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The final battle was not fought at Hogwarts among a sea of children. There had been no glorious clash of armies in front of the Ministry of Magic, waging a war between good and evil for all the wizarding world to see. No, not even Dumbledore could have expected that the calm summer night was different from any other until the wards at Privet Drive had fallen.
Two masked figures had raised their wands at the powerless muggles, murdering parents and son in a sickly flash of green. The scent of death had been strong in the air when Voldemort crept into the small second bedroom only to have a sleepy, messy haired teen with a telltale scar instinctively block the killing curse from his dusty, cramped bed.
The battling wizards’ wands had clashed and disintegrated in a blinding glow that illuminated the night sky for miles. In an instant, the Dark Lord’s twisted body had collapsed in upon itself, the life deflating from the scaled flesh. He had inhaled once, a shuddering, desperate breath, and then nothing. The Boy Who Lived, the Savior of the Wizarding World, had been consumed by the light, body and all. As he had disappeared, his expression was neither of acceptance nor fear. His jaw had been set, his eyes ablaze with power and determinations as he stared above the fallen flesh of He Who Must Not Be Named.
The final battle had no witnesses, not in this realm.
Those who bore the dark mark heard His final screams. The Death Eaters had felt the pull, the pain, when their lord reached for them in his final death throes. Voldemort had grasped the connection as an anchor to life. Instead, he had almost drawn them all into the abyss with him before the link had been severed. The marks had burned once again on the servants arms before fading into a mass of scar tissue, leaving a permanent reminder of past sins.
None had seen the final clash but all knew the result. Voldemort had been destroyed, never to return to torment, slaughter, or corrupt. As for the fate of Harry Potter, things were less clear. The Death Eaters had heard him curse the Dark Lord. Even as Severus Snape had stood over Voldemort’s stiffening corpse, he had heard Harry’s voice when he delivered the final killing blow. He had heard his heavy breathing and righteous words up until the connection had failed and Voldemort was no more. Still, Severus believed Harry to be alive even after months of fruitless searching.
Others were not convinced. During the Christmas break, a monument had been unveiled at the Ministry of Magic in a community wide ceremony. A statue of Harry defeating the Dark Lord had been erected to replace the ruined fountain that had once stood there. In effigy, Harry had become an eight foot tall, strapping man with the trademark lightning bolt scar covering half his face, posed to deliver the finishing blow to a crippled and weak Dark Lord. ‘The Boy Who Lived To Save Us All’ had been engraved at the feet of the memorial.
Harry’s friends had broken down at the sight while the Hogwarts teachers and the Order looked grim faced. No more searching would be done; the Ministry was content to let Harry Potter die as a martyr. Surprisingly, it had been an icy eyed Draco Malfoy, father and aunt freshly incarcerated for killing the Dursleys, who had spoken what all those close to Harry were thinking. “Potter would have hated this.”
Still, as the winter turned to spring and things at Hogwarts began to settle down once again, a certain Gringotts’s vault remained locked to the Ministry’s prying hands. Somewhere, a Potter still lived.
“Seriously, Draco, try to eat,” Blaise muttered under his breath as he lightly elbowed his pale and lately too thin friend.
“Fuck off,” Draco grumbled back. He rested his chin on his hand and pushed his food around on his plate with a fork.
Blaise sighed heavily and turned to glare. “I’m not joking. I think you have a problem.”
“You’re going to have a fucking problem if you start spouting shit again, Zabini.” Draco silky blond hair fell across his face and he swiftly pushed it back with a vicious motion of his hand.
Narrowing his eyes, Blaise leaned in closer so the surrounding Slytherins couldn’t hear him. The Great Hall was full of students eating lunch, most of them loudly chatting about the upcoming quidditch match. They were a colorful contrast to his morose friend who was only growing more somber as the months went by. “Bullshit, Malfoy. I’m not falling for your fucking empty threats. I want you to see Pomfrey—How are you going to fly tomorrow if you haven’t eaten in a fucking week, huh? You’re going to get yourself bloody killed and right now, I think that’s exactly what you want.”
Draco’s hand tightened on his fork and he bent the silver utensil. “Back. The Fuck. Off.”
“Or what? You’ll faint on me?” Blaise’s angry brown eyes dared him to disagree. “You’re a mess, Malfoy. You have a team of people depending on you tomorrow and you can’t even bring yourself to eat. Its time to get some help.”
Pansy reached a hand out, grabbed Blaise by his sleek ponytail and pulled the black boy back away from Draco’s silver glare. “This is not helpful. We’re in the Great Hall.”
“I don’t care anymore,” Blaise hissed under his breath. “I can’t just keep watching this.”
Glaring challengingly, Draco cut a piece of chicken with his knife and fork and put it in his mouth. Only to promptly turn green and spit it back out onto his plate. “Fuck. Fucking hell.” He pushed his food away, and turned on his friend. “You know what? Fuck you, Zabini. Spending one fucking summer with you because my parents were in jail doesn’t mean you get to be my fucking mother, okay? She’s still around and she’s shitty enough as it is.”
“Yeah, well, maybe if you told her to fuck off with that arranged marriage shit, instead of letting her run your goddamn life, you’d be eating right now,” Blaise shot back. “You’ve been a damn wreck since she messaged you. Why are you even doing this? Your dad is in jail, your mom is under suspicion—Why are you letting them fuck you over like this?”
Draco looked about moments away from punching his friend in the teeth. He fisted his hands, knuckles white in restraint as he slowly and calmly replied, “Its none of your bloody business, you nosy shit.”
“It’s your goddamn life, Draco. Stop throwing it away!” Blaise yelled. Pansy’s restraining hand did nothing to curb him.
Draco looked up to find nearly everyone at his table, never mind the Great Hall, turn their heads towards him. He took a deep breath and coolly and deliberately stood. “I’ll see you in class,” he said with a false sense of calm while extracting himself from the bench.
Harry Potter watched from his perch on the Gryffindor table between magically enchanted plates of food. He couldn’t pull his gaze away as Draco tried to escape whatever heated conversation he was having with his dormmates. “Holy fuck, Malfoy. You’re actually alive.”
When Harry stood, no one noticed. His legs passed through student and bench alike. The floor was solid beneath his feet but not much else in Hogwarts was. Passing through people was disconcerting usually, but he barely noticed at the moment, his gazed fixed on Draco Malfoy.
Alive. He was alive. Alive, angry, and damn beautiful.
Harry’s gaze roamed intently, taking in Draco’s slim form and tired expression. He paused when Ron and his quidditch teammates stepped up and blocked Malfoy from the Great Hall doors. Gryffindor was having a match against Slytherin tomorrow and everyone was wondering if Malfoy was going to choke. Draco’s teammates were also getting up, whatever being said enough to think the Slytherin captain needed defense.
Harry doubted Draco needed any defending. He never had a problem taking care of himself. Still, he stepped closer. There was something almost mesmerizing about Draco… Actually, was he glowing?
“You look like shit, Ferret. Can’t handle the pressure?” Ron asked while he casually folded his arms across his chest and blocked the doorway.
Draco stopped short and glanced up, not intimidated even though Ron was over a head taller than him. “What pressure, Weasel? You haven’t won a game since.” He blew his hair from of his face with a bored expression.
“Neither have you. I figure our odds are looking damn good.”
Draco rolled his eyes then fixing Ron with a sardonic sneer. “If you go in for empty victories, by all means. I sure as fuck don’t. Playing you tomorrow is a goddamn joke.”
Ron couldn’t disagree; their new seeker was shit and everyone’s morale down with Harry dead. “Well, it’s a fucking joke that we gotta see to the end. And I would appreciate it if you would actually put some energy into it, Ferret.”
“Oh, I’m not backing down,” Draco assured him grimly. “Even with him gone, I’m kicking the field with you stupid lions.”
Ron smirked at that and nudged Seamus, who was standing next to him. “Fucking told ya. Malfoy’s not going to make it easy.”
Seamus shrugged and glared at the Slytherins gathered behind their captain. “We’ll see.”
“Getting tired of all the charity matches already, Weasel?” Draco looked unimpressed. “I swear, they keep trying to hand you the fucking winning cup and your new seeker still refuses to catch the snitch. Must be a goddamn shame.”
“It sure fucking is.” Ron chose to ignore the scorn in his voice. “Tell your team to start sharpening their beater bats. I want to see some blood tomorrow.”
Draco laughed and glanced back at his currently muttering quidditch team. “As long as you don’t mind that it’s yours. I’m sure Potter would appreciate a blood sacrifice in his honor, even from his own house mates.”
Ron couldn’t help but chuckle back. “Just looking for a proper game. No more of this pity shit. I figured you’d be the last one to have any of that.”
Draco nodded only to distractedly turn his head when Blaise pushed past to whisper in his ear. “Draco, let’s go to Pomfrey’s. It’ll be just a second.”
“Let it the fuck go, Blaise,” Draco said with a scowl. He pulled away. “Weasley, move the hell out of my way already.” He shoved lightly at Ron’s towering form when he continued to lean on the only exit out.
“Whatever.” Ron raised himself off the door and tilted his head at his team. “Come on, clear out. We should go practice anyways.”
“I don’t know why you bloody lions think you’d have a chance if Potty was alive,” Theodore Nott called loudly as the group of players started to clear.
Stilling, Ron straightened to his full height and glared down at Theodore. “Watch your mouth.” Seamus and Dean were suddenly at his side with matching frowns.
“Why? Some fucking holy being going to strike me down for tarnishing Saint Potter’s name?” Theodore scoffed and met Ron’s glare head on. “All he did was get himself killed by You-Know-Who. The stupid fuck was a shit martyr, never mind terrible seeker.”
Ron took a step to swing at Theodore, only to fall back when Draco whirled from the doorway and brutally grabbed his teammate by the face. Draco pushed Theodore backward and down to the floor, the force strong enough to smack his head against the tile.
“You have got to be some kind of fucking idiot,” Ron said as he used his tall form to block the view from the teachers’ table across the room. Draco knelt on Theodore’s chest, grabbed him by the throat, and stuck his wand in his face. Theodore didn’t dare speak, his stare cross-eyed at the wand burning red centimeters from his flesh.
“Theo, I will only say this once,” Draco growled as his hand tightened on his throat. “If you ever say anything bad about Potter in my presence again, I will kill you.”
“Draco, I didn’t mean—!”
“Shut. Up.” Dark anger curled into his voice. Draco reached over and tore the sleeve of Theodore’s robe up to reveal his scarred arm. “You can pretend all you want that you weren’t crying like a bitch when they beat the shit out of you and burned the mark on your arm. I fucking remember, Theo. I watched as each one was forced to kneel and scream. The monster is dead and you will not call his memory. You sure as hell will not belittle the name of the guy that killed him and freed us. I will not stand for it!”
Theodore didn’t speak, didn’t move. He stared at the power sparking off of Draco, who was trying to control his wrath.
His eyes tight on the scene, Harry stepped through classmates and friends to kneel in front of the glowing Draco. “You idiot, Malfoy, getting all worked up over nothing. People are going to start thinking you give a shit.”
It didn’t matter Draco was too thin and exhausted looking; he was beautiful, especially when death was blazing in his silver eyes. There was a time when Harry thought Draco wanted to be a Death Eater just like his father and aunt. But that was before last year when he heard Malfoy admit to his friends he was planning to kill himself over summer break. Draco thought death was better than life as a slave to Voldemort.
That was the moment he fell in love with the crazy prat.
“Mr. Malfoy, I think it would be wise to come with me.” Severus Snape stalked over and stood behind Draco, and placed a careful, restraining hand on his shoulder.
Draco took a slow breath, and then another. He closed his eyes to block out the current object of his anger. It wasn’t Theo’s fault. They all talked shit—It was what they did for years. It was how it was supposed to be. Except Voldemort died and killed another child in the process, and now you didn’t talk shit about Potter anymore. Not if you wanted to be in the same room with Draco or Ron and not be hexed into oblivion.
Draco’s hair fell across his eye and he automatically brushed it away. He froze mid swipe as something touched his hand. A familiar scent filtered in and he swayed dizzily as his blood roared in his ears. The memory of green eyes flashed in his mind’s eye. “What?”
Harry gaped, and held his hand to his chest where Draco had knocked into it. “Malfoy, can you—?”
“Come along, Mr. Malfoy.” Snape guided Draco up and helped him stand. All Harry could do was stare when his potions professor stepped through him unseeing.
Draco looked around in confusion as he tried to figure out what just happened. He noticed Theodore again, looking relieved and not as terrified as he should be. Draco shook back to reality and glared at Vince and Greg. His intention was clear as he tilted his head toward the fucker on the floor who was in desperate need of a bloody beating once the teachers were gone.
Draco caught Ron’s eye, his eyebrow raised as he pocketed his wand. “Weasel, I’ll see you tomorrow when I’m kicking your ass on the field.”
“Looking forward to it, Ferret,” Ron said gruffly. He deliberately stepped on Theodore’s hand as he turned. “Wear the pointy boots; those are always fun.”
Harry stared up from his sprawl on the floor while students walked through him oblivious. Draco followed his head of house out the Great Hall doors and down to the dungeons.
He imagined it. Glowing—But it felt so real. He held his hand tighter and relished the contact even as another student stepped right through him. It had to be real.
God, he needed it to be real.
Harry got up to follow Draco, then stopped when Blaise and Ron start arguing furiously under their breath at each other. Pansy came over and then Ron and her both rounded on Blaise to say something about not pushing Draco. It was only going to make him pull away. Hermione apparently agreed. She stepped around Theodore, who was finally pulling himself to his feet. Then everyone started yelling at Theodore, and demanded to know what the fuck he was thinking.
Theodore held his hands up, still very shaken from what he was certain was nearly a painful death. “What? How the fuck was I to know? His father and aunt helped get Potter killed!”
“You’re a waste of brain matter, Nott,” Ron growled. “Don’t you think Malfoy might be feeling a little fucking guilty about that?”
They separated. Blaise and Pansy walked with Ron and Hermione back to the Gryffindor table to whisper more, and Crabbe and Goyle hauled Nott by his arms and lugged him out the door.
Harry blinked a few times in disbelief. Maybe he hadn’t been thrown out of his dimension. Maybe he was just viewing an absolutely different reality instead because things were fucking bizarre.
He twitched uncontrollably and grabbed his side as power sparked painfully. “Fuck.”
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Decided, Harry headed for the dungeons. If he could find Snape and Malfoy, he might be able to test if he could sense him.
Harry ended up sitting outside Snape’s office door. He was unwilling to barge in while the two were inside talking about whatever the hell was wrong with Malfoy. And clearly there was something very wrong with the prat. Draco used to be the epitome of self control. He’d play the part of the perfect bad boy while secretly plot ways to be free of the monster waiting for him at Malfoy Manor. Now, well, now he was attacking his own house mates, fighting in the Great Hall, and apparently being friendly with Gryffindors. Or at least, Malfoy’s friends were being friendly.
Guilty. Why the fuck would Draco feel guilty about what his father and aunt did? It’s not like he had any control in anything. Not like he could have stopped them, or warned anyone with enough power to stop Voldemort. It was ridiculous to waste so much energy on something one couldn’t control. Harry knew firsthand.
He spent the last months feeling guilty the Dursleys died. They weren’t perfect but they sure as fuck didn’t deserved a wand to the head. They did nothing to deserve their untimely death except take an orphaned wizard in under the protections of the wards. They paid with their lives.
With a sigh, he stretched his legs out. His head thumped back on the door in a way he could only hear.
He was probably still alive. Sure, he had no hunger, no need to sleep, or breathe, but still, he knew he was alive. He could feel. Hogwarts existed in more than one dimension and the magic infused into the stone castle made it solid to his touch. Harry constantly brushed his hands and feet on anything with a hint of magic just to remind himself he was alive. Especially during those small, terrifying moments when his magic flared and snorted as if what was holding him together was slowly unraveling.
He needed even more to feel alive because in those moments, he was certain he was dying.
The spasms occurred more often now, as well as he could tell with his limited ability to keep track of time. He lost hours, maybe even days for all he knew. Not sleeping, but not existing. He was starting to slip away and it scared him.
Ironic, when he considered how he got in the situation to begin with. He survived. Voldemort stalked him down and surprised him in the house at 4 Privet Drive during his summer before seventh year. He woke to feel the Dursleys die. The Death Eaters killed them while Voldemort cast the killing curse on him. Harry blocked it, raised his wand, and when Voldemort cast another spell, a terrible light exploded from their energies meeting.
Voldemort died. He made sure. Even though the twisted body fell when their wands met, something dark and stained filled the space where Voldemort stood. It was almost as if evil found a form, corrupting the air around it, shimmering in terrible magic. Harry’s body didn’t fall. He was encased in light and his magic was somehow stronger in the new realm. With an ease he still couldn’t fathom, he wandlessly cleaned the stain that was Voldemort from all the realms with a few powerful explosions of raw magic.
He was stuck after that. Whatever the explosion did to send them out of reality, it hadn’t reversed with Voldemort’s death. Harry watched the Aurors arrive and arrest Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, the two Death Eaters who came with Voldemort that evening. Severus Snape, who was working for the Order of the Phoenix, looked everywhere while muttering and holding his searing arm, saying he was certain Harry was still alive.
For a while, Harry had hope he might figure something out. But Snape was waylaid by the group of gawkers and authorities sifting through the Dursleys’ house who were wrapping bodies and taking evidence. Harry stayed at Privet Drive once everyone left. He thought maybe there was something he was missing. A portal, a path—something to find his way back out of the strange echo of life he found himself in. But there was nothing.
Time moved differently where he was. He slipped, lost days without realizing it and missed the train to Hogwarts. He found the station and followed the tracks. He walked for months in nothing but the jeans he was wearing when Voldemort attacked. Not that it mattered; his feet felt no pain and he never got tired. The ground held enough life energy in it to keep him from slipping through, but not enough to hold solid.
Hogwarts was solid to him. Anything with a magical ward strong enough to keep people out, could stop him from crossing through. But there were plenty of doors that weren’t warded and he slipped through those easy enough. After observing Fawkes, Dumbledore’s phoenix, Harry learned to get through the passworded and locked doors as well.
Fawkes revealed to him exactly what happened, even if no solution was available to fix it. He read phoenixes existed on seven planes of reality. Harry now existed on five. Which would be fine, but none of them were of the realm he belonged in. Since he shared three of these same realms with Fawkes, he could interact with the phoenix even if not with anyone else.
“What if I imagined it?”
Malfoy was all weird and glowing and Harry sort of assumed he might be able to sense him. Magic was solid to him, so if Draco was cursed—or whatever made him seem full to the brim with power—it stood to reason he would be tangible. But things kept tricking him for a while now.
He thought Dumbledore could see him at first, had assumed because he was such a powerful wizard. But even weeks following him around in his office, shouting at the top of his lungs, Dumbledore didn’t noticed him at all. Maybe this was the same and he was just getting his hopes up. Maybe he just imagined touching Malfoy’s hand.
He was alive. It was still difficult for Harry to get his mind around it. He went back to the Dursley’s last summer certain Draco would be dead within days and knowing there was nothing he could do about it but pray he would find a better answer. He might have become a bit obsessed with Malfoy then, as if hoping that if he thought about him enough, Draco wouldn’t really die. He didn’t want him to die.
A year ago when hiding under his cloak and wandering the halls he stumbled across Draco, Pansy and Blaise arguing in an empty classroom. Draco was terrified his father was going to force the dark mark on him and was threatening to kill himself. It was about the clearest he ever understood Malfoy in that moment while Draco’s friend’s argued dying really wasn’t going to solve a fucking thing. Draco insisted death was better than being a slave any fucking day, no matter how fucking terrified he was. In this he at least had a choice.
Blaise and Pansy convinced Draco to wait it out, to wait until he was certain. Voldemort made his attack only a few weeks into vacation, apparently before Draco did himself in. Harry had no clue. As each day dawned, he faced the possibility it was Draco’s last.
He shared what he saw of that night at Hogwarts with Hermione and Ron. He asked them not to give him shit for liking Draco. Maybe that was why everyone seemed so buddy buddy? Draco never showed any inclination in him—beyond whatever fucked up yelling thing they always found themselves doing. Harry was pretty sure the prat was straight and had a fiance ever since third year. But maybe Hermione and Ron were afraid Draco was unstable and going to off himself and took it on themselves to watch over him?
Draco sure as fuck was acting unstable. Too thin, too tired looking, fighting. Somehow Harry felt guilty about that too, even though he didn’t have any control in the matter. He fought damn hard to keep going and find a way back. Time was just running out.
He drifted in a place where he didn’t sleep but didn’t really exist fully. He felt depressed and hopeless. In his unconscious state, Harry was unaware of when Snape’s door flew open but he did notice the pain in his foot. He could not remember the last time he felt pain but it was not enjoyable to rediscover after so long.
Harry cracked his eye open and was privileged to the sight of a very flustered Malfoy strewn across the floor in front of him. The git was really cute since he changed his hairstyle to let it flow loose. Or maybe it was the embarrassed pout on his flushed face.
“Are you all right, Mr. Malfoy?” Severus looked down at Draco with a raised eyebrow.
Draco gave a long-suffering sigh and pulled himself to his feet. “Yes, Professor. I think I tripped over my shoe or something.”
“Not bloody likely,” Harry muttered and rubbed his sore ankle. He stood and crossed into Snape’s body, then passed through.
Snape gave Draco a dubious look, then nodded. “If you like, I can give you a pass for the rest of the day.”
“I’m fine, really, Professor. It was just, you know, stress from the quidditch match tomorrow.” Draco didn’t want to make a big deal out of anything. He was tripping a lot lately, losing his strength and his balance. It was likely from not being able to keep his food down. “If I skip out of class now, they’ll all think I’m unbalanced or something. It’s my last period of the day, anyways.”
He finished dusting off his pants and finally met his Head of House’s gaze. “Thank you, Professor. For um, listening.” His smile was unsteady at best, but Draco was proud he could manage that much.
“You know my door is always open, Mr. Malfoy. Better to come to me, than to go cursing students left and right.” Snape spoke in his normal manner but the affection was not unnoticed. With a quick bow and stronger smile, Draco slipped down the hall.
Harry followed after while limping slightly. He glanced at Severus’s expression as the man watched Draco leave. Snape looked downright concerned and Harry had to wonder what he knew about Malfoy he didn’t.
Malfoy’s last class of the day was Transfigurations and he happened to share it with the Gryffindors. When Draco came in late, he actually received a small round of cheers from everyone but Theodore, who now had a black eye, bloodied lip, and was scowling at his desk. Draco just frowned at them all and took his seat, clearly not proud with how anything happened that day.
Harry wandered the rows of the class and watched as the students chatted and cast their spells. He started switching his view. When he moved through the other four dimensions he existed in, he could see how their magic looked. He hoped to find some sort of clue on how to get free. He knew magic was part of the answer. It was how he ended up in the damn place, was the only thing he could touch, and was also something he lost a lot of his control over now he was without a wand.
It was while peering through the five different planes of existence Harry found out how Malfoy could trip over him and he could be hurt. It was the last plane, the fifth where the world fuzzed out and all he could see were shifting colors and the magic in the castle walls. Even Fawkes wasn’t present on this plane but he found Malfoy there, bright and glowing with luminous light. He looked like some otherworldly being. Absolutely nude, too.
Harry exhaled slowly, and slipped closer to take in the soft feathers and sleek scales peppering Draco’s ears and skin. Long, wicked talons ended from his fingers as he tapped the desk lightly. Harry grinned at the sight and walked around him to stare at the long curve of his back and his lithe tail slinking down. Either Malfoy was cursed or he was part magical creature. Which magical creature, he didn’t have a clue, but it was certainly long, taut and fucking sexy.
Harry’s appearance on this plane was more an absence of. He was still, dark, and the color around him faded as if he were stealing it away. This was where he could see the cracks forming; gold light dazzled out of his skin where his body slowly broke apart. He quickly switched back to the first plane. He didn’t want to see. He didn’t want to see his quickly approaching death.
He leaned over Draco, who looked beyond bored, and gazed intently at his creamy skin. “Hey, Malfoy?” Draco turned another page of his textbook unhearing. Harry took a deep breath and continued at the top of his lungs, “Malfoy, you crazy son of a bitch! Fucking answer me, and if we’re lucky, I’ll be back in time to wipe the quidditch field with your ass tomorrow!”
By the time he was done, he was breathing heavily. Harry whooped in triumph when Draco shifted and raising a hand to his ear. That was, until he realized his breath only tickled Draco’s neck where he was shouting furiously. He gave a sigh of defeat and quirked a smile when Draco swatted at the spot. He was fucking adorable.
Harry blew a steady stream of air into Draco’s twitching ear while he tried to think of his next course of action. Obviously Malfoy couldn’t see him or he’d be screaming bloody murder by now. How exactly could he communicate without sound or sight? There was no way Malfoy was going to recognize him by touch.
Harry shifted backwards and looked again at who he was idly tormenting. Draco growled softly and viciously rubbed at the side of his face in an endearing fashion. Harry couldn’t help but snicker at the dangerous glare Draco sent his fellow classmates. He waited a few minutes for him to settle back down before picking a new target. His eyes were drawn to the delicate dip where Draco’s neck connected to his shoulder. With a wicked smirk, Harry blew. The reaction was instantaneous and priceless. Draco yelped loudly and jumped to his feet while grabbing his neck. He snarled as he whirled around to find the culprit.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Malfoy?” Professor McGonagall asked while Draco twitched and glared. Her tone was less stern than usual; she’d been there in the Great Hall when Draco defended Harry’s name.
“Uh… no, Professor. Just a bug, or draft, or something,” Draco muttered. He sat obediently but his glare remained steady as he searched the students around him.
“Damn, you’re always good for a laugh, Malfoy.” Harry beamed while Draco glowered. Even if he couldn’t find a way back, he could spend the rest of his short life annoying the shit out of his gorgeous rival. He blew idly at the white blond strands of Draco’s hair, and watched as Draco became increasingly tense.
It probably wasn’t the best way to start off their relationship, seeing as Draco was the only other human to be able to sense him. Harry couldn’t seem to stop himself. He missed just how interesting Draco looked when absolutely pissed off. And now, well now he could see it very close up. Every time Malfoy whimpered softly and scrubbed the ticklish spots he kept seeking, Harry admitted to a delicious tightening in his stomach.
When he happened to lean very close to fan heat over his neck and Draco’s eyes glazed slightly while he squirmed in his seat, well, that was rather interesting as well. It would be nothing to flick his tongue out and lick up the side of Draco’s neck.
Fuck, would Malfoy even know if he did?
Harry stepped back, ran his hand through his messy hair and breathed deep. He was playing with fire and he fucking knew it. Being able to be this close and not have anyone know a fucking thing, even Malfoy… It was dangerous. Very damn dangerous when he considered how long he wanted to touch the prat. Harry was used to not being noticed and maybe, maybe he stopped caring about all the rules of being proper and respectful.
He leaned back in again and shifted until he was face to face with Draco. He watched his startling white eyelashes flutter as he read. “Malfoy, what if I kissed you right now? Would you even know? You’d feel it, but would you know?”
Draco’s lashes flickered and his silver eyes raised slightly. Harry ducked down to see clearer, his breath puffing over his cheek. Crystal eyes turned right at him and followed the heat of his breath. Harry held perfectly still and stared intently. He could make out the very light hair on Draco’s cheek, slight variations to his skin tone and even some fine stubble on his jaw. He was very real like this. Not some glowing lie, or fantasy. Draco Malfoy was real, alive, and could feel his touch.
Harry felt Draco’s breath brush over his chin, soft and warm when he sighed in annoyance. “Fucking hell,” Draco huffed quietly. He scratched at his neck where Harry was blowing earlier. His fingers lingered and slowly traced down to the dip in his throat with a soft noise of flesh brushing flesh. Harry followed with his face, moved down until he was right in front of where Draco’s muscles connected to his collarbone. He breathed hot breath, and listened as Draco gasped and touched the spot again, his fingers caressing his flesh slowly.
Harry sank to the ground and sat. He was on the verge of doing something very dangerous. Possibly immoral.
This was much better than the invisibility cloak, he realized dizzily. He could get so close and never worry about getting caught. Even if Draco bumped into him, he would never know it was him. He could never get angry for staring. Maybe even touching a little…
Harry groaned and buried his head in his hands. It was a very dangerous tangent. He should just try and talk Malfoy, not… fuck… Well, yeah, not get into his pants.
Could he get into his pants like this?
Harry groaned again and bit his palm sharply to keep from doing something stupid. He was feeling like a fucking raving lunatic. Draco Malfoy was at his fingertips if he just had the nerve to take him.
A spasm of energy hit Harry all of a sudden, painful and alarming. It pulled him from his heated thoughts and reminded him how little time he had.
He stood and took in how beautiful Draco was as he leaned in again. This time he chose the ear he first assaulted. He trailed a soft stream of air while Draco twitch, and told himself this was all he was going to do. Annoy the prat. Look and annoy.
By the time class was finished, Harry was doing his best not to laugh at how pissed Malfoy was. Draco collected his school things while muttering about fleas under his breath the entire time. Harry’s stomach was tight with lust and anxiety from the many fucked up thoughts he really shouldn’t be considering. He felt a bit woozy from the many emotions but did his best to follow the scowling Draco down into the dungeons.
“Bloody… fucking… unicorns.” Draco scrubbed at the back of his neck while he juggled books and parchments to get his wand free. “Lice. It has to be fucking lice… or fleas. The oaf probably has both—Shit, fuck… Oh, fuck.” Another wave of air hit the side of his neck and reduced him to broken gasps as he tried to open his damn door. As a prefect and an upperclassman, he had his own set of small rooms. Right now he needed the bathroom to shower the fucking bugs off and wank desperately.
Draco had this thing with his neck. He was very sensitive there, ridiculously so. Not to mention, lately he kept thinking he smelled Potter, and to mix thoughts of the wild, green-eyed Harry and his neck was just fucking explosive. Finally, he managed to get the door open. He pushed it wide, threw his school things on the bed and then spelled the door locked.
Wand in hand, Draco pushed his robes off his shoulders and examined the fine fabric for crawlies. He couldn’t find anything damning but spelled some pest control over it just in case. He then unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it off and glared at the collar closely. Nothing… Fucking nothing. He moved to the mirror in his room and examined where he itched. His neck was pink in spots from his scratching and rubbing. Draco ran tentative fingers over the area and tried to see if there were any bumps to indicate a rash.
His eyes half closed and he released a broken breath from the sensation. He fanned his fingers wide and watched his hand move down his throat. He thought someone was breathing on him. He could have sworn it was hot breath moving over his neck, teasing him, tempting him… smelling like Harry Potter.
“Fuck. I’m losing my fucking mind.” He was particularly dizzy that day. Usually he could keep some juice down, but Blaise arguing with him turned his stomach too much for even that. Clearly he was just losing it.
Draco kicked off his shoes and arranged them by the foot of his bookcase before he scooped up his clothes to throw in the laundry in the adjoining bathroom. He finished stripping in the small room, turned on the water and charmed it to a near hot temperature. He quickly leaned under the spray with head raised to let water caress down his neck. “I’m losing my fucking mind,” he muttered as water slipped in and dripped out between his parted lips.
Draco’s eyes closed and the water sluicing down his face. He tried not to think about what he used to think of whenever he would argue with Harry. It always left him hot afterwards and sometimes—most times—hard. There was just something about Potter’s eyes, especially when flashing in anger, that was so fucking intense as they tried to bend him to his will. Be it to speak nicely or care about the things he cared about. Harry’s righteous anger was infuriating and damn sexy in its need to change him. Draco was always happy to bait him with things to piss Potter off.
He wasn’t supposed to think about that anymore and not just because Potter was dead. Draco’s body experienced difficulties with the responsibilities placed on it as it was. Reminding himself he got hard over guys was going to make raising a family with a girl very difficult. Having Harry’s memory of scent around him today was a challenging reminder. He was aching inside. He hadn’t felt this ache in a long time, not since his last day of school before summer.
Potter was staring at him on the train. He went so far as to strike up a conversation with him while alone in the narrow hallway, and asked him what he was going to be doing that summer. Harry’s wild eyes demanded something of him—what, he had no idea—but he stared so intently, so demandingly while Draco blathered something about summer reading. He ached so much once Potter left. Draco ended up in the small bathroom of the locomotive where he jerked off desperately while biting his wrist to keep from making any noise.
When he came, he wished for something else, something inside him to fill the ache. Then he quashed the feeling down, told himself just how fucking wrong it was to want that. He was a guy, and guys weren’t supposed to want other guys. Even if it might be okay to want another guy, there was no way he could want to be filled—stretched open wide and stuffed full by a guy—could be redeemable. To do the fucking maybe, but wanting to be fucked was definitely wrong.
Only girls wanted that and he had no interest in being a girl. Draco didn’t like how girls looked. He didn’t like how soft and waif like and wide eyed they were always trying to be, as if guys were supposed to see their weakness and save them. He didn’t need saving, and he didn’t want just any guy to come around thinking he could have a shot at doing such a thing. He was strong and he liked strong things. He liked wild things that were even stronger than he was. Fuck, he liked wild things that could make him feel weak in comparison.
Potter made him feel weak sometimes. He was a damn combustion of hot power most of the time, especially when angry. Faced with that power, Draco thought maybe it could be enough to shut up the voice in his head which told him wanting guys was wrong. If Harry was just a little more demanding of him, he might have let him kiss him… maybe even touch him. And one day, if Harry was stronger, and wild, and very demanding, Draco might even let him fuck him.
But Harry was dead and he was getting married soon.
Today Draco ached and needed something inside to fill the empty feeling. Maybe today, just today, he would think of Potter and give in to those demanding eyes in his mind. Just once. Just because tomorrow was the quidditch match Harry should have fought him in. His eyes would have demanded from him, and now never would again.
“Right.” Harry stood on the other side of the bathroom door and stared at the wide crack where Draco failed to shut the door completely. “Okay.” Draco just stripped, right in front of him, and touched his neck like some—Hell, like someone who really liked his neck being touched.
Harry let out a shaky breath and moved towards the door. He wasn’t sure what the fuck he was thinking, just that it was very important he make sure Malfoy was still on the other side. The shower was filling up with white steam and he could barely make anything out. Hand raised, he pressed at the wood of the door. It was unwarded and allowed him to pass through without resistance. Harry licked his lips and stepped slowly through. Steam engulfed his vision even as it failed to wet his skin.
Draco was touching his neck, his long fingers tracing up and down in teasing strokes. His eyes were closed, brows furrowed and lips parted as he panted quietly. In his other hand was a loofah which currently scrubbed mindlessly as it trailed soap and small bubbles over his slick torso.
“Shit, Malfoy, fucking look at you.” Harry took a step closer with hands determinedly at his sides. Draco was drop dead gorgeous. His long toned body, pale, strong and lithe. He was compact and nearly deceptively delicate, even though clearly muscled over his narrow hips, tight torso and flared shoulders. He was a damn fine athlete, which Harry recalled well from quidditch.
His white blond hair was nearly transparent under the water as it dripped down his body. Harry stepped closer and the water moved through him as if he wasn’t there at all. The element clung to Draco, moved over his flesh possessively, slid down the curve of his ass, the flat planes of his stomach, and slipped between his muscular thighs. It was currently being directed over his throat as he bent his head back even further, pressed his pale flesh into the spray and gasped as water streamed out of his mouth.
