry voices insisting he be something else. And whatever it was they wanted, Harry was never even allowed to be that either. He had tried to twist and change into whatever it was they wanted, and still, he was a freak to them.
Harry sat in the yard until it got dark and then he continued to sit. Aunt Petunia didn’t offer him dinner, and he wouldn’t have wanted it anyways. His stomach was in knots. His breath kept slipping, lungs giving random spasms while he fought to keep the panic at bay. The later it got, the more drink Vernon had a chance to get down. The darker it was, the more money Vernon would piss away, Petunia counting the hours in twenties and fifties, the paycheck for the week. That too was Harry’s fault. Vernon never would have turned to booze if the freak had never graced his doorstep all those years ago.
Harry could hear the television, Dudley watching something violent and loud and laughing in discord. Harry began to pace, unable to sit still any longer. He shouldn’t have come here. Nothing could be worse than this. His lungs gave another gasping squeeze and he whimpered and prayed Vernon would not return.
Of course, he did. Eleven thirty, dull and stumbling up the drive. The taxi barely glowed as it slipped away with a hum. Harry froze beneath the shadow of the maple tree hanging over from the neighbor’s yard. He listened. He waited.
Harry counted his breaths and told himself to stay calm.
SCENE #Breath lost
He lost his breath before Vernon even touched him. Dudley was laughing from the couch, no longer at the television but at the show of Harry gasping for air while Vernon lumbered down the hall and threw him into the living room. Harry blinked up dizzily from the floor, black spots floating and fuzzing his already blurred vision, his glasses lost somewhere. Dudley sneered down, poking a fat finger painfully into Harry’s chest.
“Fucking told ya, freak.” Beady eyes glinting in the dim light, Dudley grimaced down and ran his thumb across his bloated throat menacingly. Harry would have rolled his eyes at the theatrics but was too busy trying to breathe.
“Vernon, please calm down. It’s only for a few weeks. I was assured this was the last—”
“No! I want him OUT OF HERE!” Vernon roared, his voice thickly slurred and dripping spittle and hate. “I kicked him out—I WARNED HIM what would happen if he came back here! That fucking freak, ruining everything. Ruining good people and good families and just…”
Harry tried to push himself off the ground, chest heaving painfully. Vernon was getting into his ‘Harry was the devil’ tirade. It was the worst one and he needed to get the fuck out if he wanted to ever breathe again. He grabbed at the couch weakly, his body swaying. Vernon turned from where he was arguing with Petunia, red face snarling purple once he caught sight of the boy.
“What did I fucking tell you? You were never to come back here! NEVER! Or I’d make you suffer!” He pushed Harry back, thick, ham-sized hands bright red as they slammed into the boy’s chest and forced what little air he had managed to get into his lungs out. Harry’s hand clawed at the couch but only wretched his fingers painfully as he went flying back, tripping over the ledge by the fireplace and smashing his head against the wall.
Shit… He could barely see… Darkness was encroaching on his vision, either from the fall or lack of oxygen. He couldn’t tell. What was wrong with him? Had the softness of Malfoy Manor taken away his ability to endure what he had always endured before? Wouldn’t resting have made him more resistant and not just so pathetically weak? Harry’s lungs burned for air and he grabbed at his throat, trying with all his might to fight the strange haze and breathe.
“Rotting us away until there was nothing good left—YOU DID THIS, BOY! You SICK, twisted hell-spawn, RUINING everything from the inside out! You ruined us! RUINED!” Vernon was stumbling, the overwhelming smell of beer, sweat, and piss abating for a moment.
“D-dad, what are you doing with that?”
Harry struggled to sit up from his sideways sprawl on the brick wall, eyes seeking out Dudley’s frightened face. He could barely find him feet away, everything caustic bright and shadows in the blue light flashing from the television.
Petunia was backlit in the kitchen entrance, turned away. “Vernon, please. Please, not in front of our son.”
Harry’s lungs had stopped fighting for air, his body now just shaking as everything grew darker and more fuzzy. He was going to suffocate to death. Whatever it was that Vernon had holding in his fist was not going to kill him. His fucking panic attack was.
Harry smiled weakly, head dropping forward against his shuddering chest. He felt like he was sparking, each gasp of broken breath a jolt of sputtering electricity. What had Lucius called it…? A message his body was trying to send his brain… He was afraid. That was the fucking message. What other fucking message was there to say?
Harry could barely hear them now, his Uncle sounding far away. “You’re not right… You’re not right and you need to be stopped… For my family, you see… Set you right…”
“Vernon, stop!”
Harry could see it now, swinging at the man’s hip as he approached. A frying pan. Like Harry had woken up in a poorly lit cartoon, and his face would leave an imprint and he’d bounce away. Maybe he would? He was a wizard, after all.
Harry sparked again, a sudden breath hiccuping through him. The darkness faded for a small instant and again he wondered what his body was trying to tell him.
Vernon saw the spark, his face twisting in a rage. “DON’T DO THAT! Don’t bring that fucking sickness in my house!”
Harry had no idea what he was doing but Vernon seemed afraid to test out his frying pan, so it must be good. Another bigger spark, green this time, and the darkness cleared again, Harry almost getting a half of breath in. He wheezed, his chest contracting and pushing air out as quickly as it had come. He tried to raise himself to his feet, hoping if Vernon would just be scared of him a little longer he might make it out the door.
It was the wrong action, Vernon perceiving Harry moving to be more dangerous than sitting. Bellowing in rage, Vernon raised the fist clutching the frying pan and swung it down as hard as he could. All Harry could do was spark back in defense.
SCENE #Draco frets
“I don’t care! We can’t just leave him there!” Draco had stopped his silent crying minutes ago, bursting free of the room Harry had been sleeping in to seek his father out and argue all over again.
Lucius let him, knowing it was all his son had at the moment.
“His uncle hurt him. Bad! Things that didn’t scar. Things that broke inside and made it so Harry couldn’t fucking walk straight afterwards. Even now, he keeps knocking into shit, misjudging things around him. It’s because of that terrible man!”
Sitting in his study, Lucius poured two small drinks, pushing one over to Draco when the boy ran out of steam for a moment and looked about ready to cry again. Draco took the glass with trembling hands, sipping slowly and screwing his face up from the taste. “You didn’t see him last year, Father. Didn’t see him on the train, fucking broken. He wouldn’t tell me what happened. Said it was an accident—And he refused to go to the medi witch. Like it had been something shameful, instead of just a terrible act of violence inflicted upon him. That man made him think he deserved it, and that’s why he never fought back.”
Draco gulped the rest of his drink in one swallow, leaving the glass on the desk. “What’s going to happen to him? He has no one there… No one cares about him there.”
“I do not know.”
“He has no right!” Draco suddenly shouted, fist slamming down on the desk. “Fucking Dumbledore—That he knew! Fucking knew! And still made Harry go back. He’s not Harry’s guardian. He’s fucking nobody. I don’t know why Harry listens to him. He lets that man manipulate him.”
Lucius nodded in agreement. “Albus is the closest thing to a father that boy has. Harry wants the man to be proud of him even if it’s just by staying quiet about how he was hurt.”
“It’s wrong. Bloody wrong and I want to do something!” The tears again, just glinting at the edge of the boy’s eyes. Draco had not been one for crying, not for years now. It had always confused Lucius to see young people cry, but then, he had created an environment where his son would not be punished for such displays.
“He asked us to stay away,” Lucius reminded stiffly, his heart still clenching at the memory.
“That’s because he doesn’t want us hurt!” Draco snarled, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand furiously. “That’s how he always fucking is—He’ll take every goddamn pain in the world, just as long as no one else has to ever feel bad. He’s a fucking martyr, through and through, the idiot.”
It made Harry feel stronger to protect people when he was so helpless. Lucius knew because he had been the same way. Then he had learned how strong it felt to hurt people when feeling helpless, and that had been even better.
“Please, Father. Please fix this,” Draco whispered, eyes large and red rimmed. “You always fix everything. Use all that power and influence and fix this.”
Lucius considered his options idly, having already gone down this road a million times in his head. “I have no leverage against Albus except the situation at hand. Harry would never turn on him, Draco. He would never tell an inquiry that his mentor left him in such danger. He didn’t even tell you. It would mean dozens of aurors and wizards walking through that house, upsetting his uncle for hours on end. And then Harry would still be forced to stay.”
“Then we take him away! We can run away!”
Lucius shook his head. “Remember who he is. No one might think twice about the boy-who-lived ending up with a few bruises, but when he doesn’t show up for school because of an ex-Death Eater—And Albus will surely let that slip. We will be hunted down. Our name ruined. Our assets frozen.”
“I don’t care! Just kill them, Father!” Draco shouted, both hands now slamming on Lucius’s desk.
Lucius finally reached for his drink, swallowing it down with a quick motion. If he was shocked that his son had so little value for life, it was only because he knew how much Draco cared for his friend.
“Dumbledore knows that I’ve been there. The wards might actually work in a way to keep me out. And then what? Harry still can’t run. Eventually someone will notice that his relatives aren’t showing up for work and the authorities will be called. Harry might be arrested by the muggles. Incarcerated.”
Draco made a whining noise in the back of throat, frustration and anxiety warring on his face. “You’re doing this on purpose!”
“Draco…”
“No! He never meant anything to you!” Draco hissed vindictively, pulling away before Lucius’s hand could reach his wrist. “You just wanted to fuck him. And now that you’ve had your fill, you’re going to leave him to be beaten by those terrible monsters! If you cared about him at all—”
“I do care,” Lucius said softly.
Draco shook his head, unbelieving. “Then fix it!” He slammed the door as he left, Lucius raising a brow as a picture fell off the mantel from the force.
SCENE #Need demands sacrifice
Lucius sat in his study till dawn, listening to the clock tick while ruminating. He should mind his own bloody business. He had no legal stock in anything to do with Potter. Maybe Sirius, being godfather to the boy. But Black had escaped when Bellatrix had, and Black had not stayed around to tempt the aurors. Even then, the convict’s parental rights would be a question, given he was supposed to be in jail.
Potter had told him to stay away. He didn’t want things to be worse than they already were.
Lucius had told a young man that once, a lifetime ago. He had glared, and spat, and cruelly spurned his lover away after the third and final lashing of his flesh. It was much easier to blame his heart—his weak, pathetic heart—than face his father, a man so powerful Lucius used to tremble just to think of him. There had been a time when he had been grateful to be under the protective arm of Voldemort. There had been power to gain there, knowledge to learn so that he could finally break free of his father permanently. Lucius had gloried in the horrors he had committed because, for once, they were not being inflicted on him.
But Riddle had been even more demented than Lucius’s father. It wasn’t pride and the need to control that had driven Riddle. It had been a sick hurt, worse than anything Lucius had allowed to fester in his own still living heart. While he had finally faced his demons, Riddle had become one, tearing through anyone and thing that reminded him of what had been done to him. He had been pure hate, maddened and desperate for more. And of all the lines Voldemort had crossed, injuring Harry Potter had been the one the apathetic gods had finally struck him down for.
The boy. The maddening, beautiful boy. Alone. Surrounded by those that saw him as nothing more than a monster. Monsters begot monsters. Lucius knew. He had done everything to grow a soul before Draco was born. He had promised to never do what his father had done.
But he was allowing it by the hands of another, lesser man than he. On a boy so beautiful, so pure, the angels must weep at every blow.
Silence was what allowed the Vernon Dursleys of the world the power they had. The uncle was not a strong man, by any means. He had no great wealth. No amazing talent that set him above the rest. He had bred, like most animals did, and worked to provide—From what Lucius had heard that had not been a success. Vernon had been given an amazing gift. A child of unimaginable power with the ability to love had been placed on his doorstep. And Vernon had detested him. He had thrown so much hate upon him, the boy had become quiet and small. And when that wasn’t enough, when still Harry had insisted on existing, the man had raised his fist.
Maybe he would write a letter… Something to the Minister of Magic. Did Fudge know what was happening to his Golden Boy? Fudge hated Dumbledore with a passion. Lucius had no leverage but maybe the Minister did.
Decided, Lucius opened the top drawer to his desk. He froze, eyes catching on something inside. Fingers twitching, he carefully picked up the teabag sitting innocently on the top of his papers. Harry had drawn a little cartoon of a tooth… or maybe a blob. The boy was a terrible artist. Lucius sighed deeply, flicking the paper tag over, again and again, the string curling tighter and tighter in mirror to his nerves.
Need was a terrible feeling. While want could be pursued, and desire would always find its way, need… need was merciless. Need demanded sacrifice, if not in action, than in spirit. When you thought you had given all it would ask—as Lucius had hoped while sitting in his study, giving up the pretty young man that would only bring chaos to his life—that was when need demanded again. Lucius would not survive this need. It was too deep, too integral, too reminiscent of his past and revealing of just how stagnant his current existence was. If he did not give in to this need, he would fade away, dull and dusty, without anything left inside.
Harry needed someone. Someone powerful. Compassionate. Brave. Lucius was a coward. He had always done everything in his power to preserve himself. Even his acts of courage had been to stay alive, stay whole.
It was good that Lucius needed so deeply. He knew he would not be able to sacrifice otherwise.
He stood abruptly, going to the hallway to pull out his black cloak from the closet. Draco was in the kitchen, hunched over the repaired table, holding something in his hand. It was Lucius’s mask. Huffing in annoyance, he plucked it from the boy’s grasp. “This is not a toy. Nothing you should ever wear.”
“It wasn’t for me,” Draco muttered, glancing up at his father, his eyes still rimmed in red.
Lucius sighed, banishing the skull away. “This is not something one does in the shadows. It is not a crime to help him. But I will be punished for it still.”
“But you are going to help?” Draco asked with a sniff, sitting up straighter.
Lucius nodded once, his eyes moving over the kitchen idly. It was strange to be up so early without Harry there, terrible colors and sipping tea. He had not realized how familiar it had become until fearing it would be gone forever.
“Your mother is ill, Draco. She didn’t want me to tell you until you had finished school. But now…” Lucius looked down at his son, Draco blinking back in surprise. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s still very much hateful when it comes to the classes, and I fear she has been out hurting people. But she left because she did not want you to watch her die. She loves you very much. As much as she is capable of, with her being so confused.”
Draco licked his lips, studying his hands quietly. He thought maybe the boy wanted to say something, but Draco never did, and Lucius eventually left.
Narcissa had been allowed her insanity. She had paid her dues as society had demanded of her. She had married a wealthy, albeit gay, man, produced an heir, and had even contributed to the strengthening of her community in the only way she had been taught. By torturing muggles. She had stayed with her gay husband, raising their son and accepted Lucius’s new, if be it backwards, desire to allow muggles within their society as long as the right precautions were placed. And then she had been diagnosed with cancer and had decided it was time to take her life for herself. Lucius had not fought her once.
Lucius did not desire to be insane. But he did need one impossible thing. Hopefully, he would be allowed it.
SCENE #The still house
Lucius camped outside the Dursleys around seven a.m. Sunday morning, waiting for the family to go to church before approaching and checking on Harry. It wasn’t until ten that he started to suspect that something was wrong, dread growing in terrible weight on his shoulders.
Privet Drive was a strange experiment in ordered lives. It wasn’t one neighbor going out to jog, it was all neighbors. If at eight o’clock you hadn’t watered the flowers in front of the picket fences and around the mailboxes, than you mustn’t have flowers at all. Every family, in every shining car, left at nine forty-five to get to their ten o’clock mass at the parish down the lane.
Petunia Dursley did not join in the joggers passing on the street. There was no child Dursley going out to water the neglected flowers by their mailbox. The man Lucius intended to kill if things did not go his way did not lead his family out the door and into his new car. The curtains were pulled tight on all the windows of 4 Privet Drive and Lucius felt dread.
The house was deathly still compared to the neighbors. Children let out from school for the summer were running around, jumping rope, shrieking as they sprayed each other with squirt guns, and went slamming into their houses demanding first lunch, and then dinner as the hours crawled by. Lucius would not approach the house until the Dursleys were out or darkness had settled thick enough that he would not be noticed.
He wondered if the house was empty. Had the Dursleys up and left in the middle of the night? Dragging an unwilling Harry behind… Or leaving him here, hurt… maybe worse? Maybe dead? The anxiety within grew and Lucius knew he did not approach because of this fear. It was not the light and the muggles surrounding him. It was the fear of what he would find if he dared to enter the house.
Lucius growled inwardly, shaking his head at the absurd notion. Harry was a powerful young man. He might be weak in knowledge and confidence, but surely no muggle could get the better of him. The boy had survived Voldemort. Lucius was just being paranoid, having grown frightened by Draco’s stories and reminded of his own past. Vernon was a muggle, nothing more. Harry was so much more.
The streetlights came on but still Lucius hesitated. Why wasn’t anyone moving? The neighbors bustled in their houses, dinner dishes being washed, soft laughing chatter coming out the windows while televisions flashed and radios hummed. But number four was still. Silent. Nothing moving, no curtain twitch, no dinner dish. Nothing.
Around ten p.m. a light went on. It was upstairs at the back of the house. The bathroom, the curtains drawn but lacy enough for light to be seen. Lucius took a deep breath, counting slowly. The light went out. The house went still.
Lucius unfurled from his crouch, his legs stiff, muscles protesting. He let the blood return to his limbs, listening, alert. Most of the neighbors had slipped away to bed, only a few televisions left to hum. Lucius walked up the front walk, keeping to the shadows, his wand in hand. He stood at the door, listening for sounds of activity inside. Nothing. Hesitating a long, frozen moment, he pressed the doorbell.
SCENE #Lost dream
When Harry had left he had been wearing new clothes, possibly for the first time ever. His jeans had been a dark navy blue, fitting well with enough room in his legs that he didn’t feel uncomfortable. His shirt had been a soothing tan color t-shirt, a swirling design of skulls and artistic flourishes teenagers were drawn to in the current style. His socks were even new along with the sneakers, black and white puma’s. It had only been a day but Harry had managed to destroy them.
There weren’t many holes, but there was one large tear, slicing down the front of Harry’s chest as if someone had grabbed him there and pulled too hard. The blood was the worst of it, splatters on the back of his neck and all over his jeans, the white of his shoes now a black rust. Lucius stood a good five minutes staring at those jeans. Harry, broken glasses taped and situated on his face, leaned on the door frame heavily and let him.
“I asked you to stay away,” Harry finally whispered, a cut splitting his bottom lip and running down his chin.
“I tried. Are you okay?” Lucius reached for his face but Harry jerked away the same time as something flared across the door. It was the wards, repelling non-permitted visitors away.
Harry sighed, staring where the ripple had occurred. “You wouldn’t have been able to help… What a fucking sick joke.” Harry looked behind him, revealing the back of his head matted with blood. “I have to go.”
“No, you don’t.” Lucius said quickly. “Come with me. Right now.”
Harry glanced back, his eyes not glowing the way they used to when in the manor. “I’m tired. I’ve been… cleaning,” he said with a curl of his upper lip. “I just want to sleep.”
Lucius fell silent, afraid what that might mean. There was no way the boy had sleeping charms in that muggle house. “You promised…”
It took Harry a moment to understand, but he only shrugged once he did. “Was any of that even real? It had felt so… perfect. Like a dream.”
“I burned all your clothes and you managed to break your mouth on my pool. You almost killed yourself just trying to take a nap. It was hardly perfect,” Lucius muttered. It had not been some flimsy fantasy. It had been real. It had been their life and Harry needed to come back to it.
Harry slumped. “I’m going to go sleep, Lucius.”
“Let me in.”
“No.”
Harry shut the door in his face, Lucius left standing alone in the dark.
SCENE #Lucius’s escape
Lucius knocked on the back door. It was hours later, dawn threatening. The bathroom light had popped on, then off. When Lucius listened, he could hear the sound of a kettle. Harry took a long time to answer. Lucius almost knocked again but then the door swung open.
Harry did not invite him in, instead holding an empty mug up questioningly. The boy’s eyes were a bit sharper than before, but he was still drawn looking, face too pale, eyes too lifeless. Lucius fished through the pocket of his cloak, holding up his prize and letting it spin by the tag. Harry bit his lip when seeing the familiar teabag but didn’t take it. Instead he walked back into the kitchen and poured water into a mug, which he then handed to Lucius. While Lucius floated the bag into the chipped mug—apparently everything Harry came in contact with became dilapidated—Harry went and poured his own tea, something sharp and foul smelling.
Harry sat, folding himself in the doorway so he was resting his mug on his raised knees. Watching him, Lucius sank to the concrete patio, legs bent Indian style. Their tea steeped in silence, the warm kitchen light bathing them in yellow and turning the shadows inky.
