A little place to share your comments and questions on the fanfic, Magical Reflection. Liked it, hated it, interested in seeing a sequel or something similar? Let me know below. I love the feedback.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
“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.
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.
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.”
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.
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.
“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.
***
A little place to share your comments and questions on the fanfic, Magical Reflection. Liked it, hated it, interested in seeing a sequel or something similar? Let me know below. I love the feedback.
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.”
“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.
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.
“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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
“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.
“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.
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.
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.
A little place to share your comments and questions on the fanfic, Sleeping Dogs. Liked it, hated it, interested in seeing a sequel or something similar? Let me know below. I love the feedback.
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.
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.
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.
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.”
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.
“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.”
“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…
A little place to share your comments and questions on the fanfic, Sleeping Dogs. Liked it, hated it, interested in seeing a sequel or something similar? Let me know below. I love the feedback.
Harry slipped into Remus’s classroom after the last student filed out for the day, hands tapping mindlessly on each desk as he passed them and approached his professor. Remus had his head down, fiddling with some paperwork to finish, so Harry waited patiently, staring out the window at the snow covering the ground outside. Sirius was hidden away somewhere out there, although the man came by, time to time, to visit in the Shrieking Shack and spend nights with them.
“What did you want, pup?” Remus asked gruffly. Beaming, Harry turned to reveal his bloodied face and bruised cheekbone, eyes falling onto Remus’s exasperated expression. “Tell me he at least looks worse?”
Harry nodded, wincing slightly as it pulled at a sore cut. He licked his lips, tasting blood, eyes taking in Remus’s mussed hair and rumpled shirt, as if the man just couldn’t go the day without lounging and stretching, and doing things to Harry that made him even more rumpled looking. Which Harry was really hoping for because he was aching after fighting with Draco Malfoy, and since Remus had not approved of anyone to touch Harry, the werewolf was currently his only option with Sirius out.
Remus had also been very resistant lately, somewhat uncomfortable with Sirius not around to join in. It had been way too long and Harry was taking greater risks, trying to get what he needed. Sirius had warned him that Remus might slip into halfblood, muggle, backwards nonsense, but Harry hadn’t really understood what that meant until Remus had stopped filling him.
“Tell me what happened,” Remus ordered in his quiet way, waiting for Harry to step up to his desk across from him so he could view the damage.
“Oh, you know, he was cracking something about mudbloods again… Fuck, Remus, he really has such a nasty mouth,” Harry said hungrily, leaning in to let large fingers touch the cut on his lip, and then the bruise on his cheek.
“That may be extremely accurate, Harry, but until you can prove to me that you can keep him in his place, you know I can’t let you near him. You are of my pack, and even the way you are, you need to reflect the right level of intimidation to those outside the pack.”
Harry whined, eyes closing into the touch. “It’s so fucking hard, Remus, so fucking hard to not want him to say such fucked up things to me. I want him to do things to me… oh, the things you and Siri do… but with his nasty mouth.”
Remus sighed, caressing the boy’s cheek, watching his dark eyelashes sweep over his pale skin. Harry had gotten stronger since joining Remus’s pack and magic. Stronger physically and emotionally. He could transform now, nearly with pure ease into the young, spitfire of a chocolate dog that happily chased Padfoot around in the forest, cheering and grounding the older dog so much that Sirius seemed himself again. Harry was waking them both up, erasing a lot of the damp and ice from the last years. But the boy was still a handful, all said and done.
They were glad that Harry was better, seemingly happy to have the two men in his life, and learning to accept the ache that had consumed his existence since it woke up. Remus suspected something was still wrong with the boy, Harry prone to dark, angry moods, and spending a lot of time alone. He had stopped talking to his old friends all together and seemed to have little interest in making new ones.
Harry was just too different now, had always been, but now he couldn’t deny it anymore. It was too difficult to be around others that expected him to be something he was not, instead of accepting him for how he was. Which was likely why Harry had become drawn to the the obnoxious, rabid toothed Malfoy who had never seen Harry the way everyone else did.
Sirius was just as pissed as Remus was that Harry had fixated on the Slytherin menace. Of all the people to have a crush on, Draco Malfoy was not the boy. He was an arrogant, conniving, piece of shit death eater in training with parents, amazingly enough, even worse. The only good thing about him was his absolute terror of Remus. Terror Remus had started to treasure after realizing the way Harry was fucking determined to get the vicious prat into his hole.
Harry suspected that Malfoy had a canine in there under it all, and Remus thought Harry was probably right, if only because his ache had yet to be wrong. It still didn’t mean he wanted the arrogant sod touching Harry, never mind had any interest in him as a packmate.
“Remus, he fucking touched me today,” Harry whispered breathlessly, eyes half open to stare at the brooding man. “Right after I finally let him up—I think I might have broken his finger.”
Remus smiled at that, pulling out his wand to heal the wounds on Harry’s face, leaving the cut on his lip because the boy loved how those hurt so good. “How did he touch you?”
“Pushed me up against the wall with his hands and body… called me a filthy whore halfblood mutt…” Harry was trembling, lips parted to pant. “Said… fuck… said someone should show me how purebloods took care of things proper… And I… I couldn’t help myself, Remus—I tried, I really, really did,” Harry whimpered anxiously, eyes sliding away as Remus growled and pulled his face up to meet him again.
“What did you do, pup?” So help Draco Malfoy if he touched Harry—even if Harry could convince a damn stone to fuck him raw on its own accord. Harry bit his lip, tongue flicking out to lick over the cut there. “Harry, tell me.”
“God… okay… I’m sorry, I… I made that noise you told me not to make around other people,” Harry whispered, scratching his messy locks worriedly.
“The moaning one?” Remus asked, voice gone flat, eyes hard with rage. “Which one?”
Harry bit his lip harder, eyes staring at the desk. “The loud one… the long loud one when you’re usually, oh, pushing in so hard…”
“Fuck,” Remus snapped, grabbing Harry by the back of his neck and holding him still as the boy insisted on swaying. “What did he do? Was there anyone else there? Did anyone figure out what you wanted?”
Harry smiled again, panting heavier. “No one else… just him… and me…”
“I told you not to be alone with him, Potter,” Remus growled, infuriated when Harry continued his secret smile.
“No, he followed me.” Harry said. “And I beat him up, again, like you said. And he pushed me up against the wall and said terrible, nasty things to me. Fuck… and then I made the noise… that noise you and Siri like so much. And he—he kissed me!” Triumphant, Harry beamed again while Remus snarled.
Sirius was going to murder the little Slytherin prick, and Remus was going to fucking help.
Glaring, he pulled Harry across the large desk, pushing his head down into the hard wood and grinding his face. He bent down, listening to Harry gasp with head turning so he could breathe easier. “How did he kiss you?”
Harry pouted, eyes meeting Remus’s angry ones. “He was… rather dull about it, actually,” Harry admitted with a sigh, thinking back to the incident.
“Dull?”
“Sweet… too soft… Like I was a girl, or something.”
Remus blinked, letting Harry up and sitting down in his chair. Harry didn’t move for a moment, then turned his head so he could watch Remus from his prone position on the desk, tongue again licking out to run across the cut on his lip. The boy really was getting better, more in control, although still hornier than sin.
“Pup… do you think the little git might like you?”
Harry shrugged awkwardly, not having given it much thought. He knew what he wanted from Malfoy, but hadn’t thought much what the boy might want from him beyond stopping the ache. “I dunno… Does it really matter?”
Remus shook his head, forever shocked by just how messed up the little pup was when it came to emotions. Sirius had his many excuses, but hell, Harry was still so young. His muggle family had really messed the boy up. “You tell me.”
Harry groaned, head thudding back down on the desk. “I don’t care… Just fucking need, and not in a soft, sweet way. It’s been so long… Remi, are you going to—?”
“No,” Remus growled, meeting the frustrated face turned his way again. “I told you to stay away from him. I told you to never be alone with him.”
Harry groaned again, his hands coming to his face, pulling at his hair, and licking at his fingers and palms in a desperate way. “Fuck… damn it… why do I tell you the truth if you’re just going to punish me for it every time?” He whimpered in anguish. “It’s been way too long… fucking need it…”
“Because you need to remind me of all the fucking bad things you do, Harry, or I might think you’re a good boy,” Remus said softly, watching the boy moan and arch at the answer.
Raising his hand, Remus summoned an owl, scrawling a note and sending it off while Harry sulked agitatedly, lying half on the desk, knees hovering off the floor while his sneakers curled toes on the ground. Remus tangled fingers in the boy’s dark brown hair, combing soothingly, bringing Harry back to some sort of calm semblance beyond just pure ache, like he had been teaching him.
There was a knock at the classroom door and Harry jerked alert, having spaced out long moments under Remus’s soothing touch. Remus held him down with his hand, waving the door unlocked with another. “Enter.”
“You wanted to see me… sir?” There really was no better term for Malfoy but pale. Well, except slimy git, but that went without saying in Remus’s eyes. The boy was white blond hair, silver gray eyes, and pale moonlight skin. A little taller than Harry, bulked more, but both boys ridiculous thin still. Currently covered in cuts and bruises, looking half healed, as if Remus had interrupted him.
The boy was fearful as well, a body half strewn across Remus’s desk likely not helping matters in that area. Internally smirking at the thought, Remus waved Malfoy in, locking the door behind him.
“Potter here told me you two were brawling again,” Remus began, watching as Harry focused at Draco’s approach, green eyes following intently as the boy came into his range of vision from the desktop.
Draco was staring at Harry, confusion and something else flitting across his face. Then he looked up, flinching as he met Remus’s golden glare. “Er… is this a detention thing?”
Remus raised his brows, meeting Harry’s interested look. “Do you have many teachers giving you detention over their desk, Malfoy?” Harry asked nonchalantly, head firmly stuck under Remus’s heavy palm.
Draco didn’t answer, instead slowly biting his lip as he looked Harry over. Then, once again, silver eyes were back to Remus’s, less flinching this time and more curious.
“Hands,” Remus said simply, waiting patiently for Draco to place his pale, graceful ones before him, fingers bruised, knuckles scraped bloody. “You did break his finger… two of them…” Remus glanced up at the pale boy’s face, grabbing the broken digits and twisting hard.
Draco gasped, but didn’t yell out, instead glaring at Remus as the man twisted his hand backwards.
The bones were already healing, and Draco showed amazing resilience to pain. Suspicious, Remus pulled the hand towards him, growling when the boy made to resist. Then, letting his claws grow, he cut Draco until scarlet pooled into his pale palm. Remus didn’t need to taste to know, but he did anyways, because Harry was staring with such interest it seemed rude to waste it.
Remus let Malfoy go, pulled Harry up by his hair and snatched his glasses off, and then slammed him back down into the desk.
“What is he?” Harry asked, panting softly.
“Wolf—He’s a fucking wolf, and you didn’t even notice,” Remus growled, pulling Harry up again and dragging him across the desk until they were face to face. “How long have you been fighting with him? This whole god damn time, and you couldn’t tell?”
“You didn’t fucking notice,” Harry shot back, groaning as Remus snarled and shoved his head back down on the desk, splattering the papers he had been grading with spots of blood. “Fuck… fucking tease…” Harry moaned, green eyes hazing, mouth gaping loud pants.
“Cry about it, bitch,” Remus muttered, fixing his glare on the very still, very silent Slytherin pain in the ass that had a wolf animagus form. What the fuck was he supposed to tell Sirius now? That their reckless, fiery pup had fallen for some nasty mouthed, noble hearted, god damn wolf? That would go over well, Siri already so ridiculously protective when it came to the pup.
It explained the kid’s absolute fear of him, werewolves pretty much being the goddamn monster under the bed for any self respecting wolf. Didn’t explain the overall fucking prat in him though, but maybe that was just Lucius and Voldemort’s doing. Hell, maybe it was just kids these days, and Remus had forgotten what it was like to not give a shit about how cutting one could be when the opportunity arose.
Remus hauled Harry up to him again by his hair, turning the boy’s gasping face to look at the very confused wolf currently licking his palm to heal the cut there. “Come on, Potter, he fucking let you break two of his fingers instead of defending himself. Never ever hurt you the way he could easily have, for all your years of fighting. You can’t want something so fucking reserved and refined. He wouldn’t even know what to do with you. He’s a pup, and a damn sweet one at that, nasty mouth aside.”
Harry glared, eyes directed to Remus beside him. “You gonna fuck me, Lupin? I’m tiring you out, and we both fucking know it.”
Remus snarled, wrenching Harry’s hair and exposing his throat as he pulled him back, flipping the boy to his back and nearly into his lap. “You think some prissy little wolf can compare to a god damn werewolf? Look at him—he’s fucking pristine. How the fuck can he dirty you like you need? How can he fucking appreciate it, pup? You’d be better off with a common canine mutt, than some pretty animagus.”
“Stop being… so fucking… jealous…” Harry gasped out, body arching back, hands clawing at the desk to keep from falling off as Remus pulled him further back to the edge.
Draco quietly cleared his throat, eyebrow raised coolly at the very odd display of Harry grabbing at the strong hand holding his hair, whimpering and gasping, face flushed while his teacher growled heatedly at him. “Professor, I think there has been some sort of confusion. I have no interest in challenging you for Potter… And I apologize for hurting one of your own. I did not realize he was… pack.” He said the word with a small growl, Remus stilling from the sound of it.
Remus released Harry abruptly, the boy yelping and toppling back into the man’s lap, blinking up at Remus’s golden gaze. “Remi…” he whined beseechingly, red mouth pouting.
“He fucking apologized, Potter. What if something were to happen to you while around him? How the fuck could he protect you? Would he even, considering his family? He’s fucking domestic!” Remus spat the word, glaring again at Draco’s calm form.
Draco sighed, turned away and took a few steps, and then turned back, annoyance twisting his haughty, aristocratic features. “Why the fuck am I here? I’m sorry I kissed your dog, Lupin. He reeked of sex—not of werewolf, that’s for fucking sure, because I wouldn’t have fucking messed with that shit. Do you need me to write you a god damn essay on not touching an alpha’s slut? What the fuck is going to get me out of this room and away from his fucking sex scent? He’s fucking overwhelming and I have been trying to be respectful. If you saw to him properly, this wouldn’t have even been an issue.”
Harry whined louder, eyes fluttering shut with the realization that Malfoy had been able to discern his ache and had been effected by it. “Fuck… see to me, Remi… make this fucking better…”
Remus ignored him, pushing Harry forward to sway on the desk while he stood. “Fucking listen to just how prim you are. He doesn’t want fucking respect; he wants cock. Why you would fight that damn irresistible scent doesn’t make much sense in the face of that.”
“I have my reasons.” Draco shrugged irritatedly, eyes straying again to where Harry was now sliding down to lie back on the desk, the boy’s dark head lolling to gaze hazy green eyes at him. “Probably the same reason you haven’t dealt with it yourself. He’s god damn needy and I don’t know how I feel about sharing. Better to avoid it all together.”
Remus scowled, pissed with how the little prat had damn near guessed the problem. Filling Harry was not a one time job, but a many time, exhausting fucking marathon. Remus had tried training the boy to wait longer between sessions, but had been finding that the longer the wait, the more Harry wanted to make up for it once he finally got some much needed filling. Sirius had been an important element in this filthy dynamic, but the man was holed up in hiding indefinitely, and Harry was growing very fucking impatient, training only curbing so much.
“Damn it!” Remus growled, hands slamming to each side of Harry’s prone form, green eyes looking up at him hopefully while Remus snarled back. “It’s not like there’s a god damn abundance of fucking choices out here, Malfoy. What the fuck is he supposed to do, a pack bitch without a proper sized pack?”
Draco sneered, glaring at the two of them. “What the fuck do I care? Go throw him on some city street. I’m sure he’ll attract himself a nice pack of wild dogs to fucking take care of him. Clearly he’d enjoy it, the fucking slut mutt.”
Harry gaped, aching moan slipping out, body arching on the hard desk. “Nasty… fucking nasty mouth…” he panted, head falling side to side.
“I’m actually surprised you haven’t already,” Draco continued, nostrils flaring, silver eyes sharpening as Harry gave another needy moan. “Just thrown him out in the Forbidden Forest where whatever weird shit could come along and ruin him. I doubt he cares what it is at this point—probably never fucking cared to begin with. Hell, I’m sure the giant has some beast that will ride him. He always seemed taken with those savage hippogriffs.”
He stepped over, glaring down at Harry and smirking viciously. “What do you say, Potter? Want to spread for some fucking half eagle and just utterly all horse dick? Could it even be enough for a fucking gaping hole like you? Maybe you’d need two in there? Think the oaf could do it for you finally, wedged in there with the beast?”
“Holy fuck…” Harry choked out, writhing uncontrollably on the desk, hips bucking until he was pressed up against Remus’s hot torso, neck crunched forward, back of head pressing into the man’s awakening erection. “Think… I’m… dying…”
Remus rolled his eyes, secretly impressed with the creative shit talk coming out of the little wolf bastard’s mouth. “Thanks a lot, Malfoy, now the little bitch is overcome. Do you fucking know how difficult it is to keep him from breaking down like this? It’s been months of training and he’s still a fucking mess.”
“I would have shoved something in him, and left it in him,” Draco said with a shrug, watching Harry jerk and moan again. “Don’t you fucking werewolves know how to use a dildo?”
Remus glared, grabbing Harry’s chin and turning his head when the boy seemed about ready to swallow his tongue. “Is that what you wolves use, instead of getting hard and dirty in a tight hole? You fucking prissy little princes.”
Draco barked a harsh laugh, hand smacking at Harry’s questing fingers as they reached for him. “I don’t fucking care how dirty a hole is, as long as it’s not a shit werewolf cum trap. You have to draw the line somewhere on the level of skank filth—although Potter sure as fuck can’t be arsed to. He’s too busy being double teamed by the half-giant and hippogriff.”
Harry’s hands were tearing at his own t-shirt, pulling at the material to expose his flat stomach, biting at the fabric with his mouth, wet tongue lapping as he gagged himself on the softness. He was so fucking hard, and for whatever fucking idiotic reason, no one was touching him, and he was pretty sure he was going to lose his fucking mind. He began kicking off his shoes, pressing back against Remus with his head, hoping the fucking man would cave already and put that big cock of his to proper use.
Remus seemed more interested in growling at Draco, slamming Harry’s head down, cheek bruised into the table when the boy kept trying to rub on him. “Potter, don’t you dare fucking touch yourself in front of this prissy prince wolf, or so help me, it will be a fucking month of ache, you little slut—and stop whining! Listen, Malfoy, I don’t know what the bitch sees in you, besides the fact that you’re species related. But as his fucking alpha, I have to make sure he’s not taken advantage of—”
“He’d fucking ride a house elf’s nose; everything is going to be up his hole. It’s hardly taking advantage,” Draco growled back, twisting Harry’s hand backwards and pinning it when the boy again reached for him.
“I’m talking about that sick fuck Dark Lord looking to kill the boy. The one your parents are fucking in league with. I’d have to be out of my fucking mind to let Harry anywhere near you.”
“Listen Lupin, I’m not my fucking parents. They don’t know what the hell I am, nor does their master. I have gotten very damn good at hiding it, which is why you couldn’t even tell. I am a fucking wolf, and I will not kneel to some halfblood, snake faced, crazy maniac that can only think of so much blood hate that he can’t pause to wonder why the fuck he was nearly killed by a god damn infant. A fucking infant could very literally beat him up—and did!”
Draco raked his free hand through his long, white-blond hair, glaring down at Harry’s rocking form with something more than anger. “Give me some fucking credit. When not begging for it, Potter is a powerful fucking force, and I’m betting on him and not the loser that couldn’t kill a baby. You know, if he’d ever fucking stop begging for it for five seconds.”
“He can’t help it,” Remus growled softer, surprised by Malfoy’s answer. “We’re working on it.”
Draco tore his eyes away from Harry’s gasping mouth, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t say there was anything bloody wrong about it. Fucking look at him. But he is a damn distraction… And I really need to get the fuck out of here.” He released Harry’s hand, turning to go, only to have Harry grab the back of his shirt and hold tightly.
“Come on, Malfoy… fucking do me…”
Draco half turned, wresting with the fingers gripping his crisp shirt. “No one likes a pushy bottom, Potter. You take all the fun out of it, you damn slut,” he snapped, bending Harry’s fingers back enough to release himself, but not hurt the boy. Harry looked back at him, eyes so wide and needy, he almost felt bad. Almost.
This time when he went to leave, Remus snarled and grabbed Draco by the back of the neck, holding the pale boy in place as he clawed at the heavy hand. “What? I didn’t fucking hurt him!”
“I am well the fuck aware, now shut up and hear me out.” Glaring at the Slytherin warningly, Remus turned down to Harry, snapping his fingers until the boy focused on him. “Where’s your collar?”
“Bag… there…” Harry pointed in the direction of where he had left his school things, head a red haze of want and nothing else. Remus accio’d it over and rummaged through while Draco scowled from beneath the unbreakable hold. Triumphant, he tossed the leather at Harry, who blinked at it a few times, before getting enough sense to wrap it around his neck and fasten it, the metal glinting dark black in the light.
Only to have the boy gasp a moment later, eyes wide, the scent of fear slowly rolling off Harry as he looked around confused. Sirius had designed it, the creatively deranged fuck, the collar imprinted with personality traits of right when Harry was first waking up as a bitch dog, and still full of shame and confusion, and lots of fight.
They had returned Harry’s memories slowly of the events that had woken him up, first having the boy see them from a pensieve to desensitize him a bit. His body fully awake, the memories seemed only to arouse Harry, and at the suggestion of the collar, he had readily agreed to try it, knowing this time he would not forget what happened once the collar was removed. It had made things very riveting for the two men, and Harry too, who remembered the incidences in his normal state of mind quite heatedly.
Draco stopped struggling, watching with interest as Harry groaned and rolled off the desk, crouching on the floor as he tried to get his shirt in some sort of order. “Sorry Professor… I don’t know what… I…” He appeared, standing slowly, hand tangled in his messy hair, face flushed with embarrassment. “Shit, and Malfoy too… I am so never living this down…” he covered his face with both hands, breathing out shakily.
“You werewolves are fucked up…” Draco whispered incredulously, just as Remus let him go so he could stalk forward and grab Harry around the waist, curving up the back of the dark haired boy and leaving Harry’s expression exposed to Draco’s blazing stare.
“Professor, what are you… oh god… stop…” Harry gasped, his wrists suddenly pinned in Remus’s large hand and pulled above his head, while Remus snaked his other hand down the front of Harry’s jeans, grabbing his straining erection.
“It’s okay, Harry… I just want to touch you a little,” Remus murmured in the boy’s ear, grinning when Harry shuddered and tried to throw him off.
“Get the fuck off me… you sick shit… oh god… oh…”
“Oh, come on… you know you want it…”
“N-no… fucking stop…”
“But you’re so hard, Harry… You can’t be so hard, unless you really want it… fucking slut…”
“No—oh hell.” Harry groaned in anguish, eyes squeezed shut as the hand moved from his cock to his fly, wrenching his pants and underwear down his legs. He was completely exposed to Draco’s very heated gaze as the gray eyed boy bit his thumb hard and continued to watch in silence.
“You know what else I think you want, slut?” Remus took his hand and ran it over Harry’s ass cheek, the boy jerking away from the touch. “I think you want a long, hard ride…”
“Please, no… don’t… it’s so wrong…” Harry shook his head fitfully while Remus pushed him over the desk, slamming his chest down into the hard wood.
“Wrong?” Remus breathed into his ear, pushing his bulge against the boy’s bare ass. “But you’re so hard, you little slut. Didn’t you know, this is how you like it?”