Harry couldn’t seem to stop himself. His hand was suddenly inches from Draco’s throat. His fingertips outstretched and brushed ever so gently where the water spray hit his flesh. That very dangerous feeling was rising in him again with his eyes caught on Draco’s mouth. Harry pulled his hand away, dipped his head, and blew on the back of Draco’s wet neck.
Draco groaned. The hand touching his neck reached forward to brace on the tile before him. The sponge was clutched soapy in his tight grasp, his movements stilled to feel the return of the strange torment very much like someone breathing on him. Harry shifted. His eyes moved to the curve of Draco’s neck and his hot breath followed. He watched Draco turn his body to direct the sensation until Harry was blowing across the center dip by his collarbone again. He raised up slowly and fanned breath over Draco’s throat, jaw, and gasping lips.
“Losing my fucking mind,” Draco mumbled dizzily with eyes shut tight under the water. Harry’s own breath was strained and he forced himself to step back while holding his hands flat against his sides to keep from reaching out. After a moment, Draco’s hand returned to his neck and his fingers brushed the trail Harry just took. “Fucking mad.”
Draco’s other hand dropped the loofah on the floor so his shaking fingers could curl around his erection. He was long, flesh flushed red as his cock rose up from his body. Draco pulled with slow, long tugs and used the water to smooth his motions. After a moment he let go. His fingers moved down, palm cupped his balls and caressed. Further still, his tense thighs spread to make room as his fingertips danced across his entrance.
Harry dragged his eyes up to his face, and found Draco’s ripe bottom lip worried between his teeth as he hesitated. Was this the first time? Harry groaned and bit his palm even though Draco couldn’t hear him. He assumed he liked to bottom. Probably because, well, fuck, because he wanted to fuck Draco’s, round, tight bottom. Had he never even touched himself there?
“Fuck, Malfoy, fucking do it,” Harry commanded hoarsely as he watched the struggle of embarrassment and want flicker over Draco’s face. “I think you’re going to like it. Pretty fucking sure you’re going to be begging for it.”
He stared intently when Draco’s expression slowly changed. Draco released his trapped red lip to pant, his brows furrowed tight as he suddenly gasped and body jerked. Harry’s gaze jumped down to watch as Draco stroked a finger inside his entrance, twisted and thrust to stretch his tight, virgin hole.
Harry leaned back against the shower tile a couple of feet away from Draco’s softly moaning form. He blindly fumbled for the zip on his jeans. He couldn’t pull his attention from where Draco’s long finger disappeared inside him, and then up to his face where his pink mouth was wide in gasping pleasure.
Malfoy would fucking stop if he touched him. He would stop, and freak, and never again shove fingers deep inside with hips bucking to bury them even further. And it was very, fucking, important Draco do this again. Preferably every time he touched himself, especially if he happened to be watching.
Oh hell, and he was begging for it. With hand fisted around his straining dick, Harry listened as Draco leaned his face against the cool tile and murmured while he pressed two fingers into his tight hole.
“Please. Oh, please. Fuck deeper. Just a bit deeper… uhn.” Draco whimpered when he withdrew his fingers. He moving around his outer thigh in the hopes to reaching deeper. He sheathed two fingers into his tight flesh again. His mouth gaped and air shattered out of him as he thrust his hips back onto his hand. “Oh, god. Oh… my… god. Fuck me. Yes.”
“Fucking told you, you fucking hot… sexy… prat.” Harry felt his resolve crumble as Draco continued a stream of very nasty, very desperate pleas for more. More length, more thickness, more force.
He would stop. There was no way Malfoy would continue if suddenly touched, and licked, and bit all over. No matter if Draco was currently aching for more and Harry had plenty more he would happily fucking give him.
“How do you like it, Malfoy? Shit, do you even know how you like it?” Harry turned his face so he was eye to eye with Draco’s moaning face resting on the tile wall. “Do you like it soft, slow, sweet? Or hard, and rough, and god damn savage? How do you like to be fucked, you gorgeous, beautiful bastard.” He watched as Draco’s white eyelashes fluttered. Draco peeked his tongue out and pressed it to the tile to lap in a firm, hard motion.
“Fucking hell. Holy fucking hell,” Harry whispered. He swallowed thickly, eyes caught on Draco’s very red tongue as he continued to lick the tile with abandon. Draco’s moans and gasps muffled into the unyielding wall while he pumped fingers inside his passage. “You like something in your mouth. Deep in your mouth. And someone touching your throat. Maybe a collar, so you can… can always feel something there. Mmm… something big, and long shoved up your tight ass. Pumping into you. Taking you. Filling you.”
Harry groaned and flicked his tongue out and ran it over the wall. It tingled from the feel of magic in the surface. “I would really like to be that big, long cock shoved in your hole.” He fought the urge to shut his eyes and give in to the feel of his palm running over his length in quick, desperate motions. Draco kept pushing back on his fingers, his knees shaking, tongue dancing over the tile, and he didn’t want to miss a thing.
With a desperate whimper, Draco turned and leaned his shoulder against the wall, unknowingly showing Harry his hard, smooth lines. Harry’s gaze was drawn down his pale form to linger on his belly button and the soft white hair dusting his navel and thicker at his groin. He watched as Draco took his free hand and wrapped red fingers around his flushed dick. He spread his legs wider as he began to rock, first pushing back onto his fingers and then thrusting into his fist. He looked like he’d done this a million times and knew how much he loved it.
“Fucking slutty, little tease,” Harry gritted out. His own hand sped up. Draco threw his head back and sobbed, rocking on his fingers, and swayed so fucking close he could feel the heat of his body. “That’s it, Draco, that’s it. Fucking take it. Fucking want it. You’re so close, aren’t you? So fucking close.”
“Oh god… Oh, fuck, yes. Fuck… fuck.” Draco gave a choked sob. His back arched when he added another finger roughly. Three now stretched his passage wide and made his entire body ache. It was so hot inside him, so slick and tight. His fingers squeezed together as his channel clenched around him in a desperate need to be full. “Oh fuck… need more… need. So good but not enough.”
“That’s it. Fuck, I could give you more.” Harry pressed closer. He made sure his fisted hand would be clear of his fisted hand as Draco’s hips continued to buck. He just really couldn’t stop himself. Harry leaned his head forward and blew softly over Draco’s throat and chin. “Come on, you fucking tease. You’re begging for it, and you’re so ready to come.” He watched Draco’s face; silver eyes blinked open to reveal such absolute want and confusion.
“Fucking… fucking can’t be,” Draco whimpered even as the familiar scent filled his senses once again. “Oh fuck… Oh, Harry.” He came with a gasp, his body tensed so tight he bowed backward and his cum splattered his stomach in long streams.
Harry watched, green eyes wide in shock as he jerked his release. His own orgasm ripped through his body and was nearly lost in the roar of his blood in his ears from when Draco said his name. How could he have…? Did he…?
What?
Draco swayed. With both hands he grabbed the wall behind him. He sank down to sit in the spray, his eyes fixed at the floor blindly as he caught his breath. “Holy fuck. Going crazy… Going fucking crazy.”
Harry had to fucking agree because there was no way Malfoy could know he was there. Not from a little air on his neck and just once, very soft fingers on his throat lost in the sensation of the shower. There was no fucking way.
He stared down at Draco, his eyes following his smooth neck which led to toned shoulders as he leaned forward. Draco’s knees were bent up and his long hands ran over his feet as he held his legs. Harry crouched down beside him and watched his ripe lips pant while he took in every healthy, fit inch of him. “You are fucking beautiful, Malfoy. Fucking magnificent. And you would never waste a fucking thought on me.”
Harry stood, fixed his jeans and sat all the way on the other side of the room. He was unwilling to leave, but also unwilling to stay so close to the one he desperately wanted to touch.
Draco let the warm water wash over him. He sat on the tiled floor, studying his hands and feet as they turned pink and pruned from being too long in the water.
If fucking himself with his fingers while thinking of Harry fucking Potter didn’t prove he was gay, he really didn’t know what the fuck would.
His mother wanted him to marry, have children, run the Ministry. Stupid, trivial shit he had little interest in but his mother was very determined about. Like it did so much good for his father. All the money he made and hours away from the house, just to end up a damn psycho, who murdered innocent defenseless muggles while secretly hoping to kill a boy the same age as his own son. A boy who did nothing wrong except live the first time some other psycho tried to kill him.
After taking a look at his family bloodlines, Draco was pretty certain kids were not the way to go. Very few of his relatives weren’t insane, murderous, or just fucking terrible people in general. There was Sirius Black… Nymphadora Tonks… and him. Since he was fairly certain he could smell someone who was dead for nearly a year, and not in a rotting way, he wasn’t so damn sure about himself anymore.
Serene Vellamorn, the pureblood Narcissa researched, pursued, and managed to contract into engagement with her gay son, did not have much of a better family history. Oh, sure, the occurrence of squibs and human hearted likely made their way in only to be struck out of record, but it had little effect on the young lady herself. She was wealth oriented and hateful. So hateful that on meeting her for the first time at thirteen, Draco decided he needed to change. Because talking so much shit about mudbloods and muggles just left you looking awfully dim and ugly.
Not that Serene wasn’t beautiful. His mother managed to find a girl as waif like and delicate as possible, almost as if she was hoping to make him look much more manly next to her. Draco feared they’d probably spend too much time fighting over the mirror, not to mention he’d likely cut out her tongue a week into the relationship just to prevent the horrible creature from speaking the things she spoke. How someone so lovely and privileged could hate the world so much was beyond him. Serene’s parents weren’t Death Eaters.
It didn’t matter. His fate was sealed. Draco made a promise to his father when the man was towering in rage. His strong fingers wrapped around his arm in a painful death lock were moments away from dragging him down the hall to his Dark Lord. He would stop insisting he was gay and continue the Malfoy bloodline if Lucius would not force the dark mark on him. It was one slavery for another.
Blaise and Pansy could speak all they liked about being under duress and in extenuating circumstances, but he made a promise. A promise which allowed him to stay free from the sick fuck, Voldemort, and alive for the final week before the Dark Lord died. Draco was not broken, corrupted, maimed, or harmed—unlike the other’s who received the mark while Lucius made him watch.
With Lucius jailed permanently, Draco was responsible for restoring the Malfoy name and making sure their bloodline continued. That was okay, even when his intended was hateful and dim, because he wasn’t marked by the Dark Lord and not tied to his power. Voldemort didn’t take his magic and strength into his battle. That one promise ensured Draco hadn’t assisted in the murder of Potter.
Still, it seemed Harry was determined to haunt him.
“Fucking hell. Fucking quidditch. Fucking Potter.” Muttering, Draco got to his feet, turned off the water spray and nearly fell. Darkness edged his vision and he swayed. “Fuck. I can’t eat, can’t sleep. Losing my motherfucking mind.” He grabbed a towel from the bar and wrapped himself in the fluffy black material to dry off.
“Over a fucking Quidditch game. Shit. I am losing my fucking shit. Haunted by a scent—Who the fuck does that? Who the fuck hexes someone’s dead scent everywhere?” Shaking his head in disbelief, Draco tossed his towel in the laundry and padded to his bureau in the other room to throw a pair of pajama pants on. He didn’t feel like eating. His stomach was still queasy at the slightest mention of food. He was tired and didn’t care how early it still was.
He crawled under his magically charmed sheets, enchanted to keep him warm in the chill dungeon air. It was his own fault, really. He paid too much attention to Potter, loving his fucking eyes, wanting his damn rude mouth. Even liking his messy hair. It was the color of chocolate, and always rumpled, and so very different from the people around him. Potter was wild, passionate, and not afraid to speak up for what he wanted in the face of every fucking terrible thing going on in the world. He was fearless.
Draco didn’t even know the meaning of the word. His parents didn’t know the meaning. They struck so much fear in him and yet, were filled with it themselves, afraid to be killed by the lord they served. All he had was fear. Fear and hope that he could escape one day. Potter was a big part of that hope. Fuck, Potter changed his entire world.
Then he disappeared. Each day Draco waited, waited for news he would be found—Alive, full of arrogance and triumph. Fuck, just alive would be enough. But they didn’t find him. Over half a year later, they weren’t going to find him because surely he was dead. And as that thought seeped into him, his hope left as well.
Potter changed his world but Draco couldn’t. He wasn’t fearless. He barely knew how to live.
Sleep clung. Draco felt breath move across his face and tickle his cheek. He reached up to rub the spot, sighed and let his hand rest and fingers curl. He had the nightmare again, the one where he was being chased by an unseen force. He didn’t have to see to know it was Voldemort. The monster’s presence was always the same mixture of terror and hopelessness in his mind. It was the dream where he was running but no matter how hard he tried, he was moving so slowly, just out of reach of the grasping claws…
He must have woken himself up crying out. It wouldn’t be the first time… No. Something woke him. A faint brush to his forehead, a warm weight on his lips… That’s what woke him.
Draco opened his eyes and blinked sleepily as he tried to see where the figure must surely be. Again, soft breath fanned so close and he peered in the direction. The dark didn’t revealing anything. He touched his lips and felt them tingle. When he breathed deep, Harry’s scent was very strong in his senses, like he was all around him.
“You must think it’s funny,” he whispered. “Some sort of fucking joke to drive me crazy. Haunting me.”
His eyelids drooped as sleep pulled him again. Draco turned his face towards the warm puffs of air, moved closer to where he could sense someone resting only inches away. “Jokes on you, Potter. I was already fucking crazy when it came to you.” His eyes fell shut and sleep washed back over him.
He was pulled again from sleep. Warm breath ghosted over his cheek, fanned across his mouth. Draco gasped softly when lips brushed his and fingertips gently touched his face. There was a soft exhalation next to his nose and warm lips pressed persistent until his own parted and a wet tongue met his.
Just as suddenly it pulled away. The heat left his mouth although fingers still gently stroked the side of his face. Draco breathed out unsteadily and eyelashes fluttered. The hand pulled away and he frowned and huffed. “S’alright… don’t leave.” Sleep again was calling him down. Lost moments slipped by and then the hand returned. Fingers traced his features as he drifted off to sleep.
This time he dreamed of summer and laughter.
Harry watched Draco sleep while he rested on the magic imbued sheets and wondered if he was losing his mind as well. He stayed in the bathroom for the longest time until he couldn’t bear it anymore. A part of him feared Draco left and he would again be alone with the strange bursts of energy tearing his body apart.
How the fuck did Malfoy know it was him? He said something about his scent. But how could Malfoy know what he smelled like? People smelled like people, not like individual people, just enough to recognize flesh and know another of the same species.
He bent close to Draco’s ear and intentionally breathed in his scent for the first time. Harry hadn’t smelled another living being besides Fawkes in months. Draco didn’t smell like the slightly dusty, fire-soaked bird. But he didn’t quite smell like what Harry remembered other people to smell like either. What he did smell like was amazing, that was for certain.
Could this have to do with Malfoy’s glowing white form of feathers and scales? Did maybe that part of Draco sense him in a different way than how normal people sensed each other? It was the only place they actually touched, on that fifth plane of existence. Maybe it was there that Malfoy could recognize him. Maybe Draco could even recognize him before when he wasn’t trapped out of sync with the world.
Draco sat in at least two different planes of existence every moment of his life, one of them very much being the dimension Harry needed to get back to. Surely, somehow, Malfoy was the key to getting him whole again. Harry breathed up his neck and tried to absorb. He wanted remember his scent the same way Draco knew his. Without his consent, his tongue flicked out and caught on his skin. If Draco smelled amazing, he tasted even more so.
Harry wasn’t sure why he was having such a difficult time controlling himself. He touched Draco in the shower and was licking him now. Even as he stared at Draco’s sleeping face and told himself not to, he knew he was going to lick him again. He bent his head, his tongue wide and flat as he ran from Draco’s collar up the long column of his pale throat until he reached his jaw. Draco shifted in his sleep, murmuring softly. Still, he couldn’t stop himself. Harry licked him again while breathing in his sweet scent and trailing saliva over Draco’s sensitive neck.
He could bite him right on the side of his warm flesh. He could sink his teeth in, clamp his jaws tight and… And something. Harry wasn’t exactly sure what biting Draco was supposed to do but the dangerous spark bubbling in him since he realized Draco was alive seemed to have a voice. That voice knew biting Malfoy would be a very, very good thing to do. Shaking his head, Harry licked Draco instead. He trailing another long swipe to soothe the neck he tormented so readily just earlier that day.
He gazed at Draco’s face, who was finally calm now free of nightmares and deep in sleep. Was it worth going back? Did he want to live like before, where he never had a chance to be this close to Draco Malfoy?
Maybe he really was going mad.
Blaise was waiting for Draco at the breakfast table. The entire Slytherin quidditch team was surrounding him, dressed in their uniforms in preparation for the game. Blaise had a fortifying draught in hand and an apology.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made it about me.” Blaise pushed the vial towards Draco when he sat.
Draco nodded distractedly. His eyes scanned around him as he sought something out. He was so certain last night in the dark with Potter’s scent and breath on his face. But when he woke, nothing. Just a faint linger of scent and fucking nothing else.
Looking at the draught, Draco decided it was better to try and focus on the game than deal with his swirling, desperate thoughts of insanity. He pulled the stopper out and sipped the warming fluid. He closed his eyes as warmth flowed through him, the potion strengthening his weak limbs and pushing the dark buzz out from his mind. After a few moments his stomach settled, the warmth calming him even there.
Draco slowly took the plate Blaise offered, cut a piece of pancake off and touched it to his tongue. There was no revulsion from the flavor, no churning in his stomach. He bit down and slowly chewed. It felt strange after so long of not eating. His teammates started perking up as he continued to eat with steady bites. The warmth filled him more and strengthened his resolve to make it through the day and the bloody match to come.
Blaise was glancing at him worriedly again, which was odd seeing as he was finally eating. Draco raised an inquiring brow and sipped some juice.
“Sorry,” Blaise mumbled. “Just, you seem very still today. Like that other time last year.”
Draco turned to his plate silently and chewed on a piece of bacon. The last time Blaise called him still was right before he admitted to wanting to kill himself to escape being a Death Eater. “I’m fine… sort of. It’s not that, I promise. It will never be that again, Blaise. I’m just a little confused lately.”
Blaise nodded. Relief was clear on his dark features. “Today is just one day. It’ll be done by tomorrow and then it won’t ever be this day again.”
Draco nodded and swallowed down another bite of food. “And I won’t have to think about him again.”
“If that’s what you want.” Blaise drank down his pumpkin juice and let the conversation drop.
Draco wasn’t sure if it was what he wanted but it wasn’t not like he had many options when it came to Potter. He could continue to allow himself to go insane, hallucinating scents, and breaths, and invisible kisses. Or he could finally let the memory of him go.
Just, starting tomorrow.
“Alright, men. This is a particularly important game today,” Draco said. His face raised to meet the gazes of his quidditch teammates. the green and silver uniforms distracted him a moment as he thought of Harry’s eyes looking into his. “I have never asked this of you, and I will likely never ask it again. I want a clean game. No matter what those bloody lions throw at us, I want it clean in his honor. Because of the fucking life he gave us while he gave up his own. Agreed?”
They agreed, even Theodore. The fire in his eyes burned in understanding today instead of confusion at being so very wrong yesterday.
“We’re going to give it our all, like we always do. And so are they. So expect a damn good fight and a damn good game.” Draco stood and smacked Goyle on the back with a grim smile. The group got up and filed out of the Great Hall to get the rest of their gear from the locker room.
Harry watched from the teacher’s table where he was sitting between plates in front of Hagrid’s large form. Malfoy seemed more himself, if not very solemn. Stronger since the potion Blaise gave him. A potion he watched Hermione hand to Blaise before Draco got to the table. Harry was grateful his friends were so amazing even now. Even with him not there to ask of them, they were still the good-hearted, best friends he loved.
It was relieving to know they would help watch over Draco if he never… well. It was good to not have to worry about the prat being alone and without friends. People cared about Malfoy, even if he seemed to be shutting them out at the moment.
Harry had kept his distance the instant Draco started to wake up that morning, standing far out of reach as he got up. He watched the change, the way Draco’s tired silver eyes slowly focused. A small furrow took his brow and then a pout to his mouth as he ran fingers softly to his lips and then down his throat. He snapped right after, eyes clear, head jerking up. His hands immediately touched beside him on the bed where Harry was sitting minutes ago.
Draco knew; Harry was certain after that. Somehow Malfoy could sense when he was near. Enough, that to be close to him would be to reveal he still existed. Maybe it was body heat Draco picked up through the nerves of his sensitive skin. Touch went both ways; if Draco could sense when he touched him, he’d be able to sense the small prickling of hair as heat and air brushed by his skin. Especially now he knew enough to look.
Draco was looking for him. With hands wide, he moved around the room, his frown growing with each step revealed nothing. Harry backed through the closed bathroom door and then slipped around and into the bedroom when Draco thought to check there for him as well.
Why did he run? Harry still wasn’t a hundred percent certain. It seemed like the right thing at the time when Draco was glaring and hunting him down, his nostrils twitching and head tilted just waiting for him to slip up and reveal himself. Maybe because another flare just occurred, like Harry’s body was reminding him he was falling apart. Did he want to tempt the both of them with the possibility of saving him when it was probably too late already?
Harry didn’t really know. He watched Draco crumple and sit back on the bed when no sign of him was found. He almost went to him then but thought again better of it. What was the fucking point, really? What would Malfoy be able to do everyone else hadn’t, except feel him slip further away until there was nothing left? It would be wrong to put him through that. It would too hard on Harry to know he dealt another blow to someone surprisingly sensitive.
So Harry just watched Draco get ready for the game. Eyes stormy and lost, Draco barely glanced in the mirror, so confident of his appearance. He washed his face, spelled his teeth clean, stripped his beautiful pale body and dressed for battle. Harry stayed very still as he leaned against the bedroom wall and waited for Draco to step through the door to the hall. He slipped out behind him and Draco’s hair nearly, so nearly brushed his face as it hung loose around his shoulders. Draco kept walking after locking his door, oblivious, and Harry stepped ahead.
He thought to go somewhere else—Dumbledore’s office, the library to look up Malfoy’s ancestry—anywhere but another trip of following Draco around. But still, Harry couldn’t seem to stop himself. He ended up following him to the Great Hall and watched the curious looks Draco gained from walking in tired and weak.
Harry would sit with his house and watch the match from the sidelines. Hell, he might even steal the teachers’ seats. It wasn’t like anyone would care. After that he would have to decide what the fuck he was doing following around Draco Malfoy, standing far too close while watching him wank, and sleep, and dream.
The air was just starting to get a hint of spring to push back the frozen wind of winter. The students and teachers below were in their seats dressed in colorful scarfs. They cheered and waved with shining eyes and red noses as they gazed up at the Quidditch match. Draco spent most of his time above his fellow teammates, only swooping in once in a while to distract, and lure, and all around annoy.
Somehow the normal thrill of flying was gone that day. The fortifying draught warmed him but still he was numb. He was playing for a ghost, a ghost currently haunting him in a terribly tormenting fashion. That it started now seemed less a coincidence and more cruel. Right before this stupid match against a seeker who just couldn’t compare. Beneath it all, Draco felt bone-wearily tired.
Asking for a clean game was difficult on his house even though they were keeping to the promise. The less the Slytherins cheated, the more they took to fighting. They were unsure without their natural cunning. Usually when they felt cornered, they could rely on a stray bludger at the keeper or a swift elbow to the more competitive chasers to raise morale. Now all they could do was shoot their mouths off. Dull to play but the crowd loved it.
As did the Gryffindors. Ron Weasley was a strange cross between ferocious and solemn, with odd moments of laughter hitting his eyes, only to shut down and be replaced with a fierce scowl. Their team was completely unsettled with the Slytherins playing fair. The lions were ready for blood, but no one was willing to spill it first. For the best. Fighting now would be fucking brutal. Even if they all needed the pain to feel alive.
Draco watched the vicious battle between the four beaters. Vince was nearly cracked on the skull before he got himself righted. They weren’t doing poorly, they were almost even at the moment just trailing behind Gryffindor. But no one was feeling right and Draco supposed he needed to stir things up again.
He dropped down and ignored the foolish girl trailing behind. If she bothered looking for the snitch on her own, he didn’t know about it. She had been on his ass since the start of the game. Weasley probably sent her on a simple mission given her very green nature to the sport. Pathetic.
With a swift swoop, Draco descended in a nose dive and laughed inwardly when the Gryffindor seeker tried to keep up. He stopped mid dive, flipped back and met the wide-eyed girl face to face. He gifted her his more well-known superior smirk as she went flying by, unable to stop in time. Her eyes were blue—Nothing like the brilliant green he was unconsciously expecting, and he scowled. She ended up in a pile with one of her teammates and he cursed himself for hating her. It wasn’t her fault she wasn’t Potter. No one was Harry Potter. Not anymore.
He flew up above the pitch again, away from the noise and dullness of it all and waited patiently for the flicker of gold to finally reveal so they could finish the mockery of a match.
Was it a dream? Was it just a hallucination brought on by not enough food and a whole lot of stress? He never once thought he was woken up by a kiss, or ti someone sitting very close, next to him yet unseen.
Draco swooped and barrel-rolled idly as his mind whirred. That wasn’t quite true, was it? There was Karia, his sweet pet. His protector for his younger years before he started Hogwarts and left his parents’ house. Soft furred, winged, with four long delicate legs and antlers that rose up. Draco never saw Karia. He could only guess her from how she felt to his touch. His parents sneered and told him there was no such thing as imaginary animals. Draco agreed; there was no such thing as imaginary anything but Karia was real, not some sort of fantasy.
He let his eyes stray to the Forbidden Forest stretched out to the right of him. There were things in there similar to Karia but much more dangerous. Creatures who stalked him once when he was foolish enough to get too close to the forest. Unseen creatures who could communicate just like Karia through thought speak. He could sense them, although never see…
A shout broke Draco back to the game. The Gryffindor seeker wove furiously through the Slytherin side of the pitch where a glint of gold hovered. As if sensing her approach, the snitch took off and whizzed in the opposite direction. Draco was behind it like a shot, his body so in tune with his broom it was effortless to fly and direct.
He spun around blurs of reds and greens, a garish Christmas crashing around him. Players tried to stop anyone from aiding and prevent him at the same time. He effortlessly slipped through, past players and furious bludgers, and left the poor rival seeker far behind where she was caught up in awkward turns and sudden dips. It was over in mere moments.
The snitch fluttered in his hand as Draco descended slowly to the ground. A numbness settled in once again. How many times did he reach out, gold just brushing his fingertips, to have Potter snatch the snitch right from his grasp with brilliant eyes blazing in triumph? He would never have that again. This was just like any other match against any other team. It didn’t fucking mean anything.
Draco blinked up and was surprised to find Madame Hooch next to him and the crowd cheering all around as they gathered on the field.
“The snitch, Mr. Malfoy,” Madame Hooch asked politely. Draco handed it over stiffly. A shout quickly went up when Slytherin was announced victorious. Staring blindly at the joyful faces, Draco slowly turned and began to walk towards the school.
The Slytherin team ran after to try to congratulate him. “Draco, great bloody catch!” Greg cheered, but Draco slipped away before he could be hugged.
“What did you say? Draco, are you all right?” Vince pulled on his sleeve.
It woke something up in Draco. The numbness pushed aside for hot anger as he tore his robe from his friend’s grasp. “I’m not fucking alright—I fucking quit! Now get the hell out of my way,” he snarled and pushed through the crush of taller players threatening to trap him on the field. He marched through the locker room and back into the school, his only hope everyone would stay the fuck away.
Draco pushed into his room, threw his broom across the small space and watched it smash into the stone wall. Bristles fluffed out and rained down in every direction. “Fuck. Fuck!” He whirled, slammed the door behind him and then screamed into the warded space. “You just had to fucking die, you fucking ass! What’s the fucking point! What is the goddamn fucking point of trying so fucking hard if you’re not there to compete! You fucking ruined everything!”
He turned and punched the door, his knuckles splitting and blood dripping. “Fucking Voldemort! Fucking piece of shit stealing every fucking thing from me! My home. My father. My mother. My fucking life! And then Him. You fucking stole the last fucking hope left! Wasn’t it enough, all those other things? Why did you have to take him too? Fuck… Fucking hell.”
He was crying, Draco realized dully. He touched his face with his bloodied hand. Turning, he leaned heavily against the door with head down, his good hand holding his throbbing one. “You fucking reckless asshole. You never had a sensible bone in your body. Kept looking for fucking trouble until your luck ran out. And fuck, you died! You fucking died! Even though—No. No don’t!”
Draco threw his hands up to ward off the sudden weight of arms as Harry’s scent surrounded him. “No. Stop doing this to me! You’re a lie! A fucking insane hallucination. Because you’re dead, Potter. Fucking dead!” He fought against the surprisingly strong, solid arms that pressed him back into the door and wrapped tight. His tear fell and stuck in the air before him and Draco froze. He watched as the droplet dripped down something, someone who smelled just like Harry.
“God… why are you doing this to me?” Draco whimpered as he felt fingers brush his face to wipe his tears away. Hair, soft and tickling, feathered against his cheek when Harry’s face pressed against his neck and he was wrapped tighter. Pulled down to the ground, he was crushed by arms and chest, and a strong jaw rested against the top of his head. Draco sobbed into a warm, invisible collar, his moist breath hitting his face as it bounced off flesh.
He was not a crier, not since small and aware crying could get a child killed by men as terrible as his father. Draco didn’t cry for anything beyond a few stray tears swiftly hidden before they flowed. But now, in this insanity he cried because it was all just too fucking crazy and he didn’t know what else to do.
He cried until he ached and was empty, his throat raw and eyes burning. Through it all, Harry rocked him. His breath ruffled his hair, arms held him tight, and large hands rubbed up and down his shaking arms and shoulders. Eventually, Draco could slow the irrational gasps for air and after, could stop gulping and trembling like a crazy person who had no fucking control left. He closed his eyes and panted softly while resting his head against an invisible, muscular shoulder. He couldn’t help but wonder dimly why Potter wasn’t wearing a shirt.
“You’re a fucking ass,” Draco mumbled as fingers brushed through his hair and combed and soothed with each touch. Suddenly something sparked next to his face from the surface he was resting on. Draco flinched away with a yelp. “Ow.” he touched his cheek and felt the remaining sting. “What the fuck was that?”
A hand lifted his and pressed it to the top of thick messy head of hair. Beneath his palm, the head turned; first left to right, and then up and down. Draco sighed in understanding. “You can’t speak.” The head shook and Draco’s hand was moved again. Lips brushed his flesh as Harry spoke into his palm. Draco gasped and quickly pulled away from the sensation. “Fine, I can’t hear you,” he mumbled. His eyes looked downcast as he was hit with a wave of self consciousness.
Draco’s hand was grabbed again and pressed flat against the hair-strewn forehead. Draco looked up to stare at the room behind where his hand rested. He closed his eyes and focused on his hand and the strands of hair. He ran fingers through, seeking out the ripple of flesh he never touched but was certain he would recognize. Sure enough, a small lightning-bolt shaped dip with ragged edges was discovered beneath the silky fringe. Draco pressed his thumb against it and brushed gently.
“Scarhead.” He smiled shakily. “It’s really fucking you. You’re really alive.” He continued exploring. His fingers brushed over eyebrows, fanned wide, and found the edge of Harry’s face. He traced down to his cheekbone. “You’ve lost your glasses. Half blind and invisible. You’re damn useless, Potter.”
Harry smiled in the flat of his palm and Draco tried very hard to not gasp. He went to pull his hand away but Harry’s grip was strong on his wrist. Lips brushed over his fingertips and Draco was certain he was going a bit mad again. He swallowed, opened his eyes and blinked at his hand as soft, warm flesh ghosted his skin. It was the one he punched the door with and his blood was everywhere.
“Hold on, you’ve got blood.” Draco grabbed his sleeve and tried to wipe the red stain off of Harry’s face, only to have the fabric go right through. “What the…?” Peering closer, Draco deliberately tried his quidditch robe sleeve. Again the material slipped right through. “Potter, I think this is a problem. It’s almost like only I can touch you.”
He ran his thumb over one of the red spots and the blood slipped away onto his own flesh. Draco stared at the pad of his thumb and then again the spot in the air. He slowly realized hot breath was puffing against his cheek and he was actually very close to Harry’s face. A warm shiver moved down his spine at the thought and his eyes slid from where he could feel Harry’s stare. He took a steadying breath and carefully began to brush all the little spots of blood away on Harry’s lips and nose. He could feel his skin firm and warm under this thumb.
“Potter, we should, uh, take you to see Dumbledore. Get you righted.”
Harry’s face again pressed into his palm. Draco felt the bridge of his nose, touch of lips against his wrist and then a nod. “Alright, let’s—Hey!” Harry suddenly stood and hauled Draco up, then held him tight. He spoke something against his skin Draco couldn’t understand, but likely something to do with relief of being found. Flustered, Draco could only focus on the fact every part of his body felt like it was touching bare skin. Harry’s bare skin.
“Let me go. Right now,” Draco whispered breathlessly as he pushed at the unseen arms. He felt Harry still, his hold relaxing but not fully releasing him. Draco was feeling very hot, his head swimming dizzily to realize just how close Harry was. Draco grabbed his arms—for balance or pushing away he couldn’t decide—and noticed Harry’s biceps flexing beneath his fingers were thick, powerful and bare. As was the hard chest pressed against his and the strong abs flush against his own flat stomach and then lower, where things started to get very hot and confusing when he dared to think about it. “Potter, please. You’re not, um… Clothing isn’t working properly.”
Harry slowly untangled his arms from around him. Draco was far too busy squeezing his eyes shut and willing his body’s reaction down to fully notice. He did notice when Harry’s hands suddenly touched down on his waist—his seemingly bare waist. His palms were large, hot and a bit scratchy against his smooth flesh. Draco bit his lip hard and hissed softly. He felt like the biggest damn fool but was unable to stop just how wild and very hot he felt.
“Let go. All the way.” Draco whispered. He shuddered when Harry eventually complied; Harry’s hands ran up his sides, palms pressed in firmly, fingers dragging slowly until he reached his arms and finally relented. Draco stood, rooted and swaying for long, dizzying moments while his fast breaths panted free. Harry’s hands seemed very large compared to his stomach. It was an odd thought to focus on, but the one he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about.
“You’re taller,” Draco muttered, then shook his head. He ran a hand over his face and realized he must be a fucking sight after crying and flying all day. “Uh, let me just wash my face. I’ll be quick.” He strode into the bathroom before he could think of a reason not to. In the quiet of the small room he splashed cool water over his face repeatedly and tried to restore some intelligence to his lust addled mind. Potter was fucking invisible. Hardly a goddamn sight to be aroused by. Yet Draco felt like some stupid, sex-crazed idiot all of a sudden.
He sighed heavily down at the sink. He ran his hands under the faucet and slicked his hair back into some kind of order. His eyes were red rimmed and face a little splotchy, but otherwise nothing was glaringly wrong with him.