Harry had washed his hands, the black rust no longer staining under his fingernails. His glasses had gained another layer of tape, the edge curling up and wavering whenever the boy blew on his tea. Harry grimaced at every sip he took but did not complain.
“Harry, you don’t—”
“How many people have you killed?” Harry asked, effectively cutting Lucius off.
Lucius exhaled slowly, watching Harry’s eyes skitter over him and then back to his tea. “Twelve… possibly thirteen.” One individual had been hit by so many spells, no one could claim to truly have been the deciding blow.
Harry nodded at the number, resting his cut lip on the side of his mug and breathing the steam in. “Were they all on purpose?”
“I do not consider accidents to be murder, nor does the law,” Lucius said carefully. “I am too controlled to have such accidents.”
“Which one… What’s the worst thing you’ve done? Were you… Was it for Voldemort?” Harry asked haltingly, his eyes again glancing dull green his way.
Lucius had a sip of his tea, the familiar taste doing nothing to change the fact that they were in the middle of some suburban muggle town, dawn peeking on the horizon, and Harry covered in blood and broken inside. “It is difficult to say… There are acts that I did that were certainly terrible in and of themselves to the individuals I inflicted them on. And then there were acts that were that, and also tore the humanity I was trying to preserve into a million shredded pieces. The second type hurt me the most, but were likely not the worst that I had done. The ones that wounded me were things I had done as a Death Eater.”
“Because you did them on purpose?” Harry asked, fingers drifting down to the bloodstains on his jeans, running over the dried splotches that flaked at his touch.
“No. Because only half of me wanted to do them.” Lucius shrugged. “I thought that was reason enough, but the other half, that part that didn’t want to, kept breaking, kept fighting. For some reason, that part eventually won and I stopped.”
Harry flaked more blood and then brushed it brusquely away. “Tell me about the worst one you did. That you wanted to do. All of you. Without hesitation.”
There had been a few, but one always burned the brightest, the angriest, and at the same time sweetest. “My father.”
Harry held his mug in two hands, tilting and staring at the liquid as if debating whether to drink more or spill it on the ground. “Tell me how you killed your father.”
Giving himself a moment, Lucius relaxed into the memory. He smiled faintly, meeting Harry’s curious glance. He had never told anyone this. Rarely spoke of murder at all, except in hushed tones with those that had helped. But this one had been very much secret, never owned to except in his heart. There was something intimate about being able to speak the words. Maybe the demonic glow, still flickering deep, just hidden in Harry’s eyes.
“It happened too fast. I was still very much afraid, you see. Actually, I don’t think I ever stopped being afraid until he was finally dead.” Lucius’s smile grew. “I rushed it. I had planned for months—Years, if I’m really honest about it. All the mental trappings I learned, just to make sure he would never know I aimed to kill him. In some ways, it was all I was those many years. Just the desire for revenge and freedom.”
Harry placed his mug on the kitchen floor, reaching for Lucius’s barely touched tea. To Lucius it was more, the urge to be closer, to let him in a little more. Lucius handed his cup over after another sip, watching the boy’s hands carefully. One was bruised and swollen, the fingers darker than they should be.
“Did you feel bad after?” Harry asked, sighing into the mug and then drinking deep.
“No, not really. Afraid for a moment. That he might get back up and prove just what a fool I was for thinking I could ever be free. Afraid someone might find out and then I’d be locked away in a different prison. Afraid my mother, already dead by his scourge, would somehow haunt me for not making amends,” Lucius mused softly, feeling Harry’s gaze slip over him again. “But I never felt bad about it. And I never felt bad that I didn’t feel bad. I had felt bad over other deaths, many I had done, and far more that I had seen done. But not him.” Lucius smirked again. He had felt alive. Empowered. Free.
“How did you—”
“Killing curse. Short and sweet. Too short… But still, very sweet. There were so many things I wanted to tell that bastard. But I rushed it. Better to rush in and live.” Lucius paused and frowned. He had forgotten that. Had nearly lost Harry because he had forgotten to act with certainty at a time when it was most needed.
“You had said something. About my body trying to tell me something.” Harry struggled to his feet, grabbing the door to keep from falling. Lucius got up slower, just in case Harry fell outside and he could grab him. Steal him away. Keep him from disappearing back into whatever was in that house.
Harry swayed unsteadily, then slipped two fingers down the front of his jeans and wiggled the slender wand loose he had hidden there. He tapped the magical ward over the door and the barrier glowed bright and welcoming.
“Come on, then,” the brunette beckoned, walking further into the kitchen and into the hall. Lucius, glancing briefly outside into the beginning of dawn, hesitantly stepped in and closed the door behind him.
SCENE #What can’t be cleaned
The kitchen was spotless. Harry had cleaned up the shattered glassware and plates of leftovers that had been left for his uncle’s return. He had washed up the fallen food from the floor, cleaned up what Aunt Petunia had left on the stove in her agitation, and then scrubbed the floor and cabinet surfaces multiple times until they no longer had an orange tinge. He watched Lucius from the hallway door, the man’s eyes skimming through, trying to read a story Harry had yet to tell. Maybe a story Lucius had seen before in his own bloodied past.
Harry waited, stepping to the side when Lucius crossed the distance, letting the man into the hall but blocking him from the living room. Harry had cleaned as best he could in there, but without magic he was limited. Lucius sniffed quietly, Harry knowing the air smelled of ozone and bleach.
“It couldn’t be helped,” Harry said after a moment when Lucius turned his piercing gaze to him.
“How so?”
Harry shifted from foot to foot, glancing away again. “I couldn’t be set right.”
Lucius reached for him but Harry flinched back, eyes wide. He didn’t want Lucius to touch him. Didn’t want the man to feel just how wrong he was on the inside. Harry knew now. He knew what his body had been very loudly trying to tell him.
He stepped back into the living room, eyes glancing unseeingly over his relatives as they sat around the broken television. Harry had arranged them the best he could, given the damage. His power had exploded out when Vernon had gone to strike him. The force had torn the defenseless muggles apart, broken and twisted their bones, shredded their clothing, destroyed the furniture. Harry, knocked out from the power, had woken up too late to save anyone. He had cleaned up as best as he could, but there was no question what had happened.
It was too difficult to look at them, so Harry looked at Lucius. The man was probably the most beautiful thing that had ever stepped into that horrible house. He didn’t even look shocked. He didn’t even look disgusted. But Harry knew how well Lucius could hide himself and the truth of his emotions. There would be no kindness from the man again. Not when Lucius finally saw what he was.
Still, Harry had to show him.
“Something inside me didn’t want to be hurt anymore,” Harry said softly, Lucius walking carefully around the swept floors and furniture chunks. The blond looked up when Harry spoke but then went back to his inspection of the broken family. “I was having a panic attack and I kept thinking; what is my body trying to say? And then I figured it out. Really fucking quick.”
He pointed next to Lucius, where Harry had been when it happened. The carpet had pulled up and the floor boards torn apart where he had stood. He had put the frying pan back, the massive dent still in it where it had been thrown away by his magic.
Lucius remained silent, looking at him expectantly. Harry pursed his lips and then raised his shoulders. “My body said to kill them. All of them. And then I’ll never have to worry again.”
“You lost control,” Lucius finally spoke, taking a step around the twisted legs of Petunia Dursley.
“No.” Harry shook his head, turning towards the stairs. “I found my control.”
“Harry, this type of magical outburst doesn’t work that way.”
He paused, glancing back. Lucius had sounded kind. Almost caring. “Maybe for normal people. But believe me, Lucius, I’m a fucking freak.”
Lucius growled, tripping over half a chair in his haste to get to Harry. “You’re not—”
“He used to think I did things on purpose too. Little things to piss him off. Big things to ruin his life. He thought I had come into his home to destroy the goodness in his very world. It was just the way I was. I couldn’t be anything else… It’s just who I am, and no matter how many times I said sorry, it was still him thinking I was trying to hurt him. Well this time… this time it was on purpose. And I’m not sorry. Not for him. Not for him or her either.”
Lucius caught his arm and Harry flinched, trying to pull away. Lucius wouldn’t let him, turning the boy harshly, glaring molten silver down at him. “You are.”
“I’m not!” Harry raised his chin defiantly. “I’m glad they’re dead. Glad I was able to finally stand up for myself. Glad that I didn’t need anyone to—Damn it, stop looking at me like that!”
“You are lying to me, Potter,” Lucius snarled, grabbing Harry around the waist when he tried to break free.
“Fuck you! You don’t know a god fucking damn thing about me!” Harry shouted, pushing harder on Lucius’s shoulders and chest.
“What was the message?” Lucius demanded, grabbing the hand that was about to slam into the bandaged wound on his shoulder.
“I told you—To kill them!”
“You’re lying.” Harry must have been very weak because it took nothing for Lucius to grab the back of his neck and hold him still. His head hurt, especially the back of his skull. Dully, he remembered he had been hurt last night.
“Tell me, Potter. Tell me, and I’ll leave you alone.”
Harry stilled, licking his dry lips. “I told you.”
“No, you didn’t. You told me what you wanted the message to be,” Lucius said with a low growl. “Tell me what it actually was.”
“How do you know that? How can you even know that?” Harry hissed back, again trying to push the man away. Lucius was too strong or he was too weak. The result was the same.
“I know,” Lucius said softly. “Now tell me. Please.”
Harry broke away from the piercing gaze, studying the dim stairway instead. “There was no message. Just… just nothing.”
“There is always a message.”
Harry snapped his gaze back, anger and agony glowing bright in his eyes. “Not for me! Just fear. Just telling me I was afraid. My body was afraid and didn’t want to be anymore!” He glared at Lucius, at the bastard that had managed to make him feel weak and strong at the same time. Even in this. Harry hated it. Hated these feelings burning and tumbling inside.
“Good.” Lucius said after a moment, loosening his unyielding grip on the boy.
“Good?” Harry gaped at him in disbelief. “My body knew I was weak—So pathetic I couldn’t even defend myself from a damn powerless muggle. It had to do it for me. How crazy is that? My body had to do what I refused, and in doing so, killed them all!”
“You will learn control now,” Lucius said, hand coming up to touch the wound on Harry’s lips. Harry stumbled back from the gentleness, shaking his head.
“I’m going to jail. I’m going to sit in this house until Dumbledore shows up, or the neighbors’ smell them rotting and call the cops.” Harry took a step up the stairs. “Get the hell out of here, Lucius. No point me ruining your life too.”
SCENE #Listening within
Harry had taken everything in Dudley’s second bedroom and thrown it in his cousin’s first, piling stuff on the floor. The bed was still small and cramped, more so since Harry kept growing, but it was better than the carpet, or sleeping in the beds of the deceased. Harry lay in a ball, arms around his knees, fighting back the emptiness inside and the sting of tears. A gasping feeling kept rising up his throat. Not panic, but sorrow. He wanted to sleep. Wanted the numbness to settle fully and let him drift away.
But Harry couldn’t sleep. His mind still whirled with what had happened. Vernon. The explosion. The terrible, terrible cleaning. He had to clean. It was wrong to leave Petunia’s spotless home a mess like that. The woman had been obsessed with things being orderly and Harry had ruined it all with one defensive action.
Lucius hadn’t left. Harry could hear him moving around downstairs. Maybe cleaning. Maybe collecting evidence to prove his guilt. Harry had no idea at this point. Why hadn’t Lucius just let him lie? Why had he needed him to tell him he had been so scared? It didn’t make what he did any better. It made it worse. His fear had won and people had died. Harry never had to fear from Vernon again, but he now had a lifetime left to fear himself.
He never should have opened the door. Hope had flared so strong for an instant, seeing Lucius through the curtain out front. Why, he didn’t know, because Lucius couldn’t turn back time. There was no way to erase what he had done. And really, it shouldn’t be erased. Three lives had been snuffed out. Needlessly. Because he hadn’t walked out the backyard and run far away when Petunia had called him in last night. No, he had done as he was told. He had gone in to greet Vernon. And then everyone had died.
Harry glanced up, the floorboards outside the open door squeaking. Lucius stared in at him, again unreadable. As if having an expression would break whatever was left of Harry’s tenuous control. Maybe it would. Maybe a blank Lucius was safer than what he had last met in the manor kitchen, smiling so bright and caring that Harry had panicked.
“It’s time to go.”
Harry couldn’t help but snort. God, Lucius just thought he could walk in here and sweep him away. “I can’t sleep. Cast me asleep so I don’t have to be awake anymore.”
Lucius stepped into the dusty bedroom, kneeling beside Harry’s bed. He smoothed down the ragged bedspread, holding back from actually touching the brunette’s tense form. “Come home with me, Harry.”
Harry’s breath caught. The man couldn’t still want him. Not after all this. Harry didn’t deserve that. He shook his head slowly, another sob clutching at his throat. “I did something bad, Lucius. I don’t get to be around people after that.”
Lucius reached his hand up, Harry cringing slightly. The man waited and then carefully touched Harry’s cheek, fingers spreading and contouring to his flesh. It was warm. Grounding. “Some mistakes are worse than others. You committed an action. But you did not create the situation where the action was demanded of you.”
“I am responsible for my actions,” Harry said tightly, wanting it not to be true. Wanting it to be easy to blame everyone but his terrible self. “I have to be. We all have to be.”
Lucius nodded, his thumb caressing over Harry’s lip. “Yes. But there are also consequences to actions, Harry. What you did was a consequence to the actions of a long line of people that hurt you and ignored your pain. Your uncle’s brutal actions. Your headmaster’s selfish actions. My cowardly actions.”
“You weren’t—”
“I was,” Lucius said evenly. “I didn’t want to upset my life by facing down Dumbledore and bodily keeping you safe with me. And because of that, I left you defenseless. It was very wrong of me and now you are hurting because of it.”
“You’re not responsible for me. I’m not… I’m not anything…” Harry trailed off, hating that this too was true.
“If things had gone another way, you could have died. And even though your uncle and headmaster would have held blame, so too would have I. We are all to blame in this, Harry. Not just you.” Lucius ran his fingers carefully to the back of Harry’s neck, finding the blood that had dried. “I am here because you are everything to me. I know that is difficult for you to hear, never mind understand. But that is how it is, and how it shall remain. Now kindly sit up so that I can heal your head.”
Harry sat up slowly, eyes widening slightly while he bit his lip. “You don’t mean that…” Lucius might like him a little, but there was no way he could mean so much to the man. He ran his eyes over the blond’s face but Lucius’s expression was still shuttered even if his voice held warmth.
“Oh, have you become the great authority on what I mean?” Lucius asked with a raised brow. “You who can’t even get through a day without destroying your clothes?”
Harry blinked, looking down and seeing himself truly for the first time. “Oh… oh crap. Gross. How can you even sit so close right now?”
“Turn your head,” Lucius ordered lightly. Harry did so after a moment, sitting up straighter so that he could turn on the bed. The man’s fingers gently probed at the painful gash on Harry’s skull, the boy hissing softly each time.
Harry closed his eyes, wondering if this was the last time Lucius would ever touch him. The man was very good at lying. Had always been… but… Harry wasn’t sure if Lucius had ever lied to him. Lucius told him stuff, personal stuff, and he listened when he dared to share the same. He made sure that what Harry shared was honest too.
“How does it feel?” Lucius asked somewhere around his ear.
“Er…” Harry blinked his eyes open, glancing to the side where Lucius was peering with eyebrow raised expectantly and expression still blank. “My headache is gone. No more… no more dull, red pain.” He wondered how the man could look so lovely while inside the Dursleys’ ugly, mundane house. It was almost like Lucius brought the manor with him, just around wherever he was. Just enough to feel safe again.
“Good. Now let me see your hand.” Harry was surprised when Lucius reached for his fingers, not realizing until touched that he was in pain and hurting. He watched as Lucius healed him, the darkness fading from his hand and the digits thinning back to their normal, slender size. Lucius noticed things about him that he didn’t. Maybe he had missed something that still made him okay inside…
Lucius ran his hand over Harry’s, covering his and sliding fingers between to hold him.
Harry clasped around the warm digits, grasping tight and staring at their entwined hands. “How do I learn control? How can I ever stop from doing something like this again?” Harry asked, his voice so quiet he wasn’t sure if Lucius could even hear him.
“You need to acknowledge what your body is trying to tell you. When you hide from yourself, that’s when your body takes over. You can’t hide.” Lucius’s voice was a soft rumble in Harry’s ear, warm and comforting as the man rested against his back.
“Oh.” Harry had spent a lot of time pretending he wasn’t as frightened as he truly was. Not just with Vernon. With the future. With who he was… If he was anything at all. Afraid of the things he really wanted. The happy things that made him feel like he was something and nothing, all at once.
“I think… I think I could sleep now.” Harry wiggled his fingers, waiting for Lucius to let go.
Lucius didn’t, instead wrapping his other arm around Harry’s waist and holding him tight. “Sleep when we’re home.”
“I can’t—”
“You can,” Lucius purred into Harry’s ear, warm and compelling, lips brushing lightly against his sticky neck. “Ask your body what it really wants. Clear away that busy, tangled mind of yours, and just ask your body.”
Harry closed his eyes, sighing softly. And then again, a heavier sigh as he leaned back against Lucius’s sturdy form. He felt so safe like this… Maybe even loved. Harry swallowed another rising sob at the thought. He liked this feeling. Didn’t want it to ever stop. If he could sink into Lucius and stay in his arms forever, maybe things would finally be okay.
“What does it say?” Lucius asked, his bristle rasping ever so lightly against Harry’s cheek.
Harry waited, fighting tears, not sure if he could speak it. If he should. Surely, somehow, he would be punished for voicing what he truly wanted.
“I… I want to go to the manor.”
Lucius kissed the side of Harry’s face gently and released him, standing fluidly. “Then let’s go home.”
Harry turned, shoes catching on the sheets. He got his legs over the bed and stood as well, his vision swimming strangely. Lucius caught him, giving him a concerned look that Harry tried to dismiss. “What about…?” He tilted his head towards the door and terrible things waiting downstairs.
“I’ve dealt with it,” Lucius said simply. He held his arm out and Harry took it hesitantly, feeling a bit ridiculous to be hanging off of Lucius Malfoy’s arm like some silly girl. But he was injured after all, and Lucius was very handsome.
“People will wonder where they’ve gone.” Harry hoped people would wonder. It was wrong for people to disappear and not have anyone care. Harry had almost disappeared and if it hadn’t been for the Malfoys, maybe no one would have noticed.
“That will also be taken care of once I’ve dealt with Dumbledore.”
“Oh.” Harry felt the niggling of fear again in the pit of his stomach. Dumbledore had high expectation for him. He had not, well, reached many, if any of them.
“It’s nothing to concern yourself with,” Lucius said, pausing on the stairs to catch his eye. “He will understand his guilt in the events that transpired here and he will relent. You will be safe.”
Harry nodded because there really wasn’t much else to do. Dumbledore had yet to see reason and he wasn’t sure he would, even in this. If it was reason and not Harry wanting something more than what he deserved. But at least he could admit to wanting it now. A life away from the Dursleys. Away from Dumbledore. A life for him with people that cared.
The living room was empty, the curtains pulled back to let in the morning light. The floor had been repaired, the drywall fixed, no blood, or grim, or dust, or broken anything. No Dursleys. Harry held Lucius’s arm tighter, the two of them walking through the spotless kitchen.
The frying pan still had a dent. Harry bit his lip and let Lucius pull him outside. He shut the door behind them and then together they popped away.
SCENE #The Manor
Draco was waiting, exhausted as he sat on the bottom step of the main staircase. When Harry and Lucius finally stepped through the front door, he got to his feet and practically ran, crashing into Harry with a huge hug. “Thank god, you’re okay! It was ages… I didn’t know…” Draco pulled back, waving his stray tears away and looking Harry over. “Is this…?”
“It’s not his,” Lucius supplied, Harry’s eyes wide with worry that he would have to explain all the blood.
“Fine, that’s fine then,” Draco said with relief, hugging Harry again, much to Harry’s chagrin and happiness. Harry patted his friend’s back only with a little awkwardness but Draco didn’t care. He never did. “Harry, did you need anything? Uh, maybe a bath?” Draco added, scrunching his nose once realizing the brunette was actually quite filthy.
“Yeah, I’ll uh, go.” Harry gave Lucius a questioning look, the man dispelling him away with a smooth gesture.
Lucius turned to his son, Draco staring after Harry worriedly once seeing the blood in his hair. “It he okay? Really?”
“Physically, yes. Emotionally… Well, we’ll see.”
“So did you…?” Draco raised his eyebrows, tilting his head questioningly.
Lucius cleared his throat. He knew Draco would respect Harry’s privacy better than anyone else. “There was an… accident. Harry killed his relatives the other night. Considering the arrangement of the blast and the damage done, the uncle was right on top of him when his magic exploded out in defense. The other two didn’t survive the force. As you can imagine, he blames himself.”