“No… stop… damn it—I’m going to fucking kill you!” Harry snarled beneath the hand on his head, eyes glaring even as his mouth opened wide and he moaned, fingers pushing into his tight hole. “Oh fuck… stop… that’s fucking dirty…”
“You’re fucking dirty, you filthy little slut. Look how hard you are with my fingers up your dirty little asshole. You want this… you want to be a filthy wide slut, opening whenever anyone asks…”
“No… god no… stop, Professor, please… whatever I did, I won’t do it again… promise… oh—oh fuck…”
“You seduced a wolf, little slut… You went begging to a wolf your own age, trying to get it into your hungry hole…”
“No… that’s fucking sick… Oh god… is that…?” Harry moaned, hips jerking forward as he opened his eyes to find Malfoy gone and a white wolf in the boy’s place, sleek and majestic, and currently licking his face. The long pink tongue kept whipping over his gasping lips, sliding into his mouth and tasting his tongue and roof of his mouth. Eyes closing slowly, Harry let it, his own tongue reaching hesitantly forward to meet the slippery intruder.
“That’s it, you fucking slut. You won’t just open for your teacher, but a fucking wild animal too. Talk about issues, Potter.”
Harry groaned, the tongue now moving over his face, down his throat, teeth tearing at his shirt and pulling it off him. “Oh fuck… I need help… there is something so… fucking… wrong with me…”
“I’m going to help you, Harry,” Remus murmured, biting the boy’s shoulder as he thrust his fingers in a final time. “And so is that prissy little wolf… Would you like that?”
Harry shook his head no, sweat dripping down his face as he struggled with the hands holding him down. “Stop… fucking stop… this is wrong…”
“You like it wrong, you little slut. This is the only way you like it… violated.. and forced… and begging for me to stop…” Remus slowly pulled down his zipper, watching Harry tense at the sound.
“Oh fuck… please don’t… please stop…” But Remus was over him now, the man’s deceptive form hiding steel strength as he grabbed Harry’s hips and pressed the head of his large cock to the boy’s twitching hole.
The white wolf gave a whine, biting at Harry’s ear, the boy crying out and inadvertently pushing back onto Remus’s thick dick. “N-no… stop… it hurts…”
“You fucking like it, you bitch slut… You fucking need it…” Remus growled, pushing forward, Harry’s cries only making him want to hurt him more. “Fuck, you get so fucking tight, pup… so fucking tight when you’re like this… still afraid… still ashamed of how fucking filthy you are… And you are filthy… so fucking filthy…”
Harry didn’t answer, gasping loud sobs and moans as Remus began to fuck him hard, driving him into the desk. “Noo… nooo…” he groaned, and then shuddered, the hot, long tongue back, finding his face, finding his mouth and tasting him so intimately, Harry couldn’t help but press towards it, even as his body was being torn apart and filled so good. God, he was so fucked up… so fucking wrong inside…
Harry stopped fighting, letting his body relax and give in to the searing, hard jolts of his teacher pounding into him. His head resting on the desk, he kept his eyes half open to stare through tears at the mouth and wicked teeth of the white creature before him. Harry reached a hand out, brushing fingers down the narrow jaw, curling slightly, pulling it closer so he could kiss it. He slid his tongue over the long, sharp teeth, tasting the wolf the way it had tasted him, sliding his tongue to reach and flutter against the roof of its mouth, and then the flat of its wide tongue.
“I’m so… fucking… sick…” Harry groaned again, and then kissed its nose, lapping across the black, wet point. Silver eyes regarded him intently, another soft, hungry whine meeting his ear. And then the tongue, sliding over Harry’s face, slower, languid, catching his sweat, tasting his tears, meeting his reaching tongue and tasting his mouth again. So slow… so sweetly… Harry wasn’t sure he had every known such sweetness.
“I think I preferred you… with dick in your mouth…” Remus grunted, glaring at the wolf kissing Harry, who intentionally ignored him. It was not going the way he had planned when getting Harry in the collar, having hoped to shock the damn prissy thing into something appropriately wild and unleashed. Growling, he grabbed the collar around Harry’s neck, undoing the clasp and throwing it aside. “Come on, pup, remind him how a fucking slut dog wants it.”
Harry moaned heatedly, pushing back against Remus’s hard body, trying to get some fucking leverage so he wasn’t flat on the desk. “Fuck, Remi… fucking do it hard… break me, you fucking monster…”
“That’s it, you fucking slut,” Remus growled approvingly, glaring down at the white wolf as he pulled Harry back and up, letting the boy rest his palms on the desk as he slammed into him, nearly toppling the pup forward. “I’m going to make you so fucking raw, every time you go to get your hole filled you’re going to fucking scream in pain.”
“Yes… oh fuck… do it…” Harry gasped, hands reaching above to grab onto Remus’s neck and head as the boy bent backwards, body stretched out long and taut. “You know… how I need it…”
“I do, you little bitch slut… hard… until you can’t stand it anymore…”
“Fuck… fucking fill me… need the wet so bad…”
Remus grunted, pulling Harry back and lifting the boy so his feet were no longer touching the ground. He pushed the boy’s knees to the desk and bent him over, Harry’s thighs wide to get the perfect height. Snarling possessively, he buried himself in deep a final time, giving hard, shallow thrusts as he filled Harry with some much needed filth. The boy howled in aching joy, forehead heavy on the desk, sweat covering his face as he gasped.
Remus ran his hand shakily over Harry’s stomach and groin, finding at some point during the hard reaming the boy had cum, his climax lost in the whirlwind of it all. “That’s it, love… that’s how you fucking like it… Nice and wet inside… full of cum and filth…”
“Yes…” Harry agreed softly, rubbing his face into the table, sweat making his movements slick. “Thank you, alpha… it was… so fucking good… what I needed…”
Remus stayed buried inside, filling Harry as long as the boy wanted it, while his golden eyes glared again to the silent pain in the ass watching from his furry seat.
As a wolf, Malfoy was a little less annoying, body nearly as large as Padfoot’s heavy form, but more narrow, its muscles compact, and silky bright fur much better cared for. The eyes were an intense silver instead of the beautiful manic blue of Remus’s lovely mate. But the eyes weren’t looking at Remus, they were staring at the panting boy crushed beneath his larger body, and there was definitely more than just lust in the creature’s gaze.
Fucking pups… fucking sweet pups, falling for things they shouldn’t even want… Harry was a damn wild mutt, and the wolf just talked shit and couldn’t follow through, too sweet and domestic to take what he wanted properly. He just wasn’t fucking good enough for his Harry.
Harry gave a whine when Remus withdrew, trying to push back and impale himself again. “Fuck… don’t stop yet… need it…”
Remus sighed, reaching down and picking up the collar he had thrown on the floor, slamming it down next to Harry. “You are fucking exhausting, pup. Let the wolf have a go so I can rest.”
Harry looked back, beautiful green eyes wide in surprise. “For real?”
“This one fucking time,” Remus cautioned, growling at the both of them. “I don’t know when Siri will be back, and fuck, Harry, I’m not twenty anymore… If the prissy thing can bear to be second to my foul scent.” He turned his glare to the wolf, stalking over intimidatingly.
“Don’t get too full of yourself. The boy just really needs filling. And the collar is his choice. Anyone ever forces it on him, I will kill them, understand? It’s not something to be abused, ever.”
“He gets it Remus. Stop mothering,” Harry muttered, grabbing the collar and wrapping it around his neck. He paused before clasping it and activating the spell, eyes glancing carefully to Draco’s wolf form and assessing him long moments.
Harry bit his lip, smiling shyly, so shyly Remus wanted to break something. “So, uh, Malfoy… would you… um, stay like that? Just for this… I uh… fuck… I like it… a lot…” He was mumbling, cheeks red, and Remus wondered if the collar was a damn good idea when Harry was already so syrupy in mood.
Swearing under his breath, Remus stepped up to Harry, pecking the boy lightly on the lips. “I’ll be right outside. I’ll be listening if you need—”
“You’re henning,” Harry growled, lightly pushing him away with a small smile.
Remus growled back. So what if he was henning? Harry was his pup, and he would fucking protect him all he liked. Glaring a final time at the white wolf nuisance, Remus gave himself a once over to make sure he was presentable and left the room, locking the door behind him.
Eyes fluttering open slowly, Harry softly hummed, something warm and wet licking down his neck around the leather dog collar he was wearing. Fur tickled lightly against his shoulders, and then his arm, and he became aware of warm heat very close to his skin next to the softness. He stretched, brow furrowed, trying to figure out why he was lying on what appeared to be Professor Lupin’s desk… without any clothes on.
Shifting, he groaned, his body revealing aches and pains everywhere, especially, oh no… oh… not there again. Harry whimpered, lips parting to pant, his hole sore and dripping again. God, how did he keep waking up, full of so much dirtiness and couldn’t remember how it happened? It had to happened, he knew it did, but he just could never remember.
“Hey… what are you…?” Harry blinked to the side, white fluff greeting his vision. He pushed himself up on his elbows, meeting beautiful silver eyes and a regal face of a white wolf. “Wow… you’re something…” Harry murmured, hand drifting in offering to the lovely creature, wondering how it could have come to be in Lupin’s classroom. It was too pretty to be a werewolf. Maybe the Professor was teaching a class on how they differed from real wolves.
The wolf gave a soft whine, licking Harry’s hand and making him giggle at the feel of tongue between his fingers. The pretty thing didn’t stop, licking at his digits while Harry beamed. Then suddenly it nipped lightly at his fingertip and Harry gave a small gasp, eyes half closing, a familiar, terrible ache rising up in him again. “Oh… oh no… not again…” He whispered softly, fingers curling around the narrow snout lightly, his entire body suddenly feeling hot and very much in need.
As if sensing Harry wasn’t well, the wolf leaned its upper body on the desk, licking the boy’s face comfortingly, as if trying to cool him off. But it wasn’t the right effect, Harry moaning at the feel of hot, wet tongue moving over his skin, small shudders starting to rock his body.
“Sorry… sorry… I get like this sometimes… there’s, oh god, there’s something wrong inside me…” The tongue was in his mouth now, and Harry couldn’t find the power to pull away, allowing the beautiful thing to lap at his lips and tongue while Harry sank back down to the desk, face towards the ceiling.
“You shouldn’t… oh, you shouldn’t do that, boy… It’s not right…” Harry whispered, body tingling all over as the wolf moved forward, leaning past his mouth to lick down his throat and chest, his vision filled with soft white fur. “Oh fuck—wait… that’s… that’s not right…” Harry groaned, but the tongue persisted, licking at his nipple while he squirmed. It moved further down, long tongue lapping across his navel, heavy body pressing against Harry’s head and shoulders and filling Harry with heat.
“Wait, oh god… stop…” Harry whimpered, his bellybutton abandoned by the wolf for his quickly rising prick. Harry was unable to see past the blur of white but still very able to feel when the hot tongue lapped slow, long strokes over him.
With a small growl, the wolf was suddenly on the desk, claws clicking while he crouched over him as he licked down Harry’s aching cock and balls. Harry was certain now that it was a male, because beyond the heavy smell of musk, Harry could see its arousal, shiny red rising from it’s furry sheath above him. So close, bobbing next to Harry’s face, he could smell it… could feel splatters of wet dripping precum falling on his face and neck.
Harry closed his eyes, tried to block out the sight of the large, shiny dick. It looked so god damn needy, almost as needy as Harry felt all the time, the ache in him growing. He just couldn’t help himself, Harry consoled his twisting stomach and the persistent voice that kept insisting that this was very fucking wrong, and he shouldn’t ever even think such terrible, sick things.
The tongue felt so good moving over him, licking him slowly, thoroughly, as if trying to clean all the dirtiness off that Harry felt. But the dirt was deep inside and that tongue would never be able to reach.
When Harry opened his eyes back up, it was still there, still swollen, dripping and wet, still calling him to be fucking sick and depraved, and give in to the ache. “Oh god… oh my god, I am so fucked…” Harry whimpered, watching his hand seem to move on its own accord, reaching for the red, hard head of the wolf’s dick, and brushing his fingertip against it.
The wolf made a whining noise, nose burrowing down between Harry’s thighs and lapping at the slick that was dripping out of him. It hadn’t growled in warning, hadn’t snapped in violence, and Harry, eyes half closed, moved his head closer to the bobbing rod, reaching his tongue out and pressing it to the hot flesh while fur brushed his cheeks.
“Shit… holy shit…” he murmured excitedly, pressing his lips to the flesh and then opening up, running his tongue up and down, and wherever he could reach. He wrapped his arms around the strong waist of the soft wolf, feeling muscles tense under his fingers, and pulled himself up, tilting his head as far back as he could reach, just enough so he could get the tip past his nose and into his mouth. Flavor and scent flooded his senses, and Harry groaned, mouth widening as the hard flesh spasmed and dripped more precum onto his tongue. He wrapped his lips tight, careful of his teeth, and just savored the feel of the hot thick flesh as it moved in his mouth.
“I am so fucked up…” Harry whispered after releasing his hot prize and sinking back down to the desk, troubled thoughts swirling in his mind. He didn’t let go of the pretty wolf, hands threading through its fur and combing as the creature insisted on licking and cleaning him.
It was an animal… a fucking wild wolf animal… It was already licking Harry in places you weren’t supposed to lick people. Maybe if Harry was just an animal it wouldn’t feel so fucked up to want what he wanted. God, because he wanted it. He wanted the shiny red flesh inside him, filling him, and he wanted it so bad. Animals didn’t care if things were fucking dirty and wrong. Nothing was wrong to a wolf, it was just fucking nature.
If Harry spread his thighs, bent himself over the desk, and let the pretty wolf take him, the wolf wasn’t going to judge him for it. It understood, and that’s why it was just as hard as him. God, and if Harry decided he really, really liked what that wolf was doing to him, and begged him to keep doing it, to keep fucking taking him, for as long as he needed it, maybe the wolf wouldn’t mind that either.
Feeling braver, body tingling and hot with want, Harry wiggled around the persistent tongue, turning himself carefully, elbows biting into the desk, knees scraping as he flipped from his back to his stomach while still between the large wolf’s legs. Hands again reaching around the strong waist, he raised his head, opening his mouth and eagerly swallowing the hard, thick flesh of the wolf down.
The wolf made a grunting noise, probably as surprised as Harry was at his daring. But no growling, no snapping or bitting, so Harry let it fade from his mind, his only thoughts on the hot thick flesh spurting wet, bitter precum into his mouth. “You like that…?” Harry asked, letting the tip fall from his mouth, rubbing his face against it, and then his lips, his eyes closing to feel another hot splatter hit his face.
From what Harry had seen of dogs, they were always humping frantically, but this wolf was nearly still, moving almost deliberately in slow pushes as Harry again wrapped lips around its length and sucked.
Harry moaned around the thick dick, nearly dropping it as a persistent nose pressed against his ass crack, tongue sliding out to lick the flesh revealed. Panting, his own tongue lapping in rhythm to the wolf’s, Harry tried to spread his legs wider to get more of the hot tongue that was trying to press against his hole. Oh, in his hole, definitely inside him. Harry fell back to the table, moaning loudly, hips bucking as he pushed back, trying to get more. “Oh fuck… oh please… oh that’s fucking messed up… and so good…”
Harry just couldn’t seem to stop the heat rising up inside, or the terrible, desperate thought the heat demanded from him. Shaking, he raised his head, glancing behind him to watch the beast lick at his hole. He really wanted that swollen, red cock inside him, not just the slippery tongue.
“Hey boy… hey pretty, pretty wolfie,” Harry called softly, dark lashes lowered as he rocked his hips slowly back into the press of tongue and fur. “God… can you just… oh, help me a bit? I… I don’t think you’ll mind… Fuck, maybe you would… what the fuck is wrong with me…?” Whimpering, he hid his face into his hands. “I’m so fucked in the head.”
The hot tongue was suddenly at his face, licking at his forehead, nose brushing his hair and puffing warm breath. Sighing, Harry lifted his head, eyes opening to find silver staring him down. There seemed to be such intelligence there, not to mention compassion… “Hi, pretty wolf… You really are very pretty… I don’t know how one could be quite like you, but maybe that’s what magic does to things… makes everything seem special…”
The wolf tilted its head, and then licked its pink tongue out across Harry’s parted lips. Harry gasped, eyes wide. The tongue flicked out again, Harry stilling as it moved up his top lip. “Are you… oh… that’s like a kiss…” Harry murmured, mouth widening when the tongue swiped again and pressed bristling maw to his lips. “I’m a little… messed up,” Harry confided. “But… but I really like that… Maybe…” Harry let out a shattered breath as his mouth was licked again. “Oh, maybe you like that too?”
The wolf certainly seemed to, tongue driving into Harry’s parted lips with obvious intent, tasting him slow and thoroughly. Harry closed his eyes, trying not to think where the creature had just been licking, and how hot and dirty that made him feel. He pressed back, mouth opening wider, licking up the wolf’s maw, tongue touching short bristle and slick gums. He pressed his tongue flat against the sharp, white teeth, hard enamel and then scalding heat as he reached the other side of the barrier.
“Oh… I hope you like that too…” Harry whispered, trembling at the mad, dangerous feeling running through him, tasting teeth and tongue of something wild and crazed, just how he felt inside. Harry sat up, eyes never leaving the face of the noble looking wolf panting at him. He held his arms open, the wolf stepping forward, pressing into his chest with soft fur and hard muscle, licking up the side of Harry’s neck while the boy held the warm body to him.
“That’s nice…” Harry sighed, rubbing slowly against the silky fur. “Almost like… fuck… like you want me back…” Teeth nipped him lightly and Harry groaned, fire sparking through him. He gripped the shoulders he was holding harder, another nip jerking his entire body with fire and surprise. “Oh fuck… again, pretty wolf… hell yes…”
Harry had to accept the fact the wolf was definitely responding to him, and in a blatantly sexual manner, or keep wondering if he was losing his mind. He had never thought a wolf, or any animal for that matter, was understanding of something quite on this level, but Harry was pretty sure the beautiful thing wanted to make love to him, as bizarre a thought as that was.
As much as Harry ached inside, he really didn’t mind the softness, the gentle yet persistent way the wolf pushed him down with its large bulk onto the desk. He rather liked the long, wet laps over his face, and throat, mixed with sharp little nips that sent him gasping and whimpering, begging for the next one to come. “Oh… oh please… yes…” Harry mumbled, head rolling on the desk as the wolf laid across him, hot and silky against Harry’s entire body, hard length rubbing next to the boy’s in small rocking thrusts.
Harry wrapped his arms tight around the wolf’s neck, burying his face into the white fur as more hot, wet slickness collected around where the hard cock was slowly humping him. It felt so good, so good against his exposed flesh, fur brushing and tickling and driving him mad, while teeth kept nipping into his neck, and then long tongue soothing.
“Oh… oh god…” Harry spread his legs, raising his knees and welcoming the harder pushes from the furry hips rocking into him. It was good, so good… but Harry needed more, his hole aching intensely at the idea of that hard red tip and its wetness buried inside him. He wrapped his legs around the beast’s waist, reveling in the feel of its fur on his long limbs and thighs, and wiggled up its body until Harry was better positioned for that hot dick to bury into him.
“Come on, Wolfie…” Harry murmured, pulling the angular face down and kissing across its long snout, the slippery pink tongue moving over Harry’s chin and throat. “Need you… need you now… it’s so empty inside…”
The wolf made a low growl, Harry’s eyes widening at the sound. But its licks were still gentle, nips still light and not vicious, and Harry imagined maybe that was more of a noise of need than of threat. Harry shifted his hips, reaching his hand down to grasp the hard wolf cock and guide it to his entrance, eyes closing as it pressed against his hole and held there.
“Please… fuck, please…” Harry whimpered, unable to move himself the way he needed to drive it in him. The wolf gave another soft growl, and then suddenly surged forward, burying itself in deep.
Harry shouted, the world bursting white and red behind his eyes, the creature’s self control gone, now deep inside his dripping, and battered hole. The wolf raised itself up and began to hammer into him. Harry’s thighs and knees gripped tightly for purchase, head and shoulders falling back onto the desk heavily as his weak arms grasped uselessly at the strong neck above him.
“Oh god… oh god… it’s big… so fucking big…” he moaned, mouth gasping wide and unable to block the tongue suddenly dipping into it, nearly choking with its intensity. “Oh please… god, it’s huge… oh—!” He sobbed, the feeling just too intense, too fucking much, forcing inside him, moving across his tightening passage as his body clenched, trying to pull the thickness in deeper.
The wolf started licking at his tears, even as it drove harder into him, pushing Harry up the desk with the force of its thrusts, until Harry was half hanging over the edge, head slack and bent backwards while papers strewn and fell around him.
Harry pushed at the wolf’s shoulders, unable to raise his head. “Wolfie… gonna fall…” The wolf gave a desperate whine, licking up Harry’s throat, then stilled its mad thrusts with a show of amazing restraint. Limbs shaking, Harry unwrapped from the beautiful wolf, moaning at the feel of its thick dick leaving his hole, and the wet that was already building there.
Harry lowered himself to the ground, bracing himself against the side of the desk while on his knees. “Come on, you pretty thing… you know what to do… you know how to fill me…” Harry called heatedly, eyes hazy as he pressed his cheek to the cool wood and waited for his furry new friend.
The wolf jumped down like a white shadow, moving behind Harry, and lapping long, deep swipes into his dripping hole, until Harry was moaning and spreading wider, trying to get even more. The wolf raised itself up Harry’s back, wrapping front legs around the boy’s narrow chest, surrounding him in silky white fur and hard heat. “Oh god… do it, beautiful… fucking take me… want you so bad…”
Teeth nipped into Harry’s shoulder, sharper than before, causing him to cry out, and then the wolf was thrusting in, pushing in roughly, able to reach so much deeper, each thrust so much more powerful now that Harry was braced and offering resistance. “Oh fuck—bigger… it’s bigger…” He gaped, his hole being forced wider as something large swelled at the base of the wolf’s dick. Each thrust pushed it deeper, opened him wider, and Harry was fairly certain he was not going to survive the sheer size.
“Oh god… oh god…” He gasped, gripping the desk, nose crunched against the side with sweat pouring down his face and fur tickling his back and chest as he tried so hard not to scream in agony. The knot slipped past his last tight muscle and settled into his ass, still fucking swelling wider. It was stuck inside, each jolt of the wolf’s hips moving Harry’s hips, the knot keeping them tied tight, and secure, and so full of the feeling of delicious agony that came with such fullness.
Eyes squeezed shut, Harry rocked with the thrusts, moaning lowly with every breath released. “So good… so tight… god… it feels so right… so fucking right, deep inside me… oh Wolfie… you need to stay… need to stay in me… fuck yes… so full, so right… Wolfie, you make me feel… so right…”
Huffing hot air on his neck, the wolf licked over Harry’s collared throat and face as it continued to pump hard into the small boy.
Harry moaned louder, eyes flying open as hot, slick streams of cum began to fill him inside. “Yes… yes… so wet… god… god… like you’re washing inside… Oh god…” It didn’t stop, each hard thrust filling Harry more, giving him more wet heat until he wasn’t sure that he wasn’t filled head to toe with the wolf’s hot cum. Head spinning from the very idea, Harry bucked, clutching around the thickness inside, grinding down on it and coming hard, all over the desk and floor as it dripped down.
God, and he didn’t fucking care that it was so dirty to do that, to get his cum on things and furniture. It didn’t feel dirty, not with the beautiful white wolf inside him, wanting him so much, somehow so gentle… like maybe it really fucking cared about him.
Harry leaned his head forward on the desk, tears streaming silently down his face as he embraced every sensation of soft fur and hard dick. He didn’t care that it was fucked up to like it, or that it was fucked up to want a damn beast to care for him the way a person should. Right now, in that moment, it felt so fucking right.
“Wolfie… oh, you’re good at this… so fucking good… make me feel good, you pretty thing… Ah, stay in a long time… I want you inside a really long time…”
Harry pushed back, the wolf still tight inside, moving the two of them carefully so that Harry could fold forward and rest his head on his arms, ass high in the air. He moaned softly with each thrust, body feeling so good, and long and tight as the beast fucked him, and filled him, and claimed him. “God… you feel so good inside…” Harry murmured, eyes closing.
The wolf began to lick at Harry as he quieted, and then gave soft little nips, until Harry roused again and began to pant, legs spreading wider. “Oh, Wolfie… you can’t have anything left to put in me,” Harry whispered, even as the wolf continued to pound into him more insistently, Harry’s hole tightening and clenching with renewed attention.