Draco returned to the other room and looked around in confusion. “Potter—Shit!” He jumped when Harry’s arm suddenly touched his hip. Not his robes, or his pants, but his bare side. It was very much flesh touching warm flesh and it left him heart-poundingly dizzy. “We need to get you a fucking bell.” Draco licked his lips and started towards the door.
As if realizing his mistake, Harry’s hand moved up and stayed at the center of his back, blessfully away from his hip. His touch was a solid, hot reminder as Draco opened the door, shut it behind and made his way down the corridor towards the Headmaster’s office.
Harry didn’t know what to feel while Dumbledore sat and peered twinkly eyes at where he was standing behind Draco. The headmaster couldn’t see him at all. Harry wasn’t even sure he should be doing this. He planned to not bothering Malfoy, to not reveal he was still alive because of just how short a time it might be.
Of course, once again he followed the prat, concerned with how listless Draco seemed when he landed after catching the snitch. Then Draco was yelling—and fuck, the crying. The fucking crying over him dying was a damn nightmare and Harry couldn’t help but reach out to him. Who the hell would have guessed Draco Malfoy was hiding so much depth beneath his perfect hair and creamy skin? But he was and it just poured out on the floor as he sobbed and Harry held him tight.
And well, he sounded a bit more than sad, hadn’t he? Like maybe Malfoy missed him as more than just some classmate. Like he was someone he might have a crush on. Like Draco might just say his name in the shower while touching himself.
It felt good to hold another human being again, to feel such warmth again against his skin. It was easy to sink into the smell of flesh, the feel of soft rhythm of breath and pulse of Draco’s heart. It was extra good because it was Malfoy. With his soft hair, and such smooth skin, Harry didn’t want to move. He wanted to stay there forever with Draco’s breath warming his skin and his tears drying between them.
There was a problem when it came to touching Draco, one Harry noticed the other night when he licked him. It was difficult to stop once he started. He kept wanting to touch Draco again, to press against him, run his tongue over him. It was a problem Harry was still struggling with while Draco and Dumbledore talked.
While talking, Malfoy sipped a cup of tea now his hands finally stopped their incessant shaking. The two of them were already through the preliminary stages of, ‘Yes, Harry is alive. No, I can’t hear him. Yes, I can touch him, but no, it doesn’t seem anyone else can.’ It was a lot and they were throwing around theories of why Draco could be tangible to Harry but no one else.
Draco was biting his lip and Harry couldn’t help but press his hand to the side of his pale, beautiful face. Draco’s gaze looked up and through him. “Ever since I was young, strange creatures have… I guess you could say they’re drawn to me.” Draco’s eyes were full of anxiety when he looked to Dumbledore. “They aren’t always friendly. Sometimes they’re plain frightening. I had a pet when I was young. My parents said she was imaginary but she was real. That sounds crazy, I know.” Draco stopped and smacked his hand to his forehead. Harry was quick to pry it free. Instead of releasing him, he twined their fingers together.
Draco lost his train of thought and stared at here his hand was caught. Harry wasn’t sure why he kept grabbing him so boldly but Malfoy hadn’t told him to stop. Eyes blinking, Draco continued talking. “I know it sounds crazy. But I wouldn’t be here, putting my sanity in questions, if I wasn’t certain that Potter was alive.”
“I don’t think you’re insane, Draco,” Dumbledore assured even as Draco looked doubtful. “I’ll have to speak with an old acquaintance of mine, then we can start from there. Do you know if this gift runs in your family? It would be a great help if you could give me as much information you have on it. I believe it’s the only clue we to have to what has happened to Harry.”
Harry watched as Draco’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared. Malfoy jumped to his feet and pulled from Harry’s hand. “You’re going to call my mother, aren’t you? Oh hell, she’ll kill me. Shit, don’t tell her it’s for Potter! Please, just don’t mention him.”
Harry stepped around Draco’s pacing form, and rested on Dumbledore’s magic infused desk. He wasn’t sure just why Draco was so worried. Dumbledore spoke behind him, just as confused. “Mr. Malfoy, your mother has been clear with her loyalty for you. I don’t believe she’ll be upset.”
Draco snorted. His hand pulled mindlessly at his shining locks. “Right, because the woman who married my psycho father is totally not going to finish the job once she discovers Potter’s alive.” Draco snarled it with such conviction, Harry gaped at a loss for words. Draco’s parents were clearly fucked up.
“Are you suggesting she would be a danger to Harry?” Dumbledore asked slowly, his fingers bridged as he sat forward at his desk.
Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation. “That’s a nice way to put it. I doubt she’d do anything outright, but I’m sure she’ll tell anyone who can and find a way to take him out while he’s weak.”
“I hardly think that’s a concern. You’re the only one who can even touch him,” Dumbledore pointed out.
Draco took a deep breath and slowed his pacing. He came to a stop in front of Dumbledore’s desk and right next to Harry. He looked genuinely worried at the idea of protecting Harry from another fucked up relative. It was kind of sad.
“Listen, I know this won’t make sense,” Draco said solemnly, eyes full of concern. “There’s something wrong with him. Something unstable in his life force is sparking. I sensed it earlier and I’ve seen it once, in another of those creatures… right before it died.” Draco looked around suddenly and turned back to his chair.
Harry realized he was looking for him and reached his hand out. Draco was damn jumpy, he noticed as he took in his flushed face. He stepped up and grabbed Draco’s other hand.
“Potter, stay out of the Forbidden Forest while you’re like this, okay? There are creatures out there. Dangerous. I don’t know what they want, but they’ve stalked me before. In your condition, well, I think you should be careful.”
He wanted to ask how Draco knew so much; knew it was him, knew he was sick, knew the creatures were foe and not friends. But he couldn’t. All he could do was raise Draco’s hand to his head and nod to let him know he would comply.
Draco gave a sigh of relief and relaxed. “Sir, my parents never believed me about my pet or the creatures. I seriously doubt it would be worth risking Potter to ask.”
Dumbledore seemed more interested in Draco’s hand resting in mid air on Harry’s head. “Harry, can you show me just how tangible you are with him?”
Harry smirked while Draco looked confused. “Like what—Damn it!” Draco yelped when Harry lifted him. His hands flew to his invisible shoulders for stability. “Potter, you could have warned me. Put me down.”
Harry refused, too busy staring into Draco’s stunning eyes as he blinked down in his general direction. With a smirk, Harry lifted him higher.
“Shit. When did you get so strong?” Draco asked breathlessly.
Harry couldn’t say. He knew his magic and strength were monstrous when he fought Voldemort in this realm. It was difficulty to focus when Draco’s waist was just so warm where his hands gripped. This time Harry was very careful to not press against him and wreck havoc on the both of them. He glanced over to Dumbledore, who passed his hands through him and was staring at where it appeared Draco was hovering in the air.
“Very interesting. It really does seem all he can touch is you. Your robes aren’t even bunched. Harry can you put him down and touch a spot we can see?”
Harry gently lowered Draco to the floor. He wasn’t blind to the haze in Draco’s beautiful silver eyes. He moved closer and felt Draco stiffen in response, gaze following to where his breath hit his cheek. Harry carefully ruffled his blond hair, threading fingers in and raising the strands up. He didn’t have to stand so close for this but couldn’t seem not to. It helped Draco looked ridiculously cute with his hair a mess.
“Amazing. Yes, we have something here…” Dumbledore mussed. His hands carefully touched Draco’s hair. He noted how it resisted being moved but he could still press his hand through where Harry’s hand should be. “I’ll send note to McVicar today; he has experience with other realities. I suspect it’s what we’re dealing with here, some sort of dimensional drift.”
Harry quickly moved Draco’s head in a nodding motion and Draco smacked his hand in response. “Potter seems to agree, Sir—Stop dragging me around!” Harry would have apologized but couldn’t, so instead picked the now extremely irritated Malfoy up by his arms and placed him in front of Fawkes. He moved Draco’s hand to then point at the bird.
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled again as he stepped towards his phoenix. “Yes, I think I’m beginning to understand. Can you touch Fawkes as well, Harry?”
Harry gently ruffled the sleeping bird’s feathers across it’s fluffy breast so they could all see. Draco peered very close, oblivious to where Harry was in relation. Harry felt a spark of danger again, one he was sure wouldn’t go over well at all considering the situation.
“Harry, I know that the circumstances are a bit odd but I can’t help but recall seeing a lot of your friends out watching the game today,” Dumbledore said. “If Draco would be willing, I’d like to invite them up to see you. Well, not see. But to know that you are well. Would that be okay with the two of you?”
Harry wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but Draco, reluctant as he seemed, said yes. Harry pressed Draco’s hand to his forehead and nodded as well. As Dumbledore called owls, Harry watched Draco, who sat again and looked exhausted. With Dumbledore around, Draco practically ignored Harry and he was finding it annoying. He didn’t know if it was personal, or if Malfoy just didn’t want to look like he was talking to himself.
He knelt next to Draco and peered at the side of his face. He remained until Draco scowled from the feel of his breath curling around his ear and turned toward him. “Potter, don’t you fucking dare start. I figured out it was you in class yesterday. If you can torment me, I can bloody well punch you. Got it?”
Maybe he was just tired and cranky. Harry carefully reached up and brushed fingers to his frown. Draco gasped and caught his wrist. “Seriously, you need to stop that,” Draco hissed softly, although his anger had curbed.
Maybe Draco didn’t really understand he wanted to shag him into the nearest sturdy surface. How many ways did he have to get this damn close before Malfoy figured out that he wasn’t being weird and oblivious, but intentionally seductive? “Malfoy… you’re a bit dim. Like dense even.”
Harry cupped his face in his hands. He watched Draco’s eyes blink crystal, then gaze lower when Harry’s breath teased over his mouth. “Potter…?”
“You really are fucking dense. Wow.” The mumbled words did something to Draco; his eyelids grew heavy and lips parted slightly as his breathing sped up. Draco jerked back the moment Dumbledore stepped back into the room and kept his gaze fixed anywhere but near Harry.
Harry gave an annoyed sigh and stood. He was restless but Draco’s stubbornness rarely had limits. He walked to the back of his chair and rested his hands on Draco’s shoulders while they waited.
Draco could not remember seeing so many Weasleys in one place ever. It seemed when they were together, their numbers somehow increased exponentially. Nearly all six siblings came to watch Ron play, Percy the only one off doing Ministry related things. Along with Granger, the werewolf Remus, and Draco’s cousin Sirius, it was a packed house in Dumbledore’s office. Sofas and chairs of all shapes and sizes were spelled up to house the lot of them. The Headmaster stepped out with Snape to converse by floo with the specialist he hoped could help with Harry.
An hour in, Draco was pretty sure he was going to lose his shit. It was already a difficult day, what with the quidditch match, and his breakdown and all. Now he had to deal with countless gropings. Bill noticed you could actually feel where Harry touched Draco’s skin. And of course, they all had needed to try it. Repeatedly. Not to mention fucking Potter kept touching his neck, like a god damn ass, until Draco promised he was going to curse every single one of them if they didn’t keep it to the back of his hand.
Granger came up with the bloody brilliant—and it was actually brilliant—idea to have Harry move his hand around while Draco held a quill so he could finally communicate. It would have been fine, except to do it, Harry wrapped himself up tight around Draco’s back. His head leaned on his shoulder to see while he held Draco’s chest for balance. It was a lot of skin on bare skin with things lining up in ways which made Draco remember a particular ache. It was all very maddening. Especially now Harry was permanently breathing down his neck. Much longer, and Draco was fairly certain he was going to melt into a puddle of goo.
Ha, see them try to converse with Potter then.
Everyone leaned in to focus once again on whatever Draco’s hand spewed next.
My magic doesn’t work properly here. My wand was destroyed and I’ve been having difficulty keeping in control.
They already went over the big things like making sure Voldemort was really, really dead. And Harry wasn’t actually dead. Apparently Potter was concerned about his condition and well, feeling each spark as Harry pressed up against him, Draco was getting concerned as well. There were the pleasantries. The apologies for having never found Harry or realizing what happened. Also many please don’t annoy Malfoy moments, which seemed to be increasing the longer Draco was forced to be a living quill while fighting an erection.
Thankfully, all the crying finally stopped. Ginny was just down to sniffs and Sirius ceased his loud bawling only moments before her. Draco didn’t know if Sirius gave him hope for his bloodline or more concern of insanity dwelling. Considering how the man was sprawled over the werewolf, he had to imagine Sirius wouldn’t be siring children anytime soon to find out.
Dumbledore came in and interrupted the flow of conversation for more information. He handed Draco a new roll of parchment. “Harry, I need as much information about the dimension you share with Draco as you can think of. Please, every minuscule thing. It could be the defining factor in figuring out how to bring you back.”
Draco sighed and cricked his neck to the side. “Must you? My hand is cramping up.” He shuddered as air fell in snickering bursts over his neck. “Potter! What did I tell you about tickling me? Get away from my neck,” Draco growled. He twisted his shoulders back and forth, hoping to throw Harry off as the room went silent.
Draco raised his eyes to find everyone staring at him. “What? Read the bloody paper and leave me alone already.” He huffed and rolled his eyes, then caught sight of what Harry just wrote.
You know you like it.
“Bloody—You are so dead, scarhead!” Draco snarled. He stood so he could beat the crap out of the annoying git. He was hampered by Harry’s arms when he grabbed him expectantly by the shoulders like he knew he was going to get angry. This revelation naturally made Draco angrier. “Let go, you bloody wanker!”
“Well, I’m definitely convinced now,” Sirius said with a grin. His eyebrows wagged.
“Indeed,” Bill agreed while whistling low. “I think you’ve been hiding something from us, Harry.”
Fred and Ron both shrugged. “Not really. He was kind of clear about it last year,” Fred said and threw a whizzer at his twin. “You weren’t home at the time.”
Hermione kindly reached forward and crossed the line off the page with the dropped quill. “Ignore him, Malfoy. Harry hasn’t talked to anyone in months. He’s probably feeling a bit silly. I’m sorry this has been so difficult on you but we really appreciate all your help.” She gave her most agreeable smile and Draco, damn him, found himself nodding back as his anger drained.
Glaring at everyone in the room, Draco sat. “Potter, you have half an hour, then I’m through playing quill for the day. I suggest you get writing while my hand is still attached.” He bowed his head and stared determinedly at the table. Harry once again settled behind him, far too close and hot in his strong arms. Draco swallowed hard.
I’ll make it up to you.
“Not bloody likely,” Draco grumbled. His lashes lowered as heat fanned over his neck. He stilled, his eyes closed when Harry kissed the back of his neck for a slow moment. Draco went to snap again, but thought better of it with so many people staring at him curiously. Instead he shrugged his shoulders and tried to move Harry away from his odd display.
Seriously, was Potter trying to piss him off so much he’d start kissing at him?
“So, Harry, how come you haven’t fallen through the floor yet?” Hermione stared down at the paper expectantly.
The castle is full of magic. The earth too but not as solid. I can stand and hold anything with enough magic in it.
“That could be useful,” Remus mussed. “We might be able to make you your own pen, at the very least.”
“Ah, and now I’m listening,” Draco perked. He watched his hand move across the page. Potter’s handwriting wasn’t too bad, now they’d gotten the hang of things.
I would really appreciate it. So would Malfoy.
“I am not a fan of being a puppet,” Draco agreed.
“So… is that why you can touch Malfoy, then?” Ron asked. “He’s full of magic?”
Draco raised his brows, actually wondering as well. “Do you know why, Potter? I always wondered why those strange creatures would seek me out.”
I can see why. But I don’t want to alarm you. Harry wrote hesitantly.
“Well, now you really have to say, don’t you?” Sirius said flatly. “Talk about suspense.”
Draco took his free hand and buried his face in it for a moment. He massaged his eyebrows. “Just tell me, Potter. Whatever it is, it’s not new. It’s hardly life or death.”
Okay. You might be part… something. I don’t know what. But you have a tail and claws and feathers. And you glow very bright.
Draco pursed his lips as everyone once again turned their intent gaze to him. He met Sirius’s very startled eyes and narrowed silver back at his cousin. “Potter, what about Black? Or the werewolf? If it’s just about magical creature ancestry, why can’t you touch them?”
“Hey, no one said I have…”
“Bullshit, Black, I can smell it a mile away,” Draco snapped. “If Potter is outing me, then you’re outed too. Considering you were disinherited already, hardly a damn loss.”
Sirius growled but didn’t disagree. He looked around the room, and glared at the many Weasleys watching interestedly. “No one tells a soul, understand? Especially about Malfoy. You know what this kind of information can do if leaked. He’ll lose all chance of getting a job and having a damn life. He’ll certainly lose his pretty little fiance. I’ll spell you to secrecy if I have to.”
Draco was trying very hard to ignore just how still Harry became behind him. The arm around his chest suddenly felt more like a steel trap than anything else. Instead he looked at the words he wrote in answer to the earlier question.
Malfoy shares one specific dimension with me. No one else does. Fawkes shares three different ones, which is why I can touch him as well. It may be less about magic and more about sharing space—
He ended the last word with a scratch and Draco imagined it was about when Sirius mentioned Serene. Now really wasn’t the time to talk about it and Draco did his best to divert his attention. “Cousin, you don’t have to worry. I have yet to meet a more upstanding family than the Weasleys. And Granger is, well, Granger. Hardly someone to go blabbing secrets. And Remus is a werewolf, so no one will listen to him anyways,” he added with a playful smirk.
“Geez, had me worried you were complimenting us,” Ron said with a chuckle. “You have not been well lately.”
“Guess it’s just part of having feathers and a tail on a different plane of existence.” Draco turned his head to where Harry was again resting on his shoulder. He felt calmer. “So Potter, what do you look like? Since I’m apparently feathery.”
Scales too. You have both. I look like I’m breaking apart on that plane.
It was Draco’s turn to still. His hand mindlessly went to the arm wrapped around him and held. “How so?”
Cracks of light, like my energy is breaking out of my skin.
“The energy sparks?”
Yes.
Draco nodded blindly and his mouth twisted into a frown. “Hopefully the specialist will be able to figure it all out.”
They started their goodbyes after that when everyone realized Harry needed to get his information to Dumbledore sooner rather than later. Ron and Hermione lingered while everyone else gave Harry farewell pats on Draco’s hand. They chatted for a while. Harry would interrupt his descriptive text to jot conversation on a different page to join in with his friends. The day caught up to Draco and he drifted in the peaceful droning of their voices and the scratching of the quill.
Draco opened his eyes and looked around from where his cheek was pressed flat against the desk. His hand was moving, the sound of the quill quiet in the room. There didn’t seem to be anyone there besides the cooing phoenix and Potter, who was currently tracing his other fingers through Draco’s hair.
“God, it’s dark out. How are you still writing?” Draco sat up slowly.
Don’t sleep. Don’t get tired.
“Ah. That must get boring.” Draco looked around blearily, only to start when Harry leaned forward and rested his body on him heavily. Breath was suddenly on Draco’s cheek and he glanced to where Harry was likely staring back. “What?”
You’re mad cute when you’re asleep.
Draco stared intently at the words but they didn’t reveal themselves to be an illusion. He tilted his head and wondered if he was just very, very tired. “Potter, I really don’t know what you’re thinking here.”
Seriously, still? You’re Hot. Sexy. Very fucking sexy. How blunt do I need to be?
Everything sort of went red. Draco blinking dumbly at the page as heat rushed to his face.
I can’t stop thinking of you. Yesterday in the shower when you—
He used his free hand to slam down the quill and cut off Harry’s words. “Don’t. Not that,” he whispered hollowly.
Harry pulled the quill away and wrote quickly. Why? You were beautiful.
Draco shook his head and breathed out unsteadily. “It’s not funny, Potter. Just because I’m the only one you can talk to doesn’t mean you get to fucking tease me about this. Just stop it.”
I’m not teasing!
“Fucking are, you bloody—” Draco stopped. He quickly crumpled up the spare piece of parchment right before Dumbledore walked into the room. “Sir, if I could go already, that would be great.” He rose and pulled away from the extremely warm, and now motionless body behind him.
“Of course, Draco. I wanted to thank you for all your help today in bringing Harry back to us. And with the writing.” Dumbledore picked up the pages of text Harry wrote while Draco slept and glanced through them quickly. “Hopefully there will be something here to give us a clue on how to get Harry back.”
Draco nodded but he was distracted and irritable. All he really wanted was to get out of there already. “Not a problem. And if you would just not mention any of this to my mother?”
Dumbledore looked grave and Draco stopped his fidgeting. “What? You spoke with her?”
“No, but I have a feeling she will be owling you.” Dumbledore combed his long beard a moment, then sighed. “We made some inquiries into your ancestry once it was revealed you weren’t fully human. Nothing that could harm your standing in the society, but I’m certain your father has a network to catch these sorts of things. It was definitely from his side, Draco. As his only heir, they will want to protect you from word getting out.”
Fucking hell. What did that mean, exactly? Was he going to end up as fucking crazy as his father now? Harry’s hand touched his shoulder and Draco started from his thoughts. He ran a hand through his hair as he pulled away and edged towards the door. “Fine, whatever, it’s done. I really need to get going.”
Dumbledore held his hand up. “Draco, we’re going to need your help once McVicar gets here. We will try to work around your class schedule, but I’m sure you can understand the urgency of this. Given Harry’s condition—”
“It’s fine. I’ll do whatever I can to help,” Draco interrupted. “Just ask. But now I really need to eat, sir.”
“Of course; my apologies. I’ll have the house elves send something to your room. Harry, it is such a relief to have you back with us.” Dumbledore led them to the door and Draco was finally free. He pulled again out of Harry’s hand when he tried to hold his back while they walked down the hallway.
Harry wasn’t sure exactly why Malfoy was pissed but he was clearly angry. After about five minutes of pretending to eat, Draco gave up to stalk around his room and pace. Harry kept trying to grab him and get him to write but that only seemed to make Malfoy more upset. Instead Harry stood in a corner out of the way while he watched him fume.
He loved the flash in Draco’s eyes and the way his hair flowed around him as he whirled and muttered. He was still in his quidditch uniform, not having thought to change even now. With him pacing, snarling, and being over all hot, Harry was realizing he might have a problem when it came to the prat.
“Potter, where are you?” Draco called as he stopped in the middle of the room. Seeing the quill in hand, Harry stepped forward and brushed fingers over his arm. Draco jumped and he had to wonder why, seeing as he knew he was right there.
Draco pulled him over to the desk and threw a piece of parchment down. “Promise me, Potter. You won’t tell a goddamn soul about yesterday.”
Harry curled fingers around Draco’s and carefully moved his hand.
What about yesterday?
“Potter!” Harry stumbled back when Draco shoved him.
“Fuck, Malfoy. What the fuck is your problem?” He quickly grabbed the hand trying to punch him.
“Damn it!” Draco struggled in his grasp and Harry only held on harder. He stepped closer to look down at the annoying, beautiful prat. “I have responsibilities, you dolt. People can’t know that I… that I like that sort of thing. It… it’s not really accepted with purebloods, or, well, most normal society in general,” Draco finally muttered.
With a start, Harry realized he was talking about the shower. Malfoy actually looked distressed. Harry never had any issues with his own sexuality, but then, he was able to talk to Remus and Sirius about it. Who the hell did Malfoy have to talk to, besides his fucked up family?
Harry tugged Draco’s hand back down to the table and wrote again, the letters lopsided from the angle.
I wasn’t planning on telling anyone.
Draco visibly relaxed. He sat and slumped down in the chair. “Thanks.”
Why does it matter?
Harry watched as Draco scowled and his free hand covered half his face.
You’re fucking beautiful.
“Stop!” Draco tried to wrest his arm away. Harry used his other hand to hold him still and scrawled quickly.
Why would I joke about this? Who the fuck would find it funny?
“I don’t bloody know, but its all you fucking lions joke about. Everything is a fucking broom ride with you lot, and this is my god damn life!”
Draco managed to pull his arm free and tried to get past him. He nearly knocked his head right into Harry’s bowed one. Because he could, and he fucking wanted to, and he was sick of this very frustrating feeling, Harry grabbed Draco around his waist and lifted him up.
“Potter! Stop being so annoying!” Draco was hazy eyed again, face flushed across his pale cheeks and Harry really just couldn’t stop himself. He tilted his head up and pressed his lips to Draco’s.
It was very much the wrong move. Draco’s hands quickly found his hair and pulled hard until Harry placed him back on the ground.
“I’m fucking serious. I am not some fucking toy, you asshole!” Draco snarled somewhere around his shoulder since he still couldn’t seem to remember Harry was taller than him.
“You’re out of your fucking mind, Malfoy! Who the fuck kisses someone they don’t like? You’re fucking intentionally oblivious!” Harry growled loudly. The prat couldn’t hear him and the damn writing only seemed to be so easy for Draco to misinterpret. He apparently he just couldn’t fucking let it go, even with Malfoy looking like he was going to murder him. Before he even knew what he was doing, Harry cupped his face and kissed him again.
Again, very much the wrong move. Draco grabbed his fingers and tried to bend them backwards. It was beyond confusing given how Draco also moaned, his lips parting to Harry’s tongue. Harry sacrificed one of his hands to Draco’s malicious retaliation, and used the other to thread through the hair at the back of Draco’s head and keep their mouth’s sealed together.
God, he really was just fucking divine. Fiery and wet and damn fucking perfect.
“Fuck, Potter… stop,” Draco gasped into his mouth. His hand finally stopped the painful finger bending and came to rest on Harry’s chest. Free, Harry wrapped his arm around Draco’s slim waist, pressed their bodies together and earned a wonderful, shaky cry. Bare hot flesh pressed against bare hot flesh. Draco started to tremble and Harry felt a strange, wild heat rise in him.
“I don’t want to stop, you prat. I don’t ever want to let you go. Why can’t you understand that?” Harry murmured between deep kisses. He pulled gasps and moans and even one very adorable squeak from Draco’s red mouth.
Just as suddenly, Draco hit him again. The little ferret went so far as to bite in a less sexy and just plain painful way until Harry finally pulled his mouth away.
“I’m getting fucking married!”
“To some fucking bird when you are clearly gay and hot for me, you idiot.” Somehow, once again his argument was lost on Draco because when Harry went to kiss him again, his ear was twisted. “Shit… shit… owww.”
“I am getting married,” Draco continued determinedly, his eyes alight with anger and a fair bit of torment. “In less than a month. It is difficult enough, without you… you fucking reminding me I very much don’t like women. You are a very good kisser, by the way, so please fucking stop it.” Draco shoved him. Harry stumbled back in surprise and crouched to keep from falling.
Fuck. Fucking Malfoy. Harry stood, and paced around Draco’s stiff form, who looked like he didn’t know whether to start yelling or hitting. “Don’t fucking marry her!”
“And you know what else, Potter? What the fuck are you kissing me for, anyways? When did seeing me in the shower make you think you could just fucking kiss me? I never said a goddamn thing about that being okay! Like you have some fucking right, just because no one can see you?”
Alright, Harry knew at this point he definitely had a problem. The prat was just too fucking gorgeous when he was angry. It was a problem a year ago. Now he really just couldn’t stop himself after having spent hours pressed up against Draco while writing, stealing long licks when he slept, kissing him repeatedly. He saw him naked, and fuck… He knew just how much Draco would enjoy getting his ass shagged. Once again Harry stalked forward, pulled Draco’s slender form toward him, and kissed him deeply.
Draco must of had a similar problem. At the first press of lips to his, he grabbed Harry’s shoulders and kissed back just as hard. He readily gave in to Harry’s demanding tongue, his lips swollen and hot juice dripping from the corner of his panting mouth. Only to again push him back, silver eyes so hazy Harry was certain he would cave if he just kissed him once more.
“Potter, I can’t even fucking see you!” Draco shouted and threw his hands up in frustration. “It’s like kissing thin air. It’s weird!”
Ah, maybe not so much. “Crap. Close your eyes or something.” Harry gently pressed his hand down over Draco’s eyes. It seemed to do the trick. Draco no longer resisted when Harry pressed lips to his, the kiss softer this time. They didn’t stop until Draco was gasping and his short nails scraped at the back of Harry’s neck. With a groan, Draco pulled away and sat in a heap on his bed.
“Fuck, Potter… What the fuck are you doing to me?” Draco ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I’m getting married. Soon. There is no way around it… And you, you’re not even here, are you? You’re off in some other fucking plane of existence which just happens to have a bit of me in it. Hell, you wouldn’t even be in the building if not for the magic keeping you from falling through. What the fuck is kissing going to do except drive me mad?”
Harry wasn’t sure and didn’t really care. He really wanted to keep kissing the gorgeous prat whenever the urge hit him. He reached his hand for Draco’s right one and touched his fingertips.
“No. I don’t want to talk with you. You’ll find some fucking way to convince me and I can’t do this, Potter. I can’t.” Draco threw his arm over his face to block his eyes from the sight of absolutely nothing. “I can’t tell if you’re having me on. I can’t tell if you’re happy, or sad, or angry. I can’t tell a goddamn thing, except you seem to enjoy pissing me off and kissing me. In that order, at that.”
Harry pulled harder on his hand but Draco resisted. “Come on, Malfoy. How the fuck can I make you understand if you won’t let me?”
“We need some fucking boundaries, Potter. I need you to not go in my loo while I’m in there. And you should stop kissing me and touching me all the fucking time too. Especially… especially when I’m sleeping.”
There was no way Harry was about to agree to any of that. Fuck boundaries. He spent the last months drifting aimlessly while waiting to die. He had no interest in wasting the little time left not enjoying it with the most stunning creature on the planet, who just happened to be able to touch him back. Harry raised Draco’s hand to head and shook a clear no.
Scowling, Draco pushed Harry back by the forehead. “You’re a fucking pain, Potter. What, you think just because you killed You-Know-Who that you can bloody have whatever you want from me? Arrogant ass.”
Harry snorted at the very notion and sat next to Draco on his magically charmed sheets. “Malfoy, if I thought for a bloody second you didn’t want me, I would not be pawing at you. Although I would still be looking, believe you me.” Of course, Draco couldn’t hear him because he refused to get the quill. He did seem to be able to sense him though, his eyes flickering to where Harry was sitting now.
“Potter, I’m fucking tired. Today’s been shit. Let me sleep and stop bloody staring at me.”
Harry wrapped his fingers around Draco chin, leaned forward and watched his silver eyes widen as Draco’s breath sped up. “I am going to stare all I fucking like, Draco. You are beautiful and deserve to be stared at. That no one stares—hell, that no one touches you is a goddamn crime and one I am not willing to commit.” He brushed his lips to Draco’s and listened as he gasped.
That dangerous feeling was rising in him again and with hot intent, he slid his tongue out and slowly licked up the side of Draco’s face. Draco made a noise between a shout and a moan and brought a hand up to shove him away. Harry quickly caught it and dipped his head lower to lick up Draco’s neck.
“Potter, you’re a fucking dog… Oh god… Get the fuck off me and stop licking me.” It would be easier to stop if Draco’s free hand wasn’t stuck in Harry’s thick hair, holding him down while he continue to lick and suck at Draco’s neck. For all his words of protest, Draco was enjoying himself, his head lolled to the side, eyes half closed while Harry held him up and continued marking his neck with red, mouth sized spots.
Suddenly Draco’s hand pried at his face. When Harry pulled away he could see the agony in his silver eyes. “Stop. Please. I’m getting married, and it’s not… it’s not right, Potter. Stop making things so difficult.”
Harry sighed heavily as his words sank in. He got up reluctantly and moved to the corner of the room to put space between them. Draco was exhausted, he could see that. And yes, as determined as he was, Harry could see he wasn’t helping Draco with anything at the moment, just infuriating and exasperating him.
“Malfoy, why the fuck are you getting married? You’re only seventeen. You’re clearly gay. Marrying some oblivious girl is just going to hurt her more than anything.” Just speaking the atrocity out loud was frustrating and Harry crouched with hands flat on the floor so he could feel something solid. “Shit, Malfoy, even if it wasn’t me you’re with, it sure as fuck shouldn’t be a girl. I would prefer it to be me. But don’t live the rest of your life pretending to be straight. It’s fucking stupid.”
Draco didn’t answer. He stripped the majority of his quidditch uniform off in the perceived silence and curled under the blankets and closed his eyes.
Harry stood. He didn’t approach the bed but watched from where he was. “Why the hell are you doing this?”
Naturally, he got no answer. Another spark tore through Harry’s form, this one right across his stomach and extremely painful. Cursing, he began to pace. He was in no mood to sit and drift.
Draco awoke late Sunday morning with yesterday just a very dull memory in the back of his mind. He could smell Harry, his scent all around him, but couldn’t feel his breath. Maybe that would be the compromise to their situation. Harry would hover, but not in a way he could obviously discern where he was.
Currently, all Draco could think about was how fucking hard he was. He had a fine dream with green eyes, tanned skin, and messy chocolate hair, likely inspired by the scent of who was lurking in his room. Draco was in his own bed, in his own room, where he could very easily, and usually did, take care of this problem. He did not want to have to kick Potter the fuck out, especially when he’d likely sneak back in anyways.
Shit, when did Potter become such a damn voyeur?
With eyes firmly closed, Draco slipped his hand down beneath the waistband of his boxers and tried to be quiet as he wrapped fingers around his erection. Another thing he resented. He never had to be quiet before, not since earning a room of his own. “Oh.”
He was also not very good at being quiet anymore.
Harry’s breath appeared, hot and scalding at the juncture where Draco’s neck met his shoulder. He did everything not to react to it, instead trying to focus on his hand and his dick and nothing about hovering Potter always watching him with those glowing green eyes he could no longer see. “Oh fuck.” He bit his lip to stifle a moan. Harry’s breath moved down his chest as if there was no material between them at all.
He could feel Harry’s body heat as he moved and floated very close above him. He had to be centimeters from touching him, maybe less. Before he could fully even process just how close Harry had to be hovering, he felt him move, the heat of his breath very much on his hand and fisted cock. Draco fought back a cry from the sudden rush of sensation. He threw his head back and bucked as he came into his hand.
Draco lay there panting on the bed, eyes resolutely closed. He waited for Harry to move the fuck away so he could get up and pretend he wasn’t there properly. Eventually he felt Harry move. His body heat disappeared and breath no longer lingered around his thighs.
Fucking Potter… fuck… Draco waited a few more minutes and spent the time wondering if Harry was touching himself, if he might come back over and try to touch him. How that might be a damn good idea.
Draco snapped his eyes open and got up. He was losing his fucking mind, needed to pee and shower and Potter better give him some fucking privacy.
Harry watched from his spot in the corner, his fingers curled on his face while he sank teeth into his hand. The prat hadn’t said a fucking word. Draco touched himself like he wasn’t there even though he damn well knew being a foot away was about the closest he could get before Draco noticed him.
What if he touched him? What would Draco have done then? Yell? Punch? Moan?
Fucking hell… just fuck.
His hand still firmly between his teeth, Harry walked to the bathroom door and peeked his head through the wood. Draco was showering. He looked nearly efficient like Draco was expecting him to be watching and didn’t want to give him any ideas. He had no idea how to deal with this.
All last night Harry decided he would talk to the prat in the morning. He’d convince Draco being gay was so much better than marrying for money, or prestige, or whatever the fuck Malfoy was throwing his life away for. Harry hadn’t prepared for this. Draco just gave him the coldest shoulder ever, pretended he wasn’t even there. He didn’t react to his presence at all to the point of jerking off right in front of him.