Draco, who had gone silent at the news of Harry having hurt anyone, scowled. “It serves the damn monsters right. Dumbledore never should have brought Harry back there. There were only two ways that was going to end. I was sitting here all night worried you were burying him!”
“I waited too long. I was afraid… I don’t know. I shouldn’t have waited,” Lucius admitted with a mutter. “What’s done is done. I’m going to see that he hasn’t fallen. He’s been unsteady at best.”
Draco nodded, yawning deeply. “I’m going to bed. Thanks for…” Draco stopped, throwing his arms around Lucius and hugging him tight. “Thanks for bringing him back home.”
Lucius smiled down, hugging Draco back until the boy was finally willing to let go. “I think we all need some sleep. I’m going to call out from work for tomorrow and deal with what needs to be dealt with a little later.”
Draco stepped away, clasping his hands anxiously. “Is he… Is he in trouble? Normally, kids that are known for magical explosions are watched all the time. Never allowed near muggles either. He didn’t have anyone with power to help keep him from having accidents.”
Lucius nodded, shrugging his cloak from his shoulders. “It will be fine. I’m going to disclose the right information to a few key people, and nothing will be said of it again. Go along now. You look exhausted.”
Draco did, beaming relief at his father before shuffling up the stairs and into bed.
SCENE #Lucius needs
Lucius lingered downstairs, pacing his study. He wanted to go upstairs—Every fiber of his being needed to be upstairs with Harry. He was fighting it as hard as he could.
His worry had built the entire day. He had been consumed by fear of Harry’s death. The relief to find the boy alive and having merely killed his relatives had been short lived. Lucius had a new worry. He had finally seen the boy through all his little holes, Harry’s scraps of guarded defenses pulled away completely in that ugly house. Harry was fragile. The boy had nearly broken—That was how magic exploded. The user had to be on the verge of breaking. And seeing Harry fragile made Lucius feel.
Madness. The boy brought madness out in him. Burning, smoldering madness. Lucius wanted to go upstairs, wrap Harry in his arms, and swear his life to him.
The muggles had been a twisted char of flesh and bone. Divine sacrifice Lucius had not seen in many years. It brought the darkness back to the forefront of his being, the damn moods that haunted him still. Such perfect destruction. Elegant and beautiful in its utterly wild, remorseless execution. That the boy had done it—Still pure, somehow. Harry was fragile and tender, yet full of such terrible power. Lucius felt lost in its heady pull.
He remembered the last time he had come across such power. His father had forced him down, Riddle’s dark eyes absorbing all light in the room until there was nowhere else to look but into the yawning abyss. But Harry’s eyes glowed out of the darkness. They pulled and lit sparks that made Lucius burn. There was no one pushing him down, yet he was always on his knees when he touched the boy. Paying worship like some ravenous supplicant.
Could the little demon even understand? He had gained so much power over Lucius. Harry had learned his secrets, compelled them so easily from the man by just asking. When had he ever given something away of his past? Why had he? For a connection? Understanding? How had he become so twisted around this creature’s shaking, unsteady fingers?
Delicate, sweet, pure… Lucius wanted to be a monster so Harry would never fear it in himself again. He wanted to destroy any enemy that might think to step into his home and steal the boy away. He wanted to hunt down all before they even thought to cross him. There should be no one alive to think Harry belonged anywhere else. Lucius wanted to burn things, and people, and lay them at the demon’s feet in offering.
And still, he needed.
He was walking up the stairs before he fully realized what he was doing. Lucius had to make sure the boy was well, even now, even with Harry mere rooms away and in complete safety. He had to see. Had to touch, and taste, and know. The boy was fragile. Powerful and fragile. Broken and breaking everything in Lucius’s quiet life.
SCENE #Sweet madness
Harry was patting his hair off with one of the many fluffy white towels that littered the manor’s many bathrooms when Lucius strode in without knocking. Harry didn’t have the strength to bitch about the lack of privacy, actually happy to see the man. Alone, he thought too much. About what had happened. About how he didn’t deserve to feel good and live somewhere nice after what he had done. About how a part of him hadn’t fully been untruthful, and he was glad the Dursleys were dead and that he had killed them.
Lucius helped Harry to stop thinking, especially when the man gave a disdainful sniff at his pile of discarded clothes and immediately set them on fire.
“Hey! I was wearing those!” Harry yelped, stumbling back before the purple flames could catch on the towel he was holding.
“I know. This was to prevent you from trying to wear them again,” Lucius said with a drawl, pulling a towel off from the counter and wrapping it around Harry in a quick movement. Harry gaped, going red while Lucius looked down at him, the man’s handsome face expressionless.
“I wouldn’t have… They were covered in blood.”
“Yes, you would have,” Lucius said with such conviction that Harry had to believe him. He would wear pretty much anything as long as it wasn’t white.
“How do you feel?” Lucius asked, pulling Harry closer with the towel until they were pressed together, Harry’s body nude where it touched Lucius’s clothed front.
“B-better… The shaking has stopped.” Of course, the moment Lucius started touching him, a different shaking started in Harry and it seemed a moot point.
“Good.” Lucius suddenly stepped back, wrapping the towel all the way around the boy. “I fixed your glasses and I forgot to bring them.”
Harry trailed after the man, peeking towards Draco’s closed door down the hall. Lucius caught him, eyebrow raised in question. “Do you think you’ll be doing something my son will not approve of? We’re just getting your glasses.” Lucius pushed his bedroom door open, Harry blushing further.
“Whatever. If he yells, it’s your fault,” Harry mumbled, stepping in the room. Lucius closed the door slowly behind him and then stood absolutely still. Harry raised his eyes, wondering what was wrong, only to find the man looking him over, silver eyes raking his towel wrapped form heatedly. Feeling like he had just stumbled into a trap, Harry took a step back, Lucius smirking when his shoulders hit the door behind him.
“Lock the door,” Lucius said hoarsely, his hand reaching up to work the buttons of his collar.
Fire tingled down Harry’s spine at the words. Everything Lucius did was sensual, even when saying three simple, somehow naughty words. Harry searched for the handle behind him, eventually getting the bolt to click. “I thought we were just getting my glasses,” Harry said weakly, Lucius having finished his buttons to throw his dress shirt on the floor. The man then pulled off his t-shirt, stretching the white fabric over his head to reveal toned alabaster flesh and hard muscle.
“How do we know they work, unless you have something to look at?” Lucius asked, making no move to get Harry’s glasses anytime soon. Instead he stepped forward, Harry gulping as the man pushed him firmly against the door.
“Er… that is…” Damn it, sentences! How did Lucius do this to him, every time? A shirtless Lucius was even more distracting than a fully dressed one. Pale smooth skin with golden tufts of fur, muscles rippling easily, with only the small square of bandage on his shoulder to mar the sight. Harry furrowed his brow, hand brushing where he knew a scar was hidden underneath.
“I want to see them… All of you,” Harry said, fingers brushing slowly up where he knew one line wrapped perfectly around the man’s torso. “Please. You see mine.” Lucius gently caught his fingers, then used his wand to remove the glamours concealing his scars. Harry smirked lightly; he had remembered the exact location. He pulled his hand from the man’s grasp so he could touch the white mark again, thumb tracing slowly.
“I was worried about you,” Lucius confessed into Harry’s ear, his hands carefully unwrapping the towel from the boy and pulling it free. Harry gasped, once again naked and exposed in front of the immaculate man. His skin tingled, the blond’s heat warm against him. Lucius ran his mouth gently over Harry’s, lips slowly pulling a moan from the brunette. “I had thought they might have killed you… Was certain I had waited too long.”
Harry shrugged uncomfortably, a shiver running through him from the emotion in Lucius’s voice. “Well… he almost did, actually. He had this frying pan, and he… Okay… We really don’t have to talk about that right now,” Harry mumbled, the blond pulling him closer, arms moving down his body and cupping his ass tight.
Lucius kissed Harry harder than before, so demanding and desperate that it took the younger man’s breath away. He held Harry by the back of the neck, keeping him from escaping while he tasted every hot, wet plane of his mouth. Harry groaned, head and shoulders falling back against the door, Lucius pressing down against him so that he could barely move. Lucius’s tongue ravaged Harry’s, his teeth pulling at the boy’s firm lip and drawing blood from the cut still swollen there.
Harry cried out, Lucius grabbing his wrists and pinning them to either side of his head while lapping slowly down his chin. Then back up to plunge through his lips again, nipping and sucking the red pout.
“Lucius… you’re… oh hell.” Harry shuddered, the man rubbing his powerful body against him, showing just how hard he was and ready to have him. They shouldn’t be doing this. Harry had done a terrible thing and Lucius should not want to touch him after that.
“You’re never leaving my sight again,” Lucius hissed between kisses, moving down Harry’s throat to suck a red and violet welt. “I will kill anyone that tries to take you out of here. Aurors… Dumbledore… muggles… You will never be hurt like that again.”
“Oh fuck,” Harry gasped, Lucius’s erection moving down to find his, the cloth covered bulge rocking with slow, hard thrusts against his bare, silken flesh. “Lucius, you’re losing it.”
“I need you,” Lucius growled, sinking his teeth into Harry’s shoulder, the boy crying out, entire body jerking from the burning, delicious agony. Harry panted for air, Lucius releasing his teeth to move his head up and meet his gaze. What Harry saw left him speechless, something akin to emptiness and fullness clenching at his heart and making it race. Lucius had apparently lost it a while ago.
Lucius Malfoy was more naked than Harry at the moment. There was a wildness in the pale blue-gray eyes, an overwhelming of emotion when Lucius traced over the boy’s features. He was afraid, so afraid that Harry was about to disappear again, fearing someone with just a little more power and cunning would be able to steal him away. And Lucius was afraid because he helplessly needed him. Why, Harry could not understand. Just that Lucius needed him so badly that he was either going to weep, or bolt and chain the doors to keep the world away.
Harry felt sluggish, drugged by so much emotion directed at him. He had a feeling Lucius must have understood—Had even tried to hide it at the Dursleys, afraid he would run. Harry could barely handle his own emotions. But this… It was riveting to see the man like this. For him. Just for him.
Swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat, Harry pulled at one of his hands until Lucius reluctantly released his grip. Harry ran his fingers carefully over the man’s cheek, sliding up to press his thumb across his eyebrow. Lucius closed his eyes at the touch, breathing out harshly, trying to hold himself back from something Harry wasn’t sure needed to be held back. He continued his exploration, moving down Lucius’s nose, feeling the strong edge and then tripping slowly over the swell of the man’s mouth and lingering. Lucius’s lips parted, teeth gently catching Harry’s finger, holding him still.
There was a tension in the bite, Lucius’s muscles tight, the man’s breath rough and uneven. Lucius opened his eyes, the same madness burning in them revealed again. It sent strange flutters through Harry as if he was sparking again, but just on the inside. Just from the emotion in the man’s eyes. The desire for Harry to never leave.
“I’m safe now,” Harry said softly, his other fingers touching down around his trapped one, brushing the man’s lips, thumb moving over the coarse skin of the blond’s chin in short swipes.
“You’re home,” Lucius rasped, his voice almost inhuman, the emotion was so thick in it, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.
Harry nodded, feeling the sting in his own eyes from the revelation of Lucius, raw and vulnerable. This man was not unafraid. No, he was just very well masked to appear so. As much as Lucius dressed in layers, poised and immaculate, so too did he hide himself. But he had stripped that away for Harry and it was very much a terribly beautiful gift.
Lucius was not weak, but he still held fear. And maybe, one day, Harry would not feel weak with his fear either.
“Lucius, I need you to do something,” Harry said suddenly, not sure if he was quite right. He felt so crazed inside all of a sudden. He pulled the blond’s face closer, resting the man’s forehead to his. “Just one thing. Promise.”
“Ask it.” Lucius’s eyes blazed.
“I-I know I don’t really have the right to… but… but could you not see anyone else? Just for a while?” Harry asked, worrying at his bottom lip. “I can’t bear the idea… I just can’t. I… I don’t like sharing.”
“I will never touch another soul as long as you want me,” Lucius promised swiftly, the palm of his hand cupping the side of Harry’s face.
“You don’t need to—That is…” Harry trailed off, really wishing he could shut up and let himself have this. He didn’t want to share Lucius. Ever. Even though they were probably far too different and a strange match in age and many other reasons Harry couldn’t be arsed to care about. He wanted to keep the man.
“Whether you had asked it of me or not, Harry, that was how it was going to be,” Lucius explained, lips brushing carefully over the side of the boy’s face. The tension was growing in the man, a restrained force revealed in every word, every halting breath, every twitch of finger.
Harry closed his eyes a moment, relief pooling through him. “Thank you. I just really… oh.” Lucius kissed him hard, fingertips digging ever so slightly into his cheekbone. Harry opened readily, releasing a heated moan when Lucius’s other hand suddenly grabbed his waist and moved over his side, touching him in a way he had not expected. Possessively, desperately, but still holding back, as if Harry was too fragile, too important to risk breaking. It made him burn inside to have Lucius want him this way.
Harry turned his head the next time Lucius gave him a moment to breathe, his mouth seeking out the palm resting on his cheek. He kissed the man’s hand, tongue flicking out, mouth widening so that he could scrape teeth against the flesh. Lucius hissed, watching intently, the hand on Harry’s waist tightening until he knew if he were to look the knuckles would be white. Harry shuddered, gasping as he licked between Lucius’s fingers, his tongue trembling to taste the man’s skin, to have his scent engulfing him so completely.
“Harry.” It was half a warning, half a plea. Lucius had lost all his pretty words. He could barely seem to move anymore except to twitch his fingers and tense his muscles while he watched Harry with pure need in his blazing eyes.
Harry met the man’s gaze and continued what he was doing, tongue and teeth moving up the man’s fingers. He felt very hot, feverish with those eyes on him, daring him to do terrible, teasing things. When Harry opened his mouth to take two fingers in, Lucius gave a low growl, moving his other hand down to Harry’s hip and slamming him hard against the door. Harry gaped, his eyes fluttering shut, tongue reaching out and brushing softly against the pads of Lucius’s fingertips.
The next time Harry opened his eyes, Lucius was sinking to his knees. The man was beautiful on his knees, staring up at him with such intensity. The hand Harry had been devouring was slowly pulled down his throat, tweaking his nipples in passing, brushing wet heat over his taut stomach and landing on Harry’s hip. The blond kissed Harry’s bobbing cock softly, teasing pressure on the beading tip and licking away his precum. Lucius looked up at him hungrily, Harry’s heart hammering in his chest. And then it all went white, Lucius whirling him, pushing him face first against the door and holding him in place.
It took Harry a moment to understand. Once he felt scalding breath moving down his crack, over his cheeks and lower, it was a revealing of desire so strong Harry’s legs began to tremble in anticipation. The first touch of tongue swiping, delving between his cheeks, and he knew he would only think of this whenever the man was on his knees again. “Oh god… Lucius.”
Lucius pushed Harry harder against the door, pulling his hips back, running his palms over Harry’s firm, tight globes. Lucius’s thumbs moved slowly, pressing into his yielding flesh and then firmly prying his cheeks apart, exposing him to the man’s gaze. Harry whimpered, his hands clenching into fists on the door, face resting heavily, eyes blankly staring at the painted woodgrain. Warm breath teased towards Harry’s twitching hole and he groaned, gritting his teeth. His body felt so tight, muscles clenched rock hard as he waited expectant, sweat dripping down his neck and back.
Slick, hot, Lucius’s tongue traced tentative over Harry’s hole. He howled, Harry’s entire body jerking fitfully. He heard Lucius growl loudly, reverberating through his thighs, and then the man was plunging into him, tasting him, tormenting. Each fiery thrust jolted Harry, his hole opening to the wet, thick assault and urging more. Harry spread his legs wider, tilting his hips down, whining low in his throat, needing more—Needing just more, and not knowing how to ask. Lucius’s tongue dripped saliva into him, hot fluids spilling over his balls, trickling down his thighs to cool in streaks.
“Lucius… I’m falling,” Harry warned, his voice breathless and everything hazy. One of his quivering knees had knocked forward suddenly and thudded into the door. His other began to shake harder while he struggle to remain upright. Lucius steadied Harry by the hips, slowly rubbing his body up the boy’s back as he stood. He pulled Harry tight against him, his still covered erection pressing against the brunette’s ass. Harry listened as the man kicked his shoes off and then he was being turned, Lucius’s stunning, flushed face coming into view. He looked even more wild than before, silver eyes hazy, long hair tousled and sexy, wet streaks at the corner of his mouth and down his chin. Debauched and hungry.
“I need you,” Lucius growled, tangling a hand in Harry’s hair and kissing him. He traced over the boy’s open lips with the tip of his tongue, Harry feeling weak and dizzy, and certain he was going to burst into flames at any moment. “I need to be inside you, Harry. Will you let me? I need to feel you around me, taking my cock, sucking in my seed.” Lucius shuddered, Harry’s body responding by thrusting forward.
“Yes,” Harry said desperately, too loud and not caring. “I want to, so bad… God, I can imagine it.”
“Yes.” Lucius leaned Harry on the door again, his fingers sliding down to the boy’s crack and seeking out his entrance. “How do you imagine it?”
Harry breathed out in a hard blast, a thick finger breaching him, worming its way inside, pushing boldly at his muscles. “It’s this ache inside… this ache that finally stops… When you push inside me, the craziness—Oh, oh god… oh,” Harry gave a sudden sob, his mouth latching onto Lucius’s shoulder as fire lanced through him.
Lucius groaned, not stopping his stretching, his hips giving an answering thrust as he tried to control himself. “Don’t stop, Harry. Tell me… Tell me everything… I want to know everything.”
Harry nodded, swallowing down another cry, his legs useless for anything but leaning as they trembled sweat. “It.. it burns, for a short while… But you’re big… so big… When you push inside me, it’s going to be like… like you belong there,” Harry whispered hoarsely, his face flushing at the thought. When he allowed himself to imagine Lucius inside him, the man very much belonged.
Suddenly Lucius was lifting Harry, pulling him roughly from the door and carrying him to the bed with sure steps. Harry blinked up from the comforter, panting while Lucius tore at his belt, the man’s hands surprisingly unsteady as they fought with his trousers. Harry gulped, Lucius winning against the material and pushing the slacks down his long, strong legs and stepping out. He wore briefs clinging to every hard muscle of hip, ass, and top of thigh, his large erection tenting almost obscenely. Harry had been right with his first assessment; Lucius was an Adonis.
“L-let me,” Harry asked haltingly, pushing himself up on the bed. Lucius made a low, dark sound in the back of his throat when the brunette touched fingers to his hips. Harry’s eyes widened, glancing up at the man’s face. Lucius looked strained with his jaw tense, pupils wide as he stared down, lips panting loud breaths. “I think you’re going to start burning things again,” Harry remarked breathlessly, licking his lips and slipping his fingers into the band of the man’s underwear.
Lucius made another broken noise when the boy’s thumbs brushed lightly over his swaying erection while pulling his briefs down. Harry realized it was the sound of his restraint cracking. He was suddenly thrown backwards, Lucius pinning him to the bed while kissing him ferociously. A laugh bubbled out of Harry, a hand grazing just the right spot on his stomach. Lucius only growled louder in response, biting down Harry’s neck repeatedly while the boy moaned and squirmed against his heavier form.
“You’re beautiful,” Lucius whispered fiercely, getting his arm around Harry enough to press two fingers slick with lube against his hole. Harry gasped in response, a groan escaping him when Lucius sunk the digits in, filling him and stretching. “Maddening… You are very much a demon… My demon.”
Harry shook his head, only to cry out, Lucius plunging his fingers in and out in a smooth rhythm. Harry raised his knees, wrapping his legs around the man’s hips, head thrown back as he gave in to the sensation.
“Sent to torment me… Drive me insane with want of you… I need you, Harry. I need you so much.”
Harry didn’t know how Lucius could say things similar to the terrible accusations Vernon had made, and yet make him feel so good, powerful and desired. Harry held the man’s silky blond hair, petting hands over the hard feel of his skull and down to his muscular neck. Lucius groaned, mouth sucking welts over his narrow collarbone.
“Have you ever put anything inside yourself?” Lucius asked, tongue moving up Harry’s neck while he plunged a third finger into the boy.
Harry could not answer right away, his entire body tensing from the feel of the thick knot of flesh moving into him, growing larger as it pushed deep. “Oh god… oh… N-never…”
Lucius groaned again, hot in Harry’s ear, tongue laving slowly. “It will hurt a little… You will be… so tight.” Lucius kissed Harry’s cheek hard and then licked him again. “But you must stay calm… The more you can relax… the sooner you will be in rapture.”