“Oh hell… oh wow, how are you… wow…” Harry’s eyes widened, more nips and tongue and sharp thrusts slowly building the fire inside him back up. He raised himself up on his arms, pushing back into each quick thrust, channel clenching again and again as the lovely creature brought him closer to agony and ecstasy all at once. This was a damn good wolf… fucking amazing wolf…
Harry was pretty sure he wanted to keep the pretty white thing forever.
It was a good two hours before Remus returned, finding Harry passed out, absolutely sated on the floor, Malfoy wrapped around him, human and just as nude. Remus had stopped by the door from time to time, checking with his status spells to make sure Harry was okay, seeing and hearing quite clearly that he was enjoying himself, if in a different, quieter way than normal.
Draco had only taken Harry as a wolf, and hadn’t been till the last moment, when Harry was having god only knew up to which orgasm the boy was capable of reaching when in such crazed heat, when the wolf had accidentally gotten its paw stuck in the leather, and the collar had released before it could hurt Harry. Harry had decided to pass out for good shortly after that, and Draco had decided he didn’t need to be furry any longer, and curled up next to the dark haired boy.
Draco snapped awake the moment Remus stepped into the room, suppressing the growl he very much wanted to release at the scent of a werewolf. Especially the werewolf associated with the beautiful green eyed boy Draco just couldn’t seem to stop thinking about. Instead he sat up, combing his hair in place with his fingers, and started reaching for the clothes he had stripped after transforming back. Pressing skin to skin with Harry had been worth the mild embarrassment of being nude in front of his professor.
For the moment, all Remus could feel was relieved that Harry was actually asleep and exhausted. That Malfoy didn’t seem too worn for wear was also a bit interesting, but then, he was still a young wolf, and hadn’t allowed himself to grow soft yet living a human’s life. Ignoring the pale Slytherin for now, Remus went to the sleeping Harry, checking him over carefully for any sign of problems. He raised a brow, Harry cleaner after hours of sex than before, the wolf having licked him thoroughly as he slept.
“You should have left him some of the bruises,” Remus said with a sigh, straightening to watch Draco button his shirt up. “He likes the reminder of it. Helps him hold over until he can be filled again.”
Draco shrugged, eyes pensive and mouth set in a thin frown. “Your bitch has issues, Lupin. You should burn that fucking collar and get him some help.”
Remus snorted, glaring at the arrogant sod. “What, because he likes dog dick?”
Draco shook his head, eyes darkening. “No, because he kept fucking crying every time I was sweet to him. I thought maybe you were just a brutal fuck for taking him the way you do, but now I just wonder if you were just avoiding him getting sad.”
“The only time that pup cries is when it’s forced on him, Malfoy,” Remus growled, not appreciating the insinuation that Harry was broken in such a way. “And believe me, he fucking enjoys every moment of it. You’re just some bleeding heart wolf that doesn’t know shit yet. He’s fine, and getting better each day.”
“Whatever, Lupin, it’s not my fucking problem. You’re his alpha, and if you want to ignore his huge fucking emotional scars, then who the fuck am I to stop you? I just thought he was a human that turned into a dog, not the other way around like you treat him.” Shirt tucked back in place, and shoes and socks back on feet, Draco went to leave, his eyes flashing unspoken anger.
Remus refused to unlock the door, waiting for the pale boy to turn back in irritation. “Are you willing, if he’s in need again?” The man asked, thinking of Harry at the moment and not his own damn annoyance with the Slytherin pain.
Draco looked torn, eyes swirling clouds, mouth twitching into a deeper frown. “Probably… If he’s still interested after today,” he finally answered, turning and waiting until Remus spelled the door open so he could leave.
Glaring at the now empty doorway, Remus brooded. The stupid white pup was clearly in love with Harry, or damn near on his way, and likely more god damn trouble than worth it. And Harry… well Harry was just so fucking soft about the Malfoy boy, wasn’t he? All syrup and blushes, it was damn near disgraceful. But he was asleep, and sated, and Remus didn’t even have to clean the boy—although he would do some, just to get the fucking white wolf’s scent off his pup.
The prat had been respectful, likely out of a lack of balls than a desire to be kind, but still, Remus was less worried about Harry spending time with the boy… except for all that blushing softness. He needed Harry to be tough and less open to such vulnerabilities. The domestic little white wolf couldn’t protect Harry if they were alone, so Harry needed to be able to protect himself. Which meant toughening up still.
Shaking his head, Remus scooped Harry up, tucking long thin limbs and messy dark hair into some sort of order. Remus would take Harry for a hunt that weekend, and see if that helped get the boy on track.
Harry had avoided Draco Malfoy for days after having woken up without the collar and remembering how the white wolf was really the pale boy in animagus form. He wasn’t quite sure why he was avoiding Draco, especially since Remus had finally given Harry the go ahead to approach him when in need. Every time Harry caught sight of the boy, be it during a meal in the Great Hall, or while trying to not stare at him in potions, Harry’s stomach twisted up and he felt unbearably uncomfortable.
He didn’t want to be embarrassed by how he had behaved with the white wolf, and Harry knew, fucked up as it was, it was not the very sick and depraved things he had so readily done that he was embarrassed about when he caught sight of Draco. No, it was the way it had been so different, so fucking gentle, and caring, and every time Harry let himself think of that, a part of him just felt like it was breaking.
Harry did not enjoy the feeling. He had been happy to finally get ahead of a lot of the confusing, sick feelings that used to plague him about his sexuality. He did not want to add silent tears and strange, delicious softness to the list of things that fucked him up with the sex his body so eagerly craved and desperately needed. Harry decided that the only way around this problem was to get Malfoy to be just as rough and careless as Sirius and Remus always were when filling him. The sweetness was just too difficult to bear.
Harry started stalking the pale boy down. He would catch Draco in corridors and drag him into empty classrooms, pull the boy’s pants down and suck him off in desperate, dirty ways until the Slytherin would use his own nasty mouth to encourage his efforts. Harry kept stalking the boy, kept catching him, until Draco was waiting for him, slamming him into the classroom door instead, pushing Harry down to his knees and fucking his mouth the way he had showed the boy. And then, Harry wasn’t stalking Draco anymore at all, it was the wolf following him around, the pale boy growling lowly before he struck, until Harry found he spent most of his days looking around, wondering when Draco would hunt him down and take his mouth and hopefully, the rest of him.
Malfoy kept hesitating, as if it was a line just too messed up to cross. Harry couldn’t understand it, having crossed far worse lines with much less trepidation. But Malfoy wouldn’t fuck him no matter how much Harry needed it. It wasn’t until a quiet Friday night, when Harry decided he’d had enough and was going to trick the boy, that he found out why.
Draco was walking back from dinner, dressed casually for a change, hands in his pockets as he kicked a small rock down the hall. He caught Harry’s scent before he saw the boy, green eyes peering up through messy fringe, the damn bother waiting in the doorway of an empty room. Potter had that fucked up smile on his face, mildly deranged and all god damn anticipation.
Draco knew he should have just kept walking, should have ignored the slut and gone back to his dorm and finished his homework. Potter made him crazy, plain and simple. He was gorgeous and sexy and so fucked in the head that Draco just lost himself, even when he always felt like shit for it later. Potter wanted weird, fucked up shit, and Draco didn’t, and he knew he never would.
Glancing around to see if they were alone, Harry pushed himself from the doorway, looking Draco over heatedly as he approached. “Hey Malfoy,” Harry whispered, mouth moving over Draco’s earlobe. “You feel like reminding me what that pack of street dogs should do to me? You say it just so nicely…”
Draco glared; the boy was seriously fucked and made Draco regret every god damn mean thing that ever came out of his mouth. Yet, it also seemed to make him damn meaner about it at the same time. “Why don’t you go ask your alpha? I’m sure he and the dog would be happy to show you first hand.”
“Oh, don’t be that way.” Harry licked up the side of Draco’s throat, slipping a hand down the front of the pale boy’s body until reaching his jeans waistband. “I was hoping you might want to show me… and then, maybe the pretty wolf, too…”
Draco inwardly cringed. The wolf was not exactly pleased at the idea. Harry gave off all the right scents and noises that screamed ‘fuck me’ to the simple creature, but other things about Harry, specifically the very deranged, fucked up behavior when he wasn’t wearing the collar, made the wolf think that avoiding the boy all together was the best course of action. Something Draco had been thinking as well, even if he had been having a lot of difficulty following through.
“I don’t have time for the wolf tonight, Potter. I need to study, and once it knots it’s at least an hour,” Draco muttered, trying to extract from the hands currently pulling him towards the empty classroom.
“Mmm… I remember…” Harry said with a lazy smile, managing to get Draco to the other side of the door and closing it behind them. He pulled Draco’s shirt up, running hands over the boy’s back and sides. “How about… just you then? I have been swallowing that long cock of yours for days now, and I would really like to see what you do with it.”
Draco inhaled sharply, one of Harry’s hands somehow past his fly already and wrapping fingers around his hardening length. “Potter… you won’t like how I fuck.”
“Sure I will,” Harry said, eyes alight as he watched Draco’s face and slowly jerked the boy through his pants. “As long as it’s in my ass, you really can’t go wrong.” Harry stepped back, pulling his t-shirt up over his head and throwing it to the ground, followed quickly with his glasses.
As certain as he was that Harry thought that was true, Draco knew that it wasn’t. He had seen Remus go very fucking wrong with the boy while wearing that damn collar, and seeing how Harry really seemed to be looking for similar, Draco had little interest in it. “I’m not a werewolf, or some hardened criminal that spent years in jail. I’m not going to fuck you like them, Potter. I just don’t want to.”
“Then fuck me how you want to,” Harry said with an unconcerned shrug, kicking his shoes off. “Promise, I won’t complain.”
Harry’s jeans were off and Draco was having some difficulty concentrating with the slender, nearly nude boy standing shamelessly in front of him. Was Potter ever not achingly hard? He watched Harry pull his underwear down, impish green eyes catching his as he straightened, that damn deranged grin back. Then Harry was walking around him, hands brushing over Draco’s bulging jeans, before the boy settled on the closed classroom door. Bracing his arms and resting his forehead on the wood, Harry spread his legs wide in offering.
Draco would quite literally have to go through Potter if he wanted to leave, and looking at him, it didn’t seem like a bad compromise at the moment.
Eyes locked on the light toned muscles and soft pale skin of Harry’s form, Draco pulled his own clothes off distractedly.
He could hear Potter panting, see his fingers flex in anticipation, and see sweat just starting to gather at the base of his neck. He reeked of sex, more so with his pants off and loins and glands exposed to spread the scent further. He was also surprisingly free of the foul werewolf scent, something Draco was relieved for. Harry currently had no bruises, and Draco would like to keep it that way.
Harry jerked at the first touch as if expecting it to hurt, Draco’s hand moving over the boy’s shoulder blades softly, and then down, caressing his lower back firmly. Draco wrapped his other arm around Harry’s waist, curling up against the smaller boy’s back with his body, sinking in to the feel of skin on skin. He kissed Harry’s neck, the other shifting away from the soft touch, green eyes peering back at him.
“Come on, Malfoy, put it in me first. I’m fucking dying here.” Groaning, Harry rocked his hips back, trying to impale himself on Draco. Rolling his eyes, Draco slid his hand over Harry’s ass, seeking out his entrance with his fingers.
Harry growled, glaring back at Draco this time. “Don’t fucking bother. Can’t you smell how much I need this? Fuck me.”
“Damn it,” Draco cursed softly, grabbing Harry’s sharp hips, and pushing forward. He tried to go slow, tried to give the boy time to fucking adjust, and not have his damn hot tightness snap Draco in two. But Harry was pushing back desperately, making needy, aching noises of pleasure as Draco plunged into his unstretched hole.
“Oh god… oh god, Malfoy… That’s it… fuck… take me hard…”
“Potter, you said I could fuck you how I wanted to.” Draco growled, opening his eyes to glare at the bowed neck before him. A familiar leather collar was hanging off of Harry’s neck, the boy moments away from clasping it shut. “You fucking—Potter, don’t you dare!”
Harry laughed, demented and taunting, clicking the clasp in place and activating the spell.
The fucking sick ass, deranged mutt, needing another god damn rape fantasy and dragging Draco along for the nightmare. Draco had only a moment to get a huff of ‘I told you so’ from his inner wolf, before Harry swayed, confusion, pain, and fear taking the boy’s body.
Stilling, Draco listened to Harry’s breath change, the small pants of desire turning into quick, terrified gasps for air.
“It’s okay… hush… it’s okay…” Draco murmured into the boy’s neck, having no fucking interest in feeding Harry’s god damn psychosis. “Did you forget again, Harry? Forget where you are… what you’re doing?”
“Oh god, it hurts… please… please take it out…” Harry whimpered, tears slipping down his face. Draco snarled inwardly, so fucking angry at the other version of Harry for ever putting him in this situation—for ever fucking thinking that he would even be into raping the boy. It was the fucking werewolf’s fault, and Black’s too, and Draco was very much ready to make everyone pay for it.
Focusing on the gasping boy in front of him, Draco ran his hands comfortingly up and down his arms. “I’m going to pull it out… tell me if it hurts and I’ll go slower, okay?”
Harry nodded dumbly, then squeaked when Draco started to withdraw. “No—stop—don’t move… I was wrong, don’t move—it’s so much worse…” he choked out, eyes squeezed shut.
“It’s okay… focus on my voice, okay? Just listen to what I’m saying and what my hands are doing, and let your body relax.” Draco kissed the back of the boy’s neck again, running palms over his arms and sides soothingly and doing everything he could to not move and jolt the boy.
Harry’s breathing started to slow, teary green eyes peeking back at him hesitantly. “Malfoy? What… are we…?”
“It’s Draco, Harry. You forget sometimes.” Draco gently wiped the boy’s wet cheeks, his heart breaking at the lost expression on his beautiful face. “But that’s okay. I don’t mind… just relax… and we can stop…”
Harry stared at him, licking his lips thoughtfully. “So you… you like me?”
Wincing inwardly at the absolute vulnerable rawness of the statement, Draco gave a slow nod. “Of course I like you. You don’t do this with someone you don’t like. I like you a lot, Harry.”
“Oh…” A small shudder went through the boy, and suddenly Harry was calmer, head leaning back against Draco’s shoulder, green eyes peering up curiously. “So… I just forgot…?”
“Yes. It happens sometimes,” Draco assured him, watching the boy’s face carefully.
“So… when I wake up sometimes, all bruised…”
Draco shook his head, biting his lip. “No, Harry. I don’t bruise you… I would never hurt you that way…” Harry’s eyes lost focus, dark thoughts swirling in the green depths. “But that’s okay, too. You… uh, you like those friends… and you ask them to do that sometimes…”
Harry blinked back to him, brows furrowed. “I do?”
“That’s what you told me,” Draco said, as truthful as he was willing to be in the situation. “How do you feel right now? Does it still hurt?”
Eyes drifting away, Harry paused. “It feels… it feels…” He trailed off, swallowing hard as he clenched around Draco. “Draco, you’re inside me.” Harry breathed out shakily, making small gasps.
Draco ran fingers down the side of Harry’s sweating face, waiting for the boy to glance back at him. “Is that okay?” He asked, watching Harry closely.
“I… I think it is…” Harry whispered, dark lashes sweeping down. “My uncle told me that it was wrong, unnatural… two men together… But… but it doesn’t feel wrong. Not with you.”
Not sure what to say to that, besides how much he hated his uncle and any man that would make this feel wrong to Harry, Draco leaned forward and kissed the boy’s cheek. “Are you ready to try again?”
“Um, you mean…?”
“To pull out,” Draco added, a small smile forming at Harry’s disappointed look. “You said it hurt a lot.”
“I know… but it feels better now… kind of.” Harry shut his eyes, another shaky breath escaping him and another hard clench. “You feel good inside, even if it hurts a little.”
Breathing deeply, Draco secured his arms around Harry’s chest, holding the boy tight to him and burying his face into his neck. “How about you move the way you want? That way you can tell if it’s too much.”
“Okay…” Eyes falling shut, Harry slowly rocked his hips forward, gasping at the feel of Draco receding slightly within him. “Oh… oh hell…”
“You okay?” Draco asked, slipping his eyes open to watch Harry gape.
“It’s intense… so much…”
“Sorry.” Draco kissed the boy’s neck again, sighing as Harry pushed back into his hips, burying him deep inside again.
“God… no, it’s good… very good…” He said with a whimper, hips again rocking forward, and causing Harry to moan lowly.
Draco breathed deep, trying to keep himself in control. The small gasps and murmurs, so sweet and earnest from Harry lips, were driving him wild. He held himself as still as possible while Harry slowly rode him. Draco was losing though, finding his hips pressing forward when Harry pushed back, which made Harry groan excitedly and only undo Draco’s control more.
“Draco… please… I need… I need…” Mumbling, Harry leaned his head against the door, face turned to the side as he panted. Draco bent forward, running fingers through the boy’s sweaty tangle of hair and kissing his shoulder.
“What do you need, Harry?” He asked, fairly certain he knew the answer already.
“Need you… please…” Harry whispered, eyes seeking his.
“Okay… you tell me if you want me to stop…” Lips brushing against the boy’s ear for a lingering moment, Draco shifted, grasping Harry’s hips and slowly thrusting into the aching boy.
Harry moaned, loudly gasping each time Draco settled inside and brushed the spot that made him tense in agonizing pleasure. Body arching backwards, hands on the door, Harry braced his legs and hips, pushing back into each firm thrust while softly begging for more.
Draco was nearly there when he realized Harry was crying again, tears quietly streaming down the boy’s face. It was very much a mood killer for Draco, even though he was well aware the damn werewolf, and likely his mate, got off on the smaller boy crying.
“Harry… what is it? What’s wrong?” He asked, stilling his movements even though Harry moaned in protest. “Harry, why are you crying?”
Harry blinked back at him, slowly raising his hand to his face and feeling the wetness there. He shook his head, confused. “I don’t know… It was feeling so good… I didn’t think I was sad…” He licked his lips, meeting Draco’s gaze. “I’m not sad. I’m happy… Sometimes I guess I just… cry happy…”
“You’re sure?” Draco wasn’t sure he believed the boy, but Harry was nodding at him in a way that made him think that Harry at least believed it.
Harry pressed back against him, urging him to continue. Eyes downcast, Draco did, kissing up the boy’s neck and trying to distract them both from Harry’s tears. He ran his hands down the front of Harry’s chest, plucking dusky nipples lightly while Harry moaned. Draco reached down further, palm flat over Harry’s navel, reaching to brush fingers against the boy’s aching length.
“Oh fuck… oh, touch it…” Harry begged, hips pushing back, and then forward, into Draco’s hand. “Yes… just like that…” Draco wrapped his fingers tight around Harry’s cock, letting the boy fuck his hand while he thrust into his tightness. Harry was clenching around him, pushing back and moaning softly with each thrust, helping to build the rhythm.
“Please… oh please…” Harry murmured, pushing back determinedly, trying to get Draco in deeper and to stay. “That’s it… yes… oh yes…” He clenched tight around Draco’s thickness, Draco just catching the boy’s expression before Harry cried out a final time, coming all over Draco’s hand.
Harry had gotten unbelievably tight inside, and Draco groaned, holding himself in the hot clench, grinding forward, listening to Harry gasp encouragingly, until he finally gave in, fire exploding through him as he filled Harry.
They lay collapsed on the door, the two a sweaty tangle of thin limbs and pale flesh. Harry was murmuring softly, nearly sweet nothings as Draco panted against his shoulder. Then, eyes catching sight of the collar, Draco spoke. “Harry, I need you to understand something.”
“Hmm?” Harry asked, turning his head slightly, resting it heavily on the door.
“This might not make much sense to you right now, but it will later. As long as you’re wearing that collar, that is the only way I’m ever going to touch you. Ever. And that’s the same for the wolf.”
Blinking, Harry nodded, biting his lip. “Wolf?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.
“You probably don’t remember him. A white wolf that you thought was pretty.” Draco ran fingers up and down the side of Harry’s face, studying him closely. “He likes you just as much, and neither of us want to hurt you, ever. Even if you might want us to. So, as long as you’re wearing that collar, I promise, this is how its going to be. Understand?”
Harry nodded, seemingly more confused but unwilling to voice it. It didn’t matter, since this wasn’t the Harry Draco was talking to, but the broken, demented thing that was outside of the collar and remembered everything that happened.
Because he could, and he wanted to, Draco held Harry close, kissing his neck and resting, waiting for the other boy to decide when it was time to go.
When Harry was like this, the way Draco had known him for the longest time, before Black and Remus and whatever fucked up shit had gotten to the small boy, it was difficult for Draco to let go. He knew it was a problem. Falling for Potter was about the damnedest stupidest thing he could every fucking do, especially now, when the boy would rather be raped than loved.
So Draco prepared himself. Because if Harry didn’t self destruct soon, then Draco likely would, and neither were pleasant options.
Draco was ready for Remus when the werewolf approached, only hours after Draco had finally left Harry in the empty classroom, collar still around his neck. The man was furious, standing outside the Slytherin common room, pacing in the narrow dungeon hallway while he waited for Draco to answer the portrait’s call.
“You wanted to see me, professor?” Draco asked, shutting the door behind him so no one would listen in. His politeness seemed to offend Remus more than anything, the man glaring daggers and clenching his fists.
“What did you do to him?” Remus snarled, taking a stalking step towards Draco. Draco held his ground, ignoring the way his heart raced at the smell of werewolf and anger.
“Nothing that would have hurt him,” Draco answered evenly, meeting the angry glare with one of his own. “Which is a fuck more than you can say.”
“Bullshit, you stupid pup! He was fucking crying. He doesn’t do that.” Remus took another step to tower over him, Draco trapped with the wall half a foot behind him.
“Oh, so now you suddenly care that he cries? Some human sensibility get its way into your damn deranged animal head of yours?” Draco snapped back. “He wanted me to force him. I refused. That he’s crying about it suggest something a lot more fucked up than either of you seem to realize.”
“Fucking hell—well its not a god damn problem now, is it?” Remus growled, throwing something at Draco’s chest. Draco caught it reflexively, raising it to his face and glancing so as not to let his guard drop around the enraged werewolf. It was the leather collar, chewed and bitten to pieces.
“The pup chewed it—took it off, seemed okay for a while and then suddenly started crying all quiet at me. When I asked him what was wrong, he turned into the dog and chewed the collar, and now won’t turn back. He won’t talk to me, just fucking sulking—I don’t know what to do!”
Draco fisted the scraps of collar, shoving them in his pocket before Remus could think to take them back and try to repair the blasted thing. “Here’s a thought; try not to fuck him while he’s like this,” Draco snarled, pushing the man out of his face and walking past so he wasn’t trapped. Remus made as if to swing at him, but Draco slipped around, pulling a necklace free from his shirt.
The silver chain glinted in the low torchlight, and Remus stayed where he was, his glare intensifying.
“I did not come here to fight. Just to understand,” the werewolf said more calmly, his rage kept in check.
“Can you even, Lupin? Are you even fucking capable?” Draco asked, running a hand through his hair in agitation.
“I know he’s broken, boy!” Remus yelled. “That’s not new news. His muggles fucked him up and he had no one to protect him. I’m trying the best that I can to give him some affection and stability. But I’m—”
“Fucked in the head, like all of your god damn kind. You think what you’re doing with him is affection? What Black does to him? That collar, was that fucking affection?” Draco sneered, his silver eyes piercing.
Remus took a long breath, looking away. “That’s different. If you weren’t such a prissy thing, you would understand. He needs it, begs for it, and this is how we enjoy it. It’s just wild nature, something you know little about.”
“I know about nature, Lupin, real nature and not that fucking evil beast in your head. That’s why you can’t fucking stand me—I’m not abnormal like you and it pisses you off.” Draco said knowingly, staring the man down. “You like to hurt him—you get off on it. He might be designed in a way to get off on it too, but don’t kid yourself into thinking it’s actually good for him. He has the body of your pack bitch, but he still has the mind of a god damn human boy. You might have understood that, before you got sucked into his heat and let the twisted wolf rule you.”