Hell, he might not mind too fucking much, either.
Harry stepped into the bathroom, and made sure he was far enough away so Draco wouldn’t be alerted to him. He watched as Draco washed yesterday’s match off his skin and the morning’s cum from his hand.
Was he supposed to pretend too? Ignore Draco Malfoy in the bloody room, nude with pale skin slick with soap and water. He didn’t want to ignore him. He wanted to touch him and show him how fucking good it could be if Draco just stopped fighting what he wanted. He wanted to take that soap, fill Draco’s tight hole with it, and fuck him against the shower until he wailed in delirious agony.
He settled for watching Draco shower while he stroked his cock and his mind swirled with all the many dirty, wonderful things he wanted to do with Draco. Right now they had a strange truce and he was grateful for at least that. If he pushed Draco, he might lose everything. Draco was definitely skittish enough, explosive enough to put him in his place if he pushed too far.
That wasn’t a bad thought either.
“Fuck, Malfoy. You’re such a fucking tease.” Harry grunted, his strokes slowing as he came, and his cum dribbled down. “Hell, I like it when you tease.”
There was no answer and he was left to rest against the wall, eyes trained on Draco as he finished his shower. Once he stepped back into the bedroom, Harry waited in the corner to give Draco whatever perceived sense of space and privacy he needed as he stared unceasingly at the beautiful blond.
A little place to share your comments and questions on the fanfic, Intangible . Liked it, hated it, interested in seeing a sequel or something similar? Let me know below. I love the feedback.
I’ve never really been one to talk shit about dick size. You’re born with what you got, and you make do. Being a wizard, you even get a little leeway, and I know there are more than a few blokes that stuff an extra inch or two to make things interesting. I am not one of those guys. I really wish Theodore Nott was.
Malfoy’s looking at Nott’s dick like he’s internally berating it for just how fucking small it is. It’s not a sweet expression, but few of Malfoy’s are. It also doesn’t help that I’m polyjuiced as Nott, because hell, I have never felt inadequate before, but I sure do under that withering stare. I’m not hung like a horse—no matter what all my diehard Potter fans would have you believe. But I’m not Nott. Fucked up thing? Malfoy sucks this kid off all the time. How the hell does Nott put up with that glare every time he’s being blown?
Determined to make the most of things before the potion wears off, I grab Draco’s very silky shoulder length hair, and push him down to his knees. Heh, he is not happy about that. Nott is also a fucking sappy, romantic gasbag that likes to whisper sweet nothings in the blond’s ear while he’s rubbing up against him. I know better and wrench Draco’s hair hard, the boy’s lips parting in a surprised moan.
“That’s it.” I cup my other hand down his cheek, fingers running over his lips, touching the edge of his teeth, his trembling tongue. He’s not glaring now. No, he’s into it, eyelids heavy with want, soft puffs of air hitting my hip. “Suck me, Malfoy.” I pull his hair again. “Now.”
“Fuck,” he gasps, all he can get out before I’m pushing between his gorgeous lips, holding his face firm to keep him from trying to pull off.
Shit. I really shouldn’t be doing this.
He groans, opening wider as I sit as deep as I can inside the scalding heat of his mouth. God, I wish it was deeper. Part of me wants to suffocate him, take his throat so hard he’ll always be raspy from what I do to him. That he’ll never know it’s me just makes me more desperate to mark him in some way. “God, that’s it, baby… Let me fuck you.”
I can’t stop staring at his face, his cheeks flushed, brows furrowed as he tries not to choke every time I push into him. He’s tight inside, and so wet. The noises he makes are obscene, loud, and crazy desperate. It’s nearly impossible to hold back. He’s so hot and sexy, and I’ve been dreaming of fucking him for years now.
He grabs my hips, and I wonder if he’s finally going to push me back, put me in my place for being too rough, but it never comes. No, he just moans again, opens wider, his fingers clawing at the back of my thighs and digging into the muscles of my ass as he helps me slam into his mouth. “Fuck, Malfoy.” God, he likes it. I tighten my grip in his hair, pulling him back so I can see his face. Fuck, he really likes it.
“You going to cum like this? Just from my cock bruising your tonsils?” I can’t stop myself, can’t stop from saying shit to him. His mouth is full of dick, dripping wet, and he loves it. It doesn’t help that he’s on his knees in a back hallway of the dungeons, like he does this all the time. Like he’s been looking for someone to come along and use him.
I slowly pull out, his lips clinging tight suction to my head, trying to keep my dick inside. He finally releases me with a wet pop, his tongue caressing over the tip of my cock for a toe curling instant. Fuck. I force his face further back, tilting him up by his chin until he meets my eyes. I watch, surprise jolting through me when he actually blushes.
Okay, maybe he doesn’t do this all the time. But he should. Because he’s really fucking good at it.
He opens his mouth to my thumb, his lips swollen and bright red. I push hard against his soft flesh, watching him gasp, knowing his teeth are biting in on the other side of his lip. His tongue is suddenly drifting out, licking at my knuckle. I take two fingers and push them into his widening mouth. “You have a really sick… oral fixation.” His tongue comes up to wrap around my digits, coating me in his clear fluids, sucking me down, teeth scraping as he runs his hands up my hips and stomach, nails digging in and pulling down.
Oh shit. My eyes close, his hands doing something crazy to me, his mouth sucking my fingers like they’re directly connected to my dick, and making me dizzy and so painfully hard. I knew he’d be good—Fuck, he could stick his tongue out and tell me to fuck off, and I’d be coming for him. But that he’s into it makes it so much better. I can almost pretend it’s for me.
Fucking Nott. Fucking douche bag, Theodore Nott and his bite-sized prick for dating Malfoy.
Opening my eyes, I pull my fingers free of his tongue, grab him by the back of the neck, and grind my too small cock up against his bottom lip. He looks up at me, cruel grey eyes intense with fire and sex, and fuck, I want to ruin him. And I’m pretty sure, seeing how his tongue is sneaking out to lick my slit, he would really enjoy it.
But although Draco Malfoy might get on his knees in a hallway, he does not, under any circumstances, spread his fucking legs in a hallway. I’m actually not even sure he bottoms. Every time I’ve seen him with his boyfriend, he has never once shown an interest in letting anything between those tight cheeks of his. Then again, when you have some sap whimpering how much they’re meant to be together while also refusing to plump his cock up with a simple spell, it really fucking kills the mood. Least, it sure did for me, watching Nott put his soggy kisses and limp wristed hands all over the wild blond. A hot piece of ass like Malfoy deserves fucking better.
Too bad I’m not the one to give it to him.
My fingers bite into the back of his neck, pulling him down again. I watch his face, his lashes fluttering shut, mouth dropping open in anticipation, tongue reaching out to meet my cock when I push into him again. I cup my other hand to his cheek, fingers tangling in his hair and gripping hard as I pull him down to meet every relentless thrust I give into his tight heat. My god, he’s beautiful. His mouth is wide open, dripping wet down his chin and my length, whimpering, hot suction noises and choked sobs escaping as he surrenders to me. He gasps around my dick, struggling to draw air in, his hands grasping weakly to my thighs as he lets out a string of desperate, low moans.
“God… god, that’s it… want it… fucking take it…” He’s going to cum. I can see it on his face. He’s so fucking gone, he’s going to cum with my cock in his mouth. “You’re doing so good, baby… so… fucking… tight…” He makes this beautiful, wet cry when I pull him down a final time, his throat opening to me, so hot and dripping tight as I shoot stream after stream of my seed into him. And fuck, he swallows down every nasty drop, milking me for more while fighting to breathe.
Fuck. I pull out of him, my dick growing cold in the air. I don’t care. I have to touch him, or I’m going to lose my fucking mind. I drag him up to his feet, his body swaying, arms heavy as he wraps around me and opens to my kiss. Before he can think to stop me, I shove my hand down the front of his pants, groaning when I find him slick with cum already. God—the gorgeous prat came without even touching himself. Both his hands were on my thighs the whole time, pretty fucking sure.
“Theo, fuck, that was so good. Didn’t know it could—Fuck. Fuck.” He pulls me down into another kiss, crushing me back against the wall, grinding against me so hard I think he’s trying to fuck me with his pants on. It’s hot, really hot, but him calling me his boyfriend’s name is a punch to the gut.
Fuck, I’m such an idiot.
I kiss him—I’m never going to get another chance—and reach down to tuck myself back in while he sucks on my neck. Malfoy does really nice things with that mouth of his.
“I gotta go.” I push him back, watching the confusion and hurt flash in his beautiful grey eyes. God, I’m the biggest fucking asshole ever.
I yank him by the arm, his eyes widening as he crashes against my chest. “Baby, you were incredible,” I whisper against his lips, cupping his face firmly, tilting him a little closer so I can kiss him the way I’ve always wanted to kiss him. He melts into me, moaning, tongue tentatively tangling with mine. I pull him closer, unable to stop as I wrap him in my arms, kissing him so consumingly, so thoroughly, all he can do is whimper once I finally release him and leave him leaning weakly on the wall.
I walk away before I can think of a reason not to, glancing back as I round the corner, finding him staring at me, his eyes blazing as they meet mine.
Shit, I am such a fuck up.
I have once again ruined my own life.
Not the first time, likely not the last time. Definitely not the first or last where Draco Malfoy is concerned.
I made myself not follow him around like a psycho stalker after crossing the line a week ago. God, what the fuck was I thinking? Polyjuicing myself into his sappy boyfriend—Voldemort must have done some fucking permanent damage to my head, because if I were sane, I would have known just how bad an idea that was. Yeah, I am definitely fucked in the head, because all I can think of is doing it again.
There’s something wrong with me when it comes to Malfoy.
“Whatever, Granger. Not like you have a chance at actually winning. Mudbloods are excluded from Perceptional Scholarships.”
Something seriously wrong with me.
“Fuck off, Malfoy,” Ron snaps, saying what I should be saying. But I’m not, I’m looking at the git’s hands, remembering how they felt moving over me. I’m trying very hard not to look at his face, because his mouth is fucking heaven, and if I look, I’m going to touch. I’m handsy and I know it, so best to avoid it all together.
“Actually, the Perceptional Scholarships just started offering two new opportunities that include muggleborns,” Hermione says tightly, flipping open her Potions text. “Considering you’re already rolling in your father’s money, I’m sure you’re not interested.”
“On the contrary…” I look up because I know that tone, and I know that smirk, and I want to see his face when he says whatever shit thing he’s going to say. I want to see it almost just as much as I want to see his face when he comes. Issues, I know. “If I can ensure every mudblood, poverty stricken weasel, and pathetic orphan never get a knut of scholarship money, I’m happy to try.”
He’s such a bastard.
“What’s the matter, Potter? Not up for playing hero today?” He rests his manicured hand on my desk, hip cocked to the side and drawing my eyes down his long legs. I’m up for something, but he’s not interested. He’d rather go blow his soggy toothpick of a boyfriend.
I’m pretty sure I didn’t hate Nott a month ago.
Feeling spiteful, I rip a sheet of parchment paper off and scribble down the words to the dick enlarging spell every fucking guy knows in the castle. “Here, Malfoy, give this to Nott. Maybe he can dislodge that stick out of your ass for you.”
Scowling at the spell, he crumples the piece of paper, lobbing it at my head. Fucking score one for me.
Malfoy huffs away to his seat, glaring at me like I’m the one that stuck that stick up his ass in the first place. Maybe I am. Who the fuck knows at this point. We’ve been fighting forever.
Ron bends over, unwrapping the paper and snickering loudly. “Little too close to home there, huh, Har?”
I growl, summoning the paper to me and incinerating it. I told Ron about the polyjuice thing because at this point I’m sure I’m losing my mind over the Slytherin prat, and I need some fucking help. Ron, naturally, was not helpful. Oh, he was quick to point out I was fucked in the head, but his advice consisted of teasing the shit out of me since. I can’t tell Hermione—She’d either call me out for rape, or blackmail me into killing the kid. She hates Malfoy, hardcore.
Course, Malfoy’s now practically in Nott’s lap, the lucky shit. Given the whispering and twin glares in my direction, Nott didn’t like my suggestion either. Well fuck him.
Ron gives me a look, one I’ve grown to anticipate, and he starts conjuring under the table. Two minutes later, a stick covered in what looks a lot like shit but’s probably just mud, ends up on Nott and Malfoy’s desk. It’s three feet long, and it takes every bit of self control I have not to burst out laughing.
For the best, because Malfoy starts hexing the fuck out of me ten seconds later, Ron whooping in laughter as I duck for cover.
Snape gives me detention. I laugh my ass to the hospital ward to reattach my finger.
Worth it.
While cleaning the sludge off of Snape’s classroom and storeroom walls, I happen to notice he has a premade polyjuice potion just waiting for a hair. I don’t believe in fate, or signs—Hell, I barely believe in magic half the time. It feels more like science with instruction manuals directing energy. That said, I do believe in opportunity. The vial ends up in my pocket when I hightail it back to my room to use the second of three hairs I grabbed from Nott’s hairbrush over a month ago.
I’m not really thinking at this point. I try not to think when I’m in the middle of fucking up my life. Because if I wasn’t head over heels for Malfoy already, fucking his sexy, nasty mouth raw is going to do it.
I check the Marauder’s Map before I down the potion. Nott’s in bed, fast asleep. Malfoy’s wandering the halls, probably getting in from his own detention in Transfigurations. He’s been twitchy lately, and not just bitching at me for a change. I throw my invisibility cloak on after transfiguring my clothes, so no one in the dorm thinks the Slytherins are attacking, and slip out of the common room.
He’s pacing. Pissed off, grumbling under his breath, pacing. Malfoy is also not happy to see me. Well, to see Nott, anyways. I’m pretty sure he’d be even less happy to see me.
“Thought you were going to bed?” He accuses, eyes flashing as he paces right past me, turns, and makes another round.
Malfoy is fucking hot when he’s angry. But the pacing is hard to follow, so I grab his arm, pulling him close. He glares at me, then pushes me back, and fuck, I just want him more.
“I don’t want to talk, Theo. That fucking Potter—Can’t fucking stand him!”
Seriously, he’s still pissed off about that stupid stick? That was hours ago. He holds onto shit way too long.
He pushes at my shoulders again, like that’s going to make me let him go. I grab his arms, holding him tight against me. His eyes darken, nostrils flare, breath catches, and all my senses tell me the switch that turns him on is flipped, just like that.
I step him back, three, four, until he’s flush against the wall. I pull his arms to the sides so they’re no longer trapped between us, pinning him in place.
He arches, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “God… I thought… I thought you didn’t want to.”
“What don’t I want?” I ask, eyes drawn to his long throat and the way he swallows.
“You, uh, said you didn’t want to hurt me,” Draco whispers, his body pushing forward against mine.
I nuzzle into his neck, breathing him in, needing to remember everything I can about him. Because I can’t do this again. Nott touches him differently, and eventually they’re going to figure it out. Just not tonight. “Did I hurt you, baby?”
“No,” he sighs, hands relaxing in my hold, body losing all its tension. “It was amazing, and I don’t know why you’re afraid to do it again. I want you to do it… So bad.”
I look him in the eye, his crystal clear gaze full of fire and trust. I hate that he can’t see me in here. I look at him like I always look at him, but these aren’t my eyes, and he just doesn’t know me. Another reason I shouldn’t be doing this, and am just fucking up my head.
But my crazy isn’t going to go away just because I know better. I do plenty of fucking wrong, especially when it comes to Malfoy, and I’m not stopping now. Fucking Nott. If the prick had a set of balls, I could have gotten away with a lot more.
“I’ll make a deal with you.” I pull his arms higher, his breath hitching from the motion. “You tell me what you want, anything you want, and I’ll give it to you right here, right now.”
“Oh, fuck,” he moans, eyes closing, body shuddering against me.
Oh fuck, indeed. “But, once we’re done, baby, we don’t talk about it again, okay?” I cover him with my body, nudging a leg between his thighs. He’s hard already, only getting harder as I grind against him. “Think of it as a secret meet up. Just two strangers in a hallway. It can be anything you want, but only as long as it’s now. How’s that sound?”
He leans in to nip my ear, his tongue teasing over my skin and making me dizzy. “It sounds hot.”
His voice is pure sex, but he seems a little scared. I have to wonder just what he’s thinking about, and if he’s ever done it before. He keeps kissing my neck, teeth nipping, tongue lapping languidly while he chooses. Hell, maybe this is a bad idea. What if it’s something super intimate? Has he been with Nott like that yet? Do I seriously want to interfere in something that could be emotional for him?
“I know you said it grosses you out—”
“Fuck what I said. Tell me.” I pull back so I can see his face. Damn, he is adorable, flushed and biting his lip nervously. I’m digging myself a damn big hole here. “Whatever it is, I want to do it to you. I want you to feel fucking amazing, and I want to be the one to make you feel that way.” It’s all true, and I hate that he thinks its his boyfriend saying it to him. But god, he does crazy things to me, and even when he pisses me off like the prat he is, I want him to feel so fucking good.
“God, okay… okay…” He’s looking everywhere but at me. Suddenly he leans forward, mouth on my ear to whisper. “I want you to… hell… I want…”
God, I’m going to die if he doesn’t tell me. It’s important. Something Nott’s too boring to do for him.
“…Rim me.”
Holy fuck, yes.
I let go of his hands and slam him back by the shoulders. He stares at me wide eyed, like I’ve lost my mind. Fine, I’m fucked in the head. I’m aware. “Take your pants off, right fucking now.”
“Uh… okay.” Biting his lip, he hesitantly reaches down, pulling at his belt clasp. I want to ask him a million questions, the main one being if he’s ever had a tongue up his ass. Or anything up his ass, for that matter. But I feel like he might have had this conversation with the boyfriend who thinks tongue fucking is gross, so I can’t ask anything without making him suspicious.
“Should I… Do you want me to do the cleaning spell?”
Damn, he’s really nervous. “Let me do everything.” I hold his face, bending down to kiss him. He tastes just like last time, except without the tang of cum on his tongue. It’s so hard to hold back, and he groans when I crush him against the wall, his trousers sliding down and hitting the floor. I run my palms over his flesh, pulling him against me while devouring every gasp he makes. He’s smooth. Cool marble. Strong, toned, compact muscle, and his ass is fucking perfect, firm and tight, and goddamn perky. I give him a small pinch and he gasps, smacking me on the arm halfheartedly. Fuck, he’s sexy.
I cast a silencing spell first, because I have every intention of making him scream. He shudders from the cleaning spell, his mouth dropping open to pant. It’s a good sign that he at least enjoys sensation back there. I pull his underwear down, still holding him tight against me, wanting to feel his hard cock and smooth flesh for as long as I can.
“How do you want it?” I ask, smiling when his head falls back against the wall. He looks damn near drunk with anticipation, his eyes bright, lips wet and parted.
“Put your tongue in me like you fucked my mouth the last time in this hallway,” he demands lowly, cocky smirk firmly in place.
I glance around, realizing for the first time that, fuck, this is where I found him that last time.
Oh… Oh fuck.
Either Nott really sucks at getting head, or I left a bit of an impression on Malfoy. And hell, isn’t that just the sexiest fucking thought ever, to know he wants it the way only I give it to him.
I spin him around, pushing him chest first against the wall. He groans and pushes back against me, rubbing his bare ass against my erection. Damn. Maybe he’s not completely against bottoming after all. “You’re going to get really weak in the knees, baby. I can spell you something to hold onto.” I lick his neck, reminding myself that leaving marks on him is a bad idea.
Eyes downcast, his next words are so quiet I have to lean in to hear. “Can you… tie me up?”
“Shit, Malfoy—Yes.”
God, this is going to kill me. I never should have come back here. The first time fucked me up so bad, I’ve been dreaming of him crawling into my bed and sucking me off, waking up thinking he was lying right next to me, spooned in tight. No good will come of this. But he’s a drug. Designed to get me so high and fucking good, while making me feel like shit the second he leaves my sight. Fuck, or says two words to me.
He pushes back against me again and the world goes dark. All those fucked up thoughts of heartbreak and impossible relationships drain away, replaced with the feel of his smooth, firm ass rubbing against my jeans and cock. Fuck yeah. I hold his hips, surging forward, grinding him hard until he can’t stop moaning.
I have to stop or I’m going to do something he didn’t agree to, no matter how much I’m sure he’ll like it. I pull his right arm up over his head, extending it high. I follow with his left, holding them together, his body stretched out, shirt hanging loose, pants around his ankles to reveal his creamy smooth ass and legs. He whimpers when my spell encases his forearms in a supple, yet sturdy leather wrap, keeping the strain off of his wrists when I secure his arms overhead.
“How does it feel?” I run my hands up over his arms, his body trembling.
“Crazy good,” he whispers hoarsely, his eyes looking above at his bound arms.
“Too tight? Any numbness? Pins and needles?” I press, wanting him to enjoy himself instead of thinking about his arms hurting like fuck.
“No, it’s good. God, it looks good, doesn’t it?” He can’t seem to keep his eyes off his arms, and I can’t blame him. Draco Malfoy looks fucking amazing in leather and chains.
“You look sexy as sin.” I wrap my arms around him, stealing this moment to breathe him in again. I run my hands up, unclasping button by button until his shirt peels away and I can move my hands unobstructed over his chest. He exhales sharply when I find his nipples, his head falling back against my shoulder, body arching into my touch.
“Harder… Fuck, yeah.” Moaning when I twist one of his nipples, he slams back against me, snickering while he looks up at me nearly upside down. “I like it when you do that.”
Sexy. So damn sexy. “I know, baby. You’re going to like what I do next even better.” I give his red bud a final, lip biting twist, and sink down to my knees, dragging my palms over his body as I go. He bucks his hips into my hands, but I don’t touch his perfect, flushed cock. He came the first time from just my dick in his mouth. I want to see if he’ll do the same with my tongue buried in his ass.
His thighs tremble when I spread his legs. I pull him back from the wall, pushing his shoulders forward so he can rest his head and give me better access. Not to mention, he gets a fine view of his dripping cock. My view is just as nice of his alabaster skin, the muscles of his ass flexing, legs long, strong and tense. His flesh is cool against my flushed face. I know he wants it like that blowjob, hard and wild, but he keeps jumping under my hand, gasping from just the feel of my breath, the brush of my nose against his ass cheek. God, he’s sensitive. I run my thumbs along his crack, spreading him wide, opening him up.
“Oh hell… god, do it… please…”
Nearly naked, bound and begging in a hallway—Thank you, Merlin. Pressing my face between the swell of his flesh, I reach my tongue deep into his crevis, running up and teasing a slow circle around his hot pucker. And fuck, he yells. Damn. I feel giddy knowing how much he’s going to love this. That I can do this for him when his boyfriend won’t. I lick him again, my breath bouncing heat back at me, his hips jerking from the wet touch. He’s strung so tight, his muscles flexing under my hands, pucker fluttering and squeezing against the tip of my tongue as I slowly torment him with small pushes and harder dragging laps.
“Fucking… god,” he sobs when I finally wiggle into him, driving forward, keeping him wide and pulling him back onto my tongue and lips. I take him slow, plunging into his hot, tight flesh with deep strokes, caressing long, aching cries from him. He gets wet, slick from my saliva and his own sweet juices, shudders racking his taut body when my thumbs slip and press into his hole. His knees start shaking, and I’m not surprised when he slams forward, chains holding him overhead, shoulders and head heavy on the wall. I ease off, catching my breath and cooling my face, and let him regain some composure.
Hell, I forgot just how much of a tongue workout this is. My knees are screaming at me, the cold castle floors not made for kneeling. It’s totally worth it. I wipe away the saliva slick on my chin before placing a line of kisses over his trembling ass. I caress down with my hand, massaging his inner thigh, so careful to avoid touching his tight sac and bobbing cock. I want to torture him. He drives me crazy, and I’m going to do the same to him. And hell, given his unceasing moans, it’s working.
“Please… more… just need it…” Draco’s hips rock, and I steady him before he can suffocate me on his pretty pink hole. “Oh god… god… deeper… Stop being so fucking nice about it!”
Fuck. That’s my fucking boy.
“Quit your goddamn bitching, spread your legs wider, and fucking take what I give you,” I order roughly, smacking him hard on the ass.
“Fuck!” He yelps, “You fucking bastard.”
It hurt. I know because my hand is still stinging. He also fucking loves it, precum now pouring from his dick like a faucet. Before he can regroup enough to get too upset, I lick over the quickly appearing red mark, coating wet, scraping my teeth on his flesh. He hisses, pushing back into my touch, mumbling something incoherent.
“What was that?” I ask, smiling as I trail my tongue in a heart over his burning ass cheek. Sexy, sexy prat.
He groans, and I can hear his absolute need. “Don’t stop. Please.”
“Oh, beautiful, there’s nothing you can say or do to make me stop.” His legs widen to my kisses. I know, fucking know, leaving marks is the stupidest fucking thing I can do. Nott’s going to wonder who’s touching his boyfriend. But apparently I’m an idiot. I suck a welt on his silky inner thigh, his soft leg hair tickling my lips. I suck another, then another, loving every gasp, every cry for more he makes. God, I want him to be mine.
“Yes… god, yes…”
He’s not going to last much longer like this. Just breathing against his ass has him bucking. I never knew he was so sensitive. It’s crazy—And damn perfect. Spreading his cheeks wide again, I press my thumb just at the ring of his entrance. He stills, his body tense, breathing strained. He pushes back, whimpering, trying to get me inside him, and fuck, I can’t refuse him anything.
“Ask me.” I press both thumbs against his hole, his hips shifting, trying to push onto me.
“Hell—Do it.” His voice is nothing more than a dark rasp of need. I wish I could see his face right now. Fuck, I wish he could see my face right now. I surge forward, plunging my tongue deep inside him while I spread his hole wide. He sobs, arching, his entire body taut. I know when he cums, hear it in his moan, feel it in his hips. But I’m not done. I’ve got at least a good fifteen minutes left with this polyjuice potion, and I’m going to make sure I use them all.
All I can hear are his weak, aching cries as I continue plunging my tongue into him, sucking on his hole, pushing my thumbs in deeper while stretching him. He sounds so lost, so consumed; I’m maddened from it. I love how he tastes, how hot he is inside, how every fucking thing I do makes him move, or cry, or want. He wanted it like last time, and fuck, I’m done holding back, done being nice and proper, because he is fucking there, on the brink, knowing exactly what I feel like wanting him and never fucking having him.
“God, I can’t… please… god, it’s so… so… good… Can’t… just can’t…”
But he can. I know he can. He can for me, and I’m going to show him. I give him a final, deep lick, rubbing my aching jaw as I force my cramped legs to stand and pull him back against my chest. He’s boneless, hanging and swaying from his arms, legs shaking. I tip his chin back, finding his face. God—My god, he’s beautiful. White blond hair nearly transparent, plastered to his face with sweat. Eyes hazy and dark, pupils blown wide. Cheeks flushed, lips blood red and dripping saliva.
“Baby.” I don’t recognize myself, and not just because it’s Nott’s voice. My throat feels so tight, my heart pounding in my ears. He focuses weakly on me, staring me right in the eye, so much fucking emotion I can’t bear it. Because he’s not looking at me, he’s looking at Nott, and fuck—I just fucking ruin myself every time when it comes to him.
I pull him harder against me, looking down his lithe, sweat soaked body. I find his seed slick on his flat stomach. I drag my fingers through his cum and pull it to my lips. He tastes fine, really fine. Everything about Draco is fucking perfect. I find him watching me, his tongue flicking out to wet his already wet lips. God, he makes me want to do fucked up shit. I push my fingers still sticky with his cum against those red, swollen lips, and he opens, moaning, hips rocking as he licks me clean.
I glance at my watch, trying to estimate just how long it’s going to take to get him off again. If I do and it takes too long, than he’s stuck weak and wobbling in a hallway. Fuck… Fuck, I’m not stopping.
“Oh hell… Oh, wait, just… oh god…”
“Hush, baby… You’re going to like this.” My fingers slippery with summoned lube, I continue stroking a digit inside him, finding and caressing his prostate with each sure push. He writhes in my arms, head thrown back on my shoulder, mouth wide as he babbles fucking brilliant nonsense at me. Yeah, and he’s already hard again. Fuck, this boy is fucking perfect.
And my god, I hate Nott.
“Oh—oh fuck!” He sobs, tears spilling down his face when I plunge two fingers deep inside his tight, slick flesh, hitting that spot that makes him crazy.
I can’t stop. He’s so beautiful, undone, quaking in my arms, my body the only thing keeping him from the ground right now. Fragile, yet wild. Vulnerable, but so fucking trusting that I’ll do right by him. I’m fucking up. This is the biggest fuck up I have ever done. But I can’t stop. All I can do is watch his face twist in the sexiest expressions I’ve ever seen while he thrashes and rides my fingers.
“God, you’re made for this, Malfoy.” I push his hair from his face. His eyes open and find mine again. God, this is the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever done, and I am so glad I’m doing it. “One more, baby?”
At his weak nod, I pull my fingers out and press three against his hole. He exhales noisily, eyes rolling back as I slowly stretch into him, scissoring, twisting his unbearable tightness, and grinding his prostate once I find it. He comes hard, loud, shouting before he collapses boneless against me. Holy hell.
I quickly dispell his bonds, pulling him down to the ground and into my lap. “Baby, you okay? You—Oh.”
He’s found my watch, his fingers twitching over it curiously. I try to read his face, but he’s so out of it, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s looking at. “Come on, Malfoy. Let’s get you cleaned up and to bed.”
He’s definitely in a sex high, body just starting to cool down and stop shaking. I throw a few cleaning spells on him, hoping to distract myself from just how hot he is, his skin so goddamn beautiful. It’s almost otherworldly, the way he looks. I’ve never seen anyone as pale and as ethereal. Maybe that makes it okay. Maybe he’s just that fucking special, it’s okay I’m crazy because of him.
I eventually get his pants back on and zipped up, his shirt now with all the buttons in place. Realizing I’m cuddling him at this point and definitely running out of time, I make myself stand, hauling him up in my arms. Still, I can’t stop smiling like an idiot when he wraps an arm around my neck and kisses me soundly, if not a bit woozily.
“Thank you… thank you… thank you…” He murmurs, kissing me between each very sincere phrase of gratitude. “It was… God, it was heaven… amazing… perfect…”
“Once,” I remind, hating how his expression falls, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Just a secret, crazy hookup, baby. Where we can do something wild we wouldn’t otherwise do, and not talk about it later.”
“…Shit.” He turns, ducking his head, upset and something else I really can’t tell. But maybe this is the better way to do things. If I walk him back to his common room, he’s going to find Nott inside. Leaving now, upset enough to not talk to his boyfriend for the night, will give me longer to cover my tracks. Either that, or stun Malfoy, knock him out and leave him in front of his dorm. Meaner, but less likely he’ll ever realize that what he did tonight wasn’t with Nott.
He makes the decision for me, glancing my way once, something fiery flashing in his eyes before he starts walking down the hall. I watch him go, running a hand through Nott’s too neat, too short hair, still rock hard, yet now feeling ridiculously lonely instead of frustrated. Fuck.
Biggest fuck up ever. I don’t think I can tell Ron about this one. And not just because of all the anal. I really must hate myself.
I can’t sleep since that night. I close my eyes and Malfoy’s waiting for me. Beautiful, aching, and telling me how good Nott does him. It’s hell.
I’ve been trying to avoid him this week. It’s surprisingly difficult. Even when I’m no longer dogging him, watching him under the cloak, seeing his steps on the map, I’m still, apparently, always in his fucking vicinity.
“You look like shit,” Ron chirps at me as he sits and starts piling breakfast on his plate. I make a noncommittal groan and rub my face with my hands. Glasses replaced with contacts, nose not too big, eyebrows just a little bushy, scar still firmly ingrained on my forehead. I pull my fingers through my hair, feeling the silky strands spray in an exaggeration of my normal mess. I want to be an exaggeration today. As me as I can fucking be, so that I won’t ever want to be small dicked and grinding on Malfoy.
“Ferret face?”
I grunt, refusing to speak of it. Ron glances my way and doesn’t say another word. I didn’t tell him everything about the second polyjuice fiasco, but what I did reveal was enough to earn a hint of pity in his eyes now. Crap.
Hermione eventually joins us, her nose buried in a book. Seamus is trying to choke Dean and Neville on waffles with obscene jokes. I keep my head down, pushing my eggs around on my plate, trying to pretend I can’t hear Malfoy bitching at his boyfriend.
Nott’s really not a good match for Malfoy. Not because of the many spiteful reasons I can list, but because the boy just doesn’t know how to stand his own against the blond. Once Malfoy starts ranting, you can either get lost and let him cool off, or shout right back until he finally shuts the fuck up. Nott just sits there in silence, fucking easy prey for the many mean things the blond spews as he gets out his frustrations about his dad.
Lucius Malfoy was recently accused of being head honcho for some sort of pyramid scheme. Bad enough, but apparently he was bankrupting wizards, not muggles, which crossed the line of sick fuck, straight into jail time and frozen assets. Draco might be needing those scholarships after all, given his ever increasing pissed off state. Nott, sweet hearted and dull headed, seems content to be the kid’s emotional punching bag. Actually, he seems fucking thrilled that Malfoy is even looking at him.
Whatever. Like I fucking care.
Fuck.
It’s time to get the fuck away from Malfoy. He’s everywhere lately, meals, classes, wandering the halls at night when I want to wander. Fucking obnoxious bullshit that I can’t get a moment’s peace from. I get up, determined to take a quick shower before heading to Care of Magical Creatures.
I make it to the Great Hall doors when a loud crack snaps through the air. I whirl, just in time to see Malfoy sparking, snarling at three Ravenclaws who are all up in his face. Because apparently Lucius fucking up means Draco is now on the shit end of every pissed off family that was fleeced by his father. I should leave. I should really mind my own fucking business.
But I’m fucked in the head, and my feet are already crossing the distance, my blood boiling in my ears, body tight with anger. I see Ron out of the corner of my eye, and he’s jumping the table before I even make it to Corner’s back. The kid is pissed, and I gotta say, Crabbe and Goyle are looking a little pale right now. Boring as fuck Nott is just sitting there, watching Draco verbally tear into the three like it’s his favorite soap opera.
Michael Corner’s not taking any of it. “You piece of shit, manipulative bastard. My sister is ruined because of your family! She just had a kid! She and her husband lost their new home! That you can sit there, like some fucking prince, lording over—”
Malfoy looks like he’s going to stab the kid with his wand.
“Corner, c’mere a sec.” Terry and Artie both jump a foot at the sound of my voice—And yeah, maybe, just maybe I’m taking things a little personally. Because Draco might be about to stab Corner with his wand, but it’s only because the idiot Ravenclaw has my boy by the collar like he’s about to punch his face in. Ron’s suddenly on my arm, trying to pull me away. Not fucking happening.
“Mind your own business, Potter,” Malfoy says tightly, which I readily ignore to instead grab Corner into a headlock. Corner drops Malfoy to punch me in the eye with his fist—He does a damn fine job of it. But I’m not here to beat the fuck out of the kid, just keep him from hurting Malfoy. Twisting him around, I wrench Corner’s arm until he’s yells in pain and falls to his knees in my hold.