Harry wanted to nod, do something to explain he understood, but he kept moaning, the fingers inside him jolting again and again. He wanted more. Wanted to feel Lucius stretching him wide, making the ache stop like he was certain it would, if only the man would push into him.
“I can have you like this…” Lucius growled in his ear, Harry shuddering at the implication. “Or the other way… You won’t see me, but it will be easier the first time.”
“Want to see you,” Harry chose, turning his head to meet Lucius’s gaze. The man’s jaw was likely going to break, a vein throbbing in his neck while he looked Harry over savagely. Lucius carefully pressed his lips to his, almost chastely, tension so tight in his body, Harry wondered if he was just going to snap in half. Trembles began to run through Harry in earnest, saliva rising in his mouth that he swallowed down as Lucius glared hot desire at him.
Lucius removed his fingers, unhooking Harry’s ankles from around his waist and kneeling. He pulled him up his inclined thighs, palms spreading the boy’s knees wide. Holding Harry’s gaze, Lucius slid his hands down over his slender legs. He caressed the muscles there with summoned oil, paying special attention to Harry’s inner thighs and how tense they were, downy hair shimmering under the man’s massaging touch. Harry took a slow breath in, feeling Lucius’s cock settle between his thighs, the length brushing against his flesh, hot and slick with oil and sweat.
He was going to fuck him. Lucius was going to push into him, sink deep, and fuck him. Harry bit his lip, feeling a momentary flutter of anxiety. Lucius would be so close. Inside. Harry would be completely exposed and it made his stomach tighten in fear and anticipation all at once. Lucius wanted to do this with him. Needed to. And he… Harry really wanted to be needed.
Lucius ran his hand over Harry’s sack, tugging lightly, Harry mumbling a moan in response. His knees were spread wider, pushed higher. Harry forced his eyes back open, mouth going dry at Lucius’s expression. This man was going to eat him alive. Devour him whole. Burn him so hot, for so long, there would be nothing left of him but ash. Just like his clothes.
“Relax,” Lucius rasped. Harry choked on a laugh—Like hell! Hand gripping Harry’s hip, Lucius’s other guided his cock to the boy’s aching entrance. Lucius pressed against his hole, Harry jerking at the feel of it.
His cock was hot. So much firmer and wide than the fingers had been. Oh, and it was pressing in… so slowly… So impossibly wide… Filling… “Oh… oh no… s-stop,” Harry pleaded, his body tight, and hot, and too full.
Lucius panted in Harry’s ear, his restraining grip painful on the boy’s bony hip. Harry knew he was holding back, knew that this could have been even more overwhelming—God, it was so much. Too much… “You’re big… It’s really…”
“I know… I’m going to go slow… I promise, Harry… Just relax.” Lucius’s neck had flushed, Harry staring at it unseeing. His body had stopped trying to push the man out, now just clenching once in a while, agonizing, tight pulls that had them both groaning. Harry relaxed enough to allow his head to fall back, not realizing how tight he had been holding himself. And then he relaxed the muscles of his abdomen and then his thighs, his knees shaking and feeling too heavy for his legs while bent up in the air.
Lucius began to sink further into the boy, Harry gaping silent, feet pushing into the mattress and tangling the sheets, toes flexing. It was so big, stretching his flesh wide each burning inch Lucius lodged into him. Deeper with each breath. Slowly, surging thrusts, deep, until Harry was filled completely and Lucius was growling in his ear.
“Oh god… oh hell… Lucius—I can’t… I can’t,” Harry moaned, barely coherent, his head thrashing back, legs moving with jerks. The ache had not lessened. No, it was definitely worse, filled so tight, body burning from the inside out with Lucius’s deep inside. Belonging—But fuck, aching.
Lucius cupped Harry’s ass, holding his shaking body. As deep as he could already go, he pushed in harder, groaning at the feel of Harry clenching so tight around him. “You’re doing… fine… So fine… Just hold on.” He breathed over Harry’s mouth, the boy’s eyes squeezed tight, face bright red. “Harry… Harry, open your eyes.”
Harry shook his head, somehow more afraid to meet the man’s gaze at that moment than ever before. Surely Lucius would see him then, in that instant truly, and the man would be disgusted at every level.
“Harry, I want to see you… I need to see that you’re okay,” Lucius murmured soothingly, a hand rising up to rub the boy’s neck in smooth strokes. “It’s okay… Just for a moment.”
Harry whined, biting his lip. The burning was changing, more a warm, dripping ache inside that flared each time Lucius moved too much. “J-Just a moment,” he agreed, but still did not open his eyes.
“Come on, beautiful. Do not deny me your eyes.” Lucius pressed a kiss to Harry’s trembling lips, his tongue reaching out, teasing within and delving softly. “I could die in those eyes… That exact shade of green… I’m sure I’ve seen many die in that green.”
Harry gasped. Without consent, his lashes flew open, having to know if the man was joking. “That’s not—Oh! Oh… that’s terrible, Lucius,” Harry said breathlessly.
The blond was very serious, his pale eyes searing into Harry’s and reading everything he could find within him. There was no disgust. Lucius thought his eyes looked like the killing curse. And he liked it. A shiver worked its way down Harry’s spine but it wasn’t of fear. Instead he ached to realize that Lucius could think something so fucked up about him and worship him for it at the same time.
“I don’t care,” Lucius said huskily, his hand reaching up to tangle at the back of Harry’s skull, twisting his dark locks and holding his gaze. “I am a terrible man that has done horrible things. And I am never going to let you go.” He rocked his hips forward, Harry groaning, breath catching, eyes wide. “I know what you’ve done to me, Potter… With your pretty, red pout… and deadly, green eyes.”
“Lucius,” Harry whimpered, feeling the man shift inside him, pull slowly back and then surge forward hard. “Hell!” He cried out, white flashing in his vision for an instant, fire bursting through his veins.
Lucius hissed, hands moving over the boy while Harry moaned. “Yes… hell… you tormenting, delicious hell-spawn… Spread your legs wider… Open up to me.”
“You’re fucking… crazy,” Harry groaned, pulling at Lucius’s hair until the man kissed him.
“You’re going to scream now, little demon,” Lucius promised into Harry’s mouth. He held the boy’s hips, pushing Harry’s back flat to the bed again. Then he pulled nearly out all the way, Harry whimpering from the feel of the fullness receding. This time when Lucius slammed back in, he hit the spot inside him that made him scream, fire and color bursting behind his eyes.
Harry sobbed at the next thrusts, head back, arms nearly slack as each hit of Lucius’s large cock found his prostate. He grabbed at the sheets weakly, back arching, hips moving up every time Lucius slammed down. “Oh fuck… holy fuck.”
“You’re close.” Lucius sunk his teeth into Harry’s shoulder, biting hard, the boy’s entire body spasming uncontrollably from the pain. The man surged forward again, air escaping him in a blast. Harry clenched down when Lucius settled deep inside him, holding the man there as long and tight as he could. Where he belonged. Lucius gave an approving groan, hips rocking, grinding deep within Harry’s tight heat.
He was so close, could feel it—Oh, and Lucius! He was swelling inside, if that were even possible, somehow bigger… Or Harry was just growing tighter, caressing the thick length inside him, clenching again and again, urging it to jet deep within.
“My god,” Lucius groaned, his fingers digging into Harry’s flesh, knuckles turning white. He found the boy’s mouth again, kissing him hard, sloppy, his tongue demanding. Harry moaned and leaked saliva down his chin, sweat slipping over his torso, and precum dripping onto his tense stomach. He dug his feet into the mattress, pulling himself further onto Lucius, the man grinding, shallow thrusts slowing in fury for one imperceptibly long, agonizing eternity of bliss.
Harry shouted, his cry swallowed by Lucius’s devouring mouth, hips jolting forward uncontrollably when he came. And then he cried again, Lucius suddenly slamming into him, seed searing deep inside his tight passage, long spurts matching Harry’s as the boy’s cum shot over his stomach.
Harry couldn’t stop the moans. With each gasping breath he released another low, aching sound of disbelief and release. Lucius, sweating and shaking, began to kiss across his face, soothing, hoarse sounds to calm the boy’s heated senses.
“Hush… it’s okay… My god, you’re beautiful… so divine.”
“No, don’t—Stay inside,” Harry pleaded, grasping the man’s shoulder’s when it seemed he would withdraw. Lucius grunted, his chest heaving as he pulled Harry to him closer, rolling them together so that the brunette lay across him on the bed. The man remained buried deep inside, Harry held tight in Lucius’s muscular arms. The air was cool on his heated flesh, sweat prickling and drying on his trembling skin. Lucius ran his hands languidly over him, seeking trails of scars and soothing each with soft pads of his fingers.
Harry, face resting against the man’s throat, breathed in his scent, white blond hair tickling his nose, salty sweat tingling his lips. Everything tingled. His whole body. His skin was some sort of entity all its own, each cell moving with new energy. Lucius had filled him. With cum. With energy. With terrible, terrible need and emotion Harry did not know how to bear fully. But the madness that followed, the insanity that made them tear at each other’s flesh, drink each other’s noises and juices, and join their bodies as one—He was willing to face such emotion for that madness.
“Are you alright?” Lucius asked, his breathing back to something normal. He ran his mouth against Harry’s tips of hair, ruffling the dark locks lightly.
Harry nodded slowly, pulling his heavy head up so he could see the man. Lucius was beautiful, serene with a smile in his eyes, if not quite on his lips. “I… I like this. Feeling you inside me. Knowing that you n-need me…” He stumbled on the word need, not sure if it wasn’t something Lucius had said in the heat of it all.
Hands reached up to cup Harry’s face and Lucius’s thumb ran over his bottom lip. “I need you. I dare not think what my days would be like without you. My house would be clean, my senses hardly offended—”
“Lucius,” Harry groaned, rolling his eyes even as he smiled.
“I would not feel much of anything, Harry,” Lucius added, his expression growing serious. “I had not realized just how little I was feeling these last years until you started needling and burrowing your way under my skin. I am glad you are a hellion. Anything less would have escaped my attention completely.”
Harry bit his lips, not sure if he was being insulted or complimented. It still sounded pretty enough when falling from Lucius’s swollen lips, so he would take it as positive for now. He yawned suddenly, blushing as it rocked the softened flesh still buried deep inside him.
Lucius pulled Harry down against him, arms wrapping around him tight. He continued his languid exploration of his back while the boy closed his eyes, sleep eventually pulling him down. Safe and engulfed, Harry’s dreams were peaceful.
SCENE #Wizard powerplays
Lucius had spent a lifetime making terrible things disappear. They were only muggles. No one of importance would have even known of their existence if not for Albus Dumbledore seeking them out and using them for his personal means. That was usually how muggles were discovered if ever. As victims.
Lucius suggested an automobile crash. The Dursleys were mangled and there was little point assembling them. A car connecting with the ground after a tumble off a cliff would be appropriate enough. Muggles put themselves in such danger every day when they got into their racing vehicles, thinking they were immortal when they had no power to even protect themselves from a collision.
He brought the bodies to Dumbledore’s domain, gracing the great castle nearly empty while students rejoined families for the summer. Albus was quiet. The headmaster had also spent a lifetime making terrible things disappear. The men understood each other well in that regard. The question was, of course, the terms.
Lucius had been clear what he would do if his demands weren’t met.
Dumbledore had created the blood wards that protected number four on Privet Drive. It was not something one could hide; magic was a signature. He had placed himself as a power of authority for a boy that could not control himself, allowed that boy to be abused, and then left him with the abuser. The math was stark. Dumbledore had not monitored Harry’s condition to make sure his explosive magic was contained. And he had not monitored the boy to prevent him being harmed—A crime to Lucius, but not so much to the rest of the wizarding world.
He would go after the school. Full charges would be pressed, questions asked as to why Harry’s condition wasn’t noticed. And then Lucius would use Harry’s memories against the headmaster, showing the letter he had written for help, the time he had gone to Dumbledore and had been turned away because ‘protection from Voldemort was top priority.’ Muggles and muggleborns would become villains once again, the great Savior of the Wizarding World attacked by simple common folk. Even if the school could distance from Dumbledore, they would not be able to distance from that.
Lucius would make sure. He would destroy the equality the school tried to foster just to break the man that had allowed Harry to be hurt. Or Dumbledore could bend to his will.
Albus had acquiesced. Harry was no longer his responsibility in any sense. No longer his tool to manipulate. No longer welcome at Hogwarts.
The Dursleys would be forgotten in the pages of a newspaper and Harry would never be questioned. The muggles barely knew he existed. His relatives had spoken about him as if the boy had been a hardened criminal, distancing themselves at every turn. Harry slipping away, far from Privet Drive to be soothed between Lucius’s sheets, would go completely unnoticed.
Lucius hadn’t even had to raise his voice.
“I was a pleasure to see you again, Albus.” Lucius lifted his cane and dipped his head graciously.
Dumbledore nodded in reply, his back particularly stiff as he walked around the prone forms of what was left of the Dursleys and got the door for Lucius. “As it was you, Lucius. Draco will be looking forward to the upcoming year. The seventh year spells are always the most exciting for the students.”
“I remember,” Lucius agreed, pausing in the doorway. “I expect Harry’s records will be available within the week. I want everything in order before the school year.”
“I will see to it,” Dumbledore said with only a slight tension to his mouth. The man did not like to lose, Lucius knew that well. But he had and would not make a fuss over it.
“Good day, Albus,” Lucius said, stepping out into the stone hallway.
Dumbledore gave him a final piercing glare. “Of course.”
Lucius had left once Draco was up and rested well enough to watch over Harry. He did not fully trust that Harry was balanced about what had happened. It would not be wise to leave him alone for long. Certainly not among a school full of students. Especially a school where the teachers had well proven they could not be trusted to protect the boy.
Lucius did not go straight home. He returned to Privet Drive, the wards still open to him. With intent, he went through the tiny muggle house, seeking out the adults’ bedroom and riffling for anything related to Harry. He found the boy’s record of birth, as well as photos of his parents and letters in a bundle hidden in a shoe box in the closet. It was so cliché he wanted to groan. Such ordinary people. They probably hid their valuables in the underwear drawer.
There was no greatness here. It was amazing Harry had grown as much as he had, stifled in such mundane organization. Lucius would have to think of something to challenge the young man. A tutor, most definitely. But also something to get him out of the manor and seeing the world more. The boy seemed content to be confined in dark, cramped spaces. Seeing Privet Drive and the cupboard, he felt it was time to change that.
It would be good for Lucius too. He had grown complacent in his routines. Work, home, work again. Even when Narcissa had been living there, the routine had been the same for years. Summers were actually a relief, Draco home to brighten things and interrupt a bit.
Harry… The boy had his routines, but in a different, more energizing way. He did not wake up, but jumped up, usually shouting from nightmares. Even the simple act of wearing clothing had been caustic to the senses. He ate as if he had never truly known a meal and expected to lose it if he looked away. The boy appreciated things, more things than Lucius took notice of everyday. It would be good to see the world like that while around him.
Lucius gave a final look around the dim, squalid house that Harry had called home for almost seventeen years. There were no traces left of the incident that happened here. Except the magical aura, but little could be done of that. Anyone with magical sensitivity would always find the place ‘wrong’ or ‘creepy.’ Not just from the explosion Harry had wrought, but the violence that had occurred for many years. Houses held onto their humans’ emotions. They rotted, twisted and decayed just like the beings that went about their day, filling their home with their own negativity.
Vernon could blame Harry all he liked for ‘ruining’ his family, but without the Dursleys, Harry was a positive, bright being. The Dursleys, on the other hand, had been twisted even with Harry gone each school term.
SCENE #Draco’s friendship
Harry woke with a gasp, his heart racing, pounding in his chest. Vernon had been… No…
No, Vernon was dead. He had killed him.
Harry sat up slowly, staring at his hands while waiting for his heart to calm. God, were the nightmares just going to be worse now? How much more final could you get beyond stone cold dead?
“Pipsqueak made you something to eat.”
Harry yelped, jolting at the sound of Draco’s voice.
“Shit, you’re jumpier than a cat.” Draco handed Harry his glasses, Harry slipping them on in time to see his friend glare calculatingly. “So I can’t help but notice you’re naked and in my father’s bed.”
“Oh, crap…” Harry flinched, eying his friend as he hid himself further under the sheets and tried to come up with a plausible excuse. “Er… I got lost?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Relax. I’m not going to kill you… Yet.” He pushed a tray of food next to Harry and sat down on the side of the bed. “I need to wait until you get your strength back.”
Harry bit his lip, avoiding Draco’s gaze. “I didn’t… that is… I didn’t do it to upset you.”
“Geez, I hope not. That would just be super weird. And it’s already super weird.” Draco huffed, folding his arms over his chest. Harry hesitantly grabbed half a sandwich off the plate, seeing as Draco didn’t seem to be in a hexing mood. The moment it hit his tongue he was salivating, wolfing the food down with less chewing than was probably required. Harry kept eating, pulling the tray over and drinking down a large glass of juice.
“So, which one are you?”
Harry glanced up, in the middle of biting a large chunk out of an apple.
“Top or bottom?”
Harry choked, coughing loudly as his face turned red. Draco watched with a satisfied smirk, grabbing Harry’s glass before it could fall and spill the last drops of liquid.
“Don’t actually tell me. It’s just funny to watch you squirm. And don’t ever show me, at that. I may be able to handle this as long as I never have to see or hear any of it.”
Trying not to die, Harry wiped at the tears that had come to his eyes, his face flushed red. He eventually got his coughing under control. “Shit… So you’re not going to kill me?”
Draco shrugged, giving Harry a long side glance as he stole a bite of the remaining sandwich. “You’d be surprised what I’m willing to put up with. As long as you’re not suffering with those muggles and Father isn’t burning the house down. He… he likes you, Harry. A lot. More than I thought he could like anyone, actually… Hence the burning, breaking, yelling and stuff,” Draco added thoughtfully. “I’m not going to fuck that up for him.”
Bitting his lip, Harry felt extremely uncomfortable when Draco suddenly glared at him and continued, saying, “So you better not be just messing around with him. Got it?”
“I’m not,” Harry said a little hoarsely, not a hundred percent certain what he was doing with Lucius, but knowing it wasn’t messing around. Not after earlier and seeing the man so raw and open like that. It had wounded him in a way, and he was having difficulty handling even the memory of it.
Draco nodded at his answer, looking satisfied for the moment. “Alright, so how about a swim? Something to get you out of the house. Maybe distract a bit?”
“Yeah, okay. That would be nice.” Harry went to get out of bed, then stopped, realizing he had nothing on and no clothes in sight.
“You know, I could leave you here to suffer, but I’d only be hurting myself having to see your scrawny ass running through the house,” Draco muttered, getting up to get Harry his bathing suit. Harry just smirked, fairly certain his ass wasn’t scrawny at all.
He looked around idly, wondering where Lucius had gone to. He hadn’t felt the man leave. And considering how they had fallen asleep, that was a task all its own. Harry flushed, eyes closing involuntarily as he felt an ache between his cheeks, his body wonderfully sore and intent on reminding him just what he had done with Lucius.
Was it wrong of him, enjoying himself so much? Harry was only hours away from the destruction of the muggle family he had grown up with. Lucius hardly seemed to care… But he wasn’t Lucius and was never going to be. Lucius had done things, intentionally, to gain his existence. Harry had just reacted to things being done to him, and was still reacting. He sighed, running his hands over the sheets thoughtlessly.
He was going to have to make a decision soon. About how he was going to feel about it all. He couldn’t just keep reacting forever. One of these days, he was going to have to own his feelings, not just perceive them as independent entities that clung to him. Just… not today.
SCENE #Blood claiming
“Father, finally.”
Lucius paused as he walked in the door, Draco waiting for him with worry on his face. “What?”
“He’s cleaning. With his hands.” Draco said sharply, pacing two steps in agitation. “I told him I could just spell it away, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Lucius sighed internally. “Where is he?”
Draco pointed down the hall, grabbing the door before Lucius could shut it. “Call me if you need me. Otherwise, just keep it down.” Raising his brows at Draco’s turn around on his relationship with Harry, Lucius watched his son escape into the warmth outside.
Harry was in the kitchen, crouched on the floor in a damp bathing suit and no top, scars exposed to the late afternoon light. He was bleeding, naturally, a gash on his ankle from where he had tripped and cut himself on the vintage brass table in the hallway. From what Lucius could tell, he was desperately trying to clean up the spots of blood with his hands, following the trail back, only to drip more in the process.
“Did you lose something?” Lucius asked dryly, Harry only glancing towards his legs briefly in acknowledgement.