Remus snarled and began to pace, heavy hand slamming against the wall as he walked. “You arrogant, self righteous pain in the ass pup. I never should have let him near you—fucking knew it was trouble the moment he started making eyes at you.”
“Oh, believe me, I fucking avoided it as long as possible,” Draco growled back.
“Well, it’s bloody done. And you’re going to help me,” Remus said, turning on his foot and stalking back. “Help me get him to talk. Fix the damn boy.”
Draco snorted, about ready to hit the fucking imbecile across the castle. “You don’t just fucking fix people. And if he wants to talk, he has to actually choose to do it. You can’t force that, just the same fucking way you shouldn’t have forced him.” He ignored the warning growl, narrowing his eyes back.
“Let him sulk. Let him bitch and cry and do whatever it is he needs to do. And if you earned any trust from him, and he goes to talk to you, don’t fucking make him regret it. Just listen, and agree, and let him be.”
“Damn it, Malfoy, just talk to the boy!”
“Lupin, people don’t fix other people’s problems. They can only fix their own. If he wants to talk to me, I’ll gladly listen. But I’m not sticking my nose where its not wanted. I’ve got homework to do, so if you’ll excuse me, get the fuck out of my hallway.”
It was clearly not the answer Remus had been looking for when he had come down there, but it was the only one Draco was willing to give, considering the circumstances. The man eventually left, and Draco returned to his room, to brood and not finish his homework.
It was nearly a week before Remus approached Draco again, the man drained of anger and full of plain worry. He caught Draco outside of the Great Hall doors, right after dinner.
“Please.”
“Pardon?” Draco stopped short, not expecting to find the man there, never mind looking so desperate. He frowned, glancing towards the windows. “Shouldn’t you be… not near people right now?” Draco asked, referring to the oncoming full moon.
“I have to go, and I need someone to watch him. Not much time left…” Remus bent over, panting heavily. There was a sheen of sweat on the man’s face to go with his sudden pallor.
Frowning, Draco took a look around, trying to think of any excuse that could get him out of babysitting for the werewolf. “I thought I smelled Black return. Can’t he do it?”
Remus shook his head, looking like he was about to throw up. “He’s helping me tonight. Harry—he hasn’t eaten… can’t be alone…” Remus waved him down the hall, walking unsteadily while Draco huffed and followed. “I’ve been trying to give him space… just, he’s not coming out of it.”
Draco shrugged, biting his lip and trying not to worry about the boy. “Only because of the moon. I don’t want to be your excuse for infecting or murdering the entire student body.”
“How generous,” Remus muttered, but any edge in his voice was lightened by his grunt of pain.
Harry was hiding under Remus’s bed, Padfoot pointed towards the gap with his face, whining softly at the darkness beneath. When Remus and Draco stepped in, the large dog jumped up, Sirius appearing and standing fluidly. “Finally. You never should have waited this long, Remi.”
Remus waved at him dismissively. “Harry, love, the wolf is here. We’ll be back in the morning, don’t worry. I have—damn!” Remus clutched his side, nearly falling to his knees.
Sirius quickly grabbed his mate, glaring at Draco briefly before hauling Remus’s arm over his shoulder. “Harry, we’re leaving. Food, juice, bed—you know the drill. Try and keep your chin up, pup.” They didn’t say goodbye to Draco, shutting the door behind them as Sirius dragged Remus out the door.
Scratching his head in annoyance, Draco looked slowly around the dingy room that reeked of werewolf and dog. It was cluttered with books and papers, and very much worn and as rumpled as the werewolf appeared. Somewhat cozy, but not by much, feeling more run down and tired at the moment with half eaten dinner on the table and Black’s boots muddied by the door. Actually, it was down right domestic.
He could smell Harry under the bed, in dog form, and having been there a long time. Draco didn’t know if it was true the boy wasn’t eating, but it seemed he wasn’t moving much, if anything. “Sorry to intrude, Potter. I’ll be out of your fur soon enough, so don’t mind me.” Focusing on a rather dusty armchair, Draco decided it was safe enough, smelling more of Harry than of Remus. He settled down, huffing and burying his head in his hands.
Harry was whining softly, small little thumps sounding as the dog whipped its tail against the floor. Draco sighed, lowering his hands to look towards the sound. A narrow chocolate colored face with bright green eyes peered out from under the bed, whining inquiringly. Potter looked nearly a wolf, Alsatian with sharp dark features. His fur was ruffled, creating fluffy points to the sides of his face. Licking his tongue out and wetting his nose, Harry gave another whine, tail thumping again.
“What?” Draco asked, raising a brow. More whining and tail thumping retorted back, and with a sigh, Draco got down to the floor and knelt in front of the fluffy, dark dog. He reached his hand out, Harry licking him in greeting. “You hungry, Potter?”
Harry whimpered, wiggling a little further out from under the bed, pushing his head into Draco’s hand. Rolling his eyes, Draco settled on the floor, petting the smooth head, tangling in the silky chocolate fur and combing. The dog was too thin, and maybe dehydrated by the look of it. “I can’t imagine you want to see me… Pretty sure I’m the last person you would want to see after everything that happened.”
Feeling somewhat stupid for talking to a dog that was very likely not going to answer back, Draco stopped, instead scratching Harry behind the ear while the dog sighed contently and closed its eyes. Watching him long moments, Draco decided being furry was much easier than being human at that moment, and with a shrug of bones and skin, melted into his wolf form.
Harry gave a happy yip to see the white wolf, tail again thumping on the floor. Sniffing the dog’s face politely, Draco gave a small lick to the dark snout and curled up beside the smaller dog, More wiggling later, and Harry’s head was sprawled back and up against Draco’s tall side, the dog giving a soft whine before closing his eyes again in rest.
Life as a wolf was much simpler. Draco had never realized just how still he was inside until finishing his animagus training in secret. The wolf gave him confidence and a deep understanding he had never had as just a confused young man trying to understand the war his parents were fighting.
Humans complicated things unnecessarily. They hurt others because they hurt, wanted things they had no right to have, and spent a lot of needless time thinking of themselves and figuring out their value. The wolf knew its value, because it understood the order of nature. He lived because thats what living things did, and he would one day die, because that was also what living things did. He would kill to live, and play to enjoy the life he already was living. And when the wolf mated, the way it wished to with the bizarre chocolate mess next to him, it was also a simple thing, because love was simple when humans weren’t involved.
But the chocolate dog was a mess, half starved and in need of water and comfort. And worse, the creature had done it to itself, for some reason refusing to enjoy the life it had. As a human it was very easy for Draco to say the foolish thing needed to figure things out on its own, but as a wolf, the creature wanted to add its companionship and help remind the young dog that life was not a lonely existence. So, after a few friendly licks to Harry’s furry face, Draco closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift, just enjoying the company.
When the wolf awoke again, Harry was human, half hidden in his white fur as the boy sipped a glass of juice and hugged him. Huffing air in greeting, Draco closed his eyes while Harry petted his face and leaned into him and called him pretty names.
“I’m glad you came by, Malfoy… I thought maybe you didn’t like me anymore…” Harry whispered into the fur around his neck. Draco licked at the hand petting him, reassuring that he very much still liked Harry, even if the boy was rather messed up. “Good boy, you lovely, gorgeous thing…” Harry murmured, running fingers over Draco’s brows and snout gently.
“Just… don’t hate me… I shouldn’t have done what I did… it was wrong… I just… I needed it to not be wrong to be able to keep going… I’m sorry… I’m really, really sorry…”
Whining, Draco turned his head, lapping at Harry’s face to reassure the boy that he was worrying over nothing. He wasn’t angry, not anymore, just really concerned. Harry smiled crookedly and thankfully not deranged, glasses going astray. He fixed them in place, his smile disappearing as he looked into Draco’s watching eyes. “It was… it was actually nice that you did what you did… I… I didn’t know how, I guess… Didn’t know how to say okay to one thing, but no to another, when my body just acted like it was all the same thing.”
Harry looked away, petting the soft fur he was leaning against absentmindedly. “And… you showed me that part of why it felt the way it had been was because I was scared a lot still… even without the collar… I had a lot of terror every time with Remus and Sirius… It made things very intense, but… wrong. And I didn’t understand that…” Sighing heavily, Harry buried his face into Draco’s side and stayed there, breathing deep.
“Don’t know what to do… Don’t know how to tell them… Hell—I don’t even know if they’ll care.”
Nuzzling into him, Draco managed to get the boy out from his fluff enough to lick his face reassuringly, rewarded by Harry’s quiet chuckles. Harry wrapped his arms tight around his neck, eyes closing again.
“It’s easier as a dog… Not so complicated… not so many fucked up feelings inside…” Harry breathed hot air, pressing closer and muffling his words into the thick fur. “You’re very pretty as a wolf, Draco… and as a person, handsome that is… I really want you to like me, and I hope I didn’t ruin everything with that collar thing…”
When the boy seemed intent to stay lost in his fur again, Draco gave him a gentle nip and knowing look once green eyes met his. “Fine, I’m being stupid… I’m entitled…” Harry muttered, then smirked as he was licked again.
Draco got to his feet, half dragging Harry until the boy let go of his neck. Moving to the small table, Draco pointed his head towards the dinner plates and whined. Harry got up, swaying unsteadily, grabbing onto Draco’s form when close enough. There was a covered dish, a warming spell placed on it waiting for him just in case Harry finally decided to eat. The boy picked the plate up along with a fork and sat back down on the floor, the wolf lying beside him and nosing curiously at the food.
Harry took small bites, sharing with Draco, who found very little but the chocolate pudding of much interest. And then Harry hunkered down in his fur again, twirling the fluff between his fingers as he sighed soft sighs and smiled sleepily.
The wolf awoke when the two men returned, Remus healed by Sirius but still exhausted from the moon as the taller man dragged him in, removed his clothing and put him to bed, dawn just rising outside. Harry was still cuddled up against Draco’s side, the boy’s light upper body cradled by his fur and likely to fall flat to the floor if Draco moved. Which was the only reason why he stayed still when Sirius, finished with Remus, loomed over him and started glaring.
“Look at you, you bloody pure white thing. Don’t you just scream arrogant. I don’t know what you did to him, but you left him in a damn mess, and then you didn’t bother to come back to clean it up. You’re lucky Remus has final say, otherwise I would have castrated you, you damn self important wolf.”
Draco raised his head, glaring back and growling lowly. It was hardly his fault what had happened to Harry, but the foolish, abnormal werewolf and its mate’s standing before him. Harry shifted, murmuring something and wrapping an arm tighter around Draco’s neck. Draco stopped growling, turning his head to lick at the boy’s face before settling down again. Fuck Black, no one cared what he thought anyways.
Eyes drawn to Harry’s human and resting face, Sirius’s anger faded a bit, the man raking his dark hair as he crouched to make sure Harry was okay. He glared at Draco when the wolf opened his eyes and huffed, but then turned his attention to making sure Harry was well. He had been hiding under the bed for nearly a week, so Remus had told him. Sirius had come back for the moon, knowing his mate would need his companionship during such a difficult time. Finding Harry sulking and apparently fucking the damn annoying Slytherin prat had been two very nasty surprises waiting at his return.
Harry was too thin again, but breathing evenly, clothes a mess and in need of changing. Satisfied the boy wasn’t going to die anytime soon, Sirius stood again and began cleaning up the plates from last evening, tidying the small place so Remus wouldn’t wake to a mess. Satisfied things were in a fair enough order, he gave in to his own exhaustion, stripping and slipping into bed beside Remus with a tired sigh.
It was around noon when Harry roused, using the small connecting bathroom and having a glass of water to take the fuzz out of his head. He gave the pretty white wolf a pet, and then went to the bed where Remus and Sirius were sleeping, staring contemplatively at the two men. They were much softer in sleep, although Sirius had gotten better since being around them, and Remus was always calmer after the moon when the werewolf had the weakest influence.
A blue eye peeked out at him, and Sirius’s gruff voice followed as he beckoned with his hand. “Come on, pup. Tell me what happened.”
Crawling up the bed between the two, Harry settled, sighing from the warmth, familiar scents, and press of flesh. He turned so he could face Sirius, biting his lip as he tried to explain the feelings he was still having difficulty fully understanding himself.
Sirius waited patiently, running fingers through Harry’s hair while carefully setting the boy’s glasses aside on the small nightstand so they wouldn’t get mangled. “Remi told me you didn’t like the collar anymore.”
Harry nodded slowly, trying to read the man’s face to see if he was angry. His wild blue eyes were much less wild lately, now just stunning and currently concerned. “I… Every time, I’ve been afraid that you were going to hurt me. The collar… the collar made it so I didn’t have to wonder anymore.”
Sirius sighed, a long exhalation of breath through his nose that ruffled Harry’s hair while the man thought. “Part of why we like to hurt you, Harry, is because we thought you really, actually enjoyed it. Except for the first times—That was something I shouldn’t have done. The prison twisted me and Paddy, and I hurt you, and I’m very sorry. Erasing your memory didn’t mean it was okay to do that. You smelling the way you did, didn’t mean it was okay either. I’m not like that anymore, so you don’t have to be afraid, love.”
“I know…” Harry bit his lip harder, feeling stupid and confused that Sirius had thought it had been about how he had first woken up.
“Siri, it wasn’t just your and Remi’s fault that I had so much fear… I had the fear for so long whenever I even thought of sex. It was my uncle and my aunt, and everyone that ever made it as if not being like them meant I was nothing…” Harry sighed, eyes blinking down at the sheets. “So, the collar helped me feel like something… Like… as long as someone was forcing me to feel those feelings—punishing me for them—instead of me admitting they were from inside, I was still an okay person for being the way I was.
“I had liked boys for a while… and had thought about… thought about dogs… and thought there was something very wrong with me,” Harry mumbled lowly.
“But pup, there is nothing wrong with you. You’re a wonderful, brilliant person, and those idiot muggles didn’t know a god damn thing about anything so wonderful as you.” Voice full of rough compassion, Sirius wrapped his hand around the back of Harry’s neck, letting his fingers curl comfortingly.
Harry just shrugged at the thought of him being anything wonderful. “Draco showed me that… that it was okay to feel those feelings when I was wearing the collar. That it was okay to like those things… He showed me that I wanted someone to care about me when touching me… And… it was really sad, Siri.” Harry whispered, eyes welling with tears.
“Because I realized I had kept putting the collar on when you and Remus were being nice to me. That I had kept trying to block out just how much the two of you cared and thought I was okay. That was why I had tried to do the same with Draco. Because it was just easier to be scared and think I was a freak…
“And… and even now, I’m scared that anyone cares about me, and that I might not just be nothing. I’m scared to be something. It’s really fucked up.”
Sirius sighed, bowing his forehead to Harry’s, letting the boy cry silently. “It’s okay, pup… I promise… it’s gonna be okay…”
Remus stirred behind him, having been listening quietly, running his hand over Harry’s back and shoulders comfortingly. “We’re all a little fucked up, pup. And we care about you greatly, even if we don’t always show it proper. As long as you’re willing to share these things, we can help you.”
Remus rested his chin on Harry’s shoulder, meeting Sirius’s eyes. “Granted, I blame myself for not having figured it out… You kept wearing the thing, more and more. Even when alone.”
Harry nodded, eyes downcast. “It uh… I needed to remember just how bad it was… I was… for liking it… I was forgetting, enjoying myself, and I needed to be able to remember it was wrong.”
Remus winced while Sirius growled at him. “Yes, well… complexes like that can be cleaned up after a bit, Harry. We’ll just all have to work on it. What you are, and what you like is perfectly fine. It might not be ‘normal,’ but hell, you’re a god damn wizard, pup. You were never going to be normal anyways. Always, always you had to be spectacular on some level,” Remus murmured into Harry’s shoulder.
Spectacular also seemed like too good of a word to Harry. Sighing, he wiggled back into Remus’s embrace, pulling at his t-shirt until the man removed it and held him tight while the three of them rested long moments.
Sirius plucked at the boy’s fringe, Harry’s eyes finally dry, face less pulled down in its frown. He rubbed at the boy’s cheek with his thumb until finally a small smile began to appear, tugging at the corner of Harry’s red mouth.
Harry had never shared something so personal before with them. Small things, yes, like some of the things the Dursleys had done to the boy, locking him away when he wasn’t ‘right,’ making him feel like his existence had been a burden on them—that to clothe and feed him was just too much of an expense that they had barely bothered the attempt. If the boy owned a thing of his own, it was magical, because the Dursleys hardly thought a moment of him for muggle things.
Who had Harry gone to before Sirius and Remus to talk about such things? There had been no one. No one to listen, and certainly no one to accept him how he was. When Sirius was young, there had been James, and Remus, and even Peter. Harry hadn’t even opened up to his friends, his problems somehow seeming too big for children to handle.
Which brought him to the Malfoy boy… and the annoying realization that the little prat had been good for Harry.
Somehow the pale boy and his wolf had been able to behave human while dealing with the damn powerful heat that Harry created in anything remotely canine. Maybe it was because Remus and Sirius had been used to giving in to the base urges concerning sex, and had ignored how young Harry still was emotionally. Or maybe the damn Slytherin was more objective because of the other feelings Remus had mentioned the boy having for Harry.
“So, the white thing really helped you with all this?” Sirius asked, fighting the frown twisting the corners of his lips down.
“Yeah…” Harry smiled secretively, then met Sirius’s gaze. “I really like him, Siri. And… and I think he might really like me.”
Sirius’s frown deepened, and the man sighed heavily. “It’s always going to be your choice, love. He’s less annoying all furry, anyways.”
“Oh he is… very good furry…” Harry agreed, flush rising up his face at the memory.
Breathing in sharply, Sirius peeked over Remus’s shoulder, meeting his mate’s golden gaze. “As a wolf?”
Remus licked his lips, and then licked the back of Harry’s neck. “He wouldn’t shut up about it for days after. Right Harry? He was big, and—”
“Slow with me… really slow, and gentle, and big.” Harry said, lips parting to pant. “It was so good, Siri. So fucking good inside me… He got me so wet, and full…”
“You like that, don’t you?” Sirius whispered hoarsely, leaning forward to kiss Harry’s lips, tongue dipping in and tasting as the boy groaned and opened for him. “You like furry cock, all silky and swelling the way it does.”
“Yes… I really do…” Harry admitted hesitantly, eyes bright and full of want. “Especially when I’m human, and I can feel how the fur is against me… and how big it gets inside… oh fuck… how long… how long he fucks me… over and over again… won’t let me go until he’s had all he wants from me…”
Remus growled behind him, large hands suddenly pulling at Harry’s jeans, tearing at his fly and pushing pants and underwear down the boy’s thighs. “Harry… I want to fill you…” He bit Harry’s ear, hands moving up the boy’s sides and pulling him back against him even more.
“Please… please do…” Harry moaned, pushing back. “Need to feel it again… to feel good…”
Sirius stopped him, hands over Remus’s. “Is it going to be good, Harry? After everything we’ve been talking about?”
Harry nodded, leaning forward to kiss the man. “It’s going to finally be good, Siri.”
“Even though we’re not slow, love?’ Sirius insisted, trying not to give in to the teeth nipping at his jaw. “We can’t be gentle, pup… just don’t have it in us…”
“I don’t want you to be gentle. I want him to be gentle, because that’s the way he is… And you two, you need to be the way you are with me, so that I can be the many ways I am, and learn to feel okay about it,” Harry finished barely above a whisper, biting Sirius’s lower lip, until the man relented and let go of Remus’s hands, quickly helping to get Harry’s pants all the way off.
Sirius kissed down Harry’s throat and chest while Remus stretched the boy, Harry whimpering in absolute bliss from the feel of teeth on his nipples and his hole being roughly loosened with thick fingers.
“Siri—oh… oh!” Harry gasped, the man biting him sharply at the thin skin at the base of his throat, and then again, finding the muscle connecting to his shoulder and clamping teeth. Remus joined, biting Harry’s other shoulder, firmly dragging teeth in and massaging the muscle with their strong jaws while Harry wailed and shook.
There was a concerned whine, and Harry managed to pry his eyes open, waving in a reassuring manner as the white wolf peeked up over the bed at him, silver eyes regarding him heatedly. Harry gaped, Sirius readjusting to bite him again, and Remus shoving another finger into him, three filling his clenching hole thickly. Right now, Harry was pretty sure nothing had ever felt so good than to have two strong, hot and loving bodies pressing to him and doing such terrible, wonderful things. Not to mention, the sweet white wolf watching, seeing Harry so thoroughly debauched.
“Need you, Harry…” Remus growled, reaching up beneath the boy’s thighs to pull his thin leg up, raising his knee as he pushed the head of his cock to Harry’s ass. “Was so worried… and now… now I need to show it…”
Harry murmured something agreeable, Sirius currently licking down his chest again, heavy hands roughly helping to push Harry back into Remus’s hips. “Oh… oh god, Remus…” Head thrown back, Harry moaned loudly, the large man pushing into him in short, hard thrusts until fully buried inside, Harry’s channel clenching possessively around his cock.
“That’s it, Harry… take him in,” Sirius murmured hoarsely, moving down Harry’s body to lick the boy’s sweaty navel with his wide tongue, and press hands over his spread thighs. He brushed fingers closer, teasing at where Remus was stretching Harry wide, Remus grunting from the feel as Harry moaned again.
“Siri, quiet the boy up, hmm?” Remus muttered, waiting for Sirius to withdraw and kiss Harry bruisingly. Harry sufficiently gagged, Remus began to pump into the small boy, the angle forcing him to be slower than normal, but still allowing him to reach deep, pulling Harry’s hips back with each long push.
Sirius swallowed most of the gasping cries, the man very much in love with Harry’s sweet tasting mouth and all the many things it could do. Currently it was dripping, saliva streaming down while Sirius twisted the boy’s tongue with his own. He bit Harry’s lip, pulling firmly, letting it pop from his teeth just to nip it again until it was sore and swollen. “Fucking tasty, little slut…” Sirius groaned, pulling away to give Remus enough room to roll, and pin Harry into the mattress
Head lost in the pillows, Harry turned his face best he could against the softness, until Sirius grabbed the damn thing so the boy could breathe. He then shoved it under Harry’s hips, giving the boy a bit more leverage and something yielding for his aching cock to rub into while Remus rode him hard and demandingly.
“Oh god… oh fuck… oh—” Harry was cut off, Sirius’s thick fingers clamping over his mouth, keeping him from the very loud cries the boy was well known for at this point. It wasn’t a problem in a properly warded room, but Remus didn’t usually fuck the boy in his quarters, saving that for the Shrieking Shack, and sometimes his classroom, where they were less likely to have teachers stopping by to talk.
Harry didn’t mind, tongue pressing into the taste of Sirius’s fingers and the texture of the rough hand, letting his cries loose inside, and having his hot breath bounce back across his face. He listened instead to Remus’s loud grunts in his ear, and the way their flesh was slapping each time he slammed in. And then Harry didn’t hear anything at all, fire rushing through his entire body as Remus reached the right angle and began hitting his prostate with each blow.
Remus came with a strangled cry, Harry clenching so tight around him when he orgasmed that he had no choice but to slam in and stay in while the boy bucked and writhed. Body heaving and sweat soaked, he rolled off, collapsing on the bed to pant while Sirius took his spot behind Harry.
Biting up the boy’s neck while he positioned himself, Sirius removed his hand from Harry’s mouth, seeing if he was in a less loud state. Harry groaned softly, pushing back against him, trying to get Sirius to continue as the boy rose to his hands and knees. “Come on, Siri… fucking need you in me…” he whimpered, loving the way Remus’s cum was dripping out of him and down his thighs.
“I know you do, Harry… I know what you need, when you need it…” Sirius assured him roughly, holding the boy still so he couldn’t push onto him just yet. He slid his fingers down Harry’s thighs, scooping up the white slick and bringing it to Harry’s mouth. The boy moaned, opening to the fingers to taste Remus and his insides and feel filthy in an amazingly good way.