“You done?” Ron asks, looking like he’s not sure if he wants to stop me, or keep the other Ravenclaws from coming at me.
“Almost.” I give another sharp pull to Corner’s arms, feeling his shoulder blades give as I push my shoe into his back. I do a quick binding spell. The fucker is totally the type to keep swinging even when against a stronger opponent. Not to mention, I just really enjoy tying people up, especially angry boys that look good in knots. I leave him snarling on the floor, hands tied behind his back in a ladder pattern. I spare Malfoy a glance, the blond looking extra pissed that he has to see my face.
“I didn’t ask for your fucking help, scarhead.”
Fuck, he’s pretty. And makes me hate every nice fucking thing I want to do to him. I ignore him—it pisses him off extra—and instead turn to the other two Ravenclaws that haven’t realized it’s time to leave. “Fuck off. Now.”
They do, glaring more at me than Malfoy at this point as they drag their idiot friend away. I turn to go, stopping when I catch Nott looking at me from the bench. Fucking Nott. Does he get that I just saved his boyfriend from a beating while he sat on his fucking ass and watched? Fuck, I hate this kid.
Before I can get a proper thought in my head, I reach over and grab the last piece of bacon off his plate. He stares at me in surprise, eyes narrowing, something clicking in that fucking slow head of his as I glare him down and chew his food. What a goddamn waste.
“Come on, Harry.”
I give Nott a mean smile, letting Ron pull me away. Malfoy’s red, but he’s always like that when he’s about to kill me. I wink—’cus I can’t leave well enough alone—and he flips me off in farewell.
Yeah, he’s fucking pretty. God, I hate my life.
Ron, best mate that he is, comes with me to blow off steam. Well, I’m really the one blowing shit up. He’s just watching and shaking his head at my expense for being such an idiot. I know. I fucked up big, and can’t seem to get myself out of this fucking hole I dug.
“Maybe you should start dating again.”
“No.”
He gives me a look—I think he’s been learning from Hermione. “You’re going all caveman, Harry. You can’t just bash Nott’s head in and win the git’s rodent sized heart. He can’t fucking stand you.”
“I’m aware.” Growling, I set fire to the nearest bush, watching as green flames quickly encase the brambles and burn out. The Forbidden Forest is always a great place to beat the shit out of inanimate objects with little fear of retaliation.
“And seriously, you can’t fucking stand him.” Another look I choose to ignore. “Harry—Shit, it’s Malfoy, for Merlin sake. You can do better. Fuck, anyone is better. A damn venomous snake is better.”
I glare, but don’t disagree. I don’t like Malfoy because he’s good for me. Hell, I don’t like him by choice at all. But I do, really fucking do, like him. And it’s killing me.
“Listen, we can go out this weekend. Sneak down to Hogsmeade. Find you something to distract—It doesn’t even have to be someone ‘right.’ Just shit, you need to get over him. You damn near made an ass of yourself today. He might be too egotistical to figure it out, but people are going to start talking.”
“I don’t fucking care what people say.” Huge slashes appear on the large rock I’ve targeted. I raise my wand again, the stone exploding outwards. Ron ducks, scowling from the rain of dust and sand.
“He will haunt you for a fucking lifetime if he figures out you like him. You know him, Har. He will crush you. Repeatedly. Just because you feel. Just because he can.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I turn, razing down three trees in one swipe. Of course Ron’s right. Malfoy’s a fucking monster. He’s hated me forever, and nothing is going to change that.
“God, I’m so fucked.”
Ron slaps a hand on my shoulder, sighing heavily. “Yeah, you are.” He points to another rock. I explode it. “I can call the twins down. We can go to that club. Even if you don’t find anyone, you can get yourself properly piss drunk.”
Ron really is the best fucking mate a bloke can have. Not many straight guys would forcefully drag their gay friend to a gay club to get them laid. You don’t get more loyal than a Weasley.
“Yeah, fine.”
Drinking is definitely the answer. At least, it feels like the answer right now, so drunk I don’t care that my feet don’t dance or my clothes are way too tight and revealing. It’s dark, hot, loud, and I’m buzzed and quickly spiraling towards soused with every drop I suck down of the array of beverages the Weasely twins keep pushing into my hand while we’re laughing up a storm. And fuck, they are just the fucking funniest.
Ron’s got my back, pointing blokes out like I’m actually going to look at anyone when all I can think about is Malfoy. But hell, I came here for a reason. It’s impossible—Anything with Draco Malfoy is fucking impossible. I can’t even have a simple conversation with the kid without it ending in hexes.
I’ve been hearing a lot about fish tonight. And climbing horses—Alright, I might be plastered.
“Woah there, on your feet, Potter.” George, or Fred—Forge. Gonna go with Forge, pulls me up by my arm. “You cannot hold your liquor.”
I laugh—he’s really fucking funny. I’m pretty sure they’ve been trying to get me drunk. It’s okay, drunk is good. Drunk is really, really good. Especially when someone runs their hand up my ass, like many a person has been doing as they pass me in these fucking amazing pants one of the twins insisted I wear.
“Okay, handsome. I think it’s time we throw you to the wolves.”
I just blink at the three of them, snickering as another animal reference reaches my addled mind. Wolves. Shit. Fucking wolves, and fish in the sea, and getting on horses. I’m not sure exactly where they’re leading me, everything dark, the air heavy with heat and moisture. There are more guys here, and they’re moving, swaying to the deep beat together in a way that’s totally catching my dizzy eye.
“Nice.” Arms wrap around me, a warm, hard body pressing up against my back. “Hey, pretty thing. You look fucking hot in these pants.” His voice is low and completely unfamiliar, breath curling around my ear.
I chuckle—I’m sweating in these leather pants. Hands move down my abs, and my eyes close, heat quickly pooling in my gut. We start to sway, his hips rocking, lips on my neck, fingers tangling with mine. And for a few minutes, it’s fucking fine. Then my mind decides it needs more booze because Malfoy’s flashing before my eyes, on his knees, mouth wide open, lips fucking red and swollen and full of dick. Now all I can think of is how the stranger holding me is too tall, too broad chested, and scruffy bearded. Hell, I really need a drink.
Something cold presses to my cheek, and there’s freckly Forge, shot in hand. Fuck, I love Weasleys. I open and he pours it down my throat, and the burn is so much better than the damn pain in my heart.
“You looking to party, handsome?” Warm arms asks, and hell, okay, everyone is just fucking hilarious tonight.
“Show me how to dance.” It comes out way more slurred than I mean it to. Warm arms doesn’t seem to care. I didn’t know dancing was just grinding on some guy’s rod in the dark, surrounded by a sea of faceless fish. But warm arms likes it, and hell, he feels nice, even if too tall, and too broad, and not nearly as angry as he’s supposed to be.
I’m not sure when I got back to Hogwarts. Warm arms was replaced by too much cologne, toothpaste breath, and fucking amazing hands by the time the twins dragged me from the club. I’m also not sure how I managed to turn an excursion to the bathroom into a lost stumble around the school. The moving staircases fucked me up, and Ron was so tired, he fell asleep the second he hit his bed. I can’t sleep. I can still hear the low pulse from the club in the back of my head, and I need to move, or drift, or spin, which I’m doing now. Spinning. Not sure if my feet are moving, but the walls are.
I lean against the nearest tilting wall, chuckling to myself. My hand is covered in glitter, and I can’t stop laughing about it. I think it was from fucking amazing hands. The glitter wasn’t what made his hands so amazing, but the guy was sparkling a whole lot.
I don’t hear footsteps, but he’s not interested in being sneaky, which I realize pretty fucking quick when he slams my shoulder into the wall. I blink blearily, my vision full of pale, smug prat.
“Huh, would have thought you’d fall like a sack of bricks. You’re totally shitfaced.” Draco looks me up and down, his eyes lingering for a frozen eternity on my leather pants. “You’re sparkling like a fucktard.”
“Fucking amazing hands,” I explain, the words still too slow and slurred. I laugh at his confused expression.
“What about amazing hands?”
“The guy with his hands down my pants was covered in glitter.” I push away from the wall, arms half windmilling when I fall back. I furrow my brows, the muscles of my face feeling strangely numb and slow. I find his hand on my chest, pushing me against the wall. A smile breaks crookedly across my lips. The world is a goddamn joke, as are his fucking beautiful eyes.
“Where’d you go?”
“Flesh? Err… Club? Fish?” For the life of me, I can’t remember the name of the place.
“Grind?”
I hold my finger up when he says the name. “You should never, ever go there,” I add emphatically. “Ever.”
“Oh? Do I have a glitter allergy?”
He’s funny tonight. He’s smiling at me, like he’s thinking of leaving me stripped in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. I’d get naked for him. Totally.
“They’re handsy there. Very handsy. Fucking amazing handsy.” I nearly fall, I’m laughing so hard.
“What, afraid I’m going to get handsy with you?”
I’m not, the notion never crossing my mind. I’m terrified he’s going to wind up getting pawed at by an entire room full of hot, faceless men. “Malfoy, you wouldn’t know what to fucking do with someone like me.”
It should piss him off, shut him up, and send him ranting. It doesn’t. “What, get you drunk and molest you?” He scoffs, his hand pushing me harder against the wall. “You don’t seem particularly complicated, Potter.”
I shrug. I’m really not complicated, in any sense of the word. “Just fucked in the head.” He has very nice hands. Pretty sure they’d trump fucking amazing hands if they were in my pants. My eyes blurring in and out of focus, I notice his knuckles are split and bleeding.
My poor, beautiful baby.
“Potter, let go of my fucking hand.”
“What happened? Was it that pissant, Corner?” I pull his hand up to my face, trapping his fingers between mine. He’s glaring, but it’s halfhearted at best. Apparently I’m less annoying when drunk. Go figure.
“I dealt with it,” he huffs. I know, my boy’s a badass, and I really shouldn’t worry about him. But I do. He’s got a mean, nasty mouth, and everyone wants to kick his head in.
God, he has really nice hands. I rub my cheek over the back of his fingers. Really nice. He tries to pull away, but I hold tight, kissing his bruised knuckles tenderly. I’m expecting him to ruin his hand beating my face in anyways. Might as well enjoy.
“Potter…”
“Just shut up for five seconds.” Glaring at him, I lick his fingers, slowly tasting his blood and sweat, and the faintest hint of dirt. And Merlin loves me, because he snaps his mouth shut and keeps it shut. I lick him again, nipping his fingertips, holding him by the wrist so I can tease his palm and bite the flesh of his thumb. He groans, again trying to pull his hand away.
“You’re drunk.”
“So?” I pull him closer, and he smells exactly like I remember. I’m a little shorter than Nott, and a fucking lot stronger. When Malfoy hits my chest, he fits perfectly in the crook of my neck. I continue to torment his hand, watching him as I do. When I pull his finger into my mouth, he starts to pant.
“I… I have a boyfriend.”
“So?” Fucking Nott. I use my other hand to snag him by the belt and pull his hips up against mine. God, he is perfect, and already half hard. “Your boyfriend’s a poof.”
He furrows his brows, looking terribly cute. “Potter, I’m gay.”
“I know, baby. But your boyfriend’s a fucking fairy.” I deep throat two of his fingers and he gapes at me, a half laugh, half moan escaping him.
“Potter, you’re gay.”
He really is fucking adorable, smiling at me like that. I pull his fingers out until I’m biting on the tips again. I suck and he whimpers. God, I want to do so much stuff to him. Bad, nasty, sweaty stuff. Stuff there is no way I can get hard enough for with so much alcohol in my system.
“How well does he blow you?” I ask while wrapping my arm around his waist. He doesn’t push away, but he’s tense, like he’s about to. “Does he get down on his knees every night to worship your fucking gorgeous cock?”
“You’re really drunk,” he whispers, cheeks flushing the loveliest shade of red.
I keep his hand between us, my tongue teasing over his fingers to keep from kissing him the way I really, really want to. “Not an answer. Does he take care of you? Make sure you’re happy? Make sure you’re satisfied?”
He blinks, eyes slipping to stare at the collar of my tee. “He, uh… he’s really sweet… Says he cares about me, and stuff. He thinks we should take things slow.”
Gag me. “That must be frustrating as fuck.”
He looks at me, his grey eyes oddly sober, one eyebrow raised in his patented ‘I don’t give a fuck about anything’ expression. I really love his many expressions. Usually I’m faced with the angriest, meanest ones, but sometimes he throws me false apathy, and that’s just as hot. He’s too cool for me. We both know it. Doesn’t mean I’m giving up.
“When was the last time he blew you?”
“Shit, what the fuck do you care?”
I smirk, biting his palm hard. He groans deep in his throat, his entire body jerking against mine. “Just trying to figure out how hard up you’d have to be to let me grope you in a hallway.”
Malfoy has a very sexy scowl. “A while, you asshole. Like, fuck, weeks.”
“Huh?” There’s no way I heard that right. “Weeks? You’re so full of shit.”
Not the response he was expecting, apparently. “Fuck you. He’s, like, saving himself or some shit. I don’t know. I have to jump him half the time just to get his pants off. And he’s so fucking shy to touch me—Shit. You’re goddamn annoying, Potter. Not everyone is so frustrated they start humping people when they’re drunk. He’s romantic. It’s nice.”
Like fuck it is. I bite his hand again. He gasps, his eyelashes fluttering shut. “There’s nothing romantic about having to convince your boyfriend to touch you. That’s just fucked up.”
“Shut up, scarhead. You haven’t had a boyfriend in… fuck… ever. You don’t know shit.” His eyes are still closed, lips parted in a loud pant. God, if he only knew how he looked. That he could be with someone that could ignore just how fucking sexy he is… Maybe Malfoy hates himself too.
I wrap his arm around my neck, freeing my hands so I can reach down and unclasp his belt.
He swears when my fingers slide into his underwear, then buries his head into my neck, gasping loudly. “Potter, what are you…?”
“Drunk, baby… Really fucking drunk.”
I slide to my knees, his eyes fixed on mine. There’s a storm going on, a million thoughts and emotions flickering faster than I can read on his handsome face. I tug his pants down his thighs and he gasps, lust replacing all other expressions. Sex is easy. Desire, attraction, hot, sweaty need. It’s that other shit—the many things that keep us from facing the fact that he can’t stop obsessing over me, and I can’t get him out of my mind—that fucks everything up.
He’s hot against my cheek. Smells like him, like sex and sweat. I nuzzle into his hard cock, loving how smooth he feels, how heavy he is against my face. He trims tight and I run my fingers through his white-blond hairs, amazed with just how goddamn pale he is everywhere. When I glance up, he’s already lost, his fingers threading through my hair, his tongue flicking out across his lips. I watch him as I open my mouth, moving slowly over his dick, wetting him, coating him with me. His hair is a soft halo around his head as he stares down, his eyebrows twisting, mouth nearly as wide as mine.
I take him slow, teasing the head of his cock, feeling the swell of his flesh between my lips, sliding my tongue gently into every thin ripple of flesh. His nails scrape my skull, and I don’t fight him when he rocks his hips forward, pushing into my tongue with slow, heady thrusts.
“Fuck… Holy fuck, Potter.”
God, he’s sexy when he’s begging for more. I open wider, trapping the head of his cock against my tonsils while rubbing my tongue along his smooth underside. He’s thicker than I thought he’d be. I knew he was long because I’ve seen him in the shower, but I didn’t know he’d feel so fucking thick in my mouth, in my throat. I swallow him down as far as he can go, and his moans are divine in my ears.
Grabbing him hard by the hips, I pull him until he’s falling forward, bruising my throat deep while he clutches the wall for balance. His sac brushes my bottom lip, hair bristly against my face. I run a hand down, feeling him tense in anticipation, his thighs hard, ass tight. I drag a gurgling breath in—fuck, he’s really damn perfect in my mouth—then press a cool finger to his very hot hole.
“Oh god… oh… oh hell…” He’s torn, hips moving as if trying to figure out whether to fuck me deeper, or push onto my finger. I plunge into his tight ring of muscles while pushing him tighter to my face. His short hairs tickle my nose, and fuck, he smells amazing—All boy. Hot, sexy boy.
It’s getting really hard to breathe, my mouth wetter than it’s ever been, and full of Malfoy’s dick. I want to choke on him so bad. He should always come like this. In me. On me. Fucked by me. I slowly thrust a finger in and out of him, seeking the spot inside that’s going to make him scream. I know when I find it, one of his hands suddenly pulling my hair painfully as he shouts and nearly falls.
I press his prostate steadily, holding his hip with one hand while he tries to fuck a hole in my throat. He’s so close, swelling in my mouth, the underside of his cock singing against my tongue. I’m salivating just thinking of his cum when he suddenly pushes my head back, giving me less than an instant to close my eyes before he’s coming all over my face. Hot fluid splashes over my skin in streams, cheeks, lips, and fuck, I forgot just how hot and dirty it feels. But still, fucking prat took my prize.
I can’t be angry, not when I crack my eyes open to find him moaning as he stares at me, his expression crazy intense, eyes burning into me. I stab his prostate one more time before pulling my finger out, and he growls—fucking growls—and grabs me by the neck.
“You look fucking good like that.”
He really shouldn’t be allowed to talk to me right now. I mean, fuck. “You like me in cum? Or is it your cum that does it for you?”
He has the sexiest, meanest smirk. I pull him down and he glares, nearly sprawled out over my shoulders. I grab him by the hair, pulling him into a hard kiss, making sure I wipe as much of his wet jizz on his face as possible. I know I’m too brutal, biting his bottom lip too hard, crushing his mouth beneath mine. But god, I need him so bad right now. Need to know he can feel everything he fucking does to me.
“Shit, Potter… damn, ease up…” He clings to me, fingers digging into my back as I frantically bite down his neck, tearing at his shirt. I need to stop… I really need to stop… I’m fucking drunk, and need to stop undressing him, and grinding on him, and trying to get his milky thighs around my hips. I push him down to the floor, his body rocking under me, our breath so loud in the air. Still, he doesn’t push me away, his eyelids heavy, lips swollen as he drags me down for another kiss.
It takes everything I have, every scrap of strength and sanity left, to pull away from his beautiful body. Fuck, he’s a mess. Lying on the ground, propped on his elbows, eyes a silver daze, legs parted shamelessly. He’s covered in red and purple welts from my mouth, his hair a golden haystack, clothes fucking every which way. Hard again. God, my boy gets hard so easy. Everything about him is fucking tight.
I can’t help it. My hand is suddenly on his cock, cupping him in my palm, stroking him firmly. “You have a great dick, Malfoy.”
He doesn’t say anything, his eyebrow twitching something I’m way too fuzzy headed to read right now. I have to stop. Seriously. I force myself to sit back, my eyes still roaming over him, even though my hands are now safely on my thighs.
Staring at me with that same intense glare, he finally speaks. “Let me see yours.”
I blink. I’m really not doing well here. “What, my dick?”
“Yes, you idiot. I want to see, so fucking show me.”
Damn. I’m in love with a bossy little bitch. I take a quick look at his hands just to make sure he’s not getting ready to curse me the second my pants are down. No wand in sight. Shrugging, I sit up on my knees, only swaying slightly as I unzip my ridiculously tight leather pants. I’m careful, because there’s no place for underwear in these things, and I don’t want to cut myself up on the metal teeth.
“Fucking glitter,” I mutter, my sparkling dick looking like it went a round with a disco ball and lost. I try to brush it off, but it’s not happening. My sweat seems to have melted the twinkle into my skin. I’ll probably be picking glitter off of my junk for days. Not cool, fucking amazing hands.
“That with the spell?”
I look up, trying to figure out what spell he’s talking about. He’s not looking at me, well, not at my face, anyways. He’s very much staring at my half hard cock, my poor guy desperately hanging in there, even with the booze. “Glitter?”
“The extending spell.”
I snort. “I don’t fucking stuff.”
“Like fuck you don’t. You wrote the fucking spell out, Potter. I know you know it.”
“Still don’t use it. Dispell me. Go for it. See what happens.”
Glaring at me challengingly, he sits up, looking sexy as fucking hell as he rummages around for his wand. His legs are to die for. His calves are strong, thighs hard—And that ass. Can’t forget that ass.
“Finite Incantatem. Finite… Finite Incantatem!”
“Shit—Don’t peel my skin off.” I grab his wrist before he can try to dispell my dick to the other side of the hall. For some reason he’s really fucking pissed off at me right now, and I can’t figure out why. “What’s your problem, Malfoy?”
“You, you jackass. You, and your fucking mouth, and fucking pants, and fucking big prick. Why the fuck do you have to kiss like that? Why the fuck do you have to be so—Fuck! Fuck, I hate you.”
I let his wrist go, scowling as I tuck myself in and try not to zip my dick. Whatever. He always hates me. He’s always going to hate me. Even if I blow him to fucking heaven, Malfoy is always going to hate me. God, my life fucking sucks. I’m not nearly drunk enough to deal with this shit.
I get to my feet, the hall tilting around me. Holding onto the wall, I find him glaring—’Cus that’s what he does whenever he looks at me. Glares. “Go cry about it to your limp dicked boyfriend. I’m sure he’ll pretend to give a fuck. I sure won’t.” I can’t storm off, but with a hand on the wall, I at least don’t fall on my face as I stumble away.
“Fuck you!”
I look back, completely confused. I’ve made it to the end of the hall, and he’s yelling like we’ve been arguing the entire time I was walking away. Were we? I didn’t think we were. “What?”
Malfoy does a great stomping storm. He manages to look pissed without exaggerating his movements. Graceful. Sexy. Furious. He’s dressed, but his hair is still a mess, and I can see the remains of his cum still streaking his face. Fucking, fucking sexy.
“I said fuck you.” He shoves me against the wall, snarling in my face.
Yeah, really sexy. “I’m kinda out of it right now, and totally tired, but maybe next time.”
“You fucking arrogant, condescending, audacious—”
I’ve heard this one before, and start walking again. Apparently he’s not done, and he barrels into me, slamming me up against the wall again. “Shit, I’m dizzy, baby.” I try to steady on his shoulders, but he seems determined to shove me again.
“Stop calling me that. I’m not your fucking baby.”
He’s not, but it really hurts to hear him say it. “Sorry, baby. Don’t know what I was thinking, baby. Won’t happen again… baby. Can I go now?”
“I fucking hate you!”
And I fucking love you. Life just ain’t fair.
I grab him by the back of the neck, pulling him into a deep kiss before he can try and bite my face off. He puts up a good fight, but he’s damn easy to turn on, and soon enough he’s melting, moaning, pulling at my arms like he wants to climb inside me. God, I want him to be mine so bad.
He whimpers when I slow my movements, his fingers twisting in my sleeves. I give him a final, languid, wet kiss, and rest my forehead on his. I snag him by the chin, rubbing my thumb over his swollen bottom lip. His eyes are wild this close, crystal sky and angry clouds. “I’m really sorry you hate me, Drake.”
Desperately.
I pull away and slip around the corner so I don’t have to see his expression. I feel suddenly extremely tired of whatever the fuck it is we’re doing.
It’s the same corridor. I blearily realize while winding my way back to the common room. I ended up in the same corridor and he was there, almost like he was waiting. But I didn’t look like Nott, and apparently Nott doesn’t touch him much anyways. So I don’t really get it. But I’m fucked in the head, in love with a boy that hates me, and currently sloshed out of my mind. Which is good. Because I don’t want to get it. I don’t want to think about him anymore, and just how fucked up he makes me feel.
Today is hell. And not just because I’m hung over—but a lot of it is definitely because I’m hung over. It’s Sunday, so I sleep in as late as I can, then stumble to get something in my stomach to help clear the taste of death from my mouth.
I dreamed of him. All night. Like some sort of love crazed moron. Fuck love. Fuck him. Fucking hate everything.
I don’t realize I’m wearing last night’s clothes until I’m at the lunch table and Ron is trying, and failing not to laugh at me. “You are covered in glitter. Covered. You look like some idiotic vampire wannabe. I think I might stake you, just to make sure.”
I glare because he thinks he’s funny, and he’s totally not. Fucking hate Weasleys today too. “Vampires don’t sparkle.”
“The gay ones do.”
“No, gay ones suck cock and blood. Vampires don’t sparkle. They’re bloodthirsty predators. That’s it. Shut up, my head hurts.”
He does, but he’s staring at me with that look on his face, and I brace myself when he raises his brows.
“You didn’t.”
I take a swig of pumpkin juice, trying not to gag on the flavor when it mixes with whatever crawled in my mouth and died last night. “Fuck off.”
“How? Shit—It’s like a month to make that potion!”
Damn it. How does he figure this shit out? It’s not like I’m covered in Malfoy—I washed my fucking face. “No potion. No… No. Not talking about this.” I duck my head, determined to choke down some toast without vomiting.
“Oh my god. Did he? Did you?” He’s suddenly in my lap, whispering in my ear like every tween girl that isn’t Hermione. “Does he like you? I mean, he can’t fucking stand you, so if he’s—Gah, this glitter is fucking everywhere.” He musses up his flaming red hair while glaring at me. “Why would he bone you, if he doesn’t like you?”
“Because his boyfriend’s a cock tease.” I try to say it as emotionlessly as possible, but he winces anyways. I’m bitter. Angry, lovelorn, and bitter. Fuck my life.
“Harry, babe, bring some of that my way!” Seamus has arrived, and he can tell I’m hungover. Bastard. “Fuck, those are some hot pants. C’mere. Do a twirl.”
I look up to find him looming over me, grinning from ear to ear. “Finnigan, you’re going to be twirling on my fist if you don’t shut the fuck up.”
“Ooh, cheeky. Just like your ass in those pants.” He’s snickering like a prat, and I can’t help but smirk back. Then he slaps my ass, hard, and I seriously consider throwing him across the room.
“Fuck, how much glitter do you have on your butt? There has to be some sort of legal limit.” Seamus holds his hand up, scowling at his glittering palm.
Considering it for a moment, I smack his hand at his nose. Seamus ends up with a nice glittery handprint emblazoned right in the middle of his face. Maybe nice enough to not wrestle him to the ground for being intentionally loud when he knows my head hurts. Maybe.
“That’s a good look, Seamus. Very modern.” Dean pushes his friend into the seat next to Ron before I can decide if I’m done with the annoying bastard. I must be. I grab a sandwich, pulling all the filling out so I can tear pieces of the bread apart and nibble. My stomach doesn’t really want food, but I’m always hungry, even now.
Ron suddenly grabs my arm, and I glance over at him, meeting his wide eyed gaze. I look to where he’s tilting his head, along with everyone else at my table. I then immediately look away. It’s just Malfoy. I know what Malfoy looks like. I don’t need Ron fucking pointing him out to me. I am not a thirteen year old girl that needs to look at my fucking crush ever second he walks in the room.
“What, did Malfoy and you get into a glitter fight?” Seamus asks, his hands beating a drum solo on the table.
Oh dear fuck.
My face feels like a damn volcano, but I try to keep my tone flat while I duck my head. “When are we not fighting?” I chance a peek at Malfoy to see just how bad it is. It’s bad. He looks exhausted, like he just rolled out of bed. He’s rumpled, scowling tiredly, scabs on his knuckles, and there’s glitter all over his hair, hands, and—Holy fuck, his lips and chin. I hate glitter, I really, honestly do. But he makes it look sexy. Especially since I know how he got it.
I can’t help but wonder if his cock is sparkling right now.
I need to get the fuck out and take a shower, pronto. Ron once again has my back, this time cracking jokes with Seamus and Dean while hauling me off the bench because I’m frozen like a naughty kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. This is bad. Really bad. And Malfoy’s totally oblivious to the stares he’s getting, those same eyes immediately zooming in on me right after. I haven’t gotten to a mirror, but I imagine I must be sparkling like a huge pile of galleons.
“How bad is this right now?” I ask Ron as we start towards the door, knowing he’ll be straight with me.
“You’re fucked. Absolutely reamed.”
My head pounds at the answer, somehow managing to magnify in pain at the simple words. Crap. I think he’s reading my mind, because Ron lets me go the second I make my decision, his hands up like he doesn’t want to have any part in it. I can’t blame him. This is going to be hard enough on me.
The Slytherin table is thankfully sparse of occupants. I really don’t want to be hexed into oblivious for what I’m about to do. I catch McGonagall eyeing me from the head table, but I’m hoping I’ll be fast enough before she thinks to stop me.
“Malfoy!”
He turns in his seat, glaring like I’m the last person he wants to see right now. He has no fucking idea. I grab him by the shirt and haul him up, pushing him forcefully back on the table while he snarls. Plates and glasses go rolling, silverware clattering to the floor.
“Get the fuck off me!” He punches me in the gut, and I, being a fucking idiot, don’t defend myself because for some reason I’m pretty sure I deserve it. I slam his shoulder’s down, but I can’t bring myself to actually punch him. Fuck, I suck at this. He’s goddamn pretty, and I just can’t—
“Fuck!” The sodding ferret bit me! I tighten my grip on his biceps, growling inches from him as I debate if I can bear to headbutt his gorgeous face. The urge is definitely growing.
“Potter, I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing, but if you don’t get your fucking hands off of me in five fucking seconds, I’m going to tear you limb from fucking limb.”
My god, he is sexy.
I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling like a fucking idiot. He’s not smiling, which only makes it even better. Because he is just so fucking sexy when he’s angry, his eyes flashing, his cheeks flushed, his teeth ready to sink into me.
“I’m going to fucking count to—”
“Sorry. Glitter emergency.” I let him go before he can fully comprehend what I’ve said, pushing away like I’m angry as fuck, and not just wishing I could crawl up the table and grind him into lunch. Ron grabs my arm like he’s pulling me away, and thank god for Ron, because Nott’s standing in the doorway to the Great Hall, glaring at me suspiciously.
Dread hits my stomach and I nearly stop cold. But Ron’s pulling me, keeping me going, even though he can see just as clearly as I that Nott has one single sparkle of glitter shinning on his upper lip. Which means he’s kissed Malfoy. Malfoy, who has my glitter all over his mouth and chin—And seriously, my fuck, how can anyone have an opportunity to kiss Draco and not get every fucking inch of their lips saturated in that glitter? What the fuck is wrong with Nott? Is he straight? He has to be straight. There is nothing healthy about whatever the fuck he’s doing with Malfoy.
My thoughts must be clear on my face because Nott seems angry enough to actually say something to me. “Potter, keep your hands off my boyfriend.”
“Or what, Nott? You gonna save him?” Someone has to touch Malfoy, and clearly it’s not him.
Ron glares at me, and yes, I’m apparently a fucking caveman. Whatever.
“I’m warning you. If you so much as—” Nott doesn’t have anything on Draco’s style and finesse, nevermind pure passion for verbal threats. He also doesn’t have the fucking guts to back his words up.
“Hey, you might let him bitch you out, but I don’t put up with his fucking mouth, Nott. You have a problem with me fighting with him, take it up with your boyfriend.” But you can’t, because you’re a fucking bitch boy that’s probably straight and leading Malfoy along like one day you’re going to grow a pair and actually get into the gorgeous prat sexually. God, I fucking hate Nott. Hate Malfoy for liking the kid, and hate Nott for being Nott.
Ron, thank god, shoves me out the door before I can do something even more stupid, like beat the crap out of the Slytherin in a battle for primitive male dominance. He drags me up to our dorm, my head pounding with each step I take. Then he dumps me on my bed—the bedspread covered in glitter as well—and gives me the telling off I’m sorely in need of.
“What the fuck happened last night? You were supposed to get over him! Why the hell did we bring you to that club and liquor you up beyond all recognition, if not to get this done with?”
I groan, pathetic and dejected. He doesn’t care.
“Harry! It was all over his mouth! Everyone could see. Nott could see! What the hell were you thinking?”
“Stop yelling.” My head feels like shit, and he fucking knows it. “I wasn’t thinking—I was fucked up. And shit, he let me. He more than let me. What I do with Malfoy is my own damn business.”
“Like fuck it is. You don’t get to touch him, Harry. You sure as hell don’t get to kiss him. He’s in a relationship with a really likeable bloke.” He glares when I scoff. “And you have no right to interfere. This isn’t like you. The polyjuice thing was fucked up enough. This—You might as well have written your name all over him.”
“It was an accident.” The glitter hadn’t looked that bad until the light of day. “And seriously, all he had to do was wash up. Sure, I did a shit thing, but it’s not like he’s going out of his way to hide it. And, for real, he wasn’t screaming rape or anything. Everything he screamed was fucking positive. Very positive.” I’m pretty sure. I don’t remember everything about last night, but I know Malfoy enjoyed himself. A lot.
Ron starts pacing, arms folded over his chest while he glowers. “So what, you’re going to just let him use you when he’s horny?”
“No.” Maybe.
Would it be that fucking bad?
“You want to be some sort of dog, chasing after Nott’s table scraps? Come on, Harry, you’re better than this!”
God, I’m really not. I just want him so bad, it hurts. I lie back on my bed, curling up in a ball on my side. I hate my life so much right now.
Apparently I’m too pathetic to yell at. Win. Ron takes off to see if anyone believes Malfoy’s covered in my glitter because we’re fighting. I remain to brood like the whiny bitch I’ve turned into since I first touched the hot blond.
There’s been this rumor going around, being spread by a particular pale Slytherin and his cronies for years now, insinuating that I get everything I want. The thing is, it’s bullshit. It’s always been bullshit. While my peers can look at my large inheritance, my flying skills that got me onto the Quidditch team early, my all encompassing fame, and just see the good I’ve gotten over the years, I can’t. If I really got what I wanted, my parents wouldn’t be dead. I wouldn’t have a fucking scar covering half my forehead. No one would cheer my fucking name for bouncing a killing curse off my skull. I wouldn’t live with relatives that fear me so much, they tell their coworkers and neighbors that I’m a criminal. Draco Malfoy wouldn’t hate me.
No, I don’t get a goddamn thing I want. And I’ve got godlike powers. Reality sucks.
It is apparently much easier to believe that Malfoy and I were beating the shit out of each other, instead of beating off on each other. Whoop dee fucking doo. I am painfully bitter about everything. And I mean everything. The girls asked me to help them with their dueling skills, and I blew them off. Same with Ron when he tried to get me to fly tonight. Everyone can go suck it for all I care.
It’s been two weeks, and Malfoy keeps hanging out in that corridor at night. I watch him on the map, hating everything. Nott never meets up with him. He’s waiting for me. Fuck, maybe he’s waiting for me, juiced as Nott. I really don’t know. The kid has brains—Malfoy’s always been smarter than me.
Probably why he hates me so much when good shit falls into my lap. It also tries to get me killed, but it’s easy to ignore that part when you’re jealous. I know. I ignored his bastard of a father because I hated his privilege and connections, and just plain luck to have parents.
I’m restless tonight, feeling ready to fuck up my life again. Just… I’m hesitating. Whatever the hell he wants, it’s going to cost me. I can’t imagine any scenario where I’m going to come out unscathed. This time, I’m not rushing to my doom, and that freaks me out big time. It hurts. It hurts more than anything has ever hurt before, and I don’t want to know what it feels like when he hurts me again.
I throw my invisibility cloak over my shoulder, pausing as I pass the mirror Seamus stuck to the wall. I’m told I look pretty hot, but I just seem tired. And ruffled. And a little fucked in the head. I sigh, pushing out the dormroom door and making my way down the spiral staircase. The common room is empty, and so are the hallways as I slowly find my way through the maze of corridors into the dungeons.