“Is this when you say my mind?” Harry grumbled, rubbing his palm roughly on the kitchen tile, streaking red that quickly turned orange and then faded gone.
Realizing he was at least lucid and not as mad as Draco had made Harry out to be, Lucius relaxed and leaned against the counter. “Oh, I was going to say your wand, or healing charm, or a bandage… Even a towel would be preferable to this.”
“I’m having trouble doing things,” Harry said tightly, eyes again glancing towards Lucius’s leather boots. “Tripping. Vision keeps getting dark.”
“You’ve been through a shock. It sounds like your blood pressure is low.” Lucius raised a brow at the boy, eyes running over the curve of his back and the muscles moving there. “When was the last time you ate?”
Harry paused, slowly raking his teeth over his bottom lip. “Couple of hours ago.”
“Time enough for a meal.”
Nodding silently, Harry stared at what his hands were doing, eventually sitting back on the floor, head bowed forward. He pressed at the cut on his ankle, fingers trying to stop the flow of blood with little success.
Lucius couldn’t help but notice that the boy had started to skitter again in his presence, stunning green eyes touching his way tentatively only to run and hide beneath his dark lashes. He wasn’t sure what one was supposed to do in a situation like this. Lucius knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to shake the little brat until Harry finally realized there was nothing to worry about, he did truly care, and no one was ever, ever, ever going to hurt him again.
Eyes raking over the boy, Lucius amended his previous thought, changing shaking to something more delectable, such as kissing, and tasting, and all around pawing. But he wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do in this situation either. He had lost his control earlier that day, just so relieved to have Harry back and in one piece. That he could have actually been damaged—No, dead. Nearly dead.
But that was done. A blip of less than a weekend. Harry was back, bleeding on his floor, skittering and uncertain. Why wasn’t he certain? Had he pushed too fast? Read the signals wrong? Was he supposed to be… paternal or something? Lucius did not want to be Harry’s parent.
“Potter, stop bleeding on my floor,” Lucius said heavily, his head spinning with all his annoying thoughts.
Harry glanced up at him, brows furrowed. “You were just angry I was cleaning it.”
Lucius ran his tongue over his teeth, relishing the sensation as those very green eyes lingered a little too long on him, sliding down his form instead of immediately glancing away. “I wonder sometimes… Is this your way of marking your space?”
“What?” Harry asked, forced again to look up at Lucius.
“Getting your blood everywhere,” Lucius said silkily. “Do you think if you get enough on my floor—not to mention what you did to the bathroom wall the other week when you failed at shaving—that you’ll stake your claim?”
Harry blushed, pulling his ankle towards his body, blood dripping out between his fingers where he held the wound. “That’s crazy talk,” he muttered, refusing to look up. Lucius watched him, eyebrow twitching when the little hellion slowly lifted his hand from his ankle and looked at it questioningly. Harry then proceeded to wipe his hand on the kitchen floor, deliberately streaking the white tile with his blood. “You, Sir, are a crazy person.”
Lucius was pretty certain whatever Harry needed from him, it was never going to be paternal. A father—at least a proper one—would not wish to fuck the prat out of such a devilish young man. Inhaling sharply, Lucius walked over and crouched behind Harry, looking down at the boy’s bowed head and shoulders. “You’re going to clean that, correct?”
Harry shrugged noncommittally, rubbing the side of his finger onto the tile and adding another blob of red. “Don’t have anything to clean with.”
Lucius grabbed Harry’s hand, the boy stilling his motions. Was he afraid? Upset about something?
Wondering why Harry was still flinching and skittering around him, Lucius slowly licked one of the red fingers, tasting copper and flesh. Harry made a strained, choking noise, trying to pull his hand away. Lucius wouldn’t let him, lapping in slow, thorough movements until his hand was completely clean.
“W-Where did you go?” Harry asked, voice higher than normal. “I woke up and you… you weren’t…”
Realization dawning, Lucius rested his other hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I was dealing with the Albus situation. Did you think I wasn’t coming back?”
Harry didn’t say anything for a long moment, rocking his sticky ankle back and forth on the floor. “When I’m alone… I forget who I am. In a day, just one day, my life flipped crazy and I lost myself. Now, it feels like whenever I’m alone, I’m going to get sucked right back there. Even though it’s gone. Even though he’s dead. Somehow I feel it’s waiting for me when there is no one around to remind me otherwise.”
Lucius kneaded Harry’s neck, the boy giving a sigh and relaxing. “Draco was here. He wants to help you.”
“I can’t… He wouldn’t understand this.” Harry glanced over his shoulder, uncertainty on his face. “It’s good he doesn’t understand. No one has ever hurt him. He’s never hurt anyone. But I can’t talk to him.”
“I told him what happened. He’s not ignorant, Harry. He knows some of the dark deeds his mother and I have committed. He won’t reject you—If I hadn’t gone for you, I know he would have eventually.”
Harry rolled his shoulders, Lucius wondering if the boy was trying to push him away. He stilled his hand but Harry didn’t repeat the motion. “It would have been too late, anyways.”
“You didn’t tell us how bad it was,” Lucius pointed out. “Draco had suspicions, but not enough to come to me before you were first kicked out. Silence is not the answer in these sorts of situations even when it feels like the only thing.”
“What, like you would have done anything a year ago?” Harry asked, disbelief and anger mixing in his voice. “Dumbledore didn’t. You didn’t even know me then—Hell, do you even know me now?”
Frowning, Lucius sat fully, pulling the huffing boy back into his arms. He rested his chin on the top of Harry’s head, hands following down his narrow arms to clasp lightly. “How well, exactly, does anyone know another? At what point can you just relent and accept that I enjoy your company? Must I crawl inside your head, learn everything there could ever be to know? There are millions that enjoy time together that don’t have such requirements. Why do you demand it for someone to like you?”
“I dunno.” Harry ducked his head further, his hair tickling across Lucius’s chin. “I just… I don’t understand why anyone would like me.”
Lucius sighed, not sure if verbalizing just what made Harry so appealing to him would actually be good for the boy to hear. Compliments seemed to have the opposite effect when Harry was in this mood. “Because you are there. You do not need to be special, or morale, or perfect—Or fashionable and neat, in your case,” he teased softly. “Shall you try to put into words why you like me beyond the superficial things one always thinks of when with a lover?”
Harry huffed again, resting heavier against Lucius. “I like you because… well, because. You listen. And you understand me… sometimes. And you’re strong. Powerful… I feel safe around you… And you’re a crazy person—I mean, you did burn all my clothes.”
“And you like me.”
“Yes,” Harry nodded, twining his fingers with Lucius’s.
“Even though you know very well I have done terrible things for flimsy justifications at best.”
Harry shifted, tilting his head until he was rubbing his cheek against the man’s raspy jaw. “I probably shouldn’t, huh? I mean, a proper person would think that was horrible and not want to be around you.”
Lucius raised a brow, smirking slightly. “You are anything but proper. Terror, comes to mind. Hellion. Demon.”
Harry scoffed, turning and nearly smacking his head into Lucius’s nose. “I am a very nice person. I am polite, and respectful, and bloody nice!”
“That’s not what my son tells me.” Lucius watched Harry blush, the boy’s annoyance fizzled by his embarrassment.
“You can’t count what I do at school. I’m talking about here, at the manor, where I’m a perfect guest and you have a vendetta against me.” He paused, glaring slightly. “Wasn’t I brooding about something?”
“Not that I recall. I’m pretty sure you’ve been sitting here the entire time, trying to stain my kitchen floor with your blood in the hopes that I will relent and give you the room permanently.”
“You know, instead of complaining, you could have healed me ages ago,” Harry shot back, a small grin crossing his face.
“I could have, but then I would have missed you becoming woozy from blood loss and susceptible to my many charms.” Lucius moved his warm hands up Harry’s bare arms, the boy shivering in response. “I believe this is the first time I’ve seen you without a shirt intentionally.”
Harry turned forward again, one of his hands running over Lucius’s raised knee and then down, pulling up his pant leg to examine his expensive boot. “I was swimming and it was just Draco. I thought maybe you would have come back…”
“And then you broke yourself and decided to paint my floor.” Harry’s neck flushed and Lucius smirked. Turning Harry red was becoming his favorite hobby. “What did you want now that you’ve found me?”
If possible, Harry turned redder, now his shoulders coming in to play. Lucius couldn’t hear his answer, leaning forward when the boy ducked his head and mumbled something. “What was that?” Lucius asked, running his hand down the center of Harry’s stomach, feeling the muscles twitch in response.
“N-nothing,” Harry gasped.
“Oh, it was something, you little hell-spawn.” He flicked his tongue out, teasing a trail down below Harry’s ear. “Something rude and inappropriate that you just can’t help yourself to say.”
“Was not,” Harry insisted weakly. “I had… I had missed you.” He peeked to the side, catching Lucius’s eye. “By your account, enough to bleed all over your floor to lure you back.”
Lucius gave a hungry growl, running his hands down the boy’s sides and slipping fingers beneath his waistband. “Did you enjoy yourself earlier? Spread wide… full.”
“God, yes,” Harry whispered heatedly and Lucius had no doubt now that the brunette had been waiting for him to come back to do it again. Maybe he had even grown insecure when Lucius had taken as long as he had to return.
“Tell me what you liked about it,” Lucius asked with a purr, fingers moving teasing, taunting beneath the boy’s bathing suit, brushing soft touches of fire.
Harry gave a choked laugh, hips jolting, foot nearly smacking into the refrigerator. “All of it. Every freaking thing.”
“Oh, I think something must have stood out as better… Tell me the things you like best,” Lucius insisted, wanting to know. He kissed Harry’s neck, pulling the boy’s hips closer.
Harry gave a weak moan as he thought, head rolling to the side. “That thing… when you knelt… That was amazing.”
“Yes, you did seem to enjoy that. Which works out, since I really enjoy doing that. What else do you really like?”
“Damn… okay, the other day. In the bathroom,” Harry said hesitantly, bottom lip caught between his teeth.
“Yes?” Lucius prodded when Harry seemed unable to finish the thought.
That it was easy to turn the boy scarlet did not make it any less delicious to see. Lucius smirked as Harry gave a shiver, voice raising in pitch. “You had… okay… all over me,” Harry muttered barely above a whisper, swaying when Lucius suddenly nipped at his neck.
“You liked it when I covered you in my cum,” Lucius said lowly, watching Harry react to the words as if they were a touch. The boy arched back, head falling on the man’s shoulder heavily as he panted up. “What about today? When I came inside you?” He ran one of his hands up, thumb moving over Harry’s nipple and squeezing.
Harry groaned, his hips jolting, legs stretching out and then bending back up. “I could feel it… god, dripping out… Inside me… That was really good.”
Lucius growled at the answer, knowing he was losing control and having a hard time caring at the moment. “Yes, it was… You were so tight… What else, Harry? What else do you like?”
Wiggling back against the bulge growing in Lucius’s pants, Harry answered readily, his embarrassment slipping away as he grew more aroused. “I want to suck you. I want to know… god, what it’s like to feel you in my mouth.”
Lucius could really not think of any good reason Harry’s beautiful red pout should not be stretched around his hard cock. He had imagined it so many times before, in so many different way. “Upstairs, Potter,” he ordered roughly, his hands already helping to push Harry to his feet.
Harry hesitated, watching Lucius rise, eyes hooded in lust. “Or maybe… down the hall? Your study?” He asked, wagging his eyebrows slightly. “You know… because I’m pretty sure I’ve only been in there with clothes on.”
Lucius inhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing as he thought. “I like my study.”
Harry smirked, stepping back towards the door. “I do too. It smells nice in there. And it’s always cool and quiet.”
“You’re still bleeding. Actually the last time you were in my study…”
“Wasn’t bleeding. You had fixed that in the other room.” Harry reminded, his grin growing. “You think I’m going to ruin your office.”
Lucius took a step forward, Harry gulping and sliding his foot backwards. “I know you’re going to ruin my study. That’s what you do.”
Harry shrugged, his cheeks flushed. “But the last time we were in there together—”
“Because you’ve been in there without me,” Lucius growled, remembering the teabag in a completely different light all of a sudden.
“Ha… ah… It’s nice and quiet in there… and it smells like you… and leather.” Harry had managed to find and nearly knock over a large vase of fresh flowers sitting in the hall as he backed away from the growling man. “I’m trying to remind you of the last time—Actually, kind of first time. When you were fixing my tooth…”
“I am very protective of my study.” Lucius watched as Harry barely dodged around another narrow table in the hall, eyes falling to his foot. “And you’re still bleeding.”
Biting his lip, Harry stopped, holding his ankle up and trying not to sway. “Well, fix it already. And then we can… you know…” He blushed, fidgeting as he stared at Lucius expectantly.
“What? Ruin my study? I think not.” Lucius took another step and when Harry realized the man was not going to heal him, he stumbled back, eyes wide.
“You know what? I know how to fix this,” Harry said, his voice full of breath as he watched Lucius cautiously from beneath lowered lashes. “It’s going to be my study.”
Lucius froze, trying to figure out what the boy was getting at. “What?”
“Well, if the bathroom is mine, and the kitchen—And you had not problem doing stuff there with me…” Harry’s grin turned wicked right before he turned and ran down the hall. Lucius stared after him, trying to figure out what the boy was implying. Then he noticed the blood on the hardwood floor and it all clicked.
The damn terror was going to bleed all over his study.
SCENE #Punishment
“Oh god, I’m sorry… Hell, promise… fuck… please, Lucius… Please.”
“Not until you’ve cleaned it all,” Lucius growled.
Harry moaned, Lucius pushing him down into the leather chair that felt like butter, head falling back. “But I’m so hard!”
“That is the point,” Lucius said with a purr, “Otherwise it’s not a punishment.”
“But it’s not a punishment—”
“Oh, it is, you little brat. Give it some time and you’ll see what kind of suffering you’re in for.” Lucius had taken the initiative to close the curtains and silence the room just in case his poor son had decided to swim to distract from the torture he was going to be inflicting on Harry. His little lover had managed to bleed out on most of his study floor and had just been raising his ankle to smear his desk when he had finally gotten into the room. He had promptly bound the boy’s wrists with a spell, something the two of them had quickly discovered Harry liked. A lot.
Green eyes hazy, red lips panting loud gasps of air, Harry stared up at Lucius with his hands tied behind his back, his thin bathing suit tenting from his needy erection. Lucius found himself kneeling between the boy’s spread legs, fingers lighting ever so softly on Harry’s knees. “I am going to heal you, so that you will stop bleeding on my things,” Lucius murmured, watching Harry’s eyes widen with each word. “Then you are going to clean up your mess.”
“H-How? I don’t… my hands…” Harry whimpered, pulling at his bonds again, his back arching and nipples peaking under Lucius’s gaze. “Oh god, you keep looking at me like… ha…” He trailed off, eyelids lowering as he fell silent under the man’s intense stare.
Lucius pulled the boy’s leg up, gripping him by the ankle and tugging it roughly to his broad shoulder. “You will have to make do,” he said huskily, attention straying to the streams of crimson decorating the boy’s olive toned flesh, paler where his ankle flared to his foot. “You are a very resourceful young man.” He reached his tongue out, hovering above the heat of Harry’s skin.
“Please,” Harry whispered when Lucius hesitated. Silver eyes snapped to his and he gasped, very much staring at a predator about to eat him alive. “Please,” he repeated more insistent, trying not to squirm. Lucius touched his tongue to his foot and Harry moaned, hips jerking, body slipping down the chair.
“This is how you’re going to clean my floor,” Lucius breathed out slowly, lapping another long swipe over Harry’s foot. “All of it. Every drop. On your knees with your hands bound.” He reached up, tugging at the hem of Harry’s bathing suit. “Naked.”
Making a noise between a laugh and a gasp, Harry let his head sink deeper against the chair, eyes fixed on Lucius’s red tongue. “Okay… That seems, er… fair,” he whispered weakly, his cheeks turning red. Lucius continued to lick up his ankle, looking like some pale, beautiful vampire. “I still get to… that is…” Harry licked his lips, waiting for the man to look at him again. “I still want to suck you.”
“After,” Lucius promised, smiling wickedly. “Once your jaw is aching and your tongue raw. After your senses are full of blood and dust. Maybe your lips will be splintered… maybe chapped and bleeding. Only then can you have a taste of me, you little hellion.”
Eyes wide, Harry gaped at the man, his hips jolting forward. “Holy crap… you’re crazy—Hell!” He yelped, Lucius tugging him closer by his foot, bending his leg and letting it slip over his shoulder. Harry didn’t dare tell the man he was getting blood on his shirt. He did not want to give Lucius another excuse to be crazy.
Harry bit back a wild smile, trying to draw his eyes away from where a flash of red was now on Lucius’s neck. Maybe if he bled on the man a little, Lucius would be his, just like the kitchen, bathroom, and undoubtedly study. “Uh, hey, Lucius?”
“What?” Lucius ran his lips lightly over Harry’s, hands now free to find the waist of his bathing suit.
“What if I just said I was really sorry?” Harry asked, pressing forward and trying to get a proper kiss. Lucius skirted away, keeping the pressure barely there. “Come on… I’m really, really sorry,” Harry said sincerely.
“You are not even remotely sorry,” Lucius replied gruffly, hands caressing down Harry’s smooth ass and thighs as he pulled his bathing suit down. He lifted the boy’s hips up, freeing the material from the chair. “You’re a destructive little hell-spawn that is intent on destroying everything I own.”
Harry couldn’t help but smirk. “You’re a wizard. You can just fix it all.”
Lucius growled, pulling away with a glare. He released Harry’s legs and removed the boy’s shorts in a quick motion. “Get on the floor, you brat. Put that rude mouth of yours to something useful for a change.”
Harry stared at the man disbelieving. He was serious. Lucius actually expected him to lick the damn floor. Harry let his gaze stray to the gleaming hardwood. A dozen small red spots sprinkled foot length apart and one rather large spot splotched by Lucius’s desk where he had dug his fingernail in, trying to get enough to—Alright, maybe he deserved this, just a little. But only a little.
Harry wiggled down off the chair, bracing himself on his feet while trying not to fall without his arms for balance. His shoulder blades pulled back deliciously, his nipples hardening each time, along with his already hard length. He glared at Lucius, the man just raising a brow, lips pursed. “Hey, heal me already!” Harry held up his ankle, nearly falling over when he lost his balance.
Lucius caught him, the man’s clothing making Harry’s skin jolt with fire. Blushing, Harry watched as Lucius bent down his leg, wand pointing to his ankle to heal him. The man was nearly on his knees and it made him think of all the good things that happened whenever Lucius was on his knees. As if reading his mind, Lucius licked a small patch over Harry’s sharp hipbone, free hand coming up to cup his ass and squeeze. Harry moaned, pressing his hips forward, hoping the man would get the hint and just suck him.
“Hurry up, Potter. Before it starts staining my floor.” Lucius pulled away from Harry and stood once again. Harry let out a disappointed moan, feeling very unsteady without the man to hold him upright.
“Fine,” he huffed, bare feet slapping on the floor. He glared back, but Lucius did not look sorry in the least to be doing this to him. Harry deliberately turned his back to the man, growling as he carefully sunk to his knees and tried not to fall on his face. It was just a stupid spot of blood—He was hardly going to freak out over it. He was halfway bending towards the floor, tongue outreached, when he began to have an inkling of ulterior motive in this particular punishment.
Bending forward with his arms tied back made his stomach muscles clench, keeping him from breathing deep. Harry’s shoulders pulled back, neck tight and heavy, nipples tingling. His thighs spread wider for balance, muscles tight, hard cock bobbing with each movement, knees digging painful into the hard floor. Through the heat suddenly rising in him, Harry realized Lucius had a good view of his ass. Very good, if the man’s approving hum had anything to say about it.
Face flushing with just how aroused he was suddenly feeling, Harry bent forward as far as he could, sinking down between his spread knees. Sweat began to trickle down his back and neck, his breath coming out in harsh pants. Had Lucius known this was going to happen? Or was there just something very wrong with him, liking to be tied up and forced to lick the floor? Groaning at the very idea, Harry reached his tongue out, eyes half closed as he managed to finally touch his tongue to the ground.
“Slowly… go slow,” Lucius said, his voice sounding low and rough in the quiet room.
Harry exhaled sharply, eyes closing, body clenching with need. He lapped his tongue out again, the floor polished smooth against his skin, feeling hard and only a little dusty. Harry went slow, tracing his tongue over the bumps and nooks, small drinks of tangy sweet red filling his senses. Lucius watched him the entire time, hissing softly, eventually crouching down to make sure Harry got every bit.