Then Sirius wiped it on the boy’s face, over his cheeks and chin, scooping more to get Harry’s neck and leaving spots on his nipples while Harry jerked from each touch. “Almost ready, little slut… almost dirty enough for me to fill you…”
“Oh god… fuck, Siri, just do me…” Harry gasped, but Sirius wasn’t done, fingers digging into Harry’s hole to get more of Remus’s cum, just to rub it over his pert ass and tight cheeks. Harry shuddered, another loud moan just starting to break free when Sirius clamped his hand over his mouth again.
“That’s it… that’s the right noise, bitch… Now spread those legs wide and let’s see how you feel, hmm?”
Harry did as he asked, knees sliding on the mattress while Sirius curved over his back, the large man holding Harry steady with a hand on his hip. Sirius pushed in slowly, nipping at Harry’s neck, urging the boy to clench around him, his channel tightening for him. “Good boy… good little slut… Make it nice and tight for me…”
Harry whimpered in the constricting hand, feeling maddened at this point, trying to push back into Sirius’s body but to no avail. He needed fucking, moving—needed it moving inside him, and Sirius was deliberately being resistant, teasing him like he always did, drawing it out for Remus to watch, and now the pretty white wolf who had yet to stop its intent gaze.
Oh, Harry hoped the wolf would have him too. Hoped Draco would want to join in after his pack was tired of him, which the men usually were for at least a good hour after the first round, leaving Harry in agonizing need during that time.
Sighing in his ear, Sirius pulled out and then thrust hard into Harry, Harry crying out into the hand around his mouth. Sirius liked to make sure Harry felt it sometimes, liked to ream in hard between moments of quiet, just to make sure Harry didn’t miss any movement of the hard dick inside him. It was delicious agony, and Harry gave in to it, eyes closing while sweat dripped down his face, each thrust wonderful torment.
“So fucking tight, pup… how the fuck do you do that?” Sirius muttered, hips slamming forward faster, unable to hold back as he built up speed.
“He sure fucking is,” Remus agreed, having caught his breath enough to turn over and watch, his hand cupping Sirius’s ass, and then slapping hard.
“Fuck, Remi!” Sirius gasped, eyes closing from the pain, hips jolting forward.
“You know you like it, Black,” Remus growled, moving to grab the man’s strong hips and lick a line up his ass crack.
“Didn’t… say… I didn’t…” Sirius moaned, his motions slowing to accommodate what Remus was doing with his tongue, much to Harry’s distress. Then Remus was pushing fingers into him, unrelenting, Sirius jolting forward with each thrust, trying to figure out if it would be better to gag Harry or himself right now as he groaned loudly.
“Come for me, baby, I know you want to. Fucking fill that tight, slutty hole with your hot cum and show me who you belong to,” Remus growled, mounting Sirius with his half hard erection and pushing in, Sirius bending forward over Harry, grabbing the mattress with both hands, and releasing Harry’s and his moans at the same time.
“Fuck Remi… my god… yes…”
“Hurry Siri… fucking listen to your alpha,” Remus taunted, smacking the man again on his ass, and damn him, Sirius fucking did as he was told, body tensing as he came in Harry’s clenching hole, grinding the boy forward while they both yelled in release.
Grinning wickedly, Remus extracted himself from his beautiful mate, giving a farewell lick to his hole. Stretching his arms over his head, he walked nude around the fluffy white beast watching hungrily, and went to make breakfast while Harry and Sirius collapsed on the bed.
“Siri… you’re heavy…” Harry complained, wiggling beneath the man’s sweaty, hard body.
“I know pup, and you’re going to have to deal with it,” Sirius said gruffly, unable to move just yet. “My god… that man of mine…”
Harry sighed, not the first time he had been stuck underneath one of the two men. Once, under both of them, but they had been kind to move quick enough, the combined weight unbearable. “Siri… I’m not done…”
“Mmm… fine, fine, you inexhaustible slut. Go ride the wolf,” Sirius grumbled, rolling slowly and laying out spent as he caught his breath.
Harry sat up dizzily, crawling down the bed to where the pretty white wolf was staring at him. Draco gave a soft whine, and Harry smiled, leaning down to let him lick his face. And then he gasped, remembering just what was on his face as the slippery tongue began cleaning him intently.
Harry moved down to the floor, not wanting to deal with the wolf’s legs and the soft mattress. He giggled, Draco licking everywhere he could reach, cleaning intently all the hard work the two men had left to dirty Harry with. “Oh… oh that’s nice, Draco… oh yeah…” Harry murmured, eyes half closed, Draco licking up his stomach where Harry had left his own release to sit and cool.
Harry wrapped his arms around the wolf’s neck, kissing him on the nose, opening to the persistent tongue and licking back. If Remus tasted like chocolate, and Sirius like peppermint, Draco definitely tasted like honey, warm and sweet and very addictive. And still, very intent on cleaning Harry, moving to the bruises on his shoulder, swiping down his chest and nipples, stomach and cock and then between his dripping thighs and balls.
Moaning shakily, Harry spread his legs and raised his knees, helping the nosing wolf get closer and deeper with its pink tongue. Harry bent forward, petting the lovely face, tangling fingers into its fur and holding Draco there as he licked around his hole with short swipes. It was a ritual Harry was definitely enjoying, but he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to handle much more of it.
Gently pushing the wolf away, tongue again swiping over Harry’s face a moment, Harry turned, trying to get to his knees while leaning on the bed. The wolf started licking up his back and Harry whimpered, falling heavily to sit while Draco continued cleaning him, his skin feeling very hot all over with each swipe. “Draco… hell… I can barely move…” Harry groaned, feeling very dizzy as soft fur pressed to his skin and Draco licked down his throat.
“Juice, pup.” Sirius appeared beside him, pressing the cool glass against his sweating face until Harry drank it down. “Don’t wear yourself out too much. You’ve been upset, remember.”
Harry nodded gratefully, the pumpkin juice doing much to restore some energy too him. Sirius took the glass back, returning to his soft conversation with Remus across the room. Harry turned his face over his shoulder, catching silver eyes and smiling, kissing Draco’s nose again. The slippery tongue was instantly on his mouth, stealing away the taste of pumpkin and replacing with Draco’s honey flavor. “Oh… okay… yeah…” Harry moaned, sinking against the bed and giving in to the determined tongue once again.
Harry started to stretch, pushing up the side of the bed, tensing his thighs and enjoying how good it felt. Draco moved down his back again, tongue following his spine, licking over Harry’s ass cheeks and nipping one lightly. At his yelp, Harry heard Remus mutter a silencing spell in the background, and then he didn’t notice much of anything, besides Draco’s tongue deep in his hole, hot and slippery and so damn determined to clean him.
“Draco… please… please…” Harry moaned, grasping the sheets in front of him and pushing back into the scalding breath moving over and in him. “God, it aches—fucking aching for you…” The wolf gave a soft whine, and just continued his licking, tormenting Harry with each slippery swipe of tongue, and hard nudge of nose.
“I need you… oh god… please, Wolfie… please, give it to me…” Harry begged, rocking his hips back and forth in invitation.
Draco gave a particularly loud grunt, swiping goodbye to Harry’s thighs and slowly climbing up the boy’s back. Harry whimpered in anticipation, soft fur encompassing his body and flesh, the smell of wolf, and sex, and Draco so strong in the air until Harry felt completely lost in the wolf.
Harry began to gasp softly, feeling just how ready Draco was for him, shots of fluid already splattering where ever the wolf’s dick pointed as it tried to line itself to Harry’s entrance. “Oh god… oh my god…” And then it was pressing at his hole, rocking just at the entrance, pushing in somehow slow as Draco managed to hold back even now, even while splattering him with little jolts of hot precum. Harry couldn’t remember having felt so much suspense for anything in his life, his hips twitching as he waited, fucking waited for the wolf to do what wolves did, and fuck him senseless.
The white wolf licked Harry once, around his throat and shoulder, and then surged forward, Harry howling in surprise and relief as finally Draco began to thrust into him, wild, jerking thrusts that shook his entire body. Panting, mouth hanging open as loud moans escaped him, Harry grabbed tighter to the sheets, pushing back, trying to get the already swollen knot to fit into him and fill him like he so desperately craved.
“Fuck… fuck… too big… damn it… damn…” Harry gave a soft sob, the fucking knot already so large, and his hole again having done its tightening trick, not wanting to let it in. He kept pushing back, meeting each hard thrust, body sweating at the exertion, but to no avail. Draco whined in his ear, trying to reassure him, but Harry was aching so bad for more. “Please… please, I need it… fuck… please…”
Sirius was suddenly beside him, pulling Harry’s face up while he groaned in desperation. “Calm down, love… You’re only going to get tighter doing that.” He stroked the boy’s face reassuringly, glancing at the wolf glaring at him. “Calm down, and give Malfoy a chance to transform. If he’s good enough, he can slide home and be back to furry, all in a moment. I’ve had the problem myself, and it works.” Stepping away again, Sirius nodded his head at the wolf, showing he was done interrupting.
“Draco… can you?” Harry whimpered, trying to slow his desperate movements to some form of calm. And Draco was good enough, because Harry had barely gotten the words out when everything shifted, feeling like the world was spinning, and then Harry was full, so fucking full inside. All he could do was gape, small choked noises breaking free. And then moans, pushing his body back into the renewed thrusts, eyes closed as he shuddered around the delicious, hot cum streaming inside him.
Sirius exchanged glances with Remus, the dark man biting his lip until it bled. Remus grabbed him around the waist, letting Sirius watch while he touched his mate and watched as well. Harry was a fucking fine sight spreading for the wolf, and so god damn enjoying it, head thrown back, fingers clawing against the mattress, eyes shut and mouth wide as he moaned in agony, riding the huge cock tied inside him. And maybe they didn’t dislike Malfoy just so much at that moment, because anyone that could make Harry look like that, and so clearly happy in it, couldn’t be all that bad.
“Oh fuck… oh fuck… gonna… fuck…” A slippery tongue ran across Harry’s mouth in sympathy, Harry gasping around it, his entire body tightening as he came hard. Harry clung desperately to the sheets, trying not to black out, the room spinning as his body shuddered again and again, quaking from the intensity of it all. “Don’t stop…” he insisted to the worried nose nuzzling at him. “Don’t you dare… fucking… stop…”
Huffing, Draco continued his thrusts, licking the boy in long swipes while he did, filling Harry as much as he demanded, and as long as he demanded. Even though the boy was spent, he was clenching around Draco, milking him for more, spurring him on as Harry rested and enjoyed the amazing feeling.
“They can go like that for hours,” Remus murmured into Sirius’s ear, the taller man nodding dumbly. “Did, the last time he knotted. You know how tight the boy can get… probably never lets up the whole fucking time.”
“I remember… fuck…” Sirius whined a very Padfoot whine.
“Keeps him busy… keeps him tired, for a fucking change…”
Sirius nodded again, turning his face to kiss his mate, but didn’t take his eyes from the sight. Harry had started pushing back again, started moaning agreeably and hungrily, and the wolf was nipping in anticipation. “We need to keep him, Remi… I know, he’s a fucking pain, but we need to keep him… This needs to happen all. the fucking. time.”
Remus snorted, but didn’t disagree. “He won’t join a werewolf pack, Siri. He’s a proper wolf.”
“Then we will convince him that being proper isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Fuck, Remi… just fuck… look at them…” Harry was howling again, head turned back to let the wolf lick his mouth ravenously while Draco continued to pound into him.
“I don’t know… The boy doesn’t want to be chained. Well, except to the pup, clearly.”
And even that thought, the idea of Harry mating permanently with the annoying Slytherin prat, was suddenly not rage inducing to Sirius, having seen just how good the two were together physically and emotionally. “Well… we’ll see. I’m sure they’ll know what they want eventually.”
Remus nodded, biting Sirius’s neck sharply and pushing him up against the kitchen table. “Think you can handle another round, Black?”
“With the pup, no,” Sirius said bluntly. “But with you, fuck yes.” Smirking wickedly, Remus pressed up against his lovely, crazy mate, not at all upset when Sirius chose to watch Harry being reamed by the white wolf while Remus reamed him.
Draco had once again run across Harry, the boy relentless in stalking him down, this time waiting till after dinner to find him. Draco knew why, and he wasn’t by any means pleased by it, having avoided Harry twice that day and now caught.
“I already told them both no, Potter.”
“Come on…” Harry whined, green eyes wide and pleading, even thought his smile was bordering on dodgy.
“You know why,” Draco snarled, glaring at the gorgeous nuisance.
“It’s just one time, Malfoy,” Harry insisted, smile widening to full out deranged.
“Yeah, like that’s ever going to fucking happen.” Draco stopped from where he was walking towards the Slytherin common room, Harry blocking his path. “Do I strike you as some sort of bitch, Potter?”
“Oh… I dunno… you are very pretty, Draco,” Harry lowered his lashes, smile changing to sweet as he stepped up to the boy and tried to kiss him.
Draco was having none of it, grabbing Harry by the shirt front and keeping him at arm’s length. “I am not spreading for your fucking alpha to join your pack. It’s a deal breaker and that’s final.”
The deranged look was back in Harry’s eye, and Draco knew he should listen to his wolf and fucking leave before the boy did something terrible and potentially convincing.
“You sure? Even if you could be my mate?”
Draco narrowed his eyes, looking Harry over slowly, his wolf whining in his ear in warning. “What does that even mean, Potter? You’re a fucking pack bitch. I’d have better luck choosing a bag of crisps for a mate—it would be shared less.”
Harry licked his lips, a familiar blush rising on the boy’s face. Draco cursed inwardly and reminded himself that talking mean never worked the right way with Harry anymore. It was also a terrible habit he just couldn’t seem to break himself out of since Harry looked just so sexy like that.
“I could mate with a fucking hat collecting money for charity, and it would pass through fewer hands than you do…” Harry’s eyes widened, and Draco couldn’t help himself. He stepped forward, pushing the boy towards the wall.
“A god damn pack of cigarettes would have less lip sucking action than your fucking hole, Potter,” he muttered, Harry’s heels hitting the wall and forcing the brunette to stop suddenly, hands pressing against the stone behind him as he stared at Draco in wonder. “Every plate in the Great fucking Hall has been eaten off of less than your tight ass has been eaten out of.”
“Whoa… I’m totally writing that one down,” Harry said breathlessly, face tilted up as Draco brushed his nose to his. “Come on, Wolfie… you know you want me…”
“Everyone wants you,” Draco growled lowly, seemingly not able to break away from Harry’s hazy gaze. “Fucking look at you.”
Harry shrugged unconcernedly. “I want you. And sometimes, some other warm, hard bodies that are damn friendly enough to me. But mostly, just you. And, if you were my mate, you could decide if those other hard bodies I was considering are even available.”
Draco huffed, his breath bouncing back at him since he had yet to move from his close proximity to Harry’s mouth. “Except your alpha.”
“Except Remus, yes… and Sirius,” Harry added, his deranged smile returning. “They’re usually a package deal trying to keep me satisfied. And I fucking like it, so too bad.”
“I’m nobody’s bitch, Potter,” Draco stated, remembering again why he was not in any way, shape, or form interested in joining Remus’s pack—or any werewolf pack, for that matter, that insisted on fucking every member that joined.
“Its just one time, Wolfie,” Harry murmured, tongue reaching out to lick Draco’s lips. “And I could wear him out real good beforehand. He’d be lucky if he could lift his finger, never mind his dick once I’m done with him.”
“Not fucking happening,” Draco gritted out, Harry’s tongue trying to slip in and taste him. He grabbed the boy by the face, holding him firm against the wall. Harry started panting in the hold, eyes intent, mouth somehow redder when particularly horny.
“Potter, once I was in your little pack, that sick fuck would have me anytime he fucking wanted—just because he knew he could as my alpha, and because it would fucking piss me off. I’m not falling for it.”
“No he wouldn’t… not if you wore your silver necklace. He can barely stand you as it is—and Siri would be pissed if Remi wasted his energy on anyone besides him, anyways.” Draco did not look convinced and Harry whined, biting his lower lip in a ridiculously adorable plea.
“I don’t like things up my ass, mutt.”
“Hmm… I don’t think you’ve ever actually had anything up your ass, Mr. Prissy,” Harry shot back, smiling widely when Draco blinked and glared, having guessed correctly. “That’s what I thought. All big talk, and very little walk… Although, who’s to say anything could fit around the stick you have permanently lodged up there?” Harry added, his eyebrows wagging lewdly.
Not liking where this was suddenly going, Draco pushed Harry’s face harder into the wall, then rolled his eyes when the boy moaned. It really was impossible to deal with the mutt. Fighting was sex. Talking shit was sex. Fuck, breathing quietly while reading a book was probably sex to Potter. The boy was a goddamn slut, and the idea of being his mate was damn fucking appealing.
“You know, Wolfie, I could always go find that pack of wild dogs you keep talking about, and let one of them pick me for a mate,” Harry taunted silkily. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind a quick ride with Remi.”
“First of all, Potter, I mentioned the fucking pack of street dogs once—once! And you can’t fucking let it go,” Draco grumbled, licking between his fingers that were currently keeping Harry’s face in place and catching the boy’s lips. “Secondly, if you’re that fucking hard up for dog dick, then by all means. You’ll likely need the whole pack to replace me though, seeing how my pretty white wolf fills you just the fuck enough, and then a fucking couple hours more, for good measure.”
Harry gave a soft whimper at the reminder, tongue reaching out, catching on Draco’s palm and moving between the fingers spread by his mouth. “I didn’t say that, Wolfie. I just said if you didn’t want to be my mate…”
“Did I say I didn’t want to be your mate?” Draco asked lowly, tongue slipping out again and touching the tip of Harry’s lightly.
Harry blinked, eyelashes fluttering as he tried to think back to their conversation, his mind a little addled by the sudden tongues and hand to his face… not to mention Draco’s words of earlier… “I remember something about plates being eaten off of… less than my ass…”
Draco smirked, his hand leaving the boy’s face and moving down to brush Harry’s neck instead, fingers curling lightly as he stroked his throat. “The giant squid doesn’t have enough tentacles to fill the fucking gaping hole in your ass…”
Deranged smile very firmly back in place, Harry snickered, chin tilting up to give Draco more access to his throat as the boy dipped down and licked him.
“The fucking school snitch has been caught less times in its history than you’ve been jerked off… or jerked on, for that matter…”
Harry groaned, eyes closing. “Fuck… okay…”
“Actually, I bet if I were to check your pretty pink hole, I might find that the whole goddamn Gryffindor quidditch team has had a ride in there.”
“Ha… ah… funny, dickhead…”
Draco raised an eyebrow, leaning up again to meet Harry’s eye. “Wasn’t joking. They’re so far up your ass as it is, I can only imagine they know it personally.”
Harry panted softly, eyes gleaming wickedly. “The only one up my ass on the field is you, mostly because you’re behind me when I’m winning.”
“Could just really like the view…” Draco murmured, kissing the boy slowly.
Harry pulled away. “Nope, pretty sure I’m just awesome.” He gave Draco an assessing look, biting his lip as he thought. “Wolfie… lets go somewhere. And I can show you some stuff… and you can decide if you might be willing to try it once—just once, to join the pack and be my mate.”
Draco’s wolf was whining in his ear again, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember why.
“And you know… if you happen to like it…” Harry smirked, face flushed as he tugged on Draco’s arms, pulling the boy down the corridor. “Well, I’m sure you could think of some creative ways to deal with that. Maybe even with my mutt…”
The boy was full out blushing, and Draco had to wonder if Harry had been thinking about this for a while now. “I don’t know how to break it to you, but my wolf is really not into—”
Harry turned, eyes a bit wide and kissed him quickly. “Didn’t mean the wolf.”
Ah. Eyebrows permanently stuck somewhere in his hairline, Draco stared at the now completely red Harry, face, neck, and likely chest flushed as well. “And why would you think…?”
“Um… so I had asked Siri how he had learned that trick,” Harry mumbled softly, staring at Draco’s chin. “And it seemed, although in every other way a total alpha, manly wolf, uh, Remi lets Padfoot…” He trailed off, waving his hand.
That the boy could do so many nasty things with the four legged creatures and yet still not say something as simple as ‘fuck’ unless halfway in the act of said fucking or cursing rudely, was beyond Draco. It was damn endearing, though. “You’re telling me the werewolf spreads for the dog, but not for Black?”
Harry nodded, eyes bright, lips parted again. “Yeah… Remi told me he likes it a lot… that I shouldn’t feel bad for liking it, because it’s just that fucking good…” Harry swallowed, open mouth pressing to Draco’s cheek. “So I thought, maybe you might…?”
Draco really had no idea if he ever might ever consider that as something to do, no matter how much Harry blushed. “I think you better focus on trying to convince me of the one time problem first, Mutt,” he said, his voice sounding a bit too hoarse in his ears.
Harry smirked, once again that crazy look glinting in his eye. “’Cus you want to be my mate,” he taunted, licking his lips.
“No, I want to make sure you don’t go off to live on the fucking city streets with that pack you’re obsessed with, you hopeless slut,” Draco growled.
“Oh, I think you want to be my mate…”
“Yeah, well I think you want to ride hippogriff dick.”
Harry laughed breathlessly, eyes hazy as Draco once again pushed him up against the wall. “Fuck… well you make it sound so fucking appealing…”
“You’ve got problems, Potter,” Draco murmured, biting the boy’s jaw lightly.
Harry shook his head, a soft moan escaping his panting lips. “My only problem is not having you inside me right this fucking second, Malfoy. Everything else about me is fucking fine.”
“Fine… tight… begging for it…” Draco agreed, nipping Harry’s neck sharply.
“Oh, I can beg, Wolfie. If that’s what you want…” Harry whispered, wetting his lips when Draco turned his way again.
Staring at the flushed boy, Draco was fairly certain he was making the wrong move here, and could not, for the life of him, remember why that was. “Beg me, Harry. Let me fucking hear it.”
“On my knees?” Harry asked, slowly sliding down his body before Draco could answer. Breathing in sharply, Draco braced his arms on the wall as he stared down at the incredibly sexy boy.
“Please, Draco. Please be my mate. Please join my pack, and have me every day, every time you want to, anyway you want to, any form you want to. I need you—all of you—to make me feel right.”
It was the stillness that did it, Harry’s wicked glint long gone from him as he looked up at Draco in genuine vulnerability. He really should have listened to his wolf, Draco realized weakly, even as he fell to his knees and kissed Harry as deeply and demandingly as he needed.
“Okay, Harry, I’ll do it,” Draco whispered hoarsely, nearly knocked to the ground by the force of Harry’s returning hug. “So you’ll be my mate. Always.”
“Thank you, Draco,” Harry beamed, mouth buried around his ear.
Draco nodded, pulling back to stare at the tears brimming in the boy’s eyes. “Because I love you.” Before Harry could start bawling, which he was very prone to do when hearing those particular words from Draco, he surged forward and kissed the brunette swiftly.
There would probably be some issues at home with mating with Harry, likely Draco being disowned or just threatened with death. But Draco figured having a pack meant having a place to stay if that happened. And hell, having a mate meant having far larger concerns than caring what his parents thought about things. It meant taking care of Harry, keeping him from his fucked up relatives, and any stray beast that might think to hurt or have his scrappy little mutt.
Those were problems Draco was more than happy to deal with, just to see Harry smile like he was right then.
Draco was far less interested in facing the trouble of having to join the pack. But Harry had a particularly heated look in his eye, and Draco imagined the boy might just know a thing or two about how a hole might enjoy being filled. Actually, Draco was fairly certain Harry had a damn many good ideas on it, and decided to think up some clever lines to go along with what Harry had to have been up to get such experience—likely starting with the hippogriff.
A little place to share your comments and questions on the fanfic, Sleeping Dogs. Liked it, hated it, interested in seeing a sequel or something similar? Let me know below. I love the feedback.
“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.
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.
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…”
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.
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.
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.
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.
A little place to share your comments and questions on the fanfic, Sleeping Dogs. Liked it, hated it, interested in seeing a sequel or something similar? Let me know below. I love the feedback.