Malfoy doesn’t look up when I reach him. He’s sitting on the floor against the wall, knees raised, eyes closed. He’s awake though, I can tell. I wait, wondering when he’ll say something. He doesn’t. I sit in the middle of the hall and look at the ceiling.
His knuckles are a mess again. Nearly everyday now. They’ve just started the trial for his dad, and everyone’s talking about it. There have been pages in the paper just on the victims and how they’re hurting. Draco won’t be getting a page for how his dad fucked up his life.
“I like your jeans.” He looks damn near rugged and relaxed for a change, like maybe that stick was finally dislodged.
“Theo got them for me.”
“Crap. I hate your jeans. Fuck, don’t tell me that shit.”
He finally opens his eyes, fixing me with an unreadable stare. Yeah, he’s way too cool for me. I nudge his foot with mine, because I’m antsy and he’s there, and I want to touch him, but really can’t seem to get up the nerve when he’s being so cold.
“Corner again?” I ask, nodding at his hands.
“Atticus.”
I whistle. The kid is a bruiser, through and through. He has to be with a name like that. “He mess you up?” ‘Cus I’m going to fuck the kid up the first chance I see him.
He doesn’t answer, just stares at me some more, like he’s waiting for me to spring some big revelation on him or something. I’ve got nothing. I’m bored. I like him. I can’t have him. Not much more to me at the moment.
“I need to know something, Potter. A couple of things.” His voice is ice, and I’m immediately on guard. His jaw is set, the way he gets when he’s eating something big emotionally. I’m going to assume it’s anger. He has a lot of reasons to be angry at me. Like millions, probably.
I go back to staring at the ceiling, not sure if I can handle seeing him hate me like I deserve. “Shoot.”
“Your watch. Were did you get it?”
He really is brilliant. And I am so boned.
“It was my dad’s, actually. Or, at least, that’s what Sirius told me.”
“One of a kind. Wizard style, pure platinum with black mother of pearl face.”
“Err…” I actually bother to look at my watch, because I’ve never really paid it much attention, even though I look at it every single day to get the time. “Yeah. I guess so.” Okay, he’s extra brilliant. No wonder I always feel like an idiot when we’re sharing classes.
The floor feels like it’s rushing towards me, my blood loud in my ears. My stomach is in a huge knot, and I’m getting ready for whatever comes next. I start tapping my foot nervously, again staring up at the dark, stone ceiling, the torchlight making every crevis look like pure night. It’ll be over soon, and maybe I’ll finally be able to get on with my life.
“How many times?”
He doesn’t have to elaborate. I know what he’s asking. “Twice. This hallway.”
He’s quiet for a long time. So long, I can feel the sweat trickling down my neck and spine as I wait. But I can’t look at him. No way in fuck I can look at him right now. Hell, maybe not ever.
“Do you… do that sort of thing a lot?”
I sputter, completely caught off guard. “Fuck no! Holy shit—Never.” And I have to look at him, because it’s really fucking important that he understands I have never, ever tried to get into anyone’s pants by polyjuicing. His expression isn’t cool anymore. There’s definitely something dark and intense, likely deadly lurking in his eyes. But I stare him down because this is everything to me. “You’re the only one. I swear.”
There’s that anger, just sparking, just flaring beneath his facade. I consider looking away, pretty sure I’m pissing him off, but he’s already snapping another question at me. “Why?”
Aw, fuck.
Every fucking plausible excuse I can think of runs through my mind at once. I can’t tell him. I can’t. It must be on my face, because he starts yelling.
“Why, Potter? You violated my fucking relationship. My body. My fucking security. Why the fuck would you do something so fucked up? What the hell did I do to you—Nothing I have done has ever fucking compared to this, this madness! Nothing!”
God. Can it get worse than this? Seriously? Well, besides the fucking thing he wants me to tell him?
“Explain it to me—For fuck sake!” He runs his hands over his face, and I notice for the first time just how tired he is. He’s going through shit because of his father, and I just fucked up his life while ruining my own. Fuck it. I have to tell him. I have to. I owe him at least that.
My mouth is dry, and my voice comes out like sandpaper. “First, I just want to say that my reasons don’t justify what I did, okay? I… I know how fucked up it is. I didn’t even really intend… No. Ignore that. I’m fucked up.” I try to wet my lips, but everything is so dry right now. I can’t look at him while I say this, so I focus on the floor between us. “I fell for you.”
“Fucking horseshit!”
God, he’s just not going to make this even remotely easy. I force myself to meet his eyes, and he’s ready to kill me now. “I’m in love with you.” Yup, that is definitely his killing glare. “And although that doesn’t justify shit, it made a lot of very bad ideas seem really fucking brilliant at the time. I told myself it was harmless. Because, god, I would never hurt you.” I hold my hand up before he can yell. “Physically—Crap, sexually? I know we used to fight, but hell, it kills me to hurt you. That’s why I stopped fighting with you. I just couldn’t touch you like that. It was wrong. It felt like I was hurting myself.”
“Then what the hell was that glitter thing? You fucking slammed me against the damn table!”
I do everything to keep my voice level, trying not to feed his very justifiable anger. “You were covered in the glitter that was all over me. It was on your mouth. My friends were starting to put two and two together. I thought you’d rather think I was trying to beat you, than have to explain to your boyfriend why your lips were covered in my glitter. I… Shit, I knew I had fucked things up for you, and I just wanted to fix it any way I could.”
I shake my head, a harsh laugh tearing from my throat. “You are always going to fucking hate me, Malfoy. I know it. You know it. Everyone in the damn school knows it. So I did something really fucked up because I would never, ever get a chance with you otherwise.” His eyes say it all, but I don’t look away. I’m never going to have another chance to tell him the truth, as terrible as it is.
“I’m sorry for all the many fucking terrible ways I hurt you, betrayed you, and used you. And I’m sorry for how much this whole thing has just fucked me up worse, because being with you was amazing, and it’s never going to happen. Especially after this. But I still can’t regret it. And yeah, I’m sure you will work the rest of your life trying to make sure I do. But you’ll fail. When I held you in my arms, my life finally meant something. And even if it never means anything again, at least for those moments it did.”
I am probably the biggest fucking fool out there, baring my soul to Draco Malfoy. Because I know better than anyone else just how good he is at destroying the defenseless. I’m expecting it. Anticipating it. If he does it well enough, maybe, finally, these feelings can rest. A truly broken heart won’t ever feel again, and that’s what I want. Need.
He gets up, his eyes blazing anger, and I patiently wait for him to scream, or punch, or draw his wand and hex me into oblivion. Instead he walks away, not saying a single word to me.
The bastard.
God, the fucking bastard.
The morning looms, rainy, dreary, miserable. This is my life. The life I made. The life I can’t blame on fucked up dark wizards that kill parents and toddlers alike. And hell, maybe I can start to understand how a bloke can go so fucking wrong and start murdering people in the name of something. Because I went crazy wrong the moment Malfoy started dating Nott. In the name of love.
I dress slowly, not really paying much attention to my clothes. My body feels heavy. My arms don’t want to lift, my head permanently stuck at a downwards slope. The guys are already off to breakfast, and the common room is gratefully empty. My bookbag feels like a ball and chain today. I float it, but still, I can’t seem to do much but drag my steps.
I’m not hungry, and I don’t want to see him in the Great Hall, sitting with his boyfriend to begin the ignoring of a lifetime he started last night. God, he is fucking brilliant. He was so beyond angry, but he knew how to hurt me, and he put that first. Just ignore me. Because I am nothing to him. I will always be nothing to him.
I deserve worse. I deserve to be bleeding. Fine, I just want to be bleeding. Physical pain is so much easier to bear than this rotting, festering feeling inside, empty and full all at once, and all monstrous. Fucked up. I am so fucked up.
“Harry! Hurry!”
I turn sluggishly, confused as to why Hermione is running down the hall leading to our transfiguration class and heading straight for me. I’m early. I’m really early for class. Does she have like a twenty minutes early or it doesn’t count clause I don’t know about?
She stops, her hair a fluffy mess while she pants for air. I wish I can raise some enthusiasm, but I have nothing left to give. I can barely keep my head up to look at her. Good thing she’s shorter than me. “Okay, Mione?”
She nods wildly, grabs my hand, and starts pulling me back the way she came. I stare at her back as I stumble, unease trickling through the fog of misery in my head. “Mione?”
“New article,” she snaps out, her breath still strained. “Gotta hurry.”
I love Hermione, I really do, but sometimes she’s from another planet. Not the same planet the rest of the girls are from, with their smelly perfume and hours of vapid giggling, but one all by herself, with different rules, and different priorities. If the fucking paper was that important, she could have summoned it to me. And knowing her, it’s not even something I’m going to give a fuck about. Yet, she’s pulling me down the damn hall anyways.
I realize Hermione’s personal planet is actually a lot closer to mine than previously thought when she pulls me into the Great Hall. Holy fuck. It’s a mess, half the kids on their asses pulling themselves from the floor, and the rest, well, gone. Tables are sideways, plates and food everywhere. The Slytherin table is literally cracked in half. That feeling of dread is growing, faster and faster when I can’t find Ron or Draco in the crazy mess. Hermione’s saying something to me, but I can’t hear her over the blood roaring in my ears.
Gotta find them. Now. Every single article this month has been about how Lucius Malfoy has fucked over muggleborns and purebloods alike, and I’m in this room because of the latest article. Where is he?
I look around quickly, my magic snapping like electricity in the air. There’s a path. Slytherin table, outward blast that took out the Ravenclaw table. Head table relatively fine, so we’re moving in the opposite direction, back to the Great Hall doors, scorch marks on the floor, broken stone to the right, fallen painting to the left, down, down… Castle doors.
I slam outside, Hermione hot on my heels. I’m not thinking anymore, and I can only hope she doesn’t try to stop me. There’s a crowd out in the drear and mud, a circle of about fifty students. Two thirds of them are pointing inwards, looking to murder, the other third pointing outwards, looking to not be murdered. Guess who’s in the fucking center?
My boy. His boyfriend. Ron.
If you ever need a truly fucking loyal friend, you find yourself a Weasley. There is no substitution.
I try to stuff down the cold ice skating through my entire core as I catch site of Draco. He’s bleeding. A lot. Nott’s holding him upright, because my boy’s eyes aren’t open, and his legs aren’t working anymore.
I’m moving, but I don’t feel it. Everything is slowing down. The smoke as spells ring out. The twisted expressions of anger and hate. The voices, echoing from far away as heat rises up in me in a wave beyond anything I have ever felt before.
I have a frozen moment of eternity to acknowledge the whispering of terror over what I’m going to do. Then I’m here, touching their backs, and they’re just falling to the ground under my fingertips. Five, nine, thirteen, twenty-three…
“Snap the fuck out of it!”
Ron slugs me across the face. Lights flash behind my eyelids, pain exploding red from my cheek. The noise of the real world roars into focus. Everyone is screaming, mostly the kids on the ground. I can’t seem to get my brain to turn back on. The world is glassy, the noise tin, the light too bright and tinted green.
God, where is Draco?
“No!” Ron wrestles me by the shoulders before I can turn, and I know it’s bad. Because he’s protecting me, not Malfoy now. Oh god.
I can’t breathe.
I clutch uselessly at the slippery grass, the world spinning around me while Ron holds me down in a lock.
“Alive, I promise you. He’s alive.”
Okay. Okay. But Ron’s not letting me up, so I don’t fully believe him.
I don’t know how long he holds me down. Long enough for the professors and Madame Pomfrey to get there. One by one, the screams fade out to silence. I stare at the ground, tasting dirt, and copper, and salt. The voices are all muddled in my head, low, concerned rumbles that don’t mean a damn thing to me. None of them are his voice. That’s all I know for certain.
I can’t feel anything. I know Ron is still there, sitting on my back. There are vibrations as feet step past my bubble of awareness. None of it’s real. I’m a million miles away, next to Hermione’s planet, so glad I don’t have to feel. My body would never be able to contain the emotions. I need a planet for them. A big one. A lonely one. Out in the dark, in the vacuum, where no one else can be harmed by this madness inside me.
Scholarships. They tried to kill him over the fucking scholarships. Somehow Lucius Malfoy had managed to bankrupt four different prestigious educational programs. Probably doesn’t sound like a big deal—sure as fuck doesn’t to me—but the wizarding world is small, and the wealth is never really spread here. While the majority fight for every knut, the rich purebloods hoard their treasure like dragons. The only way to get at the gold is to gut the guard.
I don’t fucking know. I don’t fucking know much of anything right now. Thinking leads to feeling, and I can’t endure that at all.
McGonagall and Dumbledore had a long talk with me, where I told them the very little I actually understood of what happened. After, Madame Pomfrey pulled me into the hospital ward with Ron’s help, and drugged me asleep. I really wish she was here now with more of that blue potion, because I don’t want to be awake. Probably not ever again.
My victims have all recovered. Don’t know the spell I used, but Dumbledore thinks it’s a new version of the Cruciatus Curse. He had a look in his eye, like he was wondering just how fucked up I’ve become since he tore me from my loveless, miserable life in the cupboard, and put a wand in my hand nearly seven years ago. A lot. I’m fucked up big time.
I close my eyes when I hear voices. Nott again. He was drugged up after going into shock. They won’t let him see Malfoy. At least he’s no longer covered in blood; he was looking damn gory for a while there.
“I just want to see him. I won’t bother him—I just need to see that he’s okay.”
“Mr. Nott, do not make me tell you again.” Madame Pomfrey doesn’t bend to anyone, even perfect boyfriends. “I dare say you’re well enough to go back to class. Dinner is just finishing up.”
“Please, Madame Pomfrey. I won’t say a word. I won’t do anything to wake him up. Please. He’s all alone, and… please.”
God, I hate him so much.
She lets him in. A good five minutes. He comes out crying. I really want to fall back asleep.
I keep seeing Malfoy’s face. Not like before, not yelling at me, or moaning, or sneering. No, with his eyes closed, deathly pale, scarlet streaming down. There’s a shadow where no shadow should be on his cheek because someone took a blunt object to his perfect face and caved it in. I wish I had killed them. All of them.
I wish I had gotten up and gone to breakfast on time.
I wish I could see him, and hold him, and not have him hate me.
Godlike powers don’t mean shit in this world. Magic? Fuck magic. Magic doesn’t get you shit. People are still poor, evil still wins, and we die. All of us. He hates me, and no magic will ever change it.
I’m thinking of becoming an accountant. I suck at math, but hey, calculators. No magic. No expectation that things should have been different. God, they should have.
I’m going to be the rich prat he was supposed to be. And he—Well, his dad fucked him up. He’s going to have to work for a living now. With fifteen less scholarships available when it comes time to apprentice. I’m sure when he’s back on his feet, he’ll appreciate the irony.
If he lives.
Nott sent him flowers. Roses. Three bouquets. I want to vomit. Perfect fucking prince charming. I even saw a stuffed animal in there. A dragon. Fucktard. I hate my life so much.
Madame Pomfrey won’t let me leave. I’m surprised I’m not in some padded cell right now. Two days since the incident, and she keeps mumbling something about magical exhaustion, and severe fatigue and dehydration. I guess I broke myself when losing my mind cursing my classmates. Wouldn’t be the first time.
The room reeks of roses. Pomfrey won’t let anything in the critical ward with Malfoy, so I have to look at his fucking flowers. Fuck.
Ron’s been by, giving me shit for the mess I made, patting my shoulder for the way my heart’s numb. Hermione dropped off homework and a book on the Cruciatus Curse. That’s my girl—Sees me go crazy with power and gives me a thumbs up for having the ability. Whole other planet. She found me, not the professors, when things went to shit. Apparently Ron’s been telling her just how much I’m fucked over Malfoy. She hasn’t thrown a hissy yet, even though I know she hates the Slytherin.
Hermione was kind enough to incinerate my flowers for me. News has gotten out that the great Harry Potter saved the fucking day once again, and all the fans want to send me ‘get well, thanks for saving a worthless rich prat’ gifts. I won’t let her burn the roses—although god, I hate those roses—but she’s been awesome to get the other shit out.
I’m not sure why I’m awake now. Probably just between potions. I wonder if Madame Pomfrey is trying to inadvertantly heal my broken heart. I should tell her it’s a lost cause, and drag my ass back to my dorm. But I’m tired. And I really don’t want to talk to anyone.
Malfoy’s door opens, and Nott walks out. I sigh internally, totally remembering what woke me up this time. He looks my way, and I immediately look at the ceiling.
Crap, here he comes.
“I wanted to thank you.”
For fuck sake. I’m going to burn in Hell. I really am. I don’t know if Hell is real, but when I die, I’m going straight to it.
“They say if he was brought in any later, he wouldn’t have, well, survived. You… you saved his life.”
Somehow this only makes me feel even more miserable, and I fix my glare on him. His eyes are rimmed in red, like he’s been crying while sitting with Malfoy. I really, truly, hate him. “I’m sure you holding off that crowd of crazies singlehandedly had a greater impact than me, Nott. You definitely win in the hero department.”
He snorts—fucking snorts—in my face. “Shut up, Potter. God, I hate you so much.”
For the first time, I wonder if Malfoy actually told Nott about what I did. Prince charming doesn’t really seem angry enough for that though. “Funny, I thought you didn’t really give a fuck about all that Golden Boy shit.”
His laugh is pure self deprecating. “Oh, I didn’t. Not until I realized my boyfriend can’t stop ranting about you day and night, even over shit that has nothing to do with him. And then I fucking wake up one Sunday to find you dressed like some wet dream, and him covered in fucking glitter and hickies. I’m not an idiot.”
Fuck, guess he’s not. Looks like I’m the only dumbass in the goddamn place. Crap.
“He hates me, Nott. You have nothing to worry about.”
He laughs again, sounding almost as bitter as I am. “Fuck you, Potter. Thanks for saving his life. Fuck you for ever being born.”
Nice. Malfoy’s been rubbing off on the kid. He walks away, swearing under his breath. Part of me feels just the slightest bit satisfied that at least he’s miserable too. Yeah, I’m a fucking monster.
I really need to get the fuck out of the hospital ward. I don’t even know what day it is now… Or night. Pretty sure it’s night. Pomfrey keeps spiking my juice, knocking me out, and seriously, it’s getting really fucking annoying. I’m thirsty as fuck again, but I just finally woke up.
God, but I’m thirsty. There has to be laws against this. But, magic, so if it involves pushing your will on others without their consent, the law tends to accept it as part of the consequence. I reach for the glass on the bedside table, groaning from the pain in my heavy arms. Why am I in pain?
I remember the heaviness. Side effect from the exhaustion and dehydration. Not sure about pain. Actually, I look to be covered in slashes.
I pull my arm close, licking mindlessly at the nearest slash. It’s fairly fresh, blood still wet. Not life threatening, but a mean sting. There’s a rustle of movement by the foot of my bed, and there’s Malfoy, glaring, face perfect, if not a bit gaunt.
“Bleeding me in my sleep?”
“Yes. Should have stabbed you through the fucking chest.”
Probably. He still has his wand out, and given the look on his face, he’s not done with me just yet. I lie back, holding my heavy arms out in surrender. “Well, have at it then.”
He snarls, probably pissed I’m not putting up a fight. Whatever. I just don’t have it in me anymore. A part of me is just so relieved he’s really alive and well enough to be slashing the shit out of me. Angry people don’t die. They live on, making the world a shitty place for everyone else. He’ll live a damn long time.
“You ruined everything, Potter. Fucked everything up.”
I open my eyes again, finding him glaring down only a foot away. “Sorry. I’m a fuck up. It’s what I do.”
He presses his wand to my shoulder, daring me to say anything. I don’t. The pain is quick, intense, and makes me gasp. I have to close my eyes because his expression is pure torment.
“You ruined my fucking life.”
“Did I? Didn’t notice with all the people trying to kill you.”
“Fuck you!” The next slash is deeper, over my chest, delicious agony I can’t even begin to describe. “You think playing hero is going to make up for what you did?”
“Shit, you think I went in there to make you like me? They were going to kill you. They nearly—Fuck.” He really makes me crazy. “Just get lost, Malfoy. I can’t bear to see your goddamn face anymore. Go take your fucking roses too. They stink.”
“You ruined. My fucking. Life.”
Why the fuck does he keep saying that? “I didn’t fuck up your dad, Malfoy. I didn’t write those goddamn articles, or arrest him. I shoved my tongue up your ass, and made you blow me. It’s not the fucking end of the world.”
I really need to learn to keep my big mouth shut. He slashes down my stomach so quick, I only just turn my hips in time to keep him from cutting my bits off. The fucking prat. I grab his wrist, twisting until he hisses, his wand dropping from his hand. He goes to punch me, and I grab that hand as well, growling when he tries to headbutt me. He’s fucking pissed, and weak as a damn kitten.
“Go back to bed, you idiot. You’re just going to tire yourself out.”
He struggles, trying to wrench his arms from my grasp. “Shut the fuck up! I can’t fucking stand you!”
“Yeah? Then maybe you shouldn’t be in here talking to me.” Shit, but he is so damn pretty.
He suddenly stills, glaring at me in warning. “Don’t fucking do it, Potter. I will tear you limb from fucking limb if you so much as touch me with—”
I know. How the hell can I resist? I pull him down while he’s still cursing my name. He falls against my chest, snarling. But his mouth is hot when I kiss him, yielding and hungry. I hold onto his arms, but he’s practically climbing up me, gasping into every hard kiss, groaning loudly when I suck on his tongue and pull him closer. God, he drives me crazy. Fucking crazy.
Suddenly he slams his hands down, breaking his arms free and smacking my shoulders at the same time. Ouch.
His eyes are molten metal. “If you ever fucking do that again, I’m going to castrate you. Slowly.”
“With your teeth?” I grasp his face before he can pull away, crushing his lips to mine, drinking down every angry moan and growl he makes. I’m never going to learn my lesson. Kissing Draco Malfoy is worth every fucking nasty name, and painful wound he gives me. And when he walks away to his perfect fucking boyfriend, this is all I’ll have to remember. Furious kisses.
He grabs my neck, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to strangle me, but instead his fingernails dig in, dragging down, scratching over my collarbone and chest. I groan, tugging on his silky locks, wrapping one of my arms around his waist and pulling him down on top of me to tangle in the blanket between my raised knees. “I got you, baby.”
“Shut up, you fucking pain.” He pushes my head back, his mouth hot and teeth sharp as he moves down my throat, biting and licking. I shudder under his slick tongue, hips thrusting up, fire racing over my skin in erratic waves. I run my palm down his back, cupping his ass, pulling him against my body with heady, perfect motions. He moans every time his hard cock grinds into my hip. I squeeze his ass tight, wanting to build that rhythm, needing to feel his body move against my aching dick until he’s gasping for mercy.
“I really… can’t stand you,” he whimpers into my neck, holding me painfully hard around the shoulders while he pants heavily.
“I know, baby. But I like you enough for the both of us.” I grab his chin, pulling him up so I can kiss him. It’s sloppy, uncoordinated, but so good, his tongue shivering, lips dripping wet. He keeps moaning, soft, desperate pleas as we rock together. For the longest minutes we breathe the same air, share the same words and cries of intense heat and need. I watch him when he finally lets go, and it’s the most beautiful expression I’ve ever seen on him. Especially since he’s looking at me, knowing it’s me. Fire moves through me so great, I have to hold him tight, ground myself in his perfect smelling flesh and weight of his body, my hips bucking against his in maddened, wild jolts as I come.
God, he’s everything. Fucking everything. I wrap around him, breathing him in, listening to his strained breathing as he tries to get his wits back.
“Let go.”
“Make me.” I hold him tighter, moving a palm down his side, kissing into his neck. He’s sweaty, growing warmer in my arms, and full of beautiful, soft sighs. “You’re so beautiful.”
“You’re an idiot.”
He lets me hold him for a good ten minutes, grumbling the entire time even as he nuzzles into my chest, his hands wrapping around my sides. Nothing can compare to having him breathe with me, pressing his weight down on my body, filling my senses, making my crazy fade for just this moment. It’s perfect. Right. Fleeting.
“I need to go.” He pushes up, and I let him, releasing my arms from around his waist. He picks up his wand, looking me over, staring at all the slashes he’s left on my skin. He smirks, meets my eyes for a second, then turns away.
I stare at the closed door to his room for long minutes, the heat of his body slowly draining from me. Finally I grab the glass still waiting on the table beside me, and down it with one long gulp. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to feel. I want to sleep this all away, and pray I’ll eventually wake up where it doesn’t all hurt.
The next time I wake up, I get up. No thinking, no plan. It’s time to get the fuck out. My body fights me, but I ignore it. I change, the morning dawn just breaking through the narrow windows. I don’t say goodbye to Madame Pomfrey, just incase she wants to try and convince me I need another drink. I make it to my dorm, to my bed, and collapse. He won’t find me here, even if I want him to.
It’s time to grow the fuck up and let him go. I just really, really don’t want to.
Ron finds me eventually, cussing me out for being an idiot. I can’t explain. Fine, I’m an idiot. But I’m done watching Nott visit him, done smelling his roses and wondering what he’s doing on the other side of the door. I can’t do this anymore. Ron gets me water that doesn’t put me to sleep, and I stare blearily at the pile of homework that’s built up, hoping to do something useful, something constructive beyond pining for the impossible.
The next day, I make myself go to class. It’s tough. People are talking about me, but not about Malfoy. No, I’m a dark wizard again. It seems to happen every time I reveal my power, usually when someone’s trying to kill me. I think if I could remember being attacked as a baby, I might have been prepared for the lifetime of wizards following in the trend. But I don’t remember Voldemort. I’ve had quite the opportunity to meet his many remaining followers though, and let me say, it’s been a fucking blast.
I get the stink eye for the next week. It won’t blow over for a while—I attacked my fellow students, blah fucking blah. They nearly killed one of their own, but I’m the evil one. I know. Godlike powers are nothing when faced with the idiocy of humans.
Nott seems about ready to throttle me, Malfoy still in the hospital ward. I’ve never seen the boy so pissed off. Which is strange, because I don’t look at Nott. I don’t say shit to him. I don’t say shit about him. I’ve decided to leave well enough alone and stop fucking up everyone’s lives, if only to stop fucking up my own.
Still seriously considering going muggle. Not an accountant, but there must be something I’m qualified for out there that won’t bore the shit out of me. The longer I stay around magic, the more I feel the pull to use it. That sort of power, it twists inside after a while. Makes me think it’s okay to do all the many things my power can let me do. And believe me, I can do a lot. A whole fucking lot of terrible. Easy.
“Come flying after class. I can get the team out.” Ron is determined to get me living again.
I sigh, adjusting my bookbag on my shoulder. Potions is next, and I’m full of dread. The Slytherins are giving me shit lately, more so than usual. I have a feeling Nott’s talking me down, stirring up trouble. That, plus the return of the dark wizard label, and Snape in general, just sucks the joy out of the otherwise interesting class. “Maybe. Let’s see how tired I am.”
“You sound like an old man.”
I feel like an old man. An old, defeated man that’s done fighting. It’s pathetic, but it’s honest.
I keep my head down when approaching the Potions classroom. I can already hear them talking shit. Perfect Potter’s going to donate money to reinstate the bankrupt scholarships. Hero boy just can’t stop demanding all the attention. Nearly killed his classmates, and now he thinks he can buy his way into doing whatever he wants.
I did make a large donation to the scholarship fund. It’s shit what happened, and no one deserves to suffer just because Lucius Malfoy is an unscrupulous asshole. But I donated anonymously, so I don’t know who the fuck leaked it. But I’ll find out, because I really don’t want to get shit or praise every time I throw money at things. I plan on throwing my parents’ money at a lot of things in the future. It’s doing no good sitting in that dank vault, that’s for sure.
“Hey, Potter, feel like lending me a couple hundred galleons? There’s this new broom I want to get. Hey, I’d even give you a spin on it. You do enjoy a good broom ride, so I hear.”
And so it begins. “Fuck off and get a job, Zabini.” Blaise doesn’t actually need a job, his parents not dumb enough to go into business with Lucius Malfoy. Most of the purebloods were too smart to fall for Malfoy’s scheme. Which only made all the other wizarding families so very bitter when they weren’t spared. But it does mean at least the majority of Draco’s house has his back, Slytherins mostly comprised of arrogant purebloods.
I duck through the door before I can get anymore shit. Only to stumble back when someone smacks into my shoulder. Holding my arm, I look up to find Nott there, glaring with a very spiteful expression on his face. I’m pretty sure he hit me on purpose, actually, which is just bizarre for the kid. I take a step forward to get into the room, but he immediately steps in front of me, chest puffed up like some angry bird.
“Problem, Nott?”
“Yeah, you, Potter.” He shoves me, hard, the world tilting for a second before I catch my balance, my bag jarring against my back. Okay.
“I don’t know what you’re deal is, but I need to get to class.” He’s got his hands in fists like he wants to take a swing at me. Considering Snape is on the other side of the door, I really can’t imagine what’s going through his head right now. “Whatever the hell this is, can you speed it up?”
He can, and he does, throwing a punch right at my face. I reflexively duck, dropping my bag and grabbing him low—because fuck, I’m short. I push him back, and angry as he is, he’s not coordinated enough for this. I don’t actually think I’ve ever seen Nott in a proper fight. For good reason; he sucks.
It’s rather amazing that no matter how much magic we can raise up, we really just love a good fistfight. It’s got to be a guy thing. I’ve seen girls hex the nail polish of a rival’s fingers, just to be a bitch.
Nott picks himself up off the floor, growling as he touches his bleeding lip. But I can see it in his eyes. He’s not done. “Come on, Nott. Don’t make me mess you up. Your boyfriend will be very pissed to see you bloodied and bruised.”
Mentioning Draco was apparently the wrong thing to do, and he practically roars when he lunges at me. Fuck. Fucking psycho Slytherin perfect boyfriend bastard. I let him hit me head on even though I could have dodged, his fists wailing on my back. I duck down, wrap my arms around his thighs, tip sideways, and half throw, half roll him the fuck away. The floors are pure stone, and he slams his shoulder and side hard, ending up on his back and groaning in pain. I think he bit his tongue, but I’m not getting close enough to see. He managed to wrench my arm when he tried to hold on, but nothing life threatening.
I exchange a questioning look with Ron, but he seems just as clueless as to why Nott has suddenly lost his shit. As does Snape, who immediately docks points from Gryffindor—the vindictive jackass—for fighting. Believe me, if Nott had won, he still would have docked points. Hell, Snape would have given Slytherin twenty just for someone kicking my ass.
Zabini drags Nott’s pathetic self up to the hospital ward, patting the boy companionably on his bruised shoulder while Nott gives me the evil eye until he turns the corner.
Seriously, what the hell did I do? The last time I actually talked to Nott was that bizarre conversation where he thanked me for saving Draco’s life, while in the same breath admitted he hated my guts. It really doesn’t make sense that he wants to beat my skull in now. The kid won. He’s got himself a beautiful, vicious, Slytherin prat that will happily verbally tear him to pieces while sucking his tiny cock. What more could the boy ask for?
“You okay?” Hermione frets, running her wand over my shoulder and arm when I walk in the room. I let her, ‘cus she’ll hound me until I do, flinching under Snape’s glare from the front of the class. Right. I’m the disruption, once again. Not the bastard swinging at me. Yeah, it’s always so damn good to be me. Get shit for donating to charity, and defending myself. I must have been a real right bastard in a past life.
“Miss Granger, if you would kindly stop fawning over Mr. Potter, I would like to start my class.” Every eye is suddenly on the two of us, even though I’m gay, and Hermione and Ron have been a thing for, like, ever. It’s actually kind of funny, and she giggles when I throw an arm around her and kiss her cheek. Ron doesn’t, huffing weakly until she sits down and takes his hand.
“Gag me,” Parkinson mutters, making a vomiting noise I have a feeling she perfected on her journey from a dress size of 18 to 0. Fuck her. Hermione’s beautiful, with a hell of a lot more brains and power than the jealous bitch. Parkinson just wishes she had her own planet as cool as my girl’s.
Then I see him, and the world swims for the longest, loudest moment when I meet his eyes. He’s out of the hospital. He’s okay. He’s… Well, he’s glaring at me.
I sit. Nearly miss my chair. Get my ass aligned properly, and manage not to fall over. God, he fucks me up.
Ron’s seen Malfoy too, and he leans over to whisper in my ear. “Think he sicced his boyfriend on you? Like a welcome back present?”
I have no idea, but it seems like something Malfoy might do. But not really something Nott would normally agree to. Nott was genuinely pissed… Fuck. Had Malfoy finally told him about the polyjuicing? If I were Nott, I would have totally flipped over that. Actually, I would have flipped a fuck ton more. Maybe it’s not that—Or maybe Nott’s just a better person than I am.
Pretty sure he is.
I try to push it out of my mind. I shouldn’t be thinking about Malfoy anymore. I told myself I was going to stop this crazy thing. Just, it’s really hard when he’s actually in the same room as me again. I feel like I haven’t seen him in forever, and god, now I can’t stop thinking about that night in the hospital. How the hell am I going to do this? How the hell can I pretend he’s not the fucking reason my heart is racing, my palms sweating, my god damn brain running circles around my dick, and totally losing.
And he keeps glaring at me!
Ah, I’m so fucked. I mean, really. I’m never going to get over this. I’m going to have to move to Siberia or something. A place where Draco Malfoy would never dare grace. Huh, I could just go back to the Dursleys. Damn. That kind of bummed me out. I really need to stop thinking about him.
God, he felt so good in my arms. Warm. Damn near sweet, even for all his grumbling. I bet he was a cat in a former life. One that demanded to be petted, all the while scratching the shit out of anyone that dared. A white cat. Pristine and haughty. I should get myself a cat.
I can’t have Malfoy but I can, pretty sure, get a damn cat.
“Don’t look now, but I think someone’s here to kill you.” Ron doesn’t bother whispering. We’ve just finished our half hour flight around the quidditch pitch. My face is numb from the cool wind, my hair feeling beyond windswept as I quickly try to pat it down when I catch sight of Malfoy.
“Get lost, Weasel.”
“Nice to see you too, Ferret. Glad you’re face filled in after I pulled you from Ripper’s boot.”
Malfoy pauses at that, uncertainty flickering across his features. I wonder just how much he remembers of the incident that put him in the hospital ward for nearly two weeks. Apparently not a lot, and Ron and I both gape when Draco suddenly holds his hand out to the redhead. “Thanks for that.”
Ron looks like Malfoy’s hand is about to bite him. Unperturbed, Malfoy grabs his boldly and gives him a proper shake. The world, amazingly enough, continues to turn. The sun even starts to set.
“I’m… going to go now,” Ron mutters, glaring at Draco suspiciously, then at his hand. I’m pretty sure the blond didn’t curse him. I could be wrong. It is Malfoy.
“Potter.”
I jump, eyes flying to his. “Er, hey, Malfoy.” I really don’t feel like fighting right now. The flying has done me some good, and I’m so sure he’s going to just mess me up again. I’m already dazed and feeling self conscious as all fuck. I pull my bangs down again, just to be on the safe side. Damn it. I hate this shit.