“Right here,” Lucius whispered, pressing Harry’s face to the side by his chin. Harry tried to lick the man’s fingers but Lucius pulled away, tsking softly. “Bad… Don’t make me put something else there for you to clean.”
Harry whimpered, having a fair idea what that something else might be. God, he was so hard. He let Lucius lead him by the chin, lapping slow, long swats along the floor, moaning at each soft touch of fingers and hard feel of floor. Harry was gasping by the time he had gotten it all, sweat slicking his hair to his face and dripping down his stomach. He was so hard he was certain he was going to come any second. Neck aching from holding it at the awkward angle, he rested his head on the floor, cheek sticking slightly from his own saliva.
“You’re not done, brat,” Lucius said huskily, running his hand through Harry’s wet hair. “Do you see all those spots you missed? I want you to get them all. Slowly. Moving on your knees.”
Hell. Lucius made everything sound fucking sexy. Harry nodded weakly, licking his swollen lips. His jaw was aching but no splinters just yet. Whimpering, he struggled to get himself back onto his knees, rocking on his shoulder, his legs sore, thighs tight and cramped from the position. Damn, why was this so hot? Lucius was inches from him, watching everything he did, fingers brushing the softest of touches to his back and legs. Every little whisper of contact startled Harry and made him want so much more.
Harry tried to make his way over to the nearest cluster of red, his knees slipping on the floor from all his sweat. He tipped forward, nearly smacking his forehead on the ground, but Lucius caught him by the shoulder. “Oh, fuck,” Harry gasped, Lucius suddenly settling behind him, body heat and fabric ghosting over his entire back, trapped arms, ass and thighs, hovering but not pressing. Lucius’s long hair brushed silkily down his neck and shoulders, the man whispering in his ear lowly.
“Shall I show mercy, my little hellion?”
Harry shuddered, wondering if it was possible to come just from someone purring in your ear. It would be so easy for Lucius to fuck him like this. Bent over. Tied up. “Lucius… My god, I’m aching… I’m so hard.”
Breathing deeply, the man pressed a slow, chaste kiss to Harry’s neck. “I told you, didn’t I? Suffering.”
Harry groaned loudly, arching his head back, willing Lucius to nip, and suck, and lick like he was good at. The man didn’t, stubbornly pressing another soft kiss to his flesh. “Please… please touch me,” Harry begged, his entire body trembling at the very thought.
“That sounds like a reward,” Lucius drawled, his voice strained. “I don’t think you’ve earned a reward.”
“Okay… Shit, okay… How do I—Hell, how are you doing this to me?” Harry whimpered, trying to figure out how the man had switched things around so quickly. Less than twenty minutes ago Lucius was giving him shit for cleaning the kitchen floor with his hands. Now Harry was doing his best not to cum all over the study floor because he was certain he’d be forced to lick that up too. Harry groaned, putting his weight on his forehead, hips jerking forward. God, he’d probably like it.
“Sit up straight,” Lucius ordered, sitting back. “Turn around.”
Anticipation building, Harry sat up unsteadily, his legs burning from holding the cramped position. He bit down on his lip hard when Lucius finally came into view, the man’s expression intense and consuming. “How do I earn a reward?” Harry asked, wanting it so badly he didn’t care what he said as long as Lucius touched him.
“I’ve been watching you,” Lucius said, eyes moving over Harry hungrily. “Licking my floor like some degenerate. You’re not sorry at all for what you’ve done.”
Harry couldn’t help it; he was grinning like a loon and he knew it. “Oh, I’m totally sorry.”
Lucius shook his head, lips parting, tongue wetting slowly. “I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson, Potter.”
Harry shuddered, his entire body rocketing. Lucius was fucked. Harry had a feeling he’d be bleeding all over this study every goddamn day if it got Lucius to say sexy, messed up things like that to him. He wiggled closer on the floor, his bare knees just touching against Lucius’s clothed ones. “Tell me what I have to do,” he rasped out, not sure he’d refuse anything at that moment.
Ghosting his fingers ever so lightly over Harry’s face, Lucius suddenly gripped his jaw firmly. Eyes widening, Harry did not fight when he was forcefully pulled down, body bent forward, knees sliding further apart until the top of his head was pressing into Lucius’s crisp white shirt and hard stomach. The sound of the man’s zipper was the loudest thing Harry had ever heard in his entire life.
“Oh my god…” Harry whispered breathlessly.
Lucius pushed aside the fabric of his slacks and then underwear. Harry groaned when his erection came into view; large, thick and inches from his face. There was just the faintest of beading of precum on the dusky red tip. Harry stretched his tongue, whimpering when he realized he couldn’t quite reach.
“Go slow,” Lucius ordered, fingers lighting ever so gently on the back of Harry’s neck.
Harry rubbed his head against Lucius’s flat stomach, bracing himself as best he could while sinking lower, shoulders and chest resting on the man’s strong thighs. The divided zipper was sharp against Harry’s chin, fabric rough on his neck and face. The silken flesh of Lucius’s cock was hot and slightly damp as it brushed against his lips. Lucius made a soft rumble when Harry began to kiss the hard flesh and taste lightly with his tongue. “Yes… Just like that.”
Letting his cheek rest on the pant clad thigh, Harry began to trace his tongue out, trembling up over the smooth column of flesh, seeking out every flowing contour, rough ridge. He was drawn up, seeking the tasty little bead of wet in the center of Lucius’s slit. Rising up, Harry fixated on the tight indent, wiggling his tongue, pulling the flushed head up against his swollen lips and sucking, urging more leaking drops of precum to flow. Lucius suddenly grabbed him by the hair, pulling him back and hissing lowly. Harry moaned, watching the man’s cock twitch, wondering just how close Lucius was to coming all over him.
“I said slow, you little demon.” Lucius relaxed his grip, Harry looking up and meeting the man’s gaze. Lucius had a familiar, near breaking look in his burning eyes that made Harry weak. It made him want to do nasty, naughty things just to get Lucius to lose all control and fuck him. Harry reached his tongue out, Lucius growling with molten eyes still fixed on his. Slowly he connected with Lucius’s swaying length, lapping a long line up to the very tip, tongue immediately dipping into the sensitive slit and seeking the fluid leaking there. “Harry.” Lucius groaned, expression pained, breath suddenly coming out in harsh pants.
Harry had to close his eyes, afraid seeing Lucius so undone was going to keep him from his goal of tormenting the man. He opened his sore jaw wide and took his thick cock into his mouth. He felt the weight of it, the ridges on his slick lips, the thrum of blood running through the underside when he pressed his tongue in caressing strokes. His neck ached from having to hold himself up but Harry didn’t stop, opening wider, feeling the hard flesh touch the roof of his mouth, then back against his tonsils. Saliva was building, gravity pulling it down to glisten and stream clear fluid around Lucius’s hard dick and disappear into his blond pubic hair and briefs pulled only inches below.
Harry rocked, bobbing the straining head against his tonsils in rhythmic jolts, gasping for breath around the thick length. His nipples were raw, zapping from the friction of fabric as he braced himself on Lucius’s lap and took more of the man’s length into his mouth, daring to swallow further. Harry felt so hot, so wild knowing Lucius was hard just because of him. He wanted to make the man come, wanted to feel the large flesh swell and spurt into his hot mouth.
It was getting too hard to breathe and Harry had to pull away before he choked on his own saliva. Groaning, he tried to push himself up, breathing heavily, his muscles shaking from the exertion of not having his arms to help. Lucius’s large hands were suddenly pulling him up and forward, dragging Harry into a wild, forceful kiss. There was a snap and Harry’s wrists were loose, aching and tingling. Feeling heavy limbed and sore, Harry didn’t resist when Lucius pulled him into his lap, wrapping him around the man like a limp rag-doll while suffocating his already overwhelmed form with persistent, hot kisses over his face and neck.
Harry whimpered, feeling a rush of magic zipping through his entrance and deep into his passage. Lucius’s fingers quickly followed, plunging in mercilessly, stretching his lubricated hole with two wide digits. Gaping silent, Harry clung to the man, his body jerking with need. “Oh hell…” God, Lucius was going to fuck him again. Sink into him and fill him so deep.
Harry grasped shaking fingers into the man’s shirt, tearing at it, wanting the connection of sweaty skin. The buttons flew off, a loud ripping sound tearing that Lucius echoed with a growl in his ear. Harry quickly pushed Lucius’s undershirt up, hands pulling roughly at the man’s pale flesh, catching on scars that hadn’t been hidden away this time. He bit Lucius’s neck, growling when the blond hissed and jerked from the pain, fingers stopping their torment of Harry’s entrance to hold him steady. Harry clung tighter, wrapping his thighs around the twitching muscles of Lucius’s waist, wanting to climb the powerful man and press together until there was no space left between the two of them.
Lucius fell backwards with a snarl. Elbows knocking on the floor, he turned them both and pinned Harry flat on his back beneath his larger body, Harry’s slender wrists caught between his strong fingers. Dazed, Harry gaped up at him. “Fuck.” Death, destruction and absolute need glared down at him. All for him. Harry wet his lips slowly, watching Lucius’s eyes follow the movement like a white tiger watching a teasing mouse. Breathing deep, he ran his leg higher, catching Lucius’s slacks by the pocket with his foot and pushing them down the man’s muscular thighs.
“Come on, you fucking crazy, sexy man.” Harry whispered, swallowing hard. “Punish me.”
Burning silver eyes narrowing, Harry was given no other warning, suddenly twisted face first on the floor, ass and thighs pushed up and eclipsed by Lucius’s hot, hard body. “Oh fuck—Lucius!” He cried out, the man plunging the head of his cock into his entrance, holding there while Harry gaped and heaved for air. “Oh my god… oh god, don’t stop,” Harry pleaded when Lucius continued to hold still. “It’s good—Really, really good!”
Lucius, muscles tight with restraint, shifted forward achingly slow, mouth finding Harry’s ear. “Do you regret it yet?”
Harry, eyes squeezed shut, breath coming out in blasts, had no idea what the man was asking. “W-What?”
“Bleeding… on my study floor,” Lucius prompted breathlessly, jolting forward while holding Harry’s hips and sinking in another agonizing inch.
It took everything Harry had not to laugh. The man was out of his mind. “Punish me some more… and I’ll tell you,” he promised, pushing back against Lucius’s hot weight. Lucius growled, surging forward the rest of the way inside Harry’s clenching flesh, burying himself in deep and pulling a loud cry from the boy.
Moaning lowly, Harry relaxed against the hard floor, Lucius’s weight grounding and electric all at the same time. He was stretched so wide, his hole feeling warm, like he was dripping with honey on the inside. “Oh god… yes… do it,” he pleaded, feeling Lucius shift, getting ready to move. Tongue licking over Harry’s neck, teeth nipping sharply, Lucius teased him with slow, gentle pumps of his hips. He rocked aching, smooth thrusts into Harry’s hot flesh, filling the boy deep, pulling back and doing it again. It was maddeningly slow, gentleness tempered only by the pain in Harry’s forearms, hips and knees as he was fucked hot and sweaty into the unyielding hardwood floor of the study.
“Suffering… remember?” Lucius panted roughly in Harry’s ear, nipping him again and leaving the brunette’s skin tingling. Harry would have laughed between his cries, but he was suffering. His entire body was aching for completion, feeling no more than a puddle of want, he was that completely overwhelmed by Lucius’s heavy form and thick cock. Lucius’s powerful body moved over him, muscles rippling against Harry’s sweat-soak back and thighs as he delved into him with sure, long strokes. Pinned beneath the man and unbearably full, Harry released aching moans, all his focus given to the hot friction on his channel walls and between his tight cheeks as Lucius’s thick flesh moved relentlessly inside him.
“Please… god, Lucius… please,” Harry mumbled, barely able to form thoughts, never mind sentences anymore.
“What do you want, brat?” Lucius asked, mouth pressed to Harry’s ear while he breathed. “Harder?”
“Yes,” Harry begged, moaning again, Lucius burying deep.
“Faster?” Lucius continued, as if Harry hadn’t answered desperately already.
“God, yes… Lucius please,” Harry groaned, mouth falling open, head slumping forward on the floor.
Lucius pumped slower. “More, little hellion? Did you want more?” Lucius taunted, teeth again nipping into Harry’s throat. “Do you deserve more… after bleeding on my floor?”
Moaning loudly, Harry realized the man’s game too late. “Oh hell… have some fucking mercy.”
Lucius chuckled, a low dark rumbled against Harry’s shoulders and back. “No.”
Harry whined low in his throat, his entire body tingling with the realization that Lucius was more than happy to let him suffer. The man was a monster… A fucking tormenting, delicious monster that made him so hard he couldn’t think straight… “Oh fuck… Fine… I’m sorry,” he muttered between gasping cries. “S-Sorry.”
“Oh, I can tell… I just don’t know if I care,” Lucius whispered, lips pressing lightly to Harry’s shoulder, tongue flicking out to lap the salty flavor of his flesh. He thrust into the boy again, grunting at how tight Harry clenched around him. “You beg so nicely… Cries so sweet… I love to hear you suffer… I should tie you back up… and have you beg me to fuck you harder.”
Harry gaped, his vision going dim for a moment. “My god, that’s hot… You are… a very bad man.”
Lucius smirked into Harry’s skin, teeth sinking in soon after. “Beg me, demon. Beg me to let you come.”
Harry half laughed, half moaned, his body shaking uncontrollably. “Please, Lucius… Fucking please let me come.”
Lucius hummed softly, sucking a small welt into Harry’s neck. “I’ll think about it.”
“Fucking… damn!” Harry cried in frustration. God, he was so close. So fucking hard for too long, and close, and he just needed that last aching bit to get there. “Oh… oh god… okay… you just do that,” he mumbled, Lucius suddenly pulling them both up, Harry forced onto his knees, head still firmly on the floor. Lucius drove forward hard, Harry sobbing as his prostate was slammed into. “Fuck!”
Lucius growled in agreement, repeating the motion and burying in as deep as he could go. He curled around the boy’s back, Harry clenching, trying to keep him in, trying to hold him still. “Hell, Harry,” he groaned, pushing forward while Harry pressed back, the boy making whimpering, desperate cries, so close he was quivering inside and out. Taking mercy on the hellion, Lucius wrapped his hand around the boy’s achingly hard length and pumped firmly.
Harry came with an explosion of breath, his orgasm tearing through him so powerfully it was almost painful. He shuddered as spasm after spasm rocked his body, his cum splattering the floor in long, white streams. “Hell… oh hell.” He closed his eyes, Lucius grunting in his ear, the man releasing into his clenching passage almost silently.
Insane… Lucius was going to drive him insane.
Harry collapsed back on the floor, face tilted to the side, eyes open and unseeing while he panted. Lucius settled carefully on top of him, rubbing in slow thrusts against his tight rear, placing soft kisses to his shaking flesh while they both calmed and cooled their heated flesh.
SCENE #An invitation
The blood was still spotting the floor but Lucius didn’t seem very interested in it. He had sprawled out next to Harry on the hardwood floor, arm over the boy’s back, leg hooking over his knees. ‘Punishing’ Harry had knocked the man out, not that Harry had faired much better. Half dressed, a complete mess, and utterly satisfied, Harry was certain the man had never been more attractive.
He glanced up when Lucius kissed his cheek, meeting the slightly hazy gray eyes. “Did I do okay?” Harry asked weakly, eyebrows wagging in question. Lucius gave him a look that suggested he was going to start ranting about his study floor again, so Harry added quickly, “The blowjob. Was I any good?”
Blinking, Lucius suddenly broke out into a eye-blindingly bright smile and kissed Harry’s cheek again. Heart pounding in his ears, Harry did his best not to blush to death. “You were amazing,” Lucius murmured, tongue tickling down Harry’s jaw. “Eager… shameless… extremely sexy… You have a wonderful mouth.” He licked Harry’s lips, anxious to show him how wonderful it was.
“Oh good,” Harry said breathlessly, rocking his hips back and enjoying how his muscles ached. “I want to be good at that… I want you to… you know… not grow tired of me.”
Lucius raised a brow, resting his head on the floor so that they were eye to eye. “You might tire me out, Harry, but I doubt I’ll grow tired of you.”
Harry blushed, shrugging self-consciously. “I dunno… I’m sure you’ve had plenty of experienced lovers and all.”
“I do believe you think I’m a rogue,” Lucius teased, running his thumb over the boy’s lips. “Just some caddish knave that would be under the next hideous, hole riddled shirt I see. Apparently I have not made any sort of honorable impression on you at all.” Lucius gave another beautiful smile, Harry forced to gape and stare, face turning completely red now.
“You’re a funny guy, Lucius. Crazy,” Harry whispered, “but pretty damn funny at times.”
Lucius tilted his head in mild agreement, eyes running over Harry’s face thoughtfully. Harry couldn’t help but return the gaze, trying to memorize the man in that moment, normally soft hair slick with sweat, pale eyes tinted slightly blue, lips just on the edge of another searing, stomach tightening smile. Lucius was gorgeous. And Harry felt safe to be himself around him, even when he didn’t always feel safe to be himself alone.
“I wanted to tell you something,” Lucius said suddenly, his voice low. “Or, at least, offer you something. An option.”
Harry waited, rocking his shoulder for a better position on the floor.
“I was hoping you’d stay with me at the manor… But if not, I was going to offer to help you find a place…” Lucius trailed off, looking uncertain.
Brows furrowed, Harry continued to wait. He had never seen Lucius skitter before, eyes glancing over to him and then down, but it was decidedly interesting to watch.
“You’re going to need a tutor. Because Albus has…”
Ah. “Kicked out?” Harry asked quietly.
Lucius nodded, trying to read Harry’s expression. “But there are plenty of superb, private educators, and I thought I might take some initiative in your education. If you agreed.”
“Yeah, okay,” Harry said after a moment, stretching and trying not to feel disappointed that he would never see Hogwarts again. “I mean, it could have been a lot worse, right? Jail… maybe even Azkaban… A tutor seems, well, a bit too good for what I’ve done.”
“It’s not,” Lucius said sincerely. “I know you don’t agree, but you deserve every good thing that comes your way. After today, you are exempt from everything that has happened at your relatives, with the only consequence being that Dumbledore will no longer allow you to complete your education at Hogwarts. Most assuredly from my interference and demand that he relent his hold on you, than anything you have done. No one knows what happened but the few of us, and it will remain so. To reveal this secret would be to destroy Albus. It will not be done.”
Biting his lip, Harry eventually nodded. He didn’t believe he should be so easily released from the consequences of his actions. But he also knew Lucius was a powerful force, one that seemed very determined to make sure he had some sort of life. Even though he had done an unspeakable thing.
“And I was hoping… Hoping you would stay here. With me. For as long as you wanted.” Harry blinked, focusing back on the man that had apparently still been talking.
“Really?” Harry asked, his throat feeling tight all of a sudden.
“Yes. There’s plenty of room.” Lucius leaned closer, fingers tangling in Harry’s hair. “I still have work, of course, but your days would be full anyways with studies… But we could share our mornings together, and our evenings… Share our days… And there is always the weekends… I would really enjoy taking you on that date we had planned, and many more.”
Harry let his eyes close, Lucius’s voice washing over him like a calming purr. This was very much a dream. A perfect dream following a terrible nightmare. Harry would wait to see if he woke up, gasping in the dark, possibly back in the cupboard once again. But for now he was determined to enjoy this very amazing dream.
“I’d like that, Lucius. I’d like to stay here with you.” Harry opened his eyes just in time for another breathtaking smile from the handsome blond. His heart tripped dangerously but it was nothing Harry couldn’t handle. Instead he returned Lucius’s broad smile with one of his own, leaned the rest of the way forward and kissed the man. The kiss was sweet and full of promise. It was very solid in that moment, giving Harry hope that he was actually awake and would remain so.
SCENE #School’s start
“Tell them my headaches have just gotten worse.”
“I’m not telling them that. They’ll think you’re hearing voices or something,” Draco snapped.
Harry shrugged. “They already think I’m nuts. It would be more believable than me living at your place the school term.”
“Owl them! They’re your friends,” Draco said with a frustrated growl. “I don’t want to be hounded all year with questions.”
“No one is going to care,” Harry said flatly, leaning back on Draco’s bed, propped on his arms. “I don’t care what you tell them. Hell—Tell them I killed my relatives. Why the hell not?”
Glaring, Draco considered shoving his stubborn friend, then thought better of it. “You should come to the station. They’ll want to see you. Blaise and Pansy have been asking about you, and I’m sure all your Gryffindor idiots have missed you too.”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t have anything to say to anyone. Just go already.”
Draco sighed, folding his arms. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I won’t be seeing you till winter break and I’m not leaving you here to mope the whole damn time.”