ENJOY! <3
THE PARANORMAL ACADEMY FOR TROUBLED BOYS #1 (ORIGINAL VERSION)
Just dodging jail, dragon shifter Wylie ends up in the Academy, an institution for out of control paranormals. He falls for a sexy, troubled sorcerer whose magical infliction makes him too deadly to touch. Convincing Dorian to be his might just get them all killed.
X 101,000+ wrds, paranormal, dragon shifter, sorcery, first time, NA. Published: April 1, 2016
A BLACKMAILING STEPBROTHER ROMANCE
PC Version ♥♥♥ Mobile Version ♥♥♥ Audio Version
Jayce has been doing everything to get his now official younger brother settled in to his new home, all while fighting some very unbrotherly feelings for the angry, isolated brat. After things get weird, Declan decides to turn the tables, blackmailing his older brother into greater heights of depravity. Can Jayce keep from getting sucked into Declan’s twisted games?
XX56,000+ wrds, contemporary, stepbrother psi, new adult, blackmail. Published: January 23, 2016
AN INTENSE PARANORMAL SHORT FICTION
A sexy thank you for joining the Newsletter. <3
This is a rather intense, dripping wet, XX–XXX rated MM fic featuring a naïve main character, his manipulative best friend, a very sexually aggressive incubus that finds his victims through the Internet, and his big monster cock covered in ridges. Like many of my erotic stories, it features dubcon and is intended for 18+ readers.
NEW ADULT PARANORMAL MM ACTION ADVENTURE ROMANCE WITH SHIFTERS, SORCERERS, WEREWOLVES, DEMONS AND GANGSTERSWylie's bio & reference last updated 1/27/20A section in progress where you can find character bios, fun facts, reference for magic, tech, and lore of the PATB world, quizzes and Q&As. Will be added to as the series is written.
NEW ADULT PARANORMAL MM EPIC FANTASY ROMANCE WITH FAE, GODS, AND ANGSTScene #25 last updated 2/16/19
Everything found here will have been funded by supporters on Patreon. This includes the Demon Bonded serial where you can get updates before it publishes.
Demon Bonded: Coven Saga ep 12: Scene 2 last updated 8/10/20
This is an experiment with Patreon to find a way around the rabid censorship and discrimination of certain erotic subject matter. I’ve had books banned without explanation or direct proof of Content Guidelines being broken while straight books with the same ‘taboo’ content is allowed to sell on Amazon and other platforms. This shame based censorship not only tries to suppress the creation of certain books, but also punishes authors, and sometimes readers who seek to read these subjects. I’m calling bullshit on these discriminatory practices, and I’m looking to find a way to fund taboo reads outside of mainstream platforms.
If you’re interested in supporting me and the Demon Bonded serial, please donated to my Patreon. Thank you!
REMOVED BECAUSE JK ROWLING IS A HATEFUL TRANSPHOBE
So… I thought I could compromise with these Harry Potter fanfics. They were supposed to be fun, but they can’t be anymore. They can’t be anything more but a show of support of hate.
I think I was naive when it started, hopeful it was another out of touch celebrity who was bumbling through a complex topic. You know how those billionaires get, just saying things without research, thinking they must be right because their echo chamber insists they’re right. Don’t we all just hate to point out to the powerful how they’re abusing their power — surely it’s a mistake, surely they don’t mean it that way? Surely conflict avoidance is the answer, and the monster they have become will go away if we don’t acknowledge it? Just hide under the covers and Voldemort will go away.
JK Rowling has created an army of transphobes. She is the leader of a hate movement. She is emboldened as companies continue to profit off of her intellectual property and enrich her. She is not going away.
I first truly realized this shopping around the holiday season after I was starting to feel better, only to stop in front of a display with Potter merch and feel the sickening twist in my stomach as I watched people browse the contents. Were they fans before JK Rowling went full out TERF? Or were they “new” fans, people who bought the merch because they wanted an easily recognized symbol of hate to display but they could play dumb if anyone called them out on it? Was the store itself even safe when everyone knew JK Rowling was spreading misinformation and lies that were leading to violence against transgendered people? Did it matter anymore when anything connected to JK Rowling was a symbol of hate?
I can’t claim this is the first time I had to let go of an author, but it was never to this extreme. I didn’t really get into Orson Scott Card until right before he revealed his bigotry against LGBTQs. I never wrote fanfiction for his characters. Instead, as an adult, I was able to look at his work and see his struggle, see in his books how he was losing to the twisted memes his religious community instilled in him until he couldn’t see beyond it. But I also acknowledged that he was an adult making choices, choices that were spreading hate and bigotry against a marginalized community, and I, as an adult, had to make a choice in response.
It was a learning experience for me. I didn’t want to learn from what was happening to JK Rowling, which is why I fought it as long as I could. I wanted to stay a child and play make-believe.
It doesn’t matter what I want it to be; JK Rowling is a celebrated transphobe in 2023. She is making money off her intellectual properties to fund the hateful bigotry she puts out into the world. And her transphobic followers use her work to fund her hate, and they use her work to terrorize transgender people. It doesn’t matter the intentions of when those books were first written. It doesn’t matter the intentions of the fans who are not transphobes, who just want to be entertained by a story of an orphan boy who discovered he was “special”, deserving. Harry Potter and all other works created by JK Rowling and her other pen names fund hate.
The nazi symbol once represented peace until Hitler got a hold of it. It doesn’t mean it’s no longer only the nazi symbol of hate today. Things change, and I’m not so stuck in my ways that I’m going to pretend that it doesn’t demand I change as well.
There are better stories out there. There are far better writers out there. And the ultimate majority don’t have their works symbolize hate. I’m letting go of Harry Potter because I don’t support hate, and there is no compromising with a transphobe. JK Rowling is an adult making adult choices. Choices to say and do things things that exclude and outright harm transgendered people. She is not intellectually impaired. The color of her skin, perceived sex, and the gender she identifies with does not provide a justification for what she’s doing. She is not a victim, but a protected harasser who self justifies by hiding behind a story of victimhood to prevent facing the repercussions of her actions. Her class — her billionaire status — does not mean she is magically smarter and more correct than anyone else. She is capable enough to write a story, one that understands what is good and what was bad. She is not ignorant to these things. She is making a choice to target, harass, and create an atmosphere of violence against one of the most marginalized, at risk communities in the history of humanity. And she does it while claiming she cares about women, just so long as woman is defined by her limited, bigoted viewpoint.
JK Rowling doesn’t care about women. She doesn’t even know what a woman is.
For those who looked to Harry Potter as a hero, as someone you wanted to be when you grew up, to be such a hero you need to fight against the evil JK Rowling is spreading in the world. The hardest thing children must do when they grow is to become individuals separate from their parents’ and society’s antiquated and biased views, but it is the only way to bring needed change in a broken world.
JK Rowling doesn’t know what it’s like to be an orphan, to be an outsider to the accepted class — that’s the irony I have always felt when I see so many of these 2 dimensional stories of child abandonment when I grew up in foster care and was later adopted. It’s a trope; few writers understand how complex abandonment is. How complex and devastating growing up on the outside of society is, having to negotiate with a world that will never fully see you as belonging just because you don’t have parents.
And if you think that sort of discrimination doesn’t exist, you have never lived it. Humanity doesn’t need a good reason to trigger their xenophobia; just like some see a spot on an apple and assume it’s bad, some see a child without parents and assume the same. Some see a presentation of a gender role that doesn’t match their expectation and are triggered. A tic of a hand or a stutter and some people are triggered. Some see tattoos or a style of clothing and are triggered because they don’t feel surrounded by the familiar, and therefore justify lashing out. Humanity is innately broken, and it is up to us to fight the rationalization of xenophobia if we ever want a better world.
And beware those who are already safe, are already protected by the world we are in, because as much as they might say they want “better”, human nature promises they will fight equality if it feels like they lose their privilege. We are flawed, a mashup of what evolution spat out of a species that conquered a globe and claimed ownership while causing mass extinction. Within us is understanding, but not without these deeply rooted instincts to hoard, to control and kill what we can’t control. And we’ll say it’s to be safe, to be organized and to have things make sense. But it’s because we are cowards who don’t want to be uncomfortable in an uncertain world.
When JK Rowling wrote a book about fighting against a system of injustice, she wrote a single villain and his henchpeople to defeat, instead of demanding change of an unequal system, because she has never lived being in a marginalized community. Instead she writes what she knows, protected, superior in her community, with special powers to control and harm others, in a secret world in the shadows where normal humans will never hold these special people accountable, only ever be victims. She doesn’t have the experience — the basic human empathy — to write a true hero of the people, never mind to be one, because she is too insulated by her class. She can’t even see the darkness in her own cowardly self.
And those who support her hate — for the fame, for the memes, because they like to hate and to feel sheltered by a righteous fandom that will protect them from the repercussions — they are very content to never grow as well. A society perpetuating the weakest of human character, insulating from change, attacking anyone who would demand they grow up and be better. That’s what the Harry Potter fandom has become. Pretending otherwise is just a fantasy. All you have to do is go online and see how this fandom harasses and attacks anyone who stands up against their bigotry.
This is who they are now. This is who JK Rowling is, and this is her fandom, comprised of tranphobes and bullies.
Yeah, it’s a shitty feeling being asked to grow up, to be a better version of yourself. Especially when most of the Harry Potter fans are of an older generation who is so certain they are grown. A generation catered to with all the toys, nostalgia, and petty, pretty little things consumerism can spoil them with. I’m of a generation so defined by marketing that we can’t even get a new movie out that isn’t full of some 40 something’s childhood fantasy to be a superhero.
Do you even understand how infantalizing that is? How pathetic that we are stuck playing childhood games pretending we have no power because these companies control us best this way? The world doesn’t ask us to be better because there are entire economies thriving on keeping us childlike and docile. So when a villain shows up — when someone in the real world is causing real, actual harm — it becomes about how to keep having the toys and childhood fantasies we love instead of telling that person to fuck off and stop causing harm. It becomes a negotiation of how to compromise with violence and bigotry, and I’m done playing this sick game.
Fuck off, JK Rowling. You don’t understand the bullshit you’re claiming to be science because you’re not a scientist. You aren’t qualified to talk on the human experiences you talk about because you have not experienced them. You don’t have the life experience to know anything about complex social situations because you never face the consequences of complex social situation, but instead fuck off to whatever castle you’re living in at the moment and have brunch with leaders of hate groups while you let your fans bully and harass anyone who calls you out. Your input is not wanted in regards to transgenderism. You are an outsider here, thinking you’re an insider because that’s the privilege you have lived your entire life with as a wealthy, white, cis AFAB, and no, that will never change. You don’t get to be the center of this conversation, no matter how much you think you should because “special”. The transgender community is not here to coddle you the way everyone else does. We don’t negotiate with terrorists, not even the ones holding our childhoods’ hostage. Fuck off; humanity has some growing to do.
CHECK OUT OLD AND NEW COVERS BY SADIE, COMMISSION WORK, AND SNAG MOBILE AND PC WALLPAPERS
READ THE FIRST SCENES FREE!
A BLOG OF PROBLEMS BEING SOLVED AS I STARTED WRITING EROTICA
JUST A LITTLE HELLO <3
IF YOU FEEL LIKE CONTRIBUTING TO MY PATREON TIP JAR, HERE’S THE LINK
A M/M Erotic Halloween Collection
$3.99
This collection contains five never before released, steamy paranormal stories of monsters and the innocent, handsome young men they call prey *cough* boyfriend, written by the mistress of dubcon, Sadie Sins. Inside you’ll find five unique storylines containing friends to lovers, straight to gay, mild BDSM, and even a few group, taboo moments. It has furry full moon transformations, haunted houses, Halloween parties, evil witches, horny sorcerers, sexy demons, a cat shifter in distress, the rare minotaur, a stalking vampire, and a pack of rude, trash talking werewolves that don’t take no for an answer. Not to mention, the promise of a happy, claw biting ending. This book will make you downright beg to be a victim.
Halloween has never been quite so naughty as when you’re Taken by Beasts.
18+ For explicit man on monster action, graphic language, breeding, growls, tears, and over 66,000 words of hot, sexy fun.
66,000+ wrds, Published October 28, 2016.
Heat level: XXX
I love this story collection. It has five wonderful stories, each one taking place on Halloween night. If I have to pick a favorite, it is the final story in the collection, a werewolf story that intrigued me and pulled me in from word one. I just loved the way the story unfolded, so perfectly through dark and shadow, the main character so haunted by howls and laughter in the woods. The writing in this one was some of the best I’ve seen by this author. (cont…)
Sebastian stepped reluctantly down the dark street, hearing the sounds of happy children shrieking yards away as they rang doorbells and demanded candy. He would have driven to the store, but the roads were black and reflective from the cold rain that had been misting that evening and with all the kids milling around for Halloween, he was certain he’d end up running one of the idiots over. Totally by accident, no matter how annoying they were with their costumes and laughing and damn near happy ass lives.
He might be depressed. Not that he didn’t have good reason—He wasn’t one of those emo types that just hated life. Much.
Scowling, Sebastian kicked a wet maple leaf off of his sneaker, feeling the trickle of water get in through the hole in the sole. Perfect. Really perfect. His parents had sent him out to get more candy for the trick-or-treaters, but at this point, he was pretty sure they just wanted to get him out of the house so they wouldn’t have to watch him mope.
Gay. Claire Stevenson thought he was gay.
She hadn’t even been mean about it. She wasn’t the first person to call him gay but most people had done it while making fun of his sappy heart when it came to animals or the fact that he was short and thin and apparently that automatically made him girly. Whatever. He probably could have dismissed it if she had been bitchy and trying to make him feel like shit about himself. Not that the end result was much different. Because the girl he’d been dating for the last three months had just dumped him because she thought he was gay.
God, he hated his life.
You’re just, well, not that into me, Sebastian. It’s like you’re a best friend, not a boyfriend. I can’t make you want me the way I want you, and that’s really, well, terrible feeling to be with someone that doesn’t want me back.
No, she hadn’t been mean at all, but Claire had still managed to destroy him with one damn conversation. He had liked Claire forever. Sebastian couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t had a crush on her. Sure, he wasn’t the most romantic of guys—He’d never say he got butterflies or anything, but that didn’t mean he was gay. Sebastian was just really low key. Boring, if he was feeling down about it. Yeah, he was kind of boring—But not gay. He just didn’t get overly excited about stuff even if he had been crushing on Claire for ages now.
When I kiss you, it’s like, I dunno, wow for me. Really crazy and intense feeling. But you… I don’t think you feel much of anything at all.
God damn it, how could you even measure something like that? How could she just know she felt more than he did? It wasn’t like he was trying to compare or reach some goal of epic makeout sessions. He’d been dreaming about Claire forever, and the moment he finally had a shot at her, he had wanted to take things slow. You know, build a foundation between them. Prove that they could be a long term thing. All of his previous girlfriends had been more like a week to week trial with a whole lot of empty space in between, but with Claire, Sebastian had wanted things to be different.
Well, in a way, they had been, hadn’t they? Instead of being dumped for being too weird or distant, Claire had decided he really just wanted dick. Right after they had been kissing, at that.
He didn’t think he was a bad kisser. He got self-conscious a lot, especially if anyone could be around and see him, but when he did kiss, he thought he was kissing with all his heart. How could she think he didn’t feel just as much for her as she did him? Who even got to say how much you were supposed to feel for someone for it to be officially enough? Hadn’t he like, talked to her every day on the phone and tried to see her every moment he could? Hadn’t he gone out of his way to keep his schedule open around his job and college and her classes to take her out whenever she wanted? How could he do so much and have her think he didn’t feel anything for her? What the fuck else was he supposed to feel?
Fuck, was he supposed to feel something else?
Sebastian growled, his left foot landing hard in an unseen puddle and sloshing up his jean leg, the material immediately soaked. “Fucker.” He hopped, but the damage had been done, his sneaker now squishing with every new step he took, the wet shoe slipping on soggy leaves and concrete alike.
It was an extremely irritating internal monolog, one that didn’t seem to have any answers forthcoming. Sebastian didn’t know if he was feeling enough—He didn’t even know what the fuck he was supposed to feel. He had trusted his feelings this far. Finally, with a girl Sebastian had thought to one day want to marry, she had told him he wasn’t feeling anything at all. And the truth of it was, Sebastian wasn’t fully confident he was feeling everything he was supposed to.
Movies would have him believe he needed to make grand romantic gestures and last-second dashes to airports to show how much he cared. Real life wasn’t like that. At least, his real life wasn’t like that. He wasn’t the type to go rent out an ice skating rink for a romantic date or send twelve dozen roses for the week of Valentine’s Day. He didn’t feel the need to write a book of poetry for how Claire looked in the morning light. He wasn’t the type to want to slice his wrists just because the girl he’d been crushing on had dumped him. For real, who the fuck did that? That wasn’t love; that was just a total chemical imbalance of insanity…
Right?
Running a hand through his damp, black bangs, Sebastian sighed weakly as the line of convenience stores came into view. The small strip mall was lit up in neon oranges, purples, and reds for the holiday, calling customers in from the clammy, wet night with the promise of shelter and heat. He quickened his pace, ignoring the slosh of his sneaker with each frozen step.
God, was he like an unfeeling, dead-hearted idiot and just didn’t know it? Should he be, like, thinking about jumping off a bridge or something because Claire was never going to be with him? Hadn’t he been planning a life with this girl? She was funny, smart, cute, and just all around perfect. Sebastian had friends that acted like if they were dumped, their life was ending. Was he seriously wondering if he was supposed to feel love an entirely different way?
And just who the fuck decided what you were supposed to feel anyways!
He really didn’t know, and the lack of answers was beyond frustrating. Because if he didn’t know, how the hell could he change it? Did he want to change it? Did he need to conform to some level of ‘feeling’ or be forced to accept that he was doomed to be alone for the rest of his life?
Would being alone be better when he wouldn’t be judging himself on how much he was failing to feel for someone he supposedly loved or damn near loved?
Being dumped by Claire didn’t have Sebastian wanting to kill himself, but trying to figure this particular problem out was definitely getting him thinking about a sturdy plastic bag with no air holes.
Jesus, fucking girls. Dictating how he was supposed to feel while in the same breath telling him he wasn’t doing it right. He had felt just as much for Claire as he was meant to feel, or was at least capable of feeling. It might not have been enough for her, but it had been to the best of his damn ability at the time. He sure as fuck hadn’t felt that much for a guy before. Just because he hadn’t lost it over Claire didn’t mean he was gay.
***
He left the warm lights of the convenience store behind him with two bags of candy and an impulsive—but decidedly needed—six-pack in hand. Sebastian’s mood only grew worse when he found the mist that had surrounded him on the walk to the store had turned into a light drizzle that was quickly threatening to grow into a miserable downpour. He hunched forward in his hoodie, the sweatshirt material doing little to protect him from the freezing water and chill wind of approaching winter.
He was full of dread at the idea of going home and having to face his parents’ well-meaning yet completely unhelpful comments as to why things hadn’t worked out with Claire. They kept pushing for him—none too subtly, at that—to move into a dorm or apartment with a group of students his own age. So he could be more sociable. As loathe as he was to have to surround himself with a bunch of loud peers while at the same time losing any ability to fill his savings account, he was starting to consider it if only to avoid the ever increasingly awkward conversations of why he was still single and just couldn’t find the right girl.
As he slipped on slick leaves in the dark, leaning sideways against the wind while standing on the sidewalk, Sebastion began to contemplate his parents’ parting words before he had left the house half an hour ago. Maybe they had been suggesting something else when saying he hadn’t met the ‘right girl’ yet. Maybe they were saying he shouldn’t be expecting to fall for a girl at all…
Did everyone think he was gay just because he’d been unlucky in love?
The sound of crunching tires hitting leaves behind him caught his attention. Sebastian immediately stepped as far from the street as the sidewalk would allow, his expression growing stormy when he heard a puddle splash and felt a fresh spray of water as the vehicle roared past.
“Asshole!” He growled, raising his hand holding the bag full of candy while ineffectively wiping the side of his face that had gotten caught in the deluge of dirty water. He glared after the fading red taillights, glad that the rain had at least driven most of the trick-or-treaters inside so they wouldn’t have to deal with the same fate. Shaking himself off, he forced his frozen feet forward, quietly contemplating just who had insisted on Halloween being so late in the season when the weather was always so cold.
He was going to go home, lock himself in his bedroom, and drink himself to sleep. Not because he was depressed over Claire—no, apparently he still couldn’t work up enough emotion for that—but because he was so fucking annoyed by being told he didn’t know how to feel. He knew how to feel. He did it every fucking day. And if that wasn’t good enough, well, too fucking bad for Claire.
Somehow feeling more empowered in his anger even though he was still absolutely lost on what the fuck Claire had been trying to tell him, Sebastian splashed through puddles and piles of colorful, rain-drenched leaves until he reached the familiar streets of his neighborhood. The rain had only increased and his steps sped up in response, his sweatshirt soaked through and bangs now dripping into his green eyes, obscuring his vision. Which was why, when headlights suddenly flashed and Sebastian caught sight of a small, hunched body in the middle of the road, without thinking he immediately dashed forward.
A horn blared startling loud, the tires to Mr. Walden’s sedan shrieking on the wet pavement when the man slammed on his brakes to avoid Sebastian’s poorly lit form. He barely noticed, his gaze fixed on the middle of the road where a child’s plastic pumpkin treat holder was tipped upside down, candy scattered on the ground all around it. But where he had thought he had seen the body of a person, a drenched, wide-eyed black cat looked up at him, it’s fur matted to its trembling body.
“Sebastian! Are you out of your damn mind, boy? You could have been killed!” Rolling his window down roughly, the older man squinted into the rain, trying to see past Sebastian’s knees illuminated by his headlights. “Oh, hell, don’t tell me that’s a…”
“It’s a cat,” Sebastian said, wonder and warmth filling his voice in equal proportions as he bent down and offered the back of his hand to the small creature’s delicate nose. “I think he was eating the candy.” He had never known a cat to eat candy, but with the torn wrappers under the cat’s paw, he was pretty sure that was what it was doing.
Scowling with a mix of annoyance and relief to find that there was no child crumpled under the wheels of his car, Mr. Walden revved his engine impatiently. “Come on, get out of the street. Whatever it’s doing, the road is no place for it or you. Especially in this rain.”
Eyes of impossible periwinkle depths stared up into his. Crouching down, Sebastian held his hands out, the frail looking cat following the movement with its head warily. “You cold, little guy?” Sebastian crooned, carefully scratching behind a bedraggled ear. When no bite or hiss came, he edged closer, cautiously wrapping his arms around the cat’s body but not lifting just yet. “I’m going to get you out of this rain, okay? My home is nice and warm and you won’t have to worry about being run over.”
Taking the silence and trembling of the small form as permission, Sebastian carefully tightened his arms until the black cat was in his embrace. He stood slowly, hooking the plastic handle of the pumpkin with him so no kid would wander into the road to try and rescue it as well. He ignored Mr. Walden’s eyeroll—the man was clearly not as impressed by a pathetic, shivering, soaking wet cat as he was—and slowly walked his new friend to the sidewalk where they could both be safe.
“Do you have a collar, pretty?” He asked softly, gently scratching beneath the cat’s chin until it tilted its face up to reveal that it was indeed collarless. But even though the cat was bedraggled and scavenging for food, Sebastian was certain it belonged to someone or had only just recently lost its owner. It was far from feral, curled up in his arms and purring as it tried to heat itself against the rain and cold. It hadn’t tried to claw him or anything even though the poor thing had nearly been run over and had to be terrified.
Water dripped down onto Sebastian’s nose from the brim of his sweatshirt hood, startling him momentarily and reminding him that even though his new friend was safe from cars, it was still out in the miserable weather that could be just as dangerous for a domestic animal. Decided, he turned towards his house, speaking soothingly as he held the cat close against his chest between the damp layers of his shirt, offering it as much protection as he could from the elements while he took him home.
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.”
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.”
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.