“You’re not going to shake my hand, are you?” I ask when he continues to stand there. He’s glaring, but it’s not as mean as normal. There’s heat to it, but it’s not crazy, I want to beat the fuck out of you anger. Yet.
“Do you want me to shake your hand?”
What? Shit, I really need to get away from him. He just fucks up my head. “Malfoy, what do you want?”
He tilts his head at me, raising an eyebrow the longer I glare back. “Potter, you stare. A lot.”
What? “You came out here to tell me that?” I think he’s fucking with me. “How about you tell me why Nott’s trying to kill me. Do I have to watch for him trying to polyjuice one of my friends to gut me in my sleep?”
Draco scoffs, glancing to the side, looking too cool for the world in general. “He doesn’t have the imagination. Fuck, then again, didn’t think you had the fucking imagination either, and look where that got me.”
I stare at him—He’s there, he’s hot, and he’s talking weird shit. I’m going to stare. “What that got you?”
“Yes, fucktard. Got me.” He glares at me, like I’m really supposed to know what he’s talking about. Do I know what he’s talking about? Fucked up? Is that what he’s implying? I know it fucked me up, but he seems, as usual, fine as a cool drink on a hot day. Wait, is he saying he didn’t tell Nott, or he did? God, he really makes me crazy.
“I don’t mean to sound like an ass, Potter, but could you like pay the fuck attention for two minutes here?”
“I’m seriously trying, Malfoy. If you could just make sense with what the hell you’re saying to me. Single syllables. You might have to spell out some of the big words.”
He gives me a look, like he can’t tell if I’m joking or not. I’m not sure if I fully am. He fucks with my head, and it’s really hard to see things up and down around him.
“I need a bodyguard. Probably until my father’s trial is over.”
Okay, I understand it. Just not sure what the hell he means. “You want me to be your muscle? Seriously?”
He looks at my biceps, smirking that fucking sexy way of his. “Let’s go with idiot on retainer. Doorstop. Human shield. My personal, expendable orphan.”
He’s a prat. A sexy, sexy prat. I cross my arms over my chest, for some reason feeling the need to puff myself up and look as strong as possible. “And why, exactly, would I subject myself to your particular brand of torture while also saving your ass from the many angry people that hate you?”
“Ah, well that would be because you’re an idiot. A lovestruck, demented, idiot.”
He really has the most adorable smile, the little fucker. I run my tongue over my teeth, already knowing I’m going to say yes. But I really shouldn’t. It’s a bad idea for many reasons I can’t seem to remember at the moment. “Won’t your boyfriend just want to beat my face in even more?”
“What boyfriend?”
“Nott, you…” I stop, taking in his extremely bored expression, his eyebrow looking just a little too cocky to be believable. Oh.
Ohhh.
But… What?
“Are you paying attention, or will you be spacing out for the rest of this conversation?”
“Did you break up with Nott? Have you seriously been talking to me about fucking bodyguard bullshit instead of telling me you don’t have a boyfriend anymore?”
He shrugs, his fingers twisting into his hair as he pushes a white-blond strand back. “It’s not bullshit. People have been getting, well, crazy around here.” He looks at me, something flashing in his eyes that I really wish wasn’t fear, but it is. “And you, well, you don’t seem to mind that I’m not the nicest fucking person on the planet. So, yeah. I’d really like you to help me out.”
“Why did you break up with Nott?”
“Focus, Potter!”
“I am. I am very fucking focused. Now tell me or I won’t help.”
He gives me a calculating look, then glances away. All cool again. “He kisses for shit.”
“Like fuck you broke up with him over—”
“What the fuck do you know, hmm? How many boyfriends have you had?”
Fine, I don’t date well. But he’s so full of shit. “He was sweet to you. Brought you those roses. Cried at your bedside. Tried to save your ass, even though he’s not strong for shit. You didn’t dump him over his kissing skills. Kissing skills can be improved.”
He sighs, clearly annoyed that I’m not letting this go. Too fucking bad. “You sure he didn’t dump you, Malfoy? Got a little sick and tired of you talking shit to him?”
“Fuck off, Potter. He was practically crying when I kicked him to the curb. Stop being a dick.”
I shut up. I can’t promise what comes out of my mouth won’t be shit, but I can choose not to open it.
“I didn’t feel anything when he kissed me.” He glances my way a second, then quickly looks down, hands shoving into his front pockets. “So, bodyguard. My dormmates are pretty chill about the whole thing, but sometimes I get people cornering me in the halls. Especially around meal times, and right before bed. I’d need you to walk with me. I’m sure it’s a hassle, but let’s face it, they won’t fuck with you. After what happened when I was knocked out, everyone’s pretty sure you’re going to murder the next one you touch.”
I scowl, sick of this particular theory floating around. “Don’t believe everything you hear, Malfoy.”
“Oh, so you didn’t tap twenty-seven people and send them to the ground in excruciating, debilitating pain, singlehandedly saving my life, and likely the lives of the people trying to protect me?”
Well, when he puts it that way. “Why didn’t you feel anything when he kissed you?”
“Focus.”
“No, I want to know. How do you know? What if he suddenly got really good at kissing? Would you feel something then?”
“For the love of—What is wrong with you? Seriously?”
“Malfoy, unless you fucking tell me that you like when I kiss you, I’m not going to stop asking.”
He snaps his mouth shut, glaring. Chin tilting up, he huffs. “Fuck off.”
“I can wait all fucking night. And hey, as your bodyguard, you’ll catch yourself a nice cold out here with me.”
“You’re such a fucking pain.”
I just stare at him. His cheeks are pink, and I don’t think it’s from the chill air. It’s starting to get dark, the forest creating a long shadow across the field.
“I can’t pay you anything, just so we’re clear.”
“Malfoy…”
He barrels on, glaring at me defiantly. “But I thought I could help you with your homework because you’re a fucking lout and all. I won’t do it for you—I don’t cheat. But I’ll help you learn, and, um… stuff.”
Right. So now I’m going to be walking him through the halls in my free time, and when not doing that, spending it studying with him. He’s probably going to be dressing me too, by the time the week is out. “Malfoy, you’re going to tell me you like when I kiss you, or you’re going to find yourself another bodyguard. One that doesn’t have my reputation for putting up with your shit.”
He smiles, all pearly white teeth and flushed cheeks. My stomach drops somewhere below my knees, everything going dizzy. “Nope. You’re going to put up with my shit, Potter. So too fucking bad.”
God, he makes me so crazy.
I grab him by the elbow, pulling him close, watching as he blushes even more. “Don’t play with me, Drake. It’s really not nice. You know I’m messed up over you.”
“I believe I already said ‘too fucking bad,’” he whispers, biting his lip while he stares at my mouth.
I dip forward, brushing the lightest of pressure to his lips, his mouth opening, body pushing against me as he tries to get me to kiss him hard. “Tell me. I know you, baby. Tell me what you like.”
“Fuck. Off.” He surges forward, sealing our lips together, dragging me down by the neck. I wrap around him, pulling him close, running my hands over his chill form. He gives an indignant cry when I pull away, his fingers tangling in my hair, trying to force me to come back to his very perfect lips. But I insist, standing taller until I’m just out of reach.
He glares challengingly, some sort of scheme flickering in his eyes. I ignore him, grabbing my wand from my back pocket. He has a moment to sneer when I draw it, only to then blink when I cast a warming spell on him. “You should have worn a coat. You’re freezing.”
He gives me the longest, strangest look he’s ever given me—And Malfoy has given me some funny looks. Then he wraps his fingers back in my hair and stands on tiptoes to whisper against my mouth. “I fucking love how you kiss me. Every time. It’s like a jolt of magic, and nothing compares. When you kissed me that first time, looking like Nott, I fucking knew, Potter. He doesn’t do that to me. No one has ever done that for me. You do. Every single time. Now shut the fuck up about it.”
God.
I crush his lips to mine, wrapping my arms tight around his waist, feeling him fuse into me. He gasps, his hands tearing into my hair, clawing at my neck. Each kiss is a hot loss of air and thought, his teeth scraping my lower lip over and over, tongue laving mine in desperate strokes.
“Don’t stop… just…” He grabs my shoulder, pulling my sweater by the collar so tight it makes a ripping sound. I cup the back of his head, nuzzling into his ear.
“What do you mean by ‘you knew?’ There’s no way you knew.”
“God, just stop talking and kiss me.”
“You didn’t know.”
He huffs, biting my ear, tongue hot and wet as he nips my neck. “I didn’t know it was you the first time. But I knew it wasn’t him. Eventually.”
“Before the second time?”
He growls, his fingers scratching the back of my neck again. He’s lucky I really like that. I’m lucky. “Sort of.”
“So, no.”
“Potter, is this really important?”
I pull back so I can see his face. He looks rather serious, even though his cheeks are flushed, lips swollen a beautiful red. “I… I want to know. You were… The second time, you were so open to me. So completely trusting. I just…” I can’t explain it. I had fallen beyond in love with him in that moment, had ruined everything, and found the fucking universe in his eyes. It shouldn’t matter, but it does.
Draco gives me a hard look, then relents. “He never called me baby. Never swore at me. Never, ever offered to do anything sexual without stuttering. He’s very shy.” He shrugs, biting his bottom lip. “After the first time, and he never mentioned it, never seemed into doing something like that, I was pretty sure something was up. Right before the second time, I was yelling about you, pissed beyond belief about that fucking stick joke—You’re a total douche, by the way. We had a huge fight. He thought I had some sort of unhealthy obsession. I have a fucking amazing memory, Potter, but he thought I was, like, totally fixated on everything about you. Whatever.” He gives me a look I refuse to respond to. He’s totally fixated. I’m totally fixated. If he doesn’t want to admit it, fine.
“So, you show up as him, but it’s not his shoes. Or his jeans. I don’t notice right away, just pissed about life and shit. But he pushes me back…” His eyes darken, a small grin forming on his lush lips. “And he’s got that very handsome watch I remember you owning. And not soaked in that cologne he always insists on wearing. And the shoes, and the wrong jeans that have that hole in the left knee where I stabbed you with a pen that time. And the way he looks at me… like he wants to fucking kill me, or just fuck me. How you look at me. And I think, I’m totally out of my mind to even consider it’s someone else, nevermind you. But I start mentioning things he should know. Like, he’s never worried about hurting me. He’d have to fucking actually try to do something to me first to worry. And when he asks me to think of something to try, I pick something he’d never agree to because he’s so shy. And well, when I said a rim job, and he reacted like, well… Let’s just say, I was certain by then.”
I really don’t know what to say. At all. My boy is fucking brilliant. And more, I’m also really damn oblivious. I probably should have observed them more together, but that would have meant having to see Nott all over him. “So you knew it was me… or at least, not him, and yet you still let someone rim you in the hallway? Drake, that’s kind of—”
“Fuck off, Potter. I knew it was you. Not some fucking stranger. You’re the only one fucked in the head enough.” He smacks my arm, then wraps his hand around it, holding tight and squeezing my bicep. “I thought you’d freak out when I suggested that. Thought you were just looking to get a fucking blow job out of me, and I wanted to make you do the most degrading goddamn thing I could think of at the time. But fuck, you messed me up so bad. I mean really, really, it was crazy good. You really seemed to want to do it, and when you tied my arms—You’re really fucked up, Potter. But god, it’s in a good way.”
He’s panting as he looks at me, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. I brush my thumb across his lips, and he licks me. “So you knew. Let me walk around thinking I had gotten away with something, when you knew the whole time.”
“I wanted to fucking kill you,” he whispers, his eyes caught in mine. “For fucking me up so bad. For making me feel so goddamn good, while doing something so fucking wrong. I liked Theo. He was a good guy. A really good boyfriend. But he couldn’t make me feel like that. I kept waiting, hoping you’d come back, not sure if I was going to confront you, beat you… Make you do it again. Then you fought Corner off, like you actually gave a fuck, which just made me fucking crazy trying to figure out what the hell you were up to. Everything was just going to shit around me, and you were fucking with my head every turn. Then you showed up, drunk off your fucking ass, covered in that damn glitter, and looking like you’d been shagging all night.”
“Just dancing. To get over you,” I say, pulling his chin back when he looks away. “To stop doing bad, messed up things because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Wanting you. Dreaming of you. I was supposed to go drink it all away. But I couldn’t.”
“No. You had to come and fuck me up again. With your fucking face, and intense eyes. Your damn strong hands, and wild hair, and stupid, sexy smile.” He glares, accusing with every word. “You had to kiss my hand like you gave a fuck, and suck me so good I thought I was going to die. And damn, you looked so fucking sad when you left. Like you weren’t just fucking around with me—Fuck, Potter, that was the worst damn part. Because maybe I could have been able to handle that, if you were just being a fucking terrible person to me. But you had to go and tell me you fucking loved me, like some idiot, and you just… God. You just ruined everything.”
He turns away, pulling from my arms, and the night suddenly feels dark and freezing. “I thought we were good, Malfoy? I thought, shit—You like me.” I run my hand through my hair, feeling desperate and hopeless. “Just like me, and be okay with it. Don’t make some big deal about it all. You dumped your boyfriend.”
He whirls, glaring at me, and I shut my mouth. “I dumped Theo because he couldn’t make me feel the way I knew it could feel. It doesn’t mean I want you for a boyfriend, Potter. Doesn’t mean you get a fucking shot with me, just because he’s not good enough.”
Like fuck it doesn’t. “Malfoy, you like me. You just admitted you knew I was the one with you that second night. That was the night I was certain you must really love Nott, because of how you looked at me in his skin. But you were looking at me. That was for me.”
“Whatever, scarhead. Build some fucking fantasy in your head that just because I let you touch me means I love you. I had planned on hexing the fucking shit out of you. You were supposed to back out. I would have confronted you, and then fucking destroyed you for thinking you could get away with laying a damn finger on me.”
“Yeah, well you didn’t!” Shit, why is everything a fucking argument with him? “You let me touch you. You fucking begged me not to stop. No hexing, no yelling, no beating.”
He sticks his chin out, totally defensive. “I was curious.”
“Malfoy.” He’s seriously going to drive me to murder. “You let me tie you up. I could have done anything to you. I could have left you there, hanging from the goddamn ceiling. You fucking trusted me.”
“God, just shut the fuck up!”
“I will when you get your fucking head out of your ass! You like me. Admit it!”
“Like fuck I do! I can’t stand you!”
He really can’t. Shit. This is the worst fucking love confession ever. I need to fix this. But really, he makes me so goddamn crazy, I can barely breathe.
“What do you need me to do?”
He looks at me like I’ve sprouted a horn. “What?”
“To make you stop yelling at me. What?”
“Uh, go fuck yourself?”
I know, he’s so classy. He’s going to be mine. It will be a cold fucking day in hell when I let him walk away from all this. He fucked me up and he’s going to see it through. I get down on my knees and take his hands in mine. He, thankfully, doesn’t punch me, but he’s totally thinking of it.
“Will you be my boyfriend?”
“No.”
Fuck. He’s such an ass. But he’s smirking, so he’s also loving it. I pull him closer, ignoring just how cold the ground is, and press my face to the front of his shirt while I look up at him. “Let me take you out? Date me?”
His smile falters and he wraps fingers into my hair, pulling my head back roughly. It feels good. Everything he does either feels like hell or heaven to me. “Yeah. We can try that… If you can learn to keep your fucking foot out of your mouth.”
Definitely a heaven moment.
“Potter—Damn it!” I ignore his squawk, pulling him down, kissing him hard. He shudders under my hands, pushing back into me, kissing me ferociously. Because the little git likes me, is fucking crazy about me, and I’m done letting him pretend otherwise.
“Wait, just… slow down a sec…” He buries his face into my hair, breathing deep. “I just broke up with him the other day. I don’t want to… He’s really sad about it. Pissed, and sad.”
Draco Malfoy giving a fuck about anyone; it’s a sight to see. “Whatever you want, baby.” Although, if he keeps pulling at my shirt like that, it’s going to be hard to actually mean it. “You hungry?”
“Starving.”
I pull him up, doing my best to keep my hands off him. I’d walk with him with my arms sewn to his shoulders, if I could. Or waist. Or ass. He has a really nice ass.
“Stop staring at me, Potter.”
“Sorry, Drake. Gotta know what I’m guarding.” I slap his very sexy ass, and he slugs me in the shoulder. It’s completely worth it.
It’s a good month before he even considers letting me be his boyfriend, and he sure as fuck won’t let me call him it. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I totally already am. He knows it. I know it. Every single student and professor in the school knows it. But Malfoy’s fucked in the head, and stubborn as hell. It’s two of his many sexy qualities that I can’t live without.
His friends hate me. Passionately. It’s awesome. Because now Malfoy’s nicer to me to make up for it. I know, it’s bizarre, but fucking adorable. They all feel like I fucked Nott over, and well, I sort of did. But I won, so tough shit.
“Potter, do you have to be here all the time? You’re getting your fucking stupid everywhere.” Blaise Zabini gives me a scathing glare, burrowing down in his leather armchair and hiding behind his book when I walk into the Slytherin common room. Malfoy’s in his dorm, taking a lifetime to get dressed, as usual.
If I didn’t know Zabini was straight, I’d consider the possibility that he might have a crush on me. Slytherins bitching at me make me wonder now. Malfoy might have fucked up my head permanently. I sit down on the arm of Zabini’s chair, making sure to be as annoying as possible. It works. His book is tossed aside, and he starts talking to me about Quidditch. Slytherins pretend to be complicated, but they’re really not. Well, except the ones plotting to murder and take over the world. But that’s any house, even Hufflepuff.
My boy finally shows up, looking amazing in his tailored slacks and creamy cashmere pullover. He’s also glaring such an obvious warning at Zabini, I’m seriously wondering again about that bitchy Slytherin thing. Doesn’t matter. No one’s got anything on Drake. I get up, snagging him around the waist, pulling him in tight before he can make a fuss. He smells good, and I bury my face into his neck, loving the feel of his silky locks on my skin.
“Stop pawing.” He looks up at me through his lashes, that damn smirk of his in place as he rubs up against me. Fucking tease. “I just got my hair right.”
“Stop being a girl.”
He smacks me, hard. He is not a girl. He is a very sexy boy that likes to inflict pain.
“Could you guys go, like, jump off the astronomy tower or something?” Parkinson snarls, snapping gum as she walks past us. Malfoy glares her way, then pulls me down for a deep kiss. He’s fucking sweet when his friends are giving us shit. Probably why I love picking him up at his dorm.
The noises of protest from the rest of the room are loud and exaggerated. Fuck them. “C’mon, baby. Before I start hexing people.”
He gives me a look as he pulls away, his lips a perfect swollen red. I want to kiss him again, but he ducks away. “Granger’s going to kill me.”
“Nope, she’s going to be rude, bossy, and ultimately leave you alone.” I wrap my fingers with his, his hand cool and firm in mine. It’s Sunday, and he’s agreed to hang out with Ron and Hermione for as long as it takes for them to want to beat the prat out of him. It’ll be a short meet up, but after that, I’m taking him to Hogsmeade. He likes looking at stuff, sometimes buying stuff, usually just talking mean shit about things while we laugh. It’s all good.
We’re twenty feet from the Great Hall when they come at us. It’s a daily thing now, and Drake just steps behind me so he doesn’t get in the way. Except, today goes a little different, Corner and Ripper determined to take me out to get to my boy, instead of trying to get around me. It throws me, because I really don’t want to hurt these idiots. They’re angry, fucked up kids whose families got the raw end of a very bad deal. But that’s not Draco’s fault, and it sure as fuck isn’t mine.
I’m bleeding pretty bad by the time I get them under control. Drake’s extra quiet, giving me these quick side glances that just beg apology. He’s being an idiot. I’d protect him even if he didn’t ask. Fuck, I’d protect him even if he hexed me to stay the fuck away. This is so much better than finding him half dead, or worse.
“Get over here, Potter.” He pulls me down a side corridor and into a small room. While he heals my hands, he swears, hating on just about everyone he can name at the moment. It’s damn cute, so I stay quiet.
“Let me see your face.”
“You’re mothering.”
He glares, grabs me by the hair, and pulls me down. “Shut up.” The burn from my cheek soon fades, along with the raw sting on my lip, the numbness relieving, the swelling gone. He hesitates as he presses his wand to the wound next to my eye, his cool fingers lightly running over my mouth. “You can really take a punch or twenty.”
He’s damn beautiful. “You want to punch me, Drake?”
He considers it, my toes curling from that vicious smile of his. “I think you’ve had enough for today. Not even ten a.m., and you’re already a mess.” He finishes healing me, slips his wand away, and waits expectantly.
“Want something?”
“Yes. To be very late.”
Raising my brows, I look around the room barely large enough to fit five people. I spell the door shut and cast a silencing spell. He gives me his extra sexy smirk, pulling me to him by the collar of my hood. I press him back against the wall, kissing him slow, thoroughly. There’s no rush anymore. He’s mine. He’s not going anywhere. Just, when he wraps his arms around me, moaning into my mouth, all my senses go nuts. Heat fills me. Crazy descends. He makes me a mad man.
I tear at his belt, pushing his shirt up, needing to feel every hard, smooth inch of him under my hands, against my skin.
“God, Harry… god.” He wrenches my hips against him, groaning from the contact of our hard dicks grinding together. He’s just as crazed, pulling my hoodie off over my head, tearing my tee right after. He runs his hands through my hair, cupping my face, staring at me in his intense way that’s as true to him saying he loves me as it’s probably ever going to get.
I slide the hem of his sweater and undershirt up, careful not to stretch his clothes out, moving my palms over his sides and arms as I strip him. He’s pure moonlight, pink tinting his cheeks, his nipples beaded and drawing my tongue.
“No,” he whispers when I move down his body, all ready to drink that beautiful cock of his down. “I want something else today. Different.”
I stare up at him, kissing his flat stomach, following the rise and fall of his chest. “What do you want, baby?” I bite my lip when he blushes, his eyes sliding away from mine. He’s nervous, which could be a really good thing, or a yelling thing if I embarrass him about it. I stand, dipping my head and pulling his chin up so I can brush my lips to his. “Curious about something?”
“God, yes.” His fingers bite into the flesh of my back, holding me flush against him. He talks into my ear, hiding his face from mine. He’s surprisingly shy sometimes, for all the many nasty things that come out of his mouth. “I want to know what it, uh, feels like.”
I smile against his cheek. He’s as vague as fuck. “Is this something you do to me? Or something I do to you?”
“Um… You do to me.” His hands grab mine, pulling me to his zipper. I cup him through his trousers, his erection heavy and warm against my palm.
“And what, exactly, am I doing to you?” I murmur in his ear when he doesn’t seem interested in furthering the conversation, his head thrown back as he pushes into my hand.
He gives a low growl in the back of his throat. Apparently I’m supposed to read his mind. “You know. That thing we’ve yet to actually do.” He sighs when I don’t answer.
Yeah, I’m going to make him say it, because hell, I want to hear him say it. And I’m still not a hundred percent certain we’re on the same page here. He asked me a week ago if I’d ever gotten a blood test, which makes me think he’s got something very specific on his mind. I felt the need to prove I was clean, just in case. But I’ve been thinking about sex a lot, and he hasn’t mentioned it yet, so who the fuck knows.
Pursing his lips, he leads my hands to his ass this time, down to the back of his thighs. He’s tense, but damn hard muscle and perky butt. “Fuck me. I want to know what it’s like.”
I have to close my eyes, because the room tilts at his answer, fire moving over my skin in a shudder of heat. Fuck yes. I spread my fingers wide, gripping his thighs through his pants, running up to caress the bottom of his ass. “Right now? In a closet? I can find you a nice bed, beautiful. A couch. Someplace warm. Candlelight. Fireplace. Sheets.”
He gives me a small smile, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “You keep me warm enough.”
“Drake, it’s just… Do you really want your first time in some little dingy room? We can wait a couple of hours. I can take you to dinner and stuff. Steal one of the lounges for an hour.”
“Potter, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were stalling.” He fixes me with a hard glare, one that usually means I’ve said the wrong thing big time. “If you don’t want to fuck me, I’m not going to force you to. I’m sure there are plenty of blokes out there that—”
God, he’s a prat. “Did I say I didn’t want to fuck you?” I pull him close, grinding his hips to mine. He feels amazing, and I have to stop myself from pushing his pants down. As snarky as he can be, he fucking deserves the best. I don’t want him regretting that he let me shag him in a dank little closet for his first time. Mostly because I plan on being with him forever, and he’s really good at dragging up old shit and ranting about it. “Drake, this can be a big deal.”
“Potter, I’m not a fucking chick. I let you rim me in a goddamn hallway for the first time. At least now we have four walls and a lock.”
He’s probably going to punch me. Hell, I want to punch me right now. “But maybe, just maybe, I might want to lie you down on a bed? Be able to hold you after? Not worry about you falling to the dusty floor if it’s too much for you?”
“Damn it!” He hits my shoulder. Ouch, but not full out ‘kill you’ ouch. “Just tie me up again so I won’t fall. Why are you making this so fucking complicated? It’s just sex.”
Tie him up? Is he trying to kill me?
“Drake, god, just give me a second to think about this.” I pull away, mind racing. I haven’t actually done this much, and the idea that I’m going to be his first, and might really fuck it up, feels like this terrible weight on my chest. I love him and I really don’t want to mess this up. A bed would help, at the very least.
“No.” He’s pissed. “What the fuck’s to think about? Either you fuck me or I go find someone that will.”
I turn my head back his way, glowering. Whatever he was going to say next, he doesn’t, his mouth clicking shut as he meets my eyes. He’s so full of shit and we both know it.
“You gonna call me your boyfriend?” I growl out, because I don’t want him to think he’s winning. Of course I’m going to fuck him. I’d be a goddamn idiot not to fuck him. That I’m not buried inside him already just shows how fucked in the head I am around him.
He smiles, knowing he’s won. God, he’s so fucking sexy when he’s smug. “Depends how good a job you do.”
The little bastard.
I start shooting spells out, warming the room, padding the walls with something a shit ton softer than stone, and throwing a fluffy carpet on the floor so his feet don’t freeze. The space is way too small to lie down in, but I can probably fit a chair if he wants.
“You want to sit or stand?” I turn back to him, finding that nervous expression on his face again before he immediately scoffs and looks away.
“Stand, of course.”
Of course. Like he even fucking knows. He yelps when I grab him and pull him hard against my chest. I find his eyes, and he’s all defense. I keep my voice gentle, even though he infuriates the hell out of me. “’Cus I was thinking, if you want to sit, it would be really hot to have you ride me.” I hold his face, moving my thumb over his lips until his expression softens. “You could straddle me, and hold onto my shoulders. I could see your face, see how much you like it. And if it’s too much, you can decide what to do. That way you only take as much as you like. You can have absolute control for how you want to do it.”
Licking his lips, he presses his cheek into my hand, his lids half closed as he sighs. He keeps his crystal clear eyes trained on me, his anger and anxiety drained away. “Harry, I want you to fuck me into the wall. If you want to do it the other way next time, fine. But this is what I want, I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and you need to stop arguing.”
My entire body jerks, air exploding out of me in a blast. Fucking hell. He’s been thinking about this. Decided about this. Wants this.
Fine, I’m the biggest idiot ever.
The luckiest, stupidest idiot ever.
“Tell me what you want, and I’ll give you it.” Because I’d be a goddamn fool to not give my boy everything he fucking wants.
He beams, pressing a kiss into my palm. “I want you to push me up against the wall. Hard. Really hard.”
“Now?”
He shakes his head, his smile widening. “Not yet. I still have clothes on. And someone ruined my perfectly good wall.”
I glance at the soft foam I had charmed to cover the wall. I immediately dispell it, then unzip his fly and tug his pants down his hips.
“Harder.” He’s got a look in his eye, the one right before he’s about to lose his mind. It’s hot, and if I didn’t know he’d kill me for making him come right now, I’d be sucking his dick. I yank his pants roughly the rest of the way down his long legs, tearing his shoes and socks off as he lifts each foot. The next time I stand, he gives me his arms, wrists together and facing inwards.
“Drake…” He’s really going to kill me here.
“Don’t argue. You can’t even understand how hot it makes me.” He blushes, but he doesn’t look away this time. “I like knowing you can do anything to me. That you set the pace, and make it so good, and… and when you’re in control, I don’t have to worry about anything.” He bites his lip. “I just feel.”
But he should worry, because I really haven’t fucked a lot of guys, and never while they were tied up and—Shut up, Potter. Keep your mouth shut, and just give him what he wants. This is about him, not you, and just keep your mouth shut before you fuck everything up with your insecure bullshit.
I kiss him so he can’t see the shit storm going on in my head. “You want to face me, or the wall?”
“Wall.” When he raises his arms again, I spell the leather wrap on them. His eyes go wide, as does his mouth. He’s mentioned repeatedly just how fucking crazy he felt that second time, tied up and completely at my mercy. Half afraid I was going to do something terrible to him, half so fucking aroused by what I did do. But he hasn’t asked me to do it again, and I think he’s been waiting for this. Another moment where he’s wondering if I’m going to do right by him, or go very, very wrong.
“You tell me if you feel any discomfort. The instant anything hurts or goes numb.”
“What if I don’t want to stop?”
So fucking beautiful. “We won’t, I’ll just fix it so you’re comfortable. You tell me if you want to stop, and we can stop that instant too.”
He nods, his eyes going sober again. He looks me up and down for a moment. “Keep the jeans on. I like how they feel.”
My god, he’s going to be the death of me. Probably really soon. Probably before he cums. “Alright.”
He’s nervous again, and when he says “Now,” I just want to reassure him I’m going to make it good for him, that I won’t hurt him, or disgrace him, or use him. But he doesn’t want to hear me talk, he wants me to move. So I slam him back against the wall, his bound arms between us.
“God.”
And he’s gone, just like that. My baby is really easy to please.
I push his arms up over his head. He arches into me, moaning, head back against the wall. I secure his arms above with something that will let him turn when I want to turn him. Which isn’t now. No, right now I want to watch his face, because he is fucking gone, and beautiful. I run my palms over his sides, feeling every lithe muscle twitch under my hands. When I dig my fingers in, he groans, trying to push into me, his cock dripping and soon to be really sore if he keeps rubbing against my jeans.
“Harry… please.” He tries to reach me again, but I keep my hips back. He might be able to come three times in an hour, but I can’t. I’m a slow burn kind of guy that can go long, but takes time to recharge, and he sets me off way too fucking easy.
He lifts his leg like he’s going to try and wrap around me—He just can’t take no for an answer. But he’s tied up, and he really gets no say in the matter. I grab his leg, stroking my palm up the inside of his thigh. He bucks, whimpering when I avoid his dick. I sink down to my knees, his eyes opening to watch me. My boy is also, apparently, really fucking naïve if he thinks I’m about to suck him right now.
I hold his hips steady, take his knee and hook it over my shoulder. It gives me access to run my tongue over his creamy smooth thigh, not to mention, opens him up to me. I suck a large, beautiful bruise on the inside of his leg, listening to every hitch of breath he makes. His hips keep moving as he tries to grind his cock into my cheek. I glance up at him, smirking when I catch sight of his dazed expression. While watching him, I give a light lick to the throbbing head of his cock, and he nearly cums then and there.
God, he makes me want to be fucking terrible to him. He’s panting up a storm by the time I finish spelling him clean and slick. I got a spell that can stretch him, let me fuck him in a perfect instant, but now is not the time for that. I want to stretch him. Slowly. I want to torture him until he’s begging me to fuck him all better. And he will. I know him. He’ll beg me before I’m done.
“Oh god… oh fuck!” He jerks at the touch of my finger against his pucker. Pretty sure he’s going to be coming in under a minute. I brush my lips to the head of his dick, parting ever so slightly. He gasps, trying to hump me deeper. He really is so wonderfully helpless right now. I flick my tongue across his slit, tasting his precum, and at the same time I slowly work the edges of his hole, small little pushes that start to loosen him up. I give the slightest of suction, my wet lips contouring to the tip of his cock, suckling him until he cries out. His hot seed streams into my mouth, over my lips and chin with every jerk of his dick.
I find him staring at me, his stormy eyes drinking down every inch of my face and his cum. He likes me messy, and fuck, I like how he messes me up. I push my slick finger deeper into him and he moans, his head falling back against the wall. He’s so tight inside, his muscles clamping down around my finger, offering resistance to every push in and every pull out. Crooking deep, I find his prostate, his body jolting when I give the spongy flesh a stroke. He clamps down on me, groaning, and the world gets dizzy. God, he’s going to be fucking tight.
I’m suddenly considering that stretching spell, because I want to be in him right this instant. When I look up, finding his face twisted in absolute need, his arms far above him keeping him from arguing over the matter, the feeling becomes damn unbearable. I’m so hard, and he’ll be fucking hot, and tight, and maybe even a little angry.
I plunge another finger in him before I completely lose my mind. I doesn’t help things. He gets loud, frantic, rocking on my fingers with each push into his tightness. I try to focus on what I’m doing, and not the aching throb in my too tight pants and the heat moving over my body. He’s slick inside, my fingers held painfully tight as I move in and out of his heat. I scissor him open carefully, my digits struggling against the strength of his inner muscles. I rest my face on his raised thigh, my breath bouncing back and making his drying cum itch on my skin.
God… Just fucking god… He wants me to fuck him. How long was he planning this? Did he choose the fucking room and everything? I’m so damn oblivious sometimes.
“Harry, please… God, I’m going to lose it…” He chokes on his next words, and I nearly stand, but his mouth is just wet, saliva dripping down his chin. I slow down though, because his legs are shaking pretty bad, and I don’t want him fainting on me. I want him tormented, but fucking happy about it. He’s already hard again, pressing hot and sticky against my neck with each sway of his body.
“Need you.”
I’m on my feet before I realize it, something primitive and wild sparking in me from those two rasping words. “I got you, baby.” His hair’s sweaty under my fingers, his lips clumsy and eager for my kisses. I crush him back against the wall, careful not to rub my jeans too hard against him. Everything about him is so sensitive. He’s this wild contrast of fragile and strong that gets me crazy.
“Now, Harry… Fuck… I want you inside me,” he pleads roughly into my mouth, the world spinning with every word.
I need to keep it together. I need to not lose my shit because I might hurt him, or end up using him just to get off. He deserves fucking everything, and I need to keep it together.
God, but he wants it up against a wall. Tied up. Completely vulnerable and in my control. Fuck. It’s true. He’s trying to fucking kill me.
It’s my boy; of course he’s trying to kill me.
I summon more lube, pressing three fingers against his crack while making sure my hips only touch the side of him so I don’t make his dick raw. He howls when I plunge into him, the chains rattling overhead, his body arching away and into my touch all at once. God.
“That’s it, baby, loosen up for me. I want you to relax, and let me do all the work.”
“Please, I just… please, Harry… please…”
I really should have gagged him. He might as well be sucking my dick with that mouth of his. He’s sweat and loud breath against me as I hold him still, driving my fingers into him to stretch, because god help me if I hurt him. He still feels so tight, so slick and hot, but I don’t think he’s going to get any looser.
“Give me a kiss, Drake,” I whisper, and he does, his tongue rubbing against mine, his lips raw and hungry. I let him go with a final wet smack, and he sees it in my eyes, feels it in the tension of my body, because he gives me the sexiest fucking grin ever.