Harry rolled his eyes but didn’t interrupt.
“Your relatives brought it on themselves—Quiet!” Draco glared warningly when Harry opened his mouth to loudly disagree. “No, they didn’t deserve to die, especially in such a terrible way. But they brought it on themselves. When you disrespect the basic laws of power, you get burned. First damn thing we learned in school.”
“They were muggles,” Harry muttered. “They would have never learned anything like that.”
Draco wasn’t impressed. “This isn’t a magic rule, this is a life rule. You don’t play with fire. Don’t go swimming with sharks. Don’t go walking out in the dark when you know monsters are hunting. They knew enough about what you are to be terrified, but they didn’t listen to that fear. They attacked you and lost. They ignored the laws of power and didn’t survive the consequences. Not the first and not the last fools to do it, but it’s always the same end result. Stop holding onto it.”
Harry didn’t say anything, staring up at the ceiling instead. He didn’t want to feel better about what he had done. Somehow it belittled the Dursley’s lives. Weeks later, he had decided that he would try to move forward as best he could after the Dursleys’ deaths. That involved throwing himself into his studies and figuring out what he wanted to do once he graduated. Part of that agreement with himself was that he could never forget the Dursleys and what he had done. So he would never do it again. So the family lived still, if only in his memory.
“Tell them I got expelled for turning Snape’s hair pink,” Harry said eventually.
Draco huffed. He had said what he wanted to say and Harry, as usual, had ignored him. “Write me. All the bloody time. You have no excuse, seeing as there’s no one here to bother… Quiet.” Draco grumbled when Harry gave him a rakish grin. “Gross. Freak’n hate you. Do not write me about my father, understand?”
“Not a problem. Now go before you miss the train,” Harry said, getting up and letting Draco hug him goodbye.
“You’re going to miss me,” Draco said knowingly. Harry shrugged. He probably would. Studying all day alone would likely be boring, tutor or not.
“Hot pink. Neon hot pink hair. Don’t forget.” If Harry wasn’t going back, it should be for something infamous.
Smirking, Draco nodded, turning to go. He paused, eyes narrowing as he looked back over his shoulder. “What’s with the baseball bat?”
Harry looked down, staring at the wooden bat he was holding loosely in his hand. He raised a brow, his wicked grin returning. “Pretty sure you don’t want to know.”
Draco scrunched his nose, shaking his head in disgust. “You two are depraved.” He escaped, Harry snickering behind him.
SCENE #Narcissa
The platform for the Hogwarts Express was just starting to clear of the roaming students and clinging parents when Lucius, Draco saying his final farewells, noticed Narcissa. She was standing just out of sight, waiting expectantly as if she hadn’t off and disappeared one afternoon with a succinct note and all her things. Lucius felt Draco stiffen, knowing the boy had found her as well.
“She hasn’t seen you in months,” Lucius said calmly, Draco rocking on his heels in indecision. “You must have something to say to each other.”
Biting his lip, Draco nodded, making his way over to his mother to talk. Lucius watched, eyes straying through the train station, making sure Bellatrix wasn’t hiding around some dark corner looking to make his life a living hell. Everything looked innocent enough, Narcissa a bit stiff as she talked with her son—Not completely new. She had struggled to bond with her only child. Likely the side effect of an arranged marriage and her own detached parents.
Draco gave Lucius a brief parting wave before getting on the train, his white blond hair disappearing from view. Narcissa remained, petite and stiff, looking the same as ever, if not a bit tired. Lucius waited, wondering how long it would take her to get up the nerve. A good four minutes, it turned out, Narcissa eventually sighing and walking up, standing at his side as if she had just been off with friends for a moment and not months away.
“I thought it would be good to see him off. It’s his last year and I’ve never missed a turn seeing him away to school.” Narcissa spoke softly, her voice lighter than Lucius remembered.
Lucius nodded, remaining silent. He was hardly going to argue her rights in seeing Draco off to school. As for more extended contact, Lucius had a lot to say, but he did not think Narcissa was interested in gaining custody of their son.
“You look nice, Lucius. Almost… informal,” Narcissa said carefully, her thin eyebrow raised as she took in Lucius’s casual attire. Leather boots, formfitting pants, collarless shirt, hair loose; Lucius was probably the most under-dressed he had ever been walking outside his manor. Harry had been insistent, wanting the man to be relaxed at home and not always in work mode. The mix of envious and lustful looks sent his way that day had only confirmed that his young lover’s tastes were shared. Poor Pansy had nearly fainted when seeing him.
“I thought a change was in order,” Lucius finally said. “That’s why you left, correct? Things just never changed.”
“Yes.” Narcissa sighed, turning to face him, her stance more relaxed. “Here I was worried I had… Oh, I don’t know. My father never would have made it a week without my mother. He was so dependent on her. You were never like him though, were you? Always quick to adapt and come out on top. You shouldered the things that crippled him with ease.”
“We all have our strengths.” Narcissa’s father had been weak through and through, and Lucius had held little respect for the man. “How has your muggle hunting been?” He asked, watching her flinch.
“Eventful… Not as satisfying as I remembered it to be.” Narcissa gave a terse smile. “Bella still has such passion, but it’s difficult to keep up with her. I had thought… I had thought maybe she was hiding him away. Like she knew something the rest of us didn’t and he would rise again.” She shrugged, lips pursed. “Still, it keeps me busy.”
Voldemort was truly gone then, never to bother Harry again. Lucius kept his face schooled, not willing to show his relief. She could be lying but he knew Narcissa wasn’t. They had confided in each other from the very beginning. No boundaries, no lies, less suffering. They had both grown up as pawns to powerful parents. Even if there was no physical love, there had been a level of camaraderie. Narcissa had liked the structure Riddle offered the world. Lucius had seen it as a lie, just the ravings of a madman that could not face his past.
“You look well,” Lucius said, not having much else to say.
Narcissa waved her hand dismissively. “I look ill. Hardly brimming with the healthy glow you’re exuding. I’m glad to see my leaving has helped you, if it has done anything.” Narcissa gave him a calculating look, lips quirking in a small smile. “I do believe you have a laugh line. That was not there when I left.”
Lucius glared at her, completely scandalized. “I do not.”
“Yes, you do. You’ve been smiling.” She frowned, looking away as if the very idea was upsetting. “I wish to send Draco a gift this Christmas. I thought it would be best to ask you first.”
“Nothing questionable, I trust?” Lucius asked, not trusting Narcissa at all that she would be careful with her own son. She had run off without saying a word to him.
“No, of course not. Just some things of my father’s.” She looked sad again and Lucius wondered if she was bothering to fight her illness or had just relented, like Narcissa had done with so many things in her life. “I should be off,” she said softly, stepping away. “It was good to see you, Lucius… Even with your laugh line.”
Lucius scowled as she walked away, running fingers absentmindedly over his face. Smiling… How absurd. He did not smile. Smirk, at most. Laugh? Never.
SCENE #The return of the shirt
Mind caught on his brief conversation with Narcissa, Lucius did not notice immediately what was wrong when he stepped into his manor. At first glance everything seemed normal, well except for Harry. The boy was sitting on the main stairs, hunched over, something long laid out at his bare feet. Lucius blinked, covering his eyes with his hands. “What the hell are you wearing?”
“You’re back,” Harry said, standing smoothly.
“Potter… I burned that monstrosity. I know I did.” Lucius dared a glance, quickly squinting as the neon orange shirt from hell filled his vision.
“Actually, you didn’t,” Harry said cheerfully, walking down the steps. “I had lost it, mixed up with a sheet under the bed. Only found it a couple of days ago, and was just waiting for the right moment…”
“To blind me?” Lucius growled. “Drive me insane with the damn glow of it?”
Harry smirked, stopping a few feet from Lucius’s form. “Maybe. You really do dislike this shirt.”
“It’s hideous. It barely fits you, covered in holes—the color is atrocious—”
“Yup. So what are you going to do about it?” Harry asked, smiling brightly while swinging left and right as he stood.
“Do about it?” Lucius asked, wishing the boy would stand still because the bloody shirt was distractingly dizzying while in motion.
Harry smiled wider, tongue running over his teeth for an instant. “Let me rephrase that. What are you going to do to me?” He asked, voice low and suggestive.
Lucius was baffled that the little fool thought he was somehow going to get anything good out of that shirt. He could barely see, the damn thing burning so. Harry had to be mad to think he would want to even look at him while wearing the terrible thing.
Watching Lucius’s thoughts flicker around his pained expression, Harry brought the hand he had been hiding behind his back now in front of him. “This is a baseball bat. Muggle. Simple, dull, basically a slab of wood.”
Lucius glared between his fingers. “I know what a baseball bat is.”
“Good. Then you know what it can do,” Harry said brightly. And with that he walked away, dragging the bat on the floor behind him.
Lucius sighed, Harry’s departure relief for his addled senses. That damn shirt. He needed to burn the thing. That Harry could wear it, the clearly blind, daft pain in the ass, was beyond him. Lucius could barely look at it, especially after having weeks of respite from the horrible—
There was a loud crash, Lucius snapping his head up to glare down the hall. He snarled, Harry and his damn shirt peeking out from the kitchen. “Potter! Stop destroying my house.”
And give up that fucking shirt so I can burn it into a million specks of ash and bury it in the rosebush. No, the backyard—The remains would surely kill the roses.
Harry smirked, wagging his eyebrows. “Make me!” He ducked back into the kitchen, the sound of something heavy slamming into the sound of something delicate and china ringing out.
Harry looked around the kitchen critically, swinging the bat in his careless grip. He knocked over the ceramic canisters—Usually cutesy and animal shaped, but Lucius had managed to find elegant and now very broken ones. He smashed in the faucet next, snickering when it bent downwards and dented into the basin. Eyes bright, Harry turned towards Draco’s coffeemaker. It was shiny, high tech, and had no right being in a damn wizard’s kitchen anyways. He wound the bat to his shoulder, smiling gleefully as he swung. Only to yelp, pulled backwards by his grip, Lucius glaring down at him.
“Calamitous, destructive hell-spawn!” Lucius snarled, taking the bat from Harry’s hand and whipping it across the room. Harry’s gaze followed, watching as the baseball bat took out the glass faced cupboard Lucius kept him more expensive flatware in. Harry hadn’t even thought of that and was very impressed.
“Problem, Mr. Malfoy?” Harry asked innocently while Lucius went through what could only be called his ‘murderous’ expressions. The man had more than a few, all of them quite spectacular on his aristocratic features. “I was looking for the tea. Couldn’t seem to find it. Tea calms you down, right?”
“Nothing is going to—Tea? Tea? You lying, maddening, damn lunatic! I’m going to—”
Harry whirled in Lucius’s arms, pushing the spluttering man up against the wall. “What?” Harry asked breathlessly, eyes gleaming with fire. “Punish me?”
Lucius paused, taking in Harry’s flushed face and hungry eyes. The boy licked his lips, drawing the man’s silver gaze down to the very red pout that absolutely deserved punishment. But then Lucius’s eyes fell lower and he squinted, the damn orange t-shirt blaring at him. “I’m going to burn that monstrous shirt. Possibly you, if you insist on wearing it while I’m burning it.”
Harry reached his hand down to Lucius’s pants, wiggling his fingers until he found the concealed pocket most wizarding clothing had to hold their wand. He slipped Lucius’s wand free, staring the man in the eye while placing the slender instrument in his grasp. “Do it.”
“Do you think I’m bluffing?” Lucius asked, his heart faltering and then beating faster, something in the boy’s expression making him feel wild. Crazy. He tightened his grip on his wand, watching Harry’s eyes follow the tip of it.
“Come on,” Harry whispered, the wand now inches from his shoulder. “Burn my clothes off.”
Hissing, Lucius grabbed the back of Harry’s neck with his free hand, forcing the boy to meet his gaze again. Harry’s brilliant green eyes were glowing, full of lust, anticipation, and consuming hellfire. It was like staring into the abyss, Lucius’s stomach plummeting, mouth going dry, cock hardening. “You’re a maniac,” Lucius rasped, his voice full of awe.
“You’re a crazy person. It works out well.” Harry wrapped his hand around Lucius’s wrist, pulling the wand closer until it was touching his collar. “I bet you could put a hole in my shirt without even burning me.”
Lucius swallowed, not a hundred percent certain he could. The control it would take, the absolute precision to burn fabric but not the flesh it was resting on… “Harry, this is—”
“You know you want to try,” Harry interrupted, lips brushing lightly to the stubble on Lucius’s jaw. “Do I have to beg? Beg you to burn me? Beg you to punish me?”
Lucius wondered dimly if he had damaged the gorgeous young man weeks ago when forcing Harry to lick his floor. He carefully pushed Harry back, the boy staring but making no move to resist. Doing his best to ignore the migraine that was threatening when being faced with the day glow orange nightmare of a shirt, Lucius placed Harry’s arms behind his back and then bound them together with a spell. Harry almost immediately began to pant, back arching, eyelids lowering. The boy was beautiful.
“Do not move,” Lucius warned, Harry whimpering in reply. “Do not breathe. Stay absolutely still.” Giving the boy a moment to get himself under control, Lucius brought his wand up to the center of Harry’s chest. Breathing deeply, he picked a different spot, the shoulder, just in case he ended up burning the little hellion. They both watched, fascinated, as a small tendril of smoke appeared, followed by an ember only slightly brighter than the burning orange material. Black char suddenly circled out, racing over Harry’s shoulder in a smooth ripple, revealing perfect tanned flesh beneath.
Lucius pulled his wand back, touching down to the other sleeve, listening to the boy gasp. “Be still,” he murmured, surprised by the sound of his own voice, his mouth dry, jaw tense. He repeated the spell on Harry’s other shoulder, the short sleeve hanging loose afterwards. The next hole disconnected the collar from the destroyed sleeve. The two holes after that he flowed down the seam on Harry’s side, the hem finally breaking way.
Silently tucking his wand away, Lucius met Harry’s wide eyed gaze. With a brusque motion he tore the shirt from the boy’s form, the shreds hanging off the first shoulder breaking free with a rip. He threw the damn thing to the floor, vowing to destroy it later once he had dealt with the now shirtless, gasping thing in front of him. Just what the hell was he going to do to the damn brat?
“L-Lucius?” Harry whispered, breathless, lips swollen and wet from his constant, nervous gnawing.
“What, demon?” Lucius asked, fingers ghosting ever so softly over the boy’s mouth.
Harry’s eyes drifted down, staring at his hand. “If I… um… got on the floor right now… bent over… w-would you take me?”
Inhaling sharply, Lucius let his gaze wander to the glass and ceramic riddled kitchen floor. He spelled the mess clean, then pulled Harry forward by his chin. “Is that what you want? While you’re still tied up?”
Green eyes searing into him, Harry nodded, pressing closer until his face was resting against Lucius’s neck. “Please.”
Shuddering from the feel of Harry’s breathing such a sweet, yet naughty word into his flesh, Lucius smiled, bright, happy and completely unaware. “I’ll think about it,” he murmured, hands seeking out the boy’s jeans and unbuttoning them.
SCENE #His favorite hellion
Lying in bed, Harry peered over to the man breathing evenly beside him. Dawn was filtering in through the windows, tinting everything a cool yellow. He had woken up early, but not from a nightmare. No, Harry woke up early now because he liked to be able to wrap around Lucius while the man still slept, enjoying the warmth of his skin, the comfort of his presence while waiting for the eventuality of the blond’s arms to tighten and hold him closer.
Harry hadn’t had a panic attack since the Dursleys. There had been a moment, once, Lucius smiling ever so brightly at him while they were strolling together the night of their first date. Harry had been certain that his breathing was going off kilter, just on the verge of lost completely. But he had stopped, shut his eyes, and very calmly asked himself what the hell was wrong with him. Apparently liking someone that liked him back was very difficult on his body. Especially when he kept thinking he might more than like Lucius. Maybe actually love. It seemed worth the risk and Harry had been able to calm down and enjoy the rest of their evening, smiles and all.
Wiggling underneath Lucius’s arm, Harry pressed his back to the man’s side, eyes lingering on the dark mark barely visible. The tutors were very good. Harry was probably learning more now than at Hogwarts, no longer competing with a room full of students for attention and focus. He was lonely at times, but he had always been good at entertaining himself. Hermione and Ron had written, and he had given them a very bland and edited account of where he was and less of why. Harry planned to visit the Weasleys Christmas Eve and explain thing properly then.
He was less ashamed of what he had done that night at the Dursleys the more he learned control. The less he feared he might do it again, the more he could accept how he had needed to do it the first time.
Harry didn’t think much of the Dursleys either. He felt safe in Malfoy Manor, safer than he had ever felt anywhere before. Even Hogwarts had held the promise of returning to the Dursleys. But here… Harry was certain Lucius would hex anyone that even suggested he had to leave, if not outright kill. And until Harry was of age, he was more than happy for it. Afterwards, he hoped he wouldn’t depend on the man to be quite so ruthless in his safekeeping. There was something very sexy about it, though, and Harry felt he might not complain.
Burrowing further, eyes still alight on the strange, faded mark on Lucius’s arm, Harry pressed his face into it, smelling the man’s familiar scent. He lapped his tongue out, then latched on, sucking onto Lucius’s flesh until a lovely purple welt formed.
“Biting… little… hellion.”
Harry had not been biting but did so now just so Lucius would not be a liar as well as a crazy person. He smiled when he was suddenly pulled back, wrapped tight and warm in the man’s strong arms, Lucius’s chest pressing against his back. It was Saturday and Lucius was taking him hunting for the first time. Lucius had taunted that Harry would have to take a pack full just of healing charms, but Harry had a feeling he’d be fine. Especially with the blond there.
Eyebrow twitching, Lucius raised his arm up, looking at the hickey Harry had made right on top of the faded tattoo. Glancing Harry’s way, the boy shrugged, fingers touching his fine work.
“Means you’re mine now,” Harry whispered, feeling a little shy under that piercing silver gaze. Especially when the gaze became a familiar glare, Lucius’s nostrils flaring and jaw tightening slightly.
“Oh, really?” Lucius purred, still full of sleep and wonderful raspy goodness. Harry shivered from the sound, turning in the man’s arms so that they were facing each other.
“Well, I did bleed on you,” Harry reminded. He had actually bled on the man a lot of times since then, rarely on purpose. “We both know what it means when I bleed on—” Lucius cut him off with a hard kiss, crushing Harry into the mattress with his weight. Snickering, Harry let him, mouth quick to open to every tongue lashing the man wished to give.
“It seems I own the blue sitting room,” Lucius drawled between kisses to Harry’s neck, “And the west living room—Which I despise for all of my grandmother’s teacups… Oh, and the patio. I still own a patio in my own home.”
“I could probably take care of those teacups for you,” Harry offered, eyebrows wagging playfully.
Smiling brightly, Lucius suddenly got up, leaving Harry to follow with his eyes in dismay, panting heavily on the bed.
“Well?” Lucius said, riffling through his bureau for a pair of pants.
“Well, what?” Harry asked grumpily as he watched the man’s perfectly pale skin become covered in clothes. Yes the clothes were nicer than his work clothes but he had been hoping for sex.
“You’re not going to have enough time if you lie about.”
Sighing at Lucius being a crazy person, Harry sat up, hair sticking up on end. “It’s the weekend. There’s no reason to rush for…” He blinked, Lucius handing him his wand.
“Target practice. I believe you told me you were quite a good shot when things weren’t moving.” Lucius was smiling very brightly and Harry’s heart kept flipping from the sight. “Come on, Potter,” Lucius prodded, pulling the boy up by his arms. “Those teacups won’t break themselves.”
Oh. Harry grinned up at Lucius, taking in the man’s playful smirk. Ohhh…
Wand whirling deftly between his fingers, Harry didn’t bother looking for clothes. Lucius had a thing for him out of clothes just as much as in hideous ones. Harry was sure if he worked things right, he wouldn’t need them anyways.
END
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City Howls #2
The Werewolf, Frey
Exclusive Library
Sage, desperate and confused, goes to his friend Taylor for help to hide last night from his crazy brother. Taylor brings Sage to The Den, a werewolf gang hangout in the hopes of getting the boy’s curse removed. Frey, the werewolf alpha, has an idea what Sage’s problem really is. Unfortunately, werewolves are not immune to Sage’s intense scent.
This serial is 10,000+ words long per episode. It contains graphic language, violence, sexually explicit content between men, and shifter bestiality including tying. 18+ Only<
10,000+ wrds, Published March 11, 2016.