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.
“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.”
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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.”
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.”
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.
“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.
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.
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.
“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.
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.
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.
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.”
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.
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.
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.
A little place to share your comments and questions on the fanfic, Bending Time. Liked it, hated it, interested in seeing a sequel or something similar? Let me know below. I love the feedback.
BITE: Claiming His Mate
Exclusive Library
In an instant, Shane Cooper went from rich daddy’s boy to claimed werewolf mate. Trying to come to terms with the sudden changes in his life and the devastatingly handsome boy that’s the cause of all his woes, a strange affliction befalls Shane, knocking him unconscious and forcing him into a half shift.
Ryan Moss doesn’t know what’s wrong with his new mate, but he’s quick to blame himself. Shane’s body keeps changing even though his bite has taken hold, the full moon bringing out a shift in his human mate that shouldn’t be possible. Certain Shane will die if a solution isn’t found, Ryan must find his reclusive brother while avoiding his old pack that would rather kill him than welcome him back into their territory.
The packs’ pagan superstitions are back to haunt Ryan while he watches his mate struggle to survive. Shane’s inner turmoil could very well destroy the boy along with the spirit wolf he holds within.
23,000+ wrds, Published July 1, 2016.
Heat level: XX
The drive had been full of an intense, silent energy that was quickly growing unbearable the longer Shane sat parked on top of Ryan’s dirt driveway under the thick canopy of oak and pine trees. He needed to say something. He needed to do something. He just had no fucking idea what. He was in the car with his werewolf mate and Shane was completely lost.
He couldn’t stop the crazy butterflies fluttering in his stomach. His teeth were itching, saliva building in his mouth at the very idea of biting Ryan Moss on the neck and claiming him back as his mate. Ditching class, he had led the dark haired, tanned werewolf to his secluded Charger, having parked under the trees and away from any stray door that could ruin the sparkling copper and black paint job. Still, once in his car, Ryan sitting a foot or so away on his front side passenger seat, Shane was again all nerves and doubt. The drive had been full of him testing questions in his head he never actually dared to speak and watching Ryan out of the corner of his eye as the brunette blatantly stared back at him.
A week ago when Ryan had taken everything he had wanted from him, things had been confusing and yet perfect all at once. Partly because Shane had felt trapped—He had literally been tied up by the lust crazed werewolf, locked in Ryan’s dark basement like something out of a horror movie. Just, it hadn’t felt like a horror movie, not really. Maybe more like a low budget porno where the big twist was he was being fucked by a wolf shifter. A shifter with so much animalistic charisma that Shane had finally given in to the possibility that he might not be as straight as he had once been certain of.
There was just something about Ryan. Noble, quiet, intelligent, and athletic—All traits that used to annoy the fucking shit out of him. Still did, actually. Shane was pretty sure even if he decided to bite the kid’s throat and claim him as his own, he’d still find Ryan Moss annoyingly perfect at every turn. Even in looks—Fuck, especially in looks. The brunette dressed practically in rags with his torn jeans and thin t-shirt but managed to look gorgeous, his windswept black hair teasing bangs across his eyes, his sharp jaw and cheekbones making the light blue of his gaze burn crystal beneath dark brows and thick lashes. Ryan might have been a werewolf but he was all man, over six feet tall with a tanned, toned, muscular build that Shane had found himself admiring on more than one rather confusing, blood boiling occasion.
In the light of day and outside of Ryan’s basement, the blond had to face the fact that this really devastatingly handsome werewolf wanted him as a mate and a part of him strongly returned the sentiment.
What the fuck was he supposed to do? Really? It was all up to him and he just felt frozen in indecision. Why exactly did he want to bite Ryan? What would being a mate to a werewolf really mean, especially to a male werewolf? What the hell had he gotten himself into by not running out the door the moment he had seen Ryan step into class that day?
“Your scent is different from last time,” Ryan finally spoke when Shane continued to shoot him sideway glances and refused to move. The werewolf’s voice was so deep and low it could have been a caress. The brunette’s muscles had puffed up again, the boy giving off such an intense, sexually charged scent, it was a wonder Ryan could smell Shane at all. But it was clear he could, the boy dipping closer, pressing his face to the skin of Shane’s throat and inhaling deeply. It sent a shudder of heat through the blond, Shane’s hand reaching up to grasp the werewolf’s bicep, the flesh hard and straining under Ryan’s t-shirt.
Shane kept his eyes closed, his confused thoughts slowly slipping away the longer he pressed against Ryan’s hot form. Touch was grounding. Ryan’s solid, sweat-damp flesh and hard muscles were very real even if Shane felt somewhat lost and out of his depth. He breathed in deep, their chests brushing from his inhale.
“You smell the same,” Shane finally whispered, daring to open his eyes to find Ryan’s ice-blue orbs fringed in black staring back at him. The boy was still full of the wolf, the heat having made Ryan more aggressive and animalistic. Shane was certain because before Ryan Moss had gone into heat he never had suspected the boy was a werewolf. He had always been quiet, smart, and patient; Ryan had never been the kind of crazy, aggressive fucker that screamed of testosterone driven wolf. Now that he knew, it was a thrill to discover such power and need hiding right beneath the brunette’s calm, familiar surface. It was as if Ryan’s animal had come out just for him and there was something totally sexy about it.
Ryan gave a slow smile, revealing unnaturally sharp fangs as his gaze swept down Shane’s form. “You recognize my scent, babe? After only one day together?”
Shane nodded, blushing slightly. “Is that weird?”
“I have no clue,” Ryan answered honestly. “Never had a mate before. It’s kind of a one-time thing with wolves. And it’s not like I’ve spent a lot of time with my pack asking about this stuff.” He paused, leaning forward again, Shane holding his breath when lips brushed lightly against the corner of his mouth. “I know it makes me happy. I’m really happy to have you recognize me.”
Something warm welled up in Shane’s chest and before he realized it, he was fumbling backward, the car door biting into his back as he tried to put some distance between them. Ryan watched him silently, a bemused smirk gracing his lips when the blond flushed and ducked his head.
“I… um…” Shane couldn’t meet the boy’s gaze, his mouth unbearably dry all of a sudden. God, what the fuck was he doing? What were his parents going to say when they found out he had been bitten by a werewolf? A male werewolf. Ryan’s hand brushed over his knee and Shane exhaled shakily. A really fucking gay werewolf.
Was he gay? Wanting to let a guy fuck him would probably mean he was totally gay. God, he really couldn’t be gay.
“You going to sit in the car all day?”
Shane shook his head, not willing to explain himself as he tried to ignore the heat radiating off of Ryan’s hand. He could barely think properly but he was pretty sure he was fucking up his entire life. His father was going to kill him if he came home gay. Not just gay, but mated to a werewolf. Wolf shifters were outcasts at the very least, total crazy ass killers at the worst. Was he going to, like, move out into the wilds with Ryan? Give up on his plans of running one of his father’s companies? Stop competing in swimming—Did werewolves swim? Would he have to give up his car in some weird equality to animals thing and start hunting or some shit?
Ryan continued to watch, Shane’s expression growing more and more distressed as the silence stretched on. He could scent the anxiety coming from the boy and could see it in the way Shane’s breath was strained and huffing too fast. He snagged the blond’s chin, Shane gasping as he was pulled from his anxious thoughts right into Ryan’s eyes. Ryan’s grin spread wide the longer Shane blushed, the blond’s glare narrowing angrily in response.
“Sexy, didn’t you just kiss me? In front of a hall full of people?” Ryan reminded softly, his smile tinged with a mocking hint he did nothing to hide.
Shane huffed, looking away. “I was swept up.”
Grinning wolfishly, Ryan leaned close until Shane was forced to press back against the door or kiss the boy. Shane chose the door, his chin tilted defiantly. “Swept up with being at total fag for me, right?”
“Fuck off,” Shane growled, pushing his hands up only to pause, his palms flat against Ryan’s chest. Fuck, he was strong and it made him feel so hot. “I’m not a… Well…” He couldn’t get the word out, Ryan’s intense, burning gaze making his stomach feel like a swarm of butterflies was trying to escape. He had done a shit ton of things with Ryan he was pretty sure was defined as really, totally gay. But somehow admitting to it was just too much to face, especially when Ryan was smirking at him like a damn bastard. “You tied me up.”
“Not the whole time,” Ryan replied lowly. “Not when you were upstairs.”
Shane glared sideways, their gaze touching a moment before he looked away. Heat was pooling through him at the memory and it was only making him more flustered. “You… uh… cornered me,” he mumbled, “In the shower.”
“Is that why you started touching yourself?” Ryan taunted in his ear, Shane shivering in response. “You thought the scary werewolf was going to hurt you if you didn’t act like a total cock slut?”
“Damn you,” Shane hissed, his body jolting from the light scrape of Ryan’s teeth on his throat. “You know you’re fucking stronger than me, Moss, you fucking pain. You can’t assume I was acting out of, well…” He refused to say desire, refused to admit to anything, especially when Ryan was right there making him feel so hot and confused.
Ryan grinned, Shane feeling it against his neck. “So you only let the strong guys fuck you, babe?”
“You motherfucking ass—I’m not gay!” Snarling, Shane went to shove the brunette back only to have his wrists caught in Ryan’s vicelike grip. He gasped, his anger draining away as quickly as it took to feel the werewolf’s hard dick press against the flat planes of his abs. He fought back a whimper, Ryan’s lips teasing over his neck while the brunette yanked him forward in his grip. Before Shane knew what was happening, Ryan had his arms behind his back, his shirt ripped and pulled from him, and then his wrists bound in the fabric with quick, confident movements.
Ryan sat back, watching the emotions slowly dawn across the blond’s face. Shane pulled at his arms a few times, his cheeks and neck turning red as he blinked down at the seat when he couldn’t get free.
Trapped. He was caught, trapped, and it was spiraling a dizzying heat through him that was threatening to drown him in lust. Shane dared to peek up at Ryan, the brunette’s ever watching gaze making his mouth go dry. He had to know. Ryan had to know what he was doing to him by first baiting him to anger and then just taking all his frustrating choices away. Given the somewhat smug look in the werewolf’s eye, Shane was pretty sure Ryan knew exactly what he was doing to him, especially when his stare moved down his bare chest and abs to where Shane’s erection was tenting his jeans.
Shane held his breath when Ryan reached for him, the brunette’s fingertips teasing slowly up his side. He shivered at the realization that he couldn’t get away. That even if he wanted to, which he still wasn’t sure that he did, he was very much under Ryan’s power. The brunette’s thumb brushed his nipple, Shane hissing out in surprise. Ryan ran a circle around the nub, doing it again when the blond gave a whimper. Shane hadn’t realized his nipples were even remotely erogenous until Ryan had shown an interest in them, his chest muscles flexing with each tormenting touch.
Ryan ducked closer, watching Shane’s face as the blond stared down engrossed at what his hand was doing. Shane’s lips were parted, his brows furrowed, breath coming out in fast puffs of heat. With his short blond hair, sharp, dark eyes, and flushed skin, the boy was breathtaking as he gasped in pleasure. Ryan stilled his assault, gently squeezing Shane’s nipple between thumb and forefinger.
“Fuck,” Shane whimpered, his eyes closing as he pushed into the touch. Ryan squeezed harder, twisting until the blond released a weak moan and threw his head back.
“You are fucking gorgeous,” Ryan murmured, kissing Shane’s parted lips. The touch was feather light, Shane trying to get more contact only to have the brunette hover just out of reach. Ryan continued to torment his red bud, alternating between sharp tugs and gentle circles with his thumb while he kissed down Shane’s exposed throat.
Shane felt like he was going to hyperventilate. The last time Ryan had tied him up, the boy had been barely controlled, all desperate hard sex and crazed werewolf heat. Although certainly hard, Ryan’s movements were completely different now. Shane was forced to feel every touch, process every sensation as his nerve endings zapped just from Ryan’s shirt brushing his bare chest. Ryan’s lips tingled on his throat, Shane tilting his head even further back as teeth scraped wet across his flesh.
Shane groaned when the brunette dipped lower, silky strands of hair tickling his collarbone and bicep. Ryan’s mouth suddenly latched onto his already tingling nipple, Shane gasping and jerking from the feel of heat and wet. Teeth nipped at the bud and Shane couldn’t stop his loud cry, his back arching and nearly bucking the brunette off him from the force of the move. He could feel Ryan smile against his chest and he knew it was smug. Fuck, but he just couldn’t stop reacting to everything the boy did, be it fighting or fucking. How did Ryan do it to him every damn time?
Strong hands slid down his torso, Shane jolting when fingers slipped into his waistband and unbuttoned the clasp. He held his breath, his stomach muscles trembling with each light brush of knuckles to his flesh. He could feel sweat trickle down his back, making his flesh slippery beneath the werewolf’s hands. Ryan’s breath was molten against his neck, the brunette growling lowly as he unzipped Shane’s jeans and released his aching erection from the tight confines.
Shane blinked his eyes open when Ryan sat back, meeting the boy’s gaze with confusion. Ryan just smirked and grabbed the blond’s ankle, Shane gasping in surprise as his sneakers and socks were pulled free and thrown to the floor. Ryan tugged Shane’s jeans down his thighs immediately after, the blond left in nothing but his briefs.
Ryan was staring at him with a heavy-lidded gaze, Shane’s breathing speeding up in response to the look the werewolf was giving him. He was caught, trapped, and now nearly naked. Shane looked up at him wide-eyed, gulping as Ryan hooked a finger into the band of his underwear and slowly pulled the fabric forward. He thought Ryan might say something, might taunt him for just how crazy he was acting from just a few touches by a guy. The silence was somehow worse, Shane’s gasps filling the car as Ryan slowly worked the blond’s underwear down his damp hips and thighs. Shane was left panting, hands tied behind his back. With his golden body hair shaved for swimming, there was nothing to obscure his flushed dick rising rigid from between his thighs.
“You’re longer. A bit thicker,” Ryan finally said, glancing up from his interested perusal of Shane’s cock for confirmation.
Swallowing, Shane nodded hesitantly. Along with his dick, all of the blond’s body had changed in subtle ways after being bit by Ryan. He didn’t have a knot, thank god, but on top of feeling stronger with better endurance, he had transformed in ways only someone really familiar with his body would notice. It had only been one day together a week ago but Shane had to acknowledge that Ryan had memorized his body already.
Ryan’s hand slipped lower, his palm cupping and caressing the blond’s balls. Shane fought back a moan, his leg slipping off the seat when he spread his thighs wider to give the boy access. Ryan bent down close, breathing deep and sighing as Shane’s musk filled his senses. He growled on his exhale, Shane shuddering to feel the heat on his hip when Ryan quickly tore his underwear down the rest of the way, stripping him of the last of his clothes.
Fuck, he was going to lose his mind. Shane was hyper conscious of the fact he was naked in his car, the leather seats clinging to the back of his thighs, his arms pulled tight behind his back where they were bound. Ryan’s jeans were coarse as they scraped his legs, the boy’s hands rough and possessive as he pushed Shane’s knee up, spreading the blond open wide. It left him feeling vulnerable in a way he only ever felt with Ryan—Maybe because the werewolf kept putting him in these situations. Or more likely, because Shane had always felt raw and frayed when it came to Ryan Moss and having the boy touch him only increased that feeling tenfold.
“Wider, babe. Yeah, right there.” Glaring down at Shane’s nearly pained expression, the blond’s eyes closed and lips parted for each ragged breath, Ryan ran his hand up the boy’s inner thigh, squeezing the hard muscle. Shane groaned, jolting into his touch, a cry spilling free when Ryan suddenly folded down between his legs and licked his tongue up his dick from root to twitching tip. He paused at the top, stealing into his slit and tasting the precum beading there.
“Fuck—Oh, fuck,” Shane mumbled, sinking down the seat, his neck and shoulders scrunched uncomfortably against the door when the brunette grabbed him by the hips and wrenched him closer. He whimpered lowly with every gentle nuzzle of Ryan’s lips and nose between his thighs, his aching dick ignored, balls teased with a soft kiss right before Ryan’s wide tongue licked along his crack and plunged into his hole. “Fuck!”
Ryan hummed at the blond’s surprised yelp, using his thumbs to spread Shane’s hole open so he could drive his tongue in deep. Shane twisted and jerked beneath him but the boy had no leverage to escape, reduced to aching groans, gasping cries, and flexing feet as he was eaten out ravenously.
His hands clutching uselessly behind his back, Shane’s face and dick fought for all the blood in his body as his legs were directed over Ryan’s broad shoulders, the brunette angling him for better admittance. The werewolf kept groaning hungrily, the sound vibrating through Shane’s entire body as his hole was stretched and thoroughly lubricated with hot saliva. He was mortified; if anyone happened by the car and saw, there would be no question to what was happening. Ryan had his tongue up his ass and it was so dirty and messed up and felt, fuck, so unbelievably amazing. If anyone saw, they would know he liked it, would know that the broken cries he kept releasing were for more and deeper, and if Shane could only get his balance he’d be trying to get Ryan’s thick cock inside him again.
He could remember it so clearly—how overwhelming Ryan had felt filling his passage with his large dick. It had been too much, too long and thick and god, his knot had swollen so much. It had been a glorious insanity that Shane wasn’t sure how he’d survived. He was still confused, still unsure, but a part of him had been craving it ever since. He needed it. He needed Ryan so bad. He couldn’t understand just what the fuck was happening to him and he was certain he was going crazy.
“That’s it, you sexy little hole.” Licking the raw corner of his lips, Ryan pulled back enough to tease a finger over Shane’s wet, swollen pucker, swirling gently as he worked his way past the boy’s tight ring of muscle. He couldn’t seem to stop himself, his tongue again following and plunging deep into the blond’s hot flesh. He loved the taste of his mate, loved the moans Shane made as the boy rocked and quickly became undone with everything he did to him. Shane was his. The blond’s body knew and begged for him. He was his mate and fuck, he had missed the mouthy bastard.
Nipping Shane’s trembling inner thigh, Ryan waited for the blond to unclench once the pain faded to a burn, then immediately plunged two fingers into the boy’s hole. Shane sobbed, his body jerking uselessly as he squirmed from the sensation of his passage being filled. Ryan didn’t let up, stretching him relentlessly, gliding his thick digits in and out of the boy’s flesh to make Shane ready for his cock and knot.
God, when the angry boy had kissed him it had been the sexiest fucking thing. Almost as sexy as Shane gasping now, opening to him readily even for all his words of denial. The boy would remember once they were together again. He couldn’t expect Shane to change overnight after a lifetime of being defensive as fuck about his sexuality and talking shit about gays. Hell, they had fought since day one—And really, Ryan wasn’t sure if he wanted that to change overnight either. He liked fighting with Shane. He liked seeing the kid’s face flush in anger almost as much as it looked moaning in pleasure. Ryan had no problem taking things slow with them getting to know each other. Just as long as Shane relented to being his mate and accepted the many ways that role would be enjoyable for the two of them.
“God, Ryan, please… Fuck, please.”
Ryan couldn’t ignore the blond’s desperate cries any longer, his attention pulled up the boy’s flexing muscles. He found Shane’s handsome face, his dark eyes slitted open, cheeks flushed and streaked with tears. Ryan wasn’t sure if it was from the helplessness of the boy’s situation or just how fucking aching Shane was over him, but he loved seeing the blond fall apart. He straightened up, leaning over the boy’s crunched position, unable to stop from looking down at Shane’s quivering form a moment before meeting his smoldering eyes again. “You need it, babe? Do you need me to fill you?”
His eyes closing, Shane shuddered with a low whimper. Ryan pushed his fingers deeper into the blond’s clenching flesh, the third digit stretching him wider than before. Shane couldn’t help that he loved it just as much as he couldn’t stop how embarrassed he was by that fact. The absolute intimacy of being in the car wasn’t helping his problem. Their sweaty bodies had heated up the small space, the seat under him squeaking, Ryan’s rough jeans above him as the brunette ground his hard dick against his hip. He had been so big inside him last time. So overwhelming. Shane had barely known who he was by the end of it.
“Babe?” Ryan nipped Shane’s ear, his free hand sliding up the blond’s hard torso. “Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need.”
Forcing his eyes open, Shane met Ryan’s heated stare hesitantly. “I… I don’t know,” he whispered weakly, his lips wet and red. Ryan’s scent was everywhere, mixing with his own arousal and confusing him even more.
Ryan took in Shane’s debauched form, the blond naked, short hair mussed and expression full of torment. He was sexy as fuck and he had little interest in waiting any longer for Shane to figure his shit out. He gave a small growl, wrapping the blond around the waist and pulling him off the door and into his arms. Shane gasped, staring down blankly at the werewolf’s chest while he panted softly, Ryan’s hands moving over his back and down to his ass.
“Sexy, I have a damn good idea what you need right now and I am so fucking ready to give it to you,” Ryan murmured, exhaling unsteadily as he tasted the boy’s flesh and sweat. “You’re my mate, and you’re so hard that it has to hurt. You need me, babe. You gotta know you need me.” He peeled his own t-shirt off, half tearing it in his haste. When Ryan pressed his bare chest to Shane’s, the blond moaned and tried to push up against him tighter. “That’s right,” Ryan whispered. “This is what your mate feels like.”
Shane swallowed hard, his body burning from the feel of Ryan’s flesh. The werewolf’s hands gripped his wrists behind his back for a moment, Shane’s dick twitching in response. No choice now. No choice and, god, Ryan could do anything to him. The boy was so strong, so powerful, and he wanted only him. There was nothing he could do to stop him—Nothing he wanted to do, anyways. Shane kept silent, panting in anticipation.
His forehead resting against the blond’s, Ryan unzipped his own jeans, sliding them down his hips. He pushed his underwear aside, revealing his hard, thick dick slick with precum. The knot low on the boy’s length was already partially swollen and flushed with color. Ryan’s hand wrapped around his shaft, Shane fighting back a moan when he watched precum drizzle from the boy’s slit and drip down his flushed crown and over his fingers.
There was an unspoken question in Ryan’s eyes, one Shane was trying really hard to ignore when the brunette pushed him back against the door. Shane’s gaze kept drifting down to where Ryan was touching himself, remembering just how it had felt to have that hard length inside him. He forced his eyes up, blushing at the hungry glare fixed on him. Fuck. Fuck, he knew that look. That look had once had him begging in the shower for Ryan to fuck him. That look had gotten him so hot he had nearly let the werewolf take him in the fucking classroom. Now tied up and cornered against the door with the steering wheel restricting his movements, Shane felt the strange ache inside him grow that seemed to go hand in hand with Ryan’s burning stare.
Shane closed his eyes, groaning softly as his body responded—nipples hard, dick twitching, ass clenching—from just one damn look. There was nowhere to go. Nothing between them at all. He was naked, Ryan was dripping precum, and he knew what his mate wanted.
“Ryan,” Shane finally spoke, unable to handle the feelings welling in his body any longer. His voice sounded hoarse and strange in his ears, reflecting the desperation he was trying and failing to hide. He needed to be touched. He needed to be touched and not just stared at and left feeling so needy. He just didn’t know how to admit it.
It was some sort of signal for the werewolf, Ryan growling and straddling Shane’s waist as the blond gulped and hesitantly met glaring blue eyes. Ryan’s hips shifted forward, hot, sticky fluid dripping down both their damp skin. Shane couldn’t turn his gaze away once he looked down, his body shuddering hotly from the sight of Ryan stroking himself.
His breath coming out in ragged pants, Shane held himself still, groaning when Ryan rubbed his cock up against his abs, the brunette kneeling taller to reach his chest and smear his precum over his hot flesh so it would drip down. Fluid hit the bottom of his jaw and Shane jolted, hissing in anticipation. Ryan’s hand wrapped around the back of his head, the brunette pulling him down and guiding his mouth to the top of the werewolf’s cock.
Ryan’s dick was still too big to be normal but Shane was much less overwhelmed this time, his mouth watering from the first touch of hot flesh to his tongue. Ryan let him get used to the feel, the weight, slowly feeding him just the first few inches of his dick while the blond’s lips stretched to accommodate. Shane opened wide, running his tongue over the blunt tip, hating and loving how hot he got from sucking the boy’s dick. Fuck, but it made him hot. He teased the tip of his tongue into Ryan’s slit, groaning when he was rewarded with a hot spurt of slightly bitter liquid.