Heat level: XX
WHAT READERS ARE SAYING ABOUT CITY HOWLS
on April 20, 2016
on June 11, 2016
Review by: ann on Oct. 01, 2016 :
This book is nice and different looking forward to finding out why sage smells special. Thanks sadie your uploads on smashwords are way easier to download thsn those on amazon. Keep writing
READ AN EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE
Sage had managed to get to school without Corey waking up, his brother having stumbled in drunk some time around dawn and promptly falling asleep. School had been difficult, impossible to concentrate with so many thoughts running through his head never mind feelings through his body. The shifter had not been in the alley. Sage had checked. He wasn’t even sure why just that he had to know that Heller was really gone. Whether he wanted the man to still be there or not, Sage still wasn’t sure. His body was aching and he couldn’t stop thinking about the night before.
Taylor was waiting for him after school, soft ash blond hair and bright blue eyes setting him apart from the others. Taylor was a really odd kid, looking very much sweet and weak and even shorter than Sage was. But the boy was vicious when he needed to be, a switch inside his friend that turned Taylor into a wild, angry thing that would defend himself and friends at any cost. That was how they had become friends to begin with.
Sage had seen the boy being picked on and gone to help, only to be as surprised as the bullies to find that Taylor was plain crazy, biting and punching back with a rock in his fist. He had burst out laughing, seeing such a sweet looking kid go nuts and win. Bullies always underestimated him too, and it just seemed right to hang with Taylor after that.
“You get home alright last night?” Taylor asked, slipping in step with Sage, hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans. “I wish you had let me go with you. You know how I worry.”
Sage nodded mutely, not sure what he wanted to tell his friend just yet. He was in trouble, he knew that much. His body was aching, each step he took making his hole throb in memory and unceasing want.
“Sage… you kinda smell, man,” Taylor said, glancing over at him. “And not a garbage smell from the Wastes. Something musky, almost.” He stopped, grabbing the brunette’s hand when the boy tried to walk by him. “What are those marks on your neck?”
Sage ducked away, covering his neck. His flesh had only gotten darker as he slept, bruises blossoming purple in the morning light. “Shit, is it really noticeable?”
“That someone’s been sucking on your neck? Yeah, it fucking is. What the hell happened last night?”
“Oh god, Corey’s going to kill me,” Sage gasped frantically, eyes wide in fear. “Literally kill me. Tayls, I need makeup or some shit. I need to hide this. You know how he gets—He’s going to slice me up so bad, I’ll never move again!”
“Calm down, Sage. Just stop and breathe.” Looking around at the students in the distance, Taylor pulled his friend down the street, heading for his neighborhood. “Start at the beginning and we’ll figure out how to fix it.”
Sage nodded weakly, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Tayls… do werewolves ever… fuck people on the full moon?” He asked quietly, staring at his sneakers.
Taylor stopped walking, scratching the back of his head. “Umm… why do you…?”
Sage ducked his head, edging closer to whisper into the blond’s ear. “When they’re transformed, do they ever… fuck people?” He asked again, blushing brightly.
“I don’t…” Taylor glanced around, speaking quietly. “Yeah, I think so. Not something I’ve seen firsthand, or anything, but they talk about it sometimes. I guess there are some people that really, er, like it.”
“What about shifters?” Sage asked, fidgeting under his friend’s stare.
“Do werewolves fuck shifters?” Taylor asked, looking confused.
“No… damn it.” Sage got right into Taylor’s ear, feeling the blond shiver from his breath. “Do transformed shifters screw a lot of people?”
“Um… maybe? There was this girl once, sister to one of the shifters. The gang had said things about her. About her letting dogs do her and stuff. Why? Did you see something last night?” Taylor stepped back, looking Sage over cautiously. His friend looked different, his already pale skin nearly translucent, lips flushed a deep red, green eyes bright and glowing.
Sage had always been kind of pretty, singled out for his delicate features and slender form. The kid was tough with a terrible brother that kept most bullies away just by existing, but Taylor had taken it on himself to protect Sage as much as he could. The boy was just so nice, stuck in a bad situation with his brother and was the most loyal friend a guy could want. Seeing the brunette now, he had to wonder if maybe Sage might have been getting a different sort of attention looking the way he did.
Glancing around nervously, Sage pulled Taylor into a blind alley, making sure no one was walking by or that any windows were open. “I… I don’t know how to say this,” he mumbled, rocking from foot to foot. “It’s really, really fucked up and… and I don’t know if…”
“Just say it,” Taylor demanded, grabbing Sage by the shoulders. “I don’t care, just tell me. Was it Corey? Did he kill one of them?”
Sage shook his head, fingers tangling in his hair as he tugged his chocolate locks in frustration. “I met a shifter.”
Eyes widening, Taylor pressed his hand over the brunette’s mouth, looking around the alley to make sure that no one was definitely there. “Are you fucking serious? Did he hurt you?”
Sage bit his lip, unable to meet his friend’s concerned gaze. “A little… I don’t think he meant to. There’s something wrong with me, Tayls. I think someone might have, have cursed me or something.”
“Why would you…? Just tell me what happened,” Taylor muttered, ducking his head so his friend could whisper in his ear. Blue eyes widening in shock, Taylor began to curse under his breath as Sage poured out the events of the last night in halting sentences. “Holy fuck, Sage. Shit… Shit! How did you even go to school after that? How are you just fucking standing there and not fucking freaking out or something? He—Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t yell.” Taylor stepped away, kicking the nearest thing he could find, a soda can clattering loudly down the pavement.
Sage continued to tug at his hair agitatedly, watching Taylor’s sneakers as the blond paced. “I gotta find a way to hide the marks, Tayls,” he whispered, flinching when the blond reeled and turned on him.
“You’ve just been fucking raped!” Taylor covered his mouth, glaring at the entrance to the alley. Ducking his head, he whispered furiously into Sage’s ear. “You should go to a doctor. Make sure he didn’t give you something. Who the fuck knows what kinds of diseases shifters have?”
Sage just shook his head, his anxiety growing. “If I go to a doctor, they’ll want to talk to Corey. The shifter is not the issue right now. If Corey finds out, I’m fucking dead!”
“He wouldn’t—Would he? Is he that fucked up that…” Taylor trailed off, eyes closing. Corey was that fucked up. He wouldn’t care how or why, just that Sage had been tainted by a shifter.
“Please, Tayls, I don’t know what to do,” Sage pleaded softly, watching the emotions swirl on his friend’s face. “There’s something wrong with me. The shifter said I had a scent that made him that way. And Corey smelled me last night and you just did now. I don’t know what to do.”
“Okay. Okay, we’re going to fix this. I just… just have to ask for help.” Taylor looked at his friend warily, again taking in the brunette’s strangely beautiful features. Whatever had changed in his friend, it wasn’t just the odd, musky scent. He looked different too, possibly magically different. “First we’re going to get you a hoodie to cover you up. I got something big at home you can wear. And then… then I’m going to call Jared,” he added under his breath.
“But Jared’s a werewolf,” Sage said fretfully.
“Yes, and werewolves know magic,” Taylor replied as evenly as possible, trying to ignore the feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach. “So if you’ve really been cursed to… to make shifters want to do that… Well, he’ll be able to help.”
Fidgeting, Sage eventually nodded, letting Taylor grasp his arm and lead him towards his house. “Just… we can’t tell Corey. If he finds out that I’m talking to a werewolf… I already get in trouble because you talk to them.”
“I know, Sage, and I’m sorry about that. We’re going to disguise you so no one will know it’s you.”
Taylor’s mom had once had a fling with a werewolf, the man passing through their lives very briefly. But Taylor had been drawn to the lifestyle the werewolves had led while they were dating, never having to worry about anyone preying on his family or trying to cheat his mom out of her hard earned money and house. Taylor had figured if he were a werewolf, maybe he could protect his family the same way.
“He won’t… he won’t think I want to be one, right?” Sage whispered, Taylor unlocking the door to the small house he lived in and quickly jostling the brunette inside.
“I’ll let him know, not that it matters. They have so many damn hoops you have to jump through,” Taylor said bitterly. “Jared says they won’t even consider me until I’m twenty-five—Which is fucking bullshit because I’ve seen way younger than me. But that’s Frey for you. He’s one of the better pack leaders and has rules like that to keep from being totally terrible like the other gangs.”
Taylor left Sage drinking a glass of orange juice in the kitchen while he rustled up a large, black sweatshirt out of his closet. Grabbing a toothpick, he chewed on it mindlessly while looking around his room. His eyes fell on a pair of sunglasses on his bureau and he quickly snatched them, bringing both downstairs to his friend.
Sage dressed while Taylor used his special cellphone to contact Jared. There would be no way the werewolf would come to his house. It just wasn’t smart, even with Ms. Hunt out and working at the hospital. Taylor’s mom was not a fan of what her son had been slowly getting into, having seen firsthand the consequences of the werewolf gangs and the people that tried to cross them.
“Come on. He says he’ll meet us at The Den,” Taylor said abruptly, pocketing his phone. Sighing, he pulled the hood over Sage’s hair. “I know it’s hot out, but you have to stay covered so you won’t be recognized.” Taylor didn’t bother mentioning that he’d run across way too many fucked up werewolves that would think someone as pretty as Sage was fair game. Jared was his sponsor, protecting him from any ill attention even though he wasn’t officially in with Frey’s pack yet. Another perk with joining a proper werewolf pack and not some bunch of fucked up creeps that thought just because they could transform on the full moon they could hurt anyone they liked.
Sage let Taylor pull him out of the house, his head spinning, stomach tight with anxiety as they headed for the bus. He had made a point to avoid the werewolves; after nearly being murdered by one as a child, Sage really didn’t trust any of them. Taylor was the only reason he was even considering this, and mostly because his friend was as street smart as they came. If Taylor thought the werewolves were his only chance to fix whatever had happened to him, then Sage was willing to give it a shot.
Wonder what happens next? With a paid membership you can read it all!
City Howls #1
The Black Wolf, Heller
Exclusive Library
Secluded by his psychotic brother ever since their parents were killed by werewolves, Sage has no idea what’s wrong with him when he comes across his first wolf shifter in a dark alley late at night. All he knows for certain is that he’s unbearably hot, dizzy, and can’t seem to stop from letting the wolf do anything it wants to him. It has to be a curse but the shifter, Heller, thinks the beautiful boy belongs with his pack.
Not sure who to trust or how to get help, Sage must hide from his brother and find a solution before it’s too late. His friend, Taylor, knows a gang of werewolves willing to assist, but the vicious cursed men might end up being worse than the shifters in the long run. When Heller comes to free a stolen pup from the cursed, will Sage choose the life of a shifter pack bitch after he owes so much to his werewolf alpha?
This serial is 10,000+ words long per episode. It contains graphic language, violence, sexually explicit content between men, and shifter bestiality including tying. 18+ Only.
10,000+ wrds, Published March 10, 2016.
Heat level: XXX
WHAT READERS ARE SAYING ABOUT CITY HOWLS
on April 20, 2016
on June 11, 2016
Review by: ann on Oct. 01, 2016 :
This book is nice and different looking forward to finding out why sage smells special. Thanks sadie your uploads on smashwords are way easier to download thsn those on amazon. Keep writing
READ AN EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE
Sage ran faster, his blood roaring in his ears. Beneath the sound of his heart frantically beating, he could hear it still; claws clicking on cement. It was dark and he had waited too long to go home after leaving his friend Taylor’s. His blond friend had offered to walk with him, but that would have just left Taylor to walk home alone at an even later, more dangerous hour. Sage’s brother would never let someone like Taylor stay at their place overnight, not when the boy hung out with the werewolves.
There was a loud huff, then a growl. Green eyes widening, Sage caught sight of an off shoot, an alleyway connecting streets together. If he could get over to Washington St. where the bars and bright lights were, he might be okay. As if reading his thoughts, there was a low howl, chilling and hungry. It made his knees weak and Sage stumbled to a halt. Dimly he realized that no other voices had raised to join the cry. The shifter was alone, stalking him down without a pack.
Oh god, what was wrong with him? He felt so hot all of a sudden. Not just from the running, but from the sound of the wolf, blue eyes glowing out of the darkness as it panted. “L-Leave me alone,” Sage said weakly, stepping back away from the intense stare. “I’m not… I’m not a werewolf. Your kind are supposed to be able to smell that. I’m just a guy… so leave me alone.”
He had reached the alley, brick rubbing his shoulder coarsely as he turned and nearly barreled backward, just catching the corner to keep from falling. His shoulder ached from how his arm had wrenched. And something else… Something else ached inside him, his legs shaking and feeling heavy. The shifter kept approaching, head low, a dark shadow stalking forward.
Sage knew it was a shifter and not a real wolf. Real wolves didn’t get as big. Something about the magic that allowed shifters to transform into animals also made them look more beautiful than the real creatures out of nature. The black wolf was otherworldly in appearance, silky looking blue-black fur and ice blue eyes. It was looking at him almost as if trying to figure out what he was, nose scenting the air.
Biting his lip, Sage hesitantly held his hand out. Once the shifter smelled him, he would know he wasn’t a werewolf. The shifters and werewolves didn’t get along. Dogtowne was the border where both packs fringed. The name was ironic given that any real dog had been killed off by the cursed werewolves years ago. The werewolves liked to kill the shifters, and the shifters liked to kill them back. Hopefully hanging around with Taylor hadn’t gotten too much werewolf smell on him. Taylor wasn’t a werewolf but he wanted to be.
“Stop!” Sage gasped, the wolf loping up to him and reaching its terrible fangs right at his hand. But the boy had held his hand out, something the shifter recognized enough to approach.
It was so much bigger close up. Sage was small even though full grown, slender and wiry-limbed from never getting a full meal. With his messy chocolate hair and bright green eyes, he was constantly being mistaken for much younger. The wolf stretched out nose to tail tip would likely be as tall as him and much heavier and stronger. Swallowing nervously, Sage raised his hand again, watching his thin fingers shake. The wolf pressed its large maw to his hand, breathing deeply, a low whine falling from its mouth.
Sage had only ever seen one other shifter up close. He had been a wolf too, bright white fur, maybe the same size of this one or even larger. A long time ago when Sage had been just a child, his parents were killed by warring werewolf packs. He had run, a transformed werewolf chasing after him, humanoid and muscular with terrible claws and slavering jaws. Everyone knew werewolves ate children during the full moon and Sage had not wished to be a meal.
He hadn’t known if the white wolf had come to save him or to just kill a werewolf. The shifter had died, the injured werewolf lurching and staggering away while the wolf bled out. Sage had cried, watching the fluffy fur stained scarlet turn into a tall, powerful looking man, blood pouring from his throat. He had been beautiful, long white-blond hair and pale eyes. His skin had nearly been as white as the wolf’s fur.
He had tried to help the shifter, but Sage’s brother had found him. Corey had screamed at him for going near such a filthy, horrible monster and pulled him away. Corey didn’t care that the shifter had saved Sage. He hated all of them, shifters and werewolves.
Staring at the icy eyes of the dark creature still sniffing his hand and wrist, Sage wondered what the man looked like. They were all males, the shifter gene stuck on the Y-chromosome. Not all men were shifters, but all shifters were male. They were also usually very handsome, or so Sage had been told. The shifters didn’t come into the city as people. The werewolves could smell what they were and would hunt them down quick enough. Moving as a wolf was much faster.
“S-See? I told you I wasn’t a werewolf,” Sage stammered, foot slipping back to creep away. The wolf growled at him, the boy freezing and biting his lip. What if the rumors were true? What if the shifters were just as terrible as the werewolves and if they got hungry enough they might just eat a person?
Sweat trickled down his neck. The wolf didn’t look particularly skinny, more compact muscle and nicely kept fur. But maybe it was just well fed on stupid humans that didn’t know better than to wait until daylight to travel?
Sage cautiously peeked over his shoulder. There was a large dumpster blocking most of his view. Only as far as two towering apartment buildings away were city lights, neon and garish. If he ran for them, he might make it. The shifter wouldn’t risk being around a huge population. The werewolves roamed at night, partying with their human crew of gangsters. Surely the shifter would avoid a bar full of both.
Decided, heart slamming in his chest, Sage turned and ran. He made it about three feet before he tripped, blind to the black plastic bag of trash that had been right by his foot. He fell heavily, the concrete jarring his bones, everything spinning for frantic, dizzy minutes. “Shit—Oh fuck, get off me,” he whimpered, the wolf growling and biting the collar of his shirt, paws and a great weight pinning him hard to the ground by his shoulders.
Sage felt so hot and dizzy. There was something wrong with him, some sort of fever. There was a musky, strange smell around him that had nothing to do with the garbage only feet away. He thought maybe it was the wolf. The creature was tearing at his shirt with its vicious teeth, pulling a long slash down the fabric, a ripping noise loud in his ears.
It was going to eat him. Peel his clothes off and eat him like a bag of dog food. As if to validate the terrifying thought, the wolf began to lick over Sage’s exposed back, its slippery pink tongue lapping down, stealing the spots of blood its claws had caused while it continued to stand on top of him. Sage should have been terrified but there was something wrong with him at the moment. His body felt so hot, so achingly tight and hard. He woke up some mornings, heated dreams fading where he felt like this. He had never felt it while awake. He could be dreaming… that would make more sense.
“Oh god… please stop,” Sage groaned, teeth nipping at his shoulder and shooting fire through him. He shouldn’t like this. It was a shifter and a male. Sage wasn’t supposed to like guys… or wolves. “Oh… oh hell…” The tongue moved lower, down his back, licking the dip of his waist and leaving trails of wet on his skin. He wondered if it would go lower—If he should help the shifter get his jeans off so it would lick even lower.
Eyes squeezed shut, Sage silently cursed himself. He shouldn’t want that. What kind of freak wanted that? God, he was so hard, though.
While he fought with his body’s confusing desires, the shifter nipped at his waistband, sinking teeth in and pulling his jeans down. They were too tight, Sage gasping with each tug of fabric that pulled snug on his erection. He was going crazy. Shifters might eat a person, but they didn’t fuck them. At least, he didn’t think they did. His brother had suggested something disgusting along the lines of it, but Corey always said gross stuff about sex. The man thought everything about sex was filthy, including wanting it. Sage was, unfortunately, feeling very filthy at the moment.
Unable to hold back any longer, he reached down, fighting with the clasp of his jeans and unbuttoning them one handed. He unzipped slowly, the wolf stilling as he heard the metal teeth unfurl. Panting, Sage raised his hips when the shifter tugged again, the heavy fabric giving way, pulling down his narrow hips and then slender thighs with each wrench and snarl, leaving his exposed flesh stinging on the rough concrete. God, what was he doing?
A hard nose pressed against his ass, his briefs the only protection from the hot snuffles and sharp teeth. The shifter was smelling him, down his crack, pushing between his cheeks, breathing in the musk of his balls. Sage bit his lip hard, trying to keep from moaning with each touch. Maybe this was all it wanted. Just to smell him and learn whatever the hell it was canines learned from sniffing each other. That Sage was getting hard, his cock dripping precum was really just something fucked up with him.
It was apparently not enough, the wolf huffing and nipping at the thin material of his underwear, stretching it from the boy’s golden skin. It got his briefs halfway down his thighs, the material snagging on the front around Sage’s embarrassingly hard dick. The nose returned with prickling whiskers and damp heat, nuzzling and wedging between his pert cheeks with clear intent. Sage could not stop from crying out loudly, his hips jolting forward.
“Why are you…? Oh god… that’s bad… really, really bad,” Sage mumbled mindlessly, the slippery tongue delving, tasting his bare ass and sac, sliding around to lap at his hard cock. Then it wiggled between his cheeks and lighted over the pucker of his hole. “It’s dirty… so dirty,” he whispered, his face and neck bright red. But it felt so good.
Corey had promised to beat him if he ever masturbated like some degenerate, freak pervert. His older brother used to beat Sage whenever he caught him getting hard. Sometimes even doing stuff to hurt him that made him hard and then punishing him for it after. Only sick freaks liked that. Corey still did that sometimes, usually after getting drunk and extra mean. Sage still couldn’t stop from getting hard, just showing how fucked up he was.
The tongue kept moving, nose pushing relentlessly against his crack, spreading his cheeks wider as it slipped over his entrance again and again. The wolf nosed lower, pushing at Sage’s thighs, forcing him up onto his knees while the boy’s slender legs trembled. Then again, slipping deep between his cheeks, tasting him more from the new angle, dripping trails of saliva down his pale inner thighs.
“D-Don’t—You shouldn’t… oh fuck—Oh fuck, you’re gonna…” Sage sobbed weakly, realizing what was coming next. He was surrounded by silky fur, black and suffocating as it rubbed on his bare back, ass and thighs. The wolf settled heavily on his sloped torso, paws clutching his narrow, heaving chest. Sage could feel hot splatters of liquid, each hump of the wolf’s hard cock adding another stream of wet to his thighs and ass.