“Ryan,” Shane whimpered, craning his neck forward so he could reach more and lick down the boy’s throbbing shaft. The car was filled with the sounds of his own desperate, wet sucking and Ryan’s quiet pants for air. It made him feel dizzy, wild, Shane’s eyes closing as he gave in to the sensations he had been fighting. With dripping, trembling lips, he mouthed down the brunette’s thick cock, sucking on the swollen knot that had tormented him, laving it thoroughly with heated strokes. He wanted to make Ryan come. He wanted to get the boy so hot, he wouldn’t care just how fucking annoying Shane could be at times. And if he could get Ryan to blow like this, Shane was pretty sure it would mean he had won this round.
Growling as more of his precum streamed down his dick and streaked the blond’s face, Ryan tightened his hand in Shane’s hair. He pulled him back to the task at the top of his long length, groaning when Shane stubbornly gave a final suck to his knot in parting. Pushing his thumb between the blond’s red lips, Ryan glared down, his wolf howling to hurry up and claim the dazed, wickedly grinning boy currently teasing his tongue over the fluid wet on his fingers. Instead, he fought the urge, wanting to see just how obedient, if at all, his mate had grown since they’d been apart. He gripped the nape of Shane’s neck hard, watching the boy’s dark eyes widen for a moment before the blond opened to his thrusting cock.
Shane surrendered to the thick flesh, focusing on his lost breath and the feeling of his mouth and throat being taken by Ryan’s firm pumps. His jaw quickly grew sore, his lips weak from clenching and trying to grip the boy’s dick into his mouth. He could feel Ryan’s knot swell with every inward thrust, his precum growing thicker and more flavorful as it began to flood his mouth along with his saliva. He wanted to grab the werewolf’s legs for balance but with his hands tied, Shane was left tightening his abs to keep from falling back, his feet gripping the seat for purchase. It felt like something was melting inside him, loosening even while his erection throbbed and his hole clenched for attention. Ryan’s knot gave another twitch against his lips and Shane moaned, opening as wide as he could and trying to swallow him down.
He was going to come. God, just having Ryan’s dick in his mouth, taking his throat made him so hard he was going to come. His eyes squeezed shut, Shane tried to fight off the pressure rising in him, his moans reverberating through the brunette’s body. It was one thing to get off because Ryan was touching him, doing things to him that he couldn’t ignore the pleasure in. But to come from just the feel of the boy’s dick in his mouth? It spoke of things he didn’t want to face, things that were only getting worse with every thrust against his tonsils.
“Fuck, babe… Fuck,” Ryan rasped out, holding Shane still so he could hump deep into the boy’s throat, spurting more hot precum onto his tongue. He pulled out abruptly, his breathing strained, pupils oddly narrow as he ran his hand up and down Shane’s wet cheek and jaw, spreading the fluid that had collected down the blond’s throat. “You look so fucking sexy like this.”
Flushing, Shane looked up at him, swaying when Ryan released the grip on his face. He was aching, felt so lost and desperate and unbearably hard. He wanted release but there was no ignoring the demanding look in the werewolf’s eyes. It was inevitable. With Ryan pointing his monster sized cock at him slick with his saliva, there was only one obvious course of events.
“W-Wait,” Shane whispered, his voice cracking when Ryan pushed him back against the door.
“No. I waited a fucking week.” Ryan grabbed the boy’s throat with one hand and Shane’s leg with the other, settling between the blond’s thighs. Shane closed his eyes, the grip on his neck making him hot and weak all at once. “I waited that damn class and the drive here,” Ryan continued softer, his eyes taking in the blond’s red cheeks and swollen lips. “I waited ten fucking years for you to grow the fuck up and look at me like a man. I’m done waiting, babe. I need you and I know you need me. I know.”
Exhaling unsteadily, Shane blinked his eyes open, immediately caught in the werewolf’s gaze. Had Ryan liked him for that long? Even though he had been a total ass to the boy? Even when most days of his childhood he had felt like an absolute failure with no one that gave a fuck about him? Ryan had still seen something in him he liked?
Shane was pulled from his thoughts with a gasp, strong hands grasping his hips and pulling him up Ryan’s muscular thighs. The brunette’s dick pressed relentless between his cheeks, thick and dripping wet as it slipped and settled tight against his opening. He couldn’t stop the sudden anxiety, that same feeling of emptiness and fullness in his chest making him want to run and get as far away as possible.
“Fuck, fuck… Just hold on,” Shane whimpered, groaning when Ryan ignored him and pushed harder, his entrance slowly stretching to contain the brunette’s tip. Ryan’s hands held him in place, his hot mouth sucking at the scar where he had bitten and claimed him as his mate. Shane arched as he was breached, his breath coming out in a blast as he felt Ryan slowly and mercilessly penetrate him. “Big,” he gasped out, his head lolling back. “So big.”
“I have you,” Ryan whispered fiercely, holding the blond upright, Shane unable to do anything in his tied position besides open to him, and moan, and beg. He was trying to hold back, trying to be more considerate this time now that the crazed heat and anger had left him. But having Shane clenching around his dick, the boy’s perfect body arching and giving in to him was just too much. He’d been dreaming of this moment, had been certain he had fucked everything up, and he just needed Shane too much to slow down.
Groaning, Shane lurched forward, burying his face against the sweaty flesh of Ryan’s neck, the brunette fucking into him deeper, pumping in again and again while the blond gasped and trembled around the overwhelming sensations. Without his arms, he couldn’t get any purchase, forced to ride out every rough thrust of Ryan’s hips, his body rocking with the brunette’s hard movements. Teeth nipped at his neck and he jolted, squeezing the thick flesh filling him impossibly tight. It sent a shudder through him, knowing Ryan was inside him again, his seed soon to be slicking the walls of his tight passage, claiming him, owning him in a way he had never understood he’d wanted until a week ago.
Ryan pushed him back roughly against the door, growling as he followed right after. He spread Shane’s thighs wider and bent his knee up, gripping him tight. Shane met his piercing stare, moaning weakly when he felt Ryan’s swollen knot start to stretch into his entrance, the thick flesh forcing him wider with each agonizing thrust.
“Fuck… Oh, fuck.” Shane’s head fell back against the window, his eyelids slit as he struggled to rise above the insane feeling of Ryan working his knot into him.
“That’s it. Open to me, babe… That’s my boy.” Taking in the tears teasing down the blond’s face, Ryan lapped his tongue out and groaned as he got another inch deeper. “Missed you, sexy. Missed you so bad—Fuck.” He growled, kissing Shane’s gasping lips roughly. “You are so fucking tight for me.”
Crying out as the thick flesh surged deeper into him again, stretching him so wide, Shane’s arms flexed, something inhuman rippling through his muscles in a wave. The fabric tied around his wrists snapped, his arms automatically rising to grab Ryan’s shoulders so he could gain some leverage and relief from the insane feeling of being so full. Ryan grinned savagely and wrapped tight around the boy’s chest in response, biting the blond’s neck hard until Shane shuddered and relented. The werewolf pinned him with his body, dominating him completely with his full strength and deep thrusts, working his swollen knot into him while Shane’s moans increased in pitch.
“Fuck, that’s it… That’s it, babe.” Groaning, Ryan surged the final inch forward, settling deep into Shane’s tight passage. “Mine. You’re fucking mine.”
Shane shouted hoarsely, his hands clinging to the brunette’s wide shoulders. Ryan’s knot swelled almost immediately, locking the boy’s thick cock inside his aching channel. It was impossibly large and Shane was certain he was going to cum at any second from the sheer intensity. “Can’t—Fuck, it’s too much,” he moaned, shuddering as he felt the first splash of hot liquid inside him.
“You’re doing it,” Ryan growled, kissing the boy’s face and jaw while Shane whimpered and gasped. “You were made for me. Made for my knot. Made to be bred.” His fingers bruised into Shane’s flesh, his hips rocking erratically as he fucked the blond’s hot, tight passage, determined to fill him with every gush of his seed. Shane’s tormented cries were pure music, the boy’s body both taut with pleasure and lax in pain. Ryan reached for the blond’s dick, palming him slowly, wanting to draw Shane’s cries out as much as possible, especially when it resulted in the boy clenching on his knot, milking his cum from him with his tight passage.
“My mate,” he growled lowly, kissing the dazed boy. Shane mumbled something against his neck, the blond shuddering, sweating, jolting with every shallow hump as his prostate was stroked again and again. “You’re there, Shane… Come for me. Show me how much you love this.” He jerked Shane’s throbbing length firmly, groaning when the blond gaped wide and shouted. Ryan forced his tongue into the boy’s perfect mouth even as Shane bucked in his grasp, the blond coming all over his hand and both their stomachs. Shane whimpered against his lips as more cum streamed from him, the blond’s body tense and straining as he splattered them both.
Shane fought to breathe, Ryan’s mouth threatening to steal the last thread of his sanity. He glanced down as his moans slowly faded, shuddering when he found himself covered in pearly streams, Ryan’s chest and abdomen sticking to his. Fuck, he might not have had a knot and it might not have been to the same copious level, but he was definitely not fully human anymore.
He started, gasping as Ryan’s hot tongue dipped down, licking at the spatters of seed that had reached up his chest. Shane would have protested, tried to, but Ryan was still humping slowly into him, gushing the last of his semen into him while his strong arms held him tight. The brunette kept kissing him, tasting his cum, teasing his tingling flesh with lips and tongue and teeth. All Shane could do was sigh, waiting for the boy’s knot to fully deflate, seed dripping from between his cheeks as the werewolf devoured him at his leisure.
Ryan nipped his shoulder and Shane jerked, a wave of dizziness crashing over him. His teeth gave a strange itch, dull pain throbbing in his jaw. Bite. He needed to bite Ryan. His mate.
But it was like a commitment, wasn’t it? Like saying he was definitely gay as fuck. His dad would kill him. Coopers weren’t allowed to be gay. They weren’t allowed to be anything but perfect. Shane had never been a good Cooper and he was starting to fear that he wouldn’t be a Cooper at all for much longer.
“Babe… You okay?”
Fighting with the strange feelings inside, Shane barely heard Ryan’s voice from far away. Was he alright? He was pretty sure he was feeling good. Really good. He was a total fuck up that couldn’t do anything right but at least he felt good.
The White Wolf, Vale
Exclusive Library
Heller finds his pack on the outskirts of Dogtowne, revealing a crisis underway for the shifter wolves. One of their pups is missing and what the cursed werewolves will do to a shifter is a fate worse than death.
Sage can’t find any relief from his growing ache, no matter how much Frey and his gang helps. He’s ready to go home, hoping to spend the rest of his days hiding his scent in the Wastes. But the werewolf pack leader has made a decision, one that will change Sage’s life forever.
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 June 10, 2016.
Heat level: XX
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
It was right before dawn when the black wolf Heller found his pack.
The verdant blue-green of the forest was how he remembered it, shadowed, fogged and deadly to any that didn’t belong. What would have been a simple wood was magically enhanced by his pack’s sorcery. Heller had found the warnings of new traps, scents that spooked his wolf and kept him from trails that two years ago had been safe. He found the remains of those less lucky, shredded bodies of the cursed that had dared to stalk in their territory during the full moon. There were more than a few picked away corpses left as a warning to those that might come next moon. It made Heller uneasy. The werewolves had rarely dared into their territory before. What had changed that made the crazed howlers think they could stand a chance?
The group of shifters was occupying one of the many private estates belonging to Vale. It was the west facing villa built right by the steep ravine, fortified and protected by both magic and the natural lay of the land. It was another concern because Vale had refrained from opening this last house for years because of the sentimental association it had for the alpha. Something had changed in the dynamic while Heller had been away and he hoped he had not lost his pale leader while he had sat in prison.
As Heller slipped into the manor, his dark paws padding near silent on the tile, he was overwhelmed with the scents of his pack. Breathing in, he could feel the last two years try to seep out of his bones and fur to be replaced with warmth and a feeling of security he had long thought gone. Home. It didn’t matter which building be it hovel or mansion; as long as his pack was there he was home.
He found his pack in the middle of the common room, the group of men, shifted wolves and dogs stretched out on the floor in a pile of fur, limbs and pillows, a few human mates and females among them. Heller recognized nearly all of them. Even though Vale was not among them, he had no fear that his alpha was nearby for the man’s scent was everywhere, still fresh and vibrant. Pack life was like no other. It provided many with a family beyond what they had been born into with stronger bonds and deeper loyalties that connected them together through magic and beast. Heller had not truly felt the loss of such a life until finally returning home.
Stepping surefootedly between the warm, hard bodies of his pack, Heller was greeted welcomingly if not sleepily. He took the spot between Blade and a fluffy Rusty and promptly curled up on the hardwood floor and sighed heavily. With his pack around him, it was nothing for him to close his eyes and slip into the darkness, for the first time free of the fear that had haunted him the last long months. Finally, Heller let himself sleep.
***
Heller felt his pack leave him while the light of day warmed him, their scents clinging and keeping him safe. There were more than a few wet tongues kissing his snout as they left, hands petting him gently before they slipped away to go about their day. Shadowed and familiar, it was the kindest dream he’d had. He wasn’t roused from his deep sleep until hours later and only because of the pale, bare feet of his alpha standing before him, patiently waiting for him to awake. It might have been two years, but Heller was not one to deny Vale anything.
“You made it.”
Heller stretched and then shifted into his human form, sitting for a dazed moment on the floor as he adjusted. “Barely,” he grunted, peering up through his long, black tangle of hair to take in the form of his pack leader. It was strange to see Vale immaculate as always, his white hair sleek and thrown over his shoulder, aristocratic features calm with a hint of haughtiness that only added to the man’s charm. His muscular form was toned and compact and currently dressed in a thin pair of white pants, downplaying the power the man held physically and magically. Vale was a force and even if his human form showed him to be serene and still, his wolf form was a white beast of size and strength none were able to match.
Vale looked the same as always while Heller knew the man saw a different story as he gazed down at him. He had been changed; too thin, face unshaven and dirty. His blue eyes were different as if prison had drained a vitality from him and replaced it with madness. He had always been hard to tame but Heller was now more wild and manic than ever. He felt very much unworthy to kneel before his beautiful alpha after all that he had been through, all that he had survived and ruined to make it this far.
Silver eyes assessing the brunette for long minutes, Vale reached his hand out. The warmth of the man’s hand was a jolt to Heller’s senses, his fingers curling and gripping his pack leader’s palm tightly. He allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, avoiding Vale’s piercing gaze as he swayed unsteadily for a moment. His alpha refused to release his hand and Heller didn’t complain, drawing strength from the simple connection.
“How was the escape route?”
Heller huffed. “I had to go through the entire cursed town. Ended up in the Wastes and nearly lost my nose… and my mind. There was nothing easy about that route.” He dared to meet the man’s patient gaze, glaring back almost challengingly as he waited for whatever judgment Vale had for him.
None came. Reading his gaze for another silent moment, Vale pulled Heller into a fierce embrace, wrapping the taller brunette so tight, Heller wasn’t sure he’d be able to breathe. Still, he hugged him back just as tightly, a desperation in his movements and the sting of tears to his eyes that threatened to have him fall apart if he let go too soon.
Heller sank into the feeling of Vale scenting him, the blond breathing him in deep and ingraining him into his memory. The man was always quiet—except when he was angry, then Vale was quiet and bloody. Very much a ghost, the pack leader had moon pale skin and nearly as white hair, his long silky locks looking to belong to a much older man. Many shifters aged differently, some were even thought to be immortal. Heller didn’t know Vale’s true age but he knew he looked only in his late thirties, all tall, limber muscle and cold, icy silver eyes. He had looked the same when Heller had joined Vale’s pack over twenty years ago when the brunette had turned fifteen. There was no one he trusted more than his white wolf alpha.
Vale pulled away all too soon, Heller left feeling lost and confused to no longer have the man’s warmth and strength around him. “Have you eaten?” Vale asked, eyes again reading something on his face he wished he could hide. “Flint saved you some breakfast.”
“I’m starving,” Heller admitted brusquely, summoning a pair of loose drawstring pants to step into. Two years had filled him with such coldness and he couldn’t find the words for anything just yet. He was home but he didn’t know if it was the same, if he still fit after so much time. Vale seemed to sense his distress, the shorter man wrapping an arm around Heller’s back and holding his bicep as they walked towards the kitchens as if afraid he would disappear if he let go.
“I didn’t expect to find the pack here,” Heller muttered, glancing around the manor as he tried to gain his bearings. He had been to the villa more times than he cared to remember, always alone with his pack leader. It had not only been a fortress to keep enemies out but also to imprison those that were too dangerous to let loose. Knowing his pack was living there was a concern on a different level for Heller.
“I had little choice in the matter,” Vale said simply. “The potion is still effective.”
Heller glanced sideways at the man, wondering how many months Vale had spent wondering if his pack would be wiped out from inside the manor instead of from without.
Shifter wolf packs were more necessity than tradition. There had been a time when shifters hadn’t felt the need to stay together beyond family, especially when the world had opened up with technology and communication. Magic and a simple internet connection could give every available luxury a shifter could dream of. But that was for other shifters, ones that didn’t have to face the cursed.
No one was sure exactly where the source of the werewolf population sprang from. There had of course been legends as far back as humans had been able to write, and before that, when they shared their tales around the fire. Werewolves had always existed in small numbers as had shifters, but something had changed less than a hundred years ago that had spread the werewolf infliction through the population. For a time, every month a new town was infected, the epidemic threatening to take out all of Europe and America until someone had finally made a stand.
Magic users were not the type to work together. They were freelancers at their best, egomaniacal and power hungry on a normal day; sorcerers and sorceresses were more likely to exploit a situation than save humanity. Shifters, not always strong in magic but magical enough to transform into their inner animal, were less prone to self-centered thinking but still preferred to be left alone. If the cursed hadn’t been enraged by the scent of all canines, including the shifters that transformed into the four-legged creatures, the wolf packs may have never taken on the task of destroying the werewolf population. But they had, and after word had gotten out that the cursed were systematically hunting and murdering every canine shifter they could find whether the moon was full or not, they’d had little choice. They could either fight back or be wiped out.
Packs had started to form beyond just family bonds, growing out of a need for survival. Sorcery was taught to every member no matter how little they had the skill. Werewolves had a magic to their cursed forms and physical attack alone could not harm them when they were transformed. Defenses and ways to single out a werewolf in the light of day and far from the full moon were adapted over time. They had even started working on potions in the hopes of finding a cure for the cursed, and if not that, at least a way to keep them from their beserker, howler ways when the moon did hit them.
The shifter wolf packs had come a long way in a short amount of time and while they had struggled to survive, the werewolf population had started to balance from their full out murderous assault and began to police themselves as only their kind could. Leaders had risen up among them, more intelligent and in control of their instincts than the untamed cursed. They had formed gangs that controlled territories, demanding loyalty from the werewolves and humans that if not given was met with ruthless, joyful violence. The shifters had not stopped their war for survival but they enjoyed the lull while the werewolf gangs fought each other for dominance of the cities.
Of the twenty-some shifters that made up Vale’s pack, they consisted mostly of wolves and a few large dog. All of them were accomplished sorcerers, powerful in magic in a way few shifters could claim. Most lived with their spouses and children, a few choosing to move as far away from Dogtowne as possible once they had bred even if it meant losing the pack’s immediate protection. Pack life was unique but it wasn’t always healthy for families. Their days were filled with magic, strategies, and patrols, ever watching the moon and anticipating the bloody fight to come.
Vale had one of the most powerful shifter packs around and Heller had once been second in command to his charismatic alpha. But that had been before the murder of Lorna by the werewolves, before he had been falsely convicted and imprisoned. Heller had no idea where he stood with his pack anymore or the enigmatic man he called alpha.
“I saw the dead cursed in the woods,” Heller remarked, his eyes sliding to what could only be a mounted cursed head. Someone had taken the time to preserve the hideous piece, the strange distortion of human and wolf face twisted in its final death throws. “Fresh. No older than a moon.”
Vale nodded, his grip on Heller’s shoulder tightening for a moment. “I had a room set up for you,” he said in his quiet way, eyes fixed straight ahead. “All your things are there; instruments, spell books, clothing. Even that dreadful ficus that you refused to let die. I need to leave soon—We’re in the middle of a crisis. But I thought you could settle in, get caught up with the pack for now. I’m sure you’re tired.”
Heller growled, trying to pull away, only to have Vale hold his arm tighter.
“I’m not excluding you. You’ve been on the run for weeks, Heller,” Vale said calmly. “You need rest and there is little of that outside these walls.”
“It was prison, not a retirement home,” Heller snapped. “I can help. I… Well, I actually might need your assistance for something.”
Vale raised a pale eyebrow, releasing the brunette once they reached the kitchen. The room was huge, tiled and filled with stainless steel appliances to go with the three large refrigerators and walk-in freezer. Shifters required a lot of food to handle their advanced metabolism. What they hunted and didn’t eat, they froze for later. Food was already out, meat and vegetables waiting at the kitchen island making Heller’s stomach growl at the scent.
“Is this someone from the prison?” Vale asked while Heller threw himself across the room at the plate.
“No, nothing like that.” Heller summoned his jacket one handed while grabbing a fork with the other. “Upper left pocket. Vial. I ran across some sort of… Well, I’ll let you decide what the hell he was. Small, likely a runt if anything.”
Vale caught the long coat when it was thrown to him, picking through Heller’s pockets until finding the item he was talking about. “Sperm?” He asked, his voice reflecting growing confusion.
“Smell it,” Heller grunted, his mouth full. Food had been sparse the last month, nonexistent his last week running for his life. That he felt hunger he took as a good sign that his body hadn’t given up just yet. Each bite was a return to himself, a reminder he wasn’t starving, wasn’t running. Home. He had made it home.
Eyebrow again raised, Vale stared curiously at the small vial, eventually popping the lid to give the contents a hesitant sniff. “Son of a—Fuck!” He snarled, immediately capping the vial and grabbing onto the nearest stool to keep from falling to the ground. “Heller… What the fuck are you trying to do to me?” He snapped, silver eyes flashing warningly.
“Just tell me what he is, Vale,” Heller said, not looking remotely apologetic as the pale man swayed and grasped the kitchen island hard. “I need to know I’m not going crazy here.”
“Bitch,” Vale gritted out, his glare only growing as his trembling arms gave out and he fell chest first against the marble top. “Fuck… Fuck, Heller, you know what that scent does to me.”
“It’s stronger, right? Stronger than a normal bitch scent?” Heller pressed, dropping his fork as he reached over and took the vial from his alpha’s fingers before the man accidentally crushed it.
“Yeah… He has some sort of magical enhancement. Whoever he is, he’s powerful.” Vale continued to glare, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he tried to gain control of himself. “Who is he? Is he in our territory?”
Heller grinned, his fangs glinting as he leaned down next to the panting man and met his gaze. “He lives in the Wastes.”
“What?” Vale wrinkled his nose in confusion. “In the dump?”
“He doesn’t even know how to transform. His parents are dead. Lives with some dick that thinks shifters are the devil.”
Vale furrowed his brow, trying to focus on what the brunette was saying. “But he’s a shifter… How could he have been left behind? We always collect our own.”
“He said werewolves killed his family.” Heller paused, fingers combing into Vale’s long, white hair, his alpha exhaling loudly from the touch. “He doesn’t know he’s a shifter. He’s confused, scared… He begged so pretty when he took my wolf’s knot. Wanted it so bad.”
Vale whimpered, turning his head so he was face to face with the brunette. “Heller.”
“Made me think of you, beautiful. How much you need it at times.” God but his alpha was beautiful like this. Heller tilted his head so he was resting it on the table, his mouth brushing close to Vale’s red lips. “You get so desperate to be filled. Do you want that, Vale? Do you want me?”
“Please,” Vale whispered, arching his back with a moan. “I missed you. Need you.”