“Come on, scarhead. Make me yours.”
Fucking hell. Right through the heart. Bullet to the brain. Dead as a doornail. My boy.
I turn him, too rough, but he whimpers for more. He gasps when his nipples hit the cool wall, but I can barely notice, my fingers a drunk fucking mess that have forgotten how to work a damn button and fly. I finally wrench my jeans down my thighs and pull him back against me, groaning from the feel of his smooth flesh against my burning hot cock.
“Yes, fuck, yes. Do it.”
“Baby, you need to shut the fuck up.” He really does, or I’m going to be inside him with no fucking kindness, no restraint, no control. I wrap my arms tight around his body, pushing flush against his back, resting my head on his raised, strong shoulder while I try to keep from losing my mind. He smells amazing, his skin damp, his breathing a damn serenade of desperation. “I’m gonna be gentle.”
“I don’t care—Do it, and stop stalling.”
I know, such a fucking romantic. But once again, he’s tied up and gets no say in the matter. I run a hand down his ass, squeezing, feeling him jump and grind back into me. Yeah, he’s ready. Fucking dying for it, ready. I bite back a hiss as I lube my cock up, trying not to linger on my aching length. God, I want him. “You want this, baby?” I push my thumb between his tight cheeks, settling my dick into that deep, warm crevis. “You ready?”
“Hurry the fuck—Oh. Harry… god…” He trails off with a cry when I press the head of my cock to his hole.
Everything gets really dark. Hot, and dark, and fucking dizzy when he pushes back, urging me in. I bury my face into his damp hair, groaning, feeling the slightest yielding of firm flesh against my tip. Gotta go slow… Gotta be something more than the fucking crazy he makes me. For him… Gotta keep it together for him.
“Please… please… It’s big… god, yes.”
He’s tight. Slick, and unimaginably hot. With all the oil, I know I can just slide right in, but I hold back because he can’t handle that. Gotta… go… slow… His muscles flex around my head, and I can feel his pulse with mine where we’re joined, his flesh slowly opening to me, encasing me in scalding, clenching agony that’s threatening to undo me.
He’s sobbing, soft, frantic noises that pull me from the absolute consuming feel of his tightness. “Baby? Drake, what do you need?” I scrape my fingernails into his hair and down his neck, trying to ground him. His head is bent forward, and he won’t let me see him when I try to turn his face.
“God… just, don’t stop,” he begs, his hips pushing against my restraining arm, again trying to drive me in deep.
I never should have let him talk me into it this way, with his face hidden from me. When I finally do get a peek at his profile, he’s completely undone, closed eyes steaming tears, bruised lips dripping clear fluid from his gasping mouth. Should have gotten him a bed. Satin sheets and lots of pillows. I run my hand over his throat, down his chest, soothing circles while he tries to adjust to his passage being stretched so wide by me. His thighs shake when I run my palms over them, and I tighten my other arm around his waist to keep him from falling.
He’s bucking by the time I’m satisfied he’s not going to collapse, his hips desperately trying to grind back. And fuck, he keeps clenching on me, squeeze, after mind shocking squeeze. I’m starting to worry I’m going to cum before I’m even in him all the way. I consider myself to have some fucking restraint and stamina, but he just fucks me up, makes me crazy. And I’m actually in him. My beautiful boy. My Drake.
Mine. Finally fucking mine.
“Oh god… oh god… oh… fuck.”
He’s clenching, hips jerking in my grip, but I can’t stop. I need to feel him, all of him, around every damn inch of me. I try to go slow. All I can feel is just how tight he is, the way he opens up, just to me… Only for me. He’s making those noises again, broken cries, but he’s still trying to drive me deeper at the same time. He’s lost, just like I’m lost, but at least we’re lost together.
I’m as deep as I can get, bottoming out, feeling his tight cheeks flush against balls. “I got you, Drake… You feel good… really, fucking good.”
“More—Move.” He sounds like I’m killing him, but I do as he says because I can’t actually stop. His passage grips me when I start to pull out, clenching around me, trying to keep me inside. I exhale loudly, my balls feeling fucking tight. God, I’m not going to last. I reach down, tugging carefully on my sac, trying to slow the crazy need to pound into him and fill him so good. He pushes his ass back, and with a growl I surge forward, sheathing into his tight heat and making him scream.
It goes fuzzy after that, the dark heat stealing my brain again, stealing my senses until all I can hear are his cries and my gasps, feel his hot, tight passage around my aching length as he squeezes me, opens to me, surrenders to my every demanding thrust. The wall is cool and rough against my arm, his body a furnace of wet heat everywhere else I touch, and pull, and hold. I drive into him, and he begs for more, each time, each maddening time. Again. Harder. Harder. He howls when I slip, jarring into his prostate, his entire body jerking and clenching. I aim for it next time, and he gets louder, tighter.
God, I hope he’s close, because I’m so fucking there. I fumble down his sleek body, finding his bobbing cock, pressing my palm to the hot flesh and wrapping my fingers loosely. He moves in my hand, all hard silken flesh, beautiful ridges and smooth thickness.
“Harry… God, I—Harry!”
I know, baby. Fuck, I know.
Every muscle in my body is screaming, hard, sweat soaked, and burning for him. He clenches so tight around me, and I slam forward a final time, wanting him to feel me filling him when he orgasms. God, so fucking tight. So fucking hot, and perfect, and my beautiful Drake.
He sobs when he comes, his cock twitching in my palm, his body bucking and writhing against mine. God, he came with me inside him. His passage clenches in pulse to his spurting streams of cum, and I let go, exploding inside him, coating his walls with my seed, making him mine the only way I know how.
God. My god.
The room is spinning, but I can’t be arsed to care. I hold him tight, listening as his cries slowly fade. I remain buried deep inside him as we breath erratic together, feeling him clench, loving how wet he is now that he’s dripping with my cum. He’s perfect, fucking perfect, outside and in. And he’s mine.
“Harry… my arms?” He sounds weak, exhausted, fucking ruined.
I dispell his bounds, catching his arms and pulling him back so all his weight is on me. He groans when my softened cock moves inside him, but doesn’t pull away. He belongs like this, filled with me, boneless and content. My Drake. I run my hands over his torso, rubbing his flesh, slicking his cum into his skin with his cooling sweat, soothing any lasting pain from his muscles.
I want to tell him I love him, but having him scoff at me will totally ruin the moment. Should have done it when he was still tied up. Next time, when I can gag him from saying stupid shit. God, I love him.
“How do you feel?” I ask, wishing he’d look at me.
“Crazy.”
Not quite the raving praise I was hoping for. “You okay, Drake?” I duck my head, rubbing my cheek over his ear and cheek. “Was it… I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
He shakes his head no, leaving me to wonder which question he’s answering. My brilliant, fucking vague boy. I don’t want to worry, don’t want to be one of those clingy, insecure guys, but he’s suddenly so quiet, and he still won’t look at me.
I’m halfway to figuring out if I’m going to let him leave until he at least tells me he’s okay, when he finally turns his head, his lip caught between his teeth.
I hold my breath, finding tears sparkling in his eyes. Fuck, how bad was it? “Baby?”
“I, uh… I… I think I, um…”
Is he breaking up with me? He hasn’t even admitted we’re officially together, but why the fuck is he near tears and stuttering at me, if he’s not breaking up with me?
“Harry, can you kiss me?”
What?
“Harry?” His eyes move over me, a tear slipping free. “I really want a kiss.”
I kiss him, my mind a whirl of confusing thoughts and emotions. He turns in my grasp, my dick slipping from his wet heat. He wraps his arms around my neck, sighing into my mouth, fingers tangling into my hair.
Lips teasing over mine, he pulls back to whisper softly. “I love you.”
I freeze, my brain stuttering to a slamming hault. Suddenly I have this terrible, insane thought that this isn’t my boy at all. That I’m kissing someone polyjuiced as Draco, and unlike my brilliant boyfriend, I’m too fucking dense to notice.
Something must have gotten through on my face because he glares at me, and smacks me on the shoulder. Hard. Nope, this is Draco. Mean, nasty, beautiful Draco that just told me he loves me after mind blowing sex while nearly in tears, and I just stared at him like a slack-jawed idiot. Fucking up, Potter, once again.
“Sorry, Drake, just—Shit, I love you. I love you so much.” I hold him close before he can take another swing at me, pulling him up, his legs wrapping around my hips. “You can’t understand how crazy it makes me to hear you say you love me back.” It does. The more I think about it, the fucking stranger and more amazing it gets. He loves me. He actually said it.
Draco Malfoy loves me.
Holy fuck.
“Yes… well… yes,” he grumbles into my neck, then sighs again, tightening around me, kissing my jaw while I run my palms over him and hold him by his thighs. “You’re not the only one dealing with some fucking crazy. But god… god, can we do that again?”
I pull back to look at him, finding his eyes shining with desire. He’s stunning. “Baby, I’m going to need, like, at least a half hour, but then—”
“You fucking—Stop being so dense!” He hits me again, but he’s laughing at me. Apparently, I’m being funny. “Later. Shit, I’m sore, my legs feel like jelly, and my arms ache. And, well, I don’t think I’ll be sitting for a while, if you get my drift.”
I do, and it’s fucking sexy to think about. “You don’t need to sit. I think we’ve proven standing is a damn fine way for you to spend your time with me.”
“Harry.” He’s giving me that warning look, but I don’t care. ‘Cus he’s hot, he loves me, and he really takes my cock amazingly well.
“We can spend the rest of the day in the castle. I can find us a bed. Maybe something—”
“I want to go to Hogsmeade,” he says with a growl. “Stop being a dog. We can fuck whenever, but all the stores are going to be closed if we don’t leave soon.”
I blink. We can fuck whenever? “Tonight?”
I’m pretty sure he’s about to hit me again. It’s okay, I can take a punch. He wiggles until I release his legs and he can stand on the floor. He gets dressed in silence, shooting me grumpy side glances. I watch him, because he’s worth watching, and I’m not sure if I’m in trouble right now.
I’m probably in trouble. It’s me, after all.
I pull my pants up, realizing I’m half dressed and hanging out. A cleaning spell takes care of the most of it, and my t shirt doesn’t even stick once I pull it over my head. I throw my hoodie over my shoulder, still feeling sweaty and overheated. He’s waiting for me once I’m done, his eyebrow arched in a too cool for life expression. Yup, I’m in trouble.
But my baby loves me, and I’m not letting anything get me down. I grab him by the arm, pulling him in tight, ignoring his scowl to kiss him deep. He’s putty after a few minutes, groaning into my mouth, clinging to my shirt. “You were fucking heaven, Drake. Sorry I’m an idiot. It was fucking amazing—You are fucking amazing. Don’t get angry. I don’t want to ever let you go. I want you to be in my arms forever, even if you’re just holding me.”
“Fucking sap,” he mutters against my cheek, and I roll my eyes. He loves it. He talks shit about it, but he fucking loves it. And me. He loves me. Which is why he’s smiling, and no longer pissed off at me. I know my boy.
I strip the rest of the spells from the room, my arm around his waist and a beaming smile on my face when we leave.
Once we finally meet up with my friends, Ron giving me a mildly disgusted look after realizing why we’re late, Draco calls me his boyfriend when answering a question of Hermione’s. I grin like a fool for the rest of the day, no matter how many times he glares at me when he sees. I also manage to convince him to let me take him to a nice restaurant in Hogsmeade, even though I’m not dressed for it. Sure, I’m not the most romantic guy out there, but I’m determined to treat him right. That treating him right happens to be romantic is pure coincidence.
Mostly.
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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.
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.
Demencious Saga
$2.99
This book contains episodes #1-4 from Demon Bonded, titled ‘Something Waiting In The Dark,’ ‘Breathing Under The Bed,’ ‘The Killer Wardrobe,’ and ‘Magnificent Night,’ and includes the bonus episode, ‘Far From Home.’ Previously published from 2015-1016, these episodes have been reedited and republished.
Demencious Saga is the first saga in the mm erotic world of Demon Bonded. This serial is a fun, suspenseful play on monster collecting and male harems. Expect demon bonding, master/slave relationships of mild and abusive nature, multiple partners, magical powers, learning how to be a sorcerer, and conflict with crueler demon masters.
Something hunts in the dark…
After his father is laid off, Ky Scion is forced to reside in his ancient family manor in the small town of Blackstone Falls. He’s an outcast to the local farmers, too Goth and too gay. Ky turns to repairing the huge house while pursuing an art degree. His parents are blind to the terrible secret he discovers among the bloodstained walls. Something lives in the dark, in the nooks and hideaways of the old house. Someone with hot breath and strong hands who wakes Ky up in the middle of the night.
In the dark hides the powerful Relics. Unique and beautiful, they’re exploited for their magic and fought after viciously. Relics aren’t items, they’re sentient beings, demonic men stolen from their world to be bonded into servitude to callous sorcerers.
Ky’s grandfather disappeared years ago, leaving his Relics to be killed off one by one. The monster who feeds on the Relics smells of rot and blood, and is soon to attack. Ky’s not a sorcerer, and has no way to defend himself from the murderous beast set on revenge.
55,000+ wrds, First Published January 28, 2017.
Heat level: XX
“So, what do you think?” Livia Scion pushed the door open, waved her arms and did a slow turn. It was Ky’s new room, and with one look he knew it was beyond perfect.
“Mom, it has to be the biggest room in the house,” Ky exclaimed as he looked around with wide, silver eyes. The space was massive and felt more like a studio apartment than a room in the family manor where they just moved. There were hardwood floors stained chocolate black, floor to ceiling windows that let in dazzling sunlight, and a luxurious king sized bed that didn’t even make a dent in the space. Even with its matching wardrobe, bureau, and desk. There was a leather couch and armchair by the fireplace—because there was a fireplace in his bedroom. It was crazy; a bedroom, living room and office all in one, and through the door across the room he could see a full sized master bath. Awesome.
“Mom, it’s too much. You and dad should take this room. I’m sure I’ll be fine in something, well, normal sized.” It killed Ky to say it, but he knew in a few years he’d be done with college and out of the house anyways.
“Tut, you. This room just screams ‘Ky,’ and dad agrees with me.” With a grin, Livia pointed up to the ceiling. Ky followed her gaze and gasped when he caught sight of the four large stone gargoyles leering down from a ledge, one on each wall of the room. “Marcus could never sleep with those things in here; you know how he gets. Look at the windows. Just think how much art you can make with light like this. And the space! Ky, you could do all your painting in your room with the right ventilation. Heck, you might never leave the house again.”
His mom was very, very persuasive and Ky really wanted the room. It was perfect. He crossed to the windows and looked out into the backyard. Down below, an ancient wrought iron fence glinted dark among the overgrown shrubs; both wrapped around the manor and yard. Roses bloomed erratic red explosions among the wild green. Behind the bushes was a neglected orchard with twisted pear, apple, and peach trees tangled among vines and grass. The place truly was beautiful in a worn down way.
The dilapidated Scion Manor had been empty for years with none of their relatives willing to live there. Ky didn’t remember his grandfather, but he did recall being young when he learned he disappeared. Anselm Scion had left no specific will as to who was to inherit the manor among his five children. Ky’s Uncle Alex took ownership of the home as the eldest son, but none of Anselm’s children wanted to live there for long.
Ky’s dad, Marcus, recently decided it was time to give the huge place a shot. Coincidentally around the same time Ky found family dinners consisted of canned beans and pasta most nights. It was why he chose not to complain about being ripped out of his home of many years in the suburbs to be stuck in the small, backwater town. Apparently, his parents were trying to make it up to him with an amazing act of bribery. It was working.
“Mom, it’s too much. I love it, I do, but it’s nearly the entire floor.” It was literally half the third floor; the bedroom and bathroom took up the length of the back of the house. Still, Ky couldn’t pull away from the view of the sprawling mountains and fluffy clouds on the horizon even as he told himself he couldn’t keep the room.
Livia walked over to the wardrobe; the large oak furniture dwarfed her petite height and slim form. She threw the doors open wide, and glanced back to her son. “Too late. We already put your clothes away. Nothing can be done about it now.” She flashed him a cheeky smile. “You can store your finished art in the room across the hall, or paint there. Or you could turn it into a gallery. You’ve got a lot of options in a place like this, and Marcus wants to give you the whole third floor. And really, Ky, there’s so much room where we’re sleeping. You’re not taking anything from us. We’ll never need all this space.”
When he caught sight of his black clothing, studded belts, and silver chains hanging in the large wardrobe, Ky couldn’t help but beam. “Well, when you put it that way. Let me help you get all your stuff in.” He tore himself from the window but Livia stopped him at the door.
“Hold on. Something else comes with this room.” Livia pulled a jangle of silver from her pocket and smirked at her spiky haired son. “It’s going to be hard to get into your room without your keys.”
“Sweet!” Ky grabbed the metal key ring enthusiastically, only to blink when he saw it properly. “Three?”
“Yup. House key, garage, and bedroom.” His mother pointed each one out. “They’re pretty cool, right? They look ancient.” The manor keys were longer than normal, narrow and odd shaped, almost like skeleton keys.
“They’re beautiful. I’ve never had a lock on my door before. Not that I need it,” he added. Still, Ky loved the idea. His parents always gave him his privacy, but there was something empowering about being able to lock his door whenever he was painting.
“Well, I imagine you’ll want to bring someone home one day,” Livia said teasingly.
“Mom.” Ky blushed and turned to escape. “I seriously doubt that’s going to happen while living in Blackstone Falls. I’m probably the only gay guy in the whole damn town.”
Livia crossed her arms over her chest. Her smile turned sad as she followed Ky down the hall and to the stairs. “I’m sure you’ll meet someone at the college. I know it’s a community college, but you still get students coming in from all over the state. Your world is going to be a bit bigger than this little town.”
Ky nodded but he didn’t quite believe her. They moved to Blackstone Falls so his parents could start a landscaping company. Everyone in the town was either farmers, hippies, drunk, or the wealthy who chose to dwell there half the year with their large houses left empty during the winter months. The area was a sprawling mix of extreme poverty and wealth, including the towns around them. Most of the inhabitants were dull and hostile to what Ky was; it was something he found out quickly when he visited his uncle and cousins while they tried to live in the manor a couple of years ago.
First Ky was ostracized for being a city kid. Then it was for being a weirdo freak who believed in magic, dressed in black, and wore makeup. Once the locals figured out he was gay, it was just the icing on the shit cake for the redneck bigots his cousins hung out with. He wasn’t expecting college in the area to be much different.
It didn’t matter. Ky was going to become a skilled artist and move to the city. He didn’t need to be famous; he couldn’t really stand much attention as it was. He just wanted to make a living with his art. No one looked at his eyeliner and nail polish twice in the city. Some definitely liked how he looked in black lipstick. He knew a few farm boys had, which only made their taunts all the more ironic when they were hard over him. Ky didn’t care. There was a place out in the world where he fit, and he was willing to wait to get there.
“Hun, before you run off. Can you bring some things down to the basement? The stairs are steep, so be careful.”
“Sure, Mom.” Ky followed Livia down the main stairs to the first floor where boxes were waiting outside the closed basement door. There were more than a few, and he decided to have a glass of water before dealing with more lugging.
“Hey there, kiddo. What do you think of your new digs?” Marcus asked when Ky stepped into the kitchen. His brow was furrowed as he tore through a box in search for silverware. With gray just starting to frost his short, dark hair, Ky’s father looked more like an advertisement for outdoor living than the engineer of many years he once was. Fit and tanned, he adapted to being laid off quickly, and rose to the challenge of working with his hands like he had in his teenage years.
“I love it. Still, I think you’re going to regret giving me the biggest room in the house.” Ky went straight to the pack of water on the floor and grabbed a bottle.
Marcus shook his head and peered up with a serious look from behind his glasses. “I don’t say this to be dramatic, Ky, but this place, in particular Anselm’s old room, gives me the willies. The last place I want to sleep is up there. Even Uncle Alex didn’t sleep there.”
Ky tried not to smile. His father was very ‘sensitive,’ as Livia liked to put it. He was frightened of anything occult, to the point Ky used to fight his dad just to watch movies about magic when he was younger. Marcus may have relaxed a bit over the years, but he still got freaked out over everything from ghost stories to Ouija boards. Marcus’s extreme fear was what first sparked Ky’s interest in the occult. It also kept him only scratching the surface, respectful of the powers that could harm him if mishandled.
“Well, I’m glad you get the willies dad, if only because I get that amazing room. The view is spectacular, and I already know what I’m going to paint.”
“The gargoyles?” Marcus asked knowingly. He frowned at the idea of canvases of the ugly creatures littering the house.
“Exactly.” Ky thought they were beautiful, if not a bit grotesque, and couldn’t wait to unpack all his equipment. Even if he only found his sketchbook and did some graphite work that night, he’d be happy. “Mom asked me to drag some things down to the basement. Anything else here that needs going down while I’m at it?”
Marcus shook his head and his jaw tightened. “Ky, be careful in the basement. I don’t like it down there.”
Ky kept his smile to himself. His dad was an overgrown toddler. “You know the washer and dryer are down there, right? You’re going to start smelling if you never go in the basement,” he called cheerfully to his father while he made his way down the hall.
Ky went to open the basement door, only to find it jammed. The wood was expanded, most likely from moisture. He wrestled with the door and finally managed to pry it open with a loud wrenching noise.
A dank smell greeted him, and he wrinkled his nose and peered into the absolute blackness of the unknown space before him. The dim afternoon light of the hallway only penetrated a foot or so past the door. Ky shivered and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. It felt like something was staring back at him, level with his height. His eyes began to adjust enough to see a thin chain hanging down connected to a bare light bulb.
Ky wasn’t sure why he hesitated. When he stepped forward and reached for the chain, the floorboard creaked in warning under his sneakers. There was a sudden puff of hot air, almost as if someone or thing was breathing on his face, followed by the overwhelming scent of blood. Startled, Ky yanked the cord roughly. The light blinked on to reveal he was alone on the top step. The only thing in sight was a dizzying flight of stairs leading down to a concrete landing below. Clearly his dad’s superstitions were getting to him.
Ky stood on the top step for a moment, and tried to shake the feeling someone was just out of reach, breathing in his ear. He was being stupid. He huffed at his foolishness and turned and picked up a large box. He carefully stepped down the steep wooden stairs and looked around. Patches of darkness filled the dim space where the bare light bulb was blocked. Tall, thick columns created the perfect hiding places for murderers and nightmares. Ky muttered his idiocy under his breath, and walked the spacious, bare cement floor so he could place the box next to the table set up as a laundry station.
He went back and forth up the creaking stairs, his heart hammering in his chest the entire time. He smelled blood. Ky was once in the back room of a butcher shop to pick up an order for the restaurant he worked at. He knew the smell of blood. Currently, it was thick in the air, and with it, the underlying scent of rot. When the last box was piled high, Ky turned to make his escape. He stopped, his foot raised in mid-air when he heard the clink of chains.
There was a space behind the water heater where a small wall held the device in place in the middle of the room. The light didn’t reach behind the wall. Ky’s eyes turned to the inky darkness, certain the sound came from there. Again he thought he heard breathing, low and strained, and so close it could have been next to him. It sent strange, hot tingles shivering down to his toes. His heart beat louder in his ear.
It had to be the water heater. The old pipes and settling house. There were no chains to rattle. Even if chains were in the dark, they would only move because he left the basement and front doors open, which would create a breeze for anything very real to rattle.
“Oh, crap!” Ky slapped his hand over his mouth when the chains rattled again. This time something slithered over the concrete floor. Like a foot… Very much like a foot. Ky stepped backward, his eyes fixed on the darkness where he was certain something was staring back, and skirted toward the basement stairs. Once his heel hit the raised concrete platform, he whirled and ran up the stairs two at a time. He tripped twice and bruised his hand but refused to stop. He didn’t care if he was acting like an absolute idiot. There was something in the basement that smelled of blood, and he wasn’t going to hang around to meet it.
Ky shut the door behind him, and slammed it with his full weight until the swollen wood fit back and finally latched closed. He rested there while panting and trying to calm his racing heart. He was apparently going to smell as bad as Marcus because there was no way in hell he was going down there again.
Ky stared down at his sneakers, paused, and raised his right foot. There was blood all on the white wall of his rubber sole. “What the…? Eww.” He jumped away from the basement door where half a rat stared blankly up at him. It was dead and wedged in the gap at the bottom of the door. He killed a rat while slamming the door! “Shit… Shit!”
Marcus peeked his head out of the living room, and made a face when he saw what Ky was cursing at. “There’s a cat living around here. At least, there used to be when Dad was here; I never saw the damn thing. It should take care of any rats.”
“Didn’t Anselm die almost fifteen years ago?” Ky reminded. He scraped his bloodied shoe on the floor and tried to shake his unease now he was in the calming light of the main house. “I doubt the cat is still alive.”
Marcus shrugged, and his eyes took on a faraway look. “My father had a lot of strange creatures we never saw. He loved that cat, had it before I was born. I’m sure it’s still around. He used to feed it a feast every night. Usually of something still alive…” he trailed off with a frown and left to find something to clean up the dead rat.
Ky shook his head in disbelief. Marcus didn’t talk much about Anselm, except to remark Ky looked a lot like him with his dark hair, colorless gray eyes, and pale skin. Since there were few pictures, Ky had to take his word for it, and the insistence of his aunts and uncles who always seemed unnerved when he visited. Anselm was a very odd parent. Reclusive and stern, he left his wife to raise his five children. When she died, Anselm rarely made contact with his family. Then, one day he disappeared.
Ky sometimes wondered if his dad was expecting Anselm to just show up out of the blue, even after all this time. It was crazy when he considered the old guy had to be in his late nineties by now. They assumed Anselm grew confused in his last days, maybe even touched with dementia. The authorities were sure he went for a walk, only to be lost in the wilds surrounding the house. They suspected his unfound body was picked apart by animals. Anselm was a recluse for so long it was easy enough to imagine.
Marcus came back with a plastic bag and bent over to scoop the pieces of flesh and fur up. Ky helped wrench the door open and stared warily with his father down into the illuminated basement. The bottom half of the rat was nowhere to be found. There was a trail of blood; it streaked down the stairs and ended abruptly. With a glance at Ky, Marcus reached forward and tugged the cord to the light. He shut the door firmly after the darkness returned. Ky tried not to think of how he felt the weight of eyes on him right before the door closed.
“There’s a laundry mat in the center of town,” Marcus said quietly as he wrapped up the rat with a rustle. “Alex and his family used it all the time.”
Ky shivered, his eyes fixed on the bloodied form being entombed in plastic. No one wanted to sleep in Anselm’s old room. His new bedroom. Suddenly it seemed important since none of his relatives liked the basement either. Ky wanted to say something to his dad about how he heard the chains and smelled blood downstairs, but decided against it. Marcus had enough to worry about with getting his business to pick up and bills covered. It was probably best if he made things as pleasant as possible for his parents. Things were difficult enough already.
***
Dinner turned out to be a laughing mess for the Scion family. The gas stove refused to turn on, and no restaurants in the area were open after seven. The bars were, but Ky’s parents didn’t think any of them were quite the right fit for their tastes. After he got a look at a few patrons who were standing outside one bar, the group tired, ragged, and glaring holes at the family in their car, Ky agreed. They ended up eating cereal with fresh milk from the convenience store, one of only two such stores in the entire town.
Ky ran upstairs after his parents finished their exaggerated regaling of what just happened. Ky’s mom was a storyteller in her right, which was a great skill when teaching elementary school kids. Now she helped to manage and provide additional manual labor to Marcus’s new venture. Even though she was petite, Livia was wiry like Ky, toned and strong underneath her deceptive form.
Ky offered to help his parents with the landscaping business, but they wanted him to focus on his studies. He knew they were just trying to protect him from having to ‘grow up too fast,’ as his dad always said. Ky figured he had to grow up someday, and he didn’t mind sweating in the dirt and sun.
“I think this is the last box of books,” Marcus announced when he knocked his elbow on Ky’s open bedroom door. Ky watched him hesitate on the threshold and wondered if his father had ever been in Anselm’s old room before.
Marcus caught the look on Ky’s face. He took a hesitant step in, then exhaled noisily after a moment when nothing happened to him. “Sorry. Old habits are hard to break sometimes. My father used to lock himself up in here, usually for days on end. He would use the connecting bathroom and had a small fridge for food. We were never allowed in. Not even mom.”
“That must have been really weird. Your dad living with you, but not there at all.”
Marcus nodded as his gaze strayed over the room slowly. “He was an introvert. Like you, but far more extreme. Sometimes you get into your creative headspace, and even though you’re there at the dinner table or in the car beside me, you’re a million miles away. Dad just… Well, he didn’t bother to pretend, I guess. He chose to be isolated in the real world, as well as in his head.”
Ky stood from where he was kneeling to pull books out of a box and crossed the room to his father. “I’m not going to lock myself away, dad. I know I’m sort of different from everyone else, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to turn to dust locked in this room.”
Marcus gave a halfhearted smile. “Sorry, kiddo. I worry about you sometimes. You’re bright and a good looking kid, but you just don’t seem to make friends well. I don’t want you spending your life alone.”
Ky shrugged. He picked up the box Marcus brought in and grunted under its weight. “I like being alone. People sort of overwhelm me; always talking, always moving, and flashing about distracting. I need stillness to make my art. It doesn’t mean I’m going to swear off people like grandpa did. Just… I like to put a little space between the world and me when I can.”
Marcus shook his head, worry clear in his eyes. “You can’t just look at the world like a painting, Ky. You need to actually live in it, too. Life can get lonely. I know it was for my mother. Just try, okay?”
Ky could hardly refuse to try. “Alright. I’ll try and make friends at Mesabi. Maybe I’ll meet some artsy types like me.”
Marcus nodded distractedly. His eyes were caught on the gargoyles sneering down high above. “For protection. They’re scary looking, but they protect this space.”
“Dad?” Ky only just caught his father’s muttered words from across the room.
Marcus jerked his gaze away and blinked in confusion. “Your mother’s waiting for me,” he said after a moment. “Try not to stay up too late. You have orientation tomorrow at the college, and mom and I will be out early to talk with the bank. You can take her car.”
Ky watched as his father left. Marcus shut the bedroom door behind him like he couldn’t bear to see it open. Ky shook his head and left the door closed. He turned back to the bookcases he was barely putting a dent in with all his oversized art books.
The box his father carried in had one of his hats on the top. Ky scooped it up and brought it to the wardrobe. He opened the doors and paused as darkness greeted him. The darkness seemed palpable, tangible, as strange a thought as it was. Again Ky thought he felt eyes staring at him. This time they weren’t level with his face. No, this time they felt ducked down like someone was peering from between his hanging clothes.
He was crazy. Nothing was living in his closet staring out at him. Nothing was shivering in fear, tense and breathing shallow puffs of air. He was losing his mind after he talked with his dad again.
There were hooks on the side drilled into the wall of the wood, and Ky quickly reached and placed the hat on one. He reared back with a pained yelp and fell to the floor on his butt. He clutched his arm and watched as a wicked scratch bloomed scarlet on his hand. His heart raced as he again felt eyes on him from the darkness of the wardrobe. Ky glared and kicked the door shut just in case something decided to come out and attack him.
He was losing his mind. He must have scratched himself on a nail or even one of his spiked belts he liked to wear. It wasn’t the first time he hurt himself on his damn accessories. He bit his lip and reached for his fallen hat; there was a tear in that, as well. Ky stopped with fingers inches away from the fedora. There were four tears. It looked like a clawed hand scratched it. A hand large enough to be human.
There was a sudden noise under the bed next to his head. Ky jumped and his heart pounded too high in his throat. Holy shit, there was a monster under his bed. There was one in his closet, and the basement, and now there was a fucking monster under his bed.
His sanity was done for the day. Ky peered into the thick, inky darkness under the huge bed and shivered as he felt eyes stare back at him.
“It’s a rat. It’s just a damn rat. I’m being crazy. It’s just a rat. It’s more scared of me than I am of it,” Ky whispered to himself. His eyes were wide in fear as he continued to peer unblinking into the tangible darkness beneath the bed. It wasn’t a rat. There was something under there. Something large, and possibly from the wardrobe or basement. Something that might eat half a rat without hesitating and then disappear into thin air.
Ky gulped, certain he could see gleaming eyes staring back. Too wide to be a rat. Too wide apart to be anything but human sized.
He snatched his hat back and quickly stood on shaking legs. He jumped onto the bed and sat Indian-style in the middle of the large mattress covered in the lush black bedspread. He was being crazy. There wasn’t a person under his bed. There wasn’t a monster under his bed. There was no such thing as monsters, no matter how scared his dad got whenever magic and ghost stories were mentioned. He was getting as paranoid as his dad.
Ky lived in the suburbs his entire life and the small town was just different to his senses. Everything was too quiet, with very little background noise. Every settling of the old manor, every creak and groan was just caustic and surprising. It didn’t mean it was anything. Just different.
Ky licked his bleeding hand mindlessly as his gaze strayed around the spacious room and stopped at every shadow. His heartbeat was finally slowing. He knew it was stupid, but he didn’t want to get off the bed. He feared the second he lowered his feet to the floor, something with claws would wrap around his vulnerable ankles and pull him down. Drag him under the bed and…
And devour him alive.
He was out of his mind acting completely stupid like some little kid. Ky knew it, and he didn’t care. He kicked off his shoes and socks and tossed them to the floor. He took his cellphone from his pocket and set his alarm to wake him up in time for school the next day. He then proceeded to strip down to his briefs, and hesitantly threw the clothes on the floor as well to create a small blockade of fabric on one side of the bed. Two sides were still exposed since the bed was flush against the wall. At least the large headboard kept his back safe.
Ky bit his lip nervously when he reached over to shut off the bedside light. He slipped quickly under the covers, sat upright and hugged his knees. The darkness was absolute, even with the curtains open to let whatever moonlight in that could reach. There were no ambient lights, no outdoor lights or streetlights, or even television screens. Everything was utterly black.
The darkness closed in and yawned wide around him at the same time. Ky couldn’t sense the boundaries of the bed, the floor, or the walls. He could have been in an area the size of a coffin, or out floating in outer space for all he knew. It was unsettling, and his heart raced faster.
He peered out into the dark of the room and listened to the many sounds around him. Crickets chirped outside the cracked window along with the faint whistle of wind. There were creaks from the house as it settled. A pipe tapped when one of his parents used the bathroom downstairs. Something, or someone, started to scratch underneath his bed.
“It’s just a rat. It’s just a rat. It’s just a rat,” Ky whispered as he rocked back and forth in the dark. He continued like that, for how long he didn’t know. Eventually, he grew too tired, his eyes heavy, body exhausted from his fear. He slowly stretched his cramped and tense body out. His feet and long legs slid between the cool sheets as he settled on the pillow and sank into the mattress. Minutes later, he was asleep.
Home Invasion
Exclusive Library
Joshua is losing it. Stuck in the house with his oblivious father, he’s hoping to get through the winter break without making a complete ass out of himself. His unnatural attraction has only gotten worse with time, and nothing he does can curb his obsession.
Kyle Wright can’t figure out why Joshy has gotten so quiet lately. Worried that college has been too hard on his son, he’s determined to make the holidays fun for the both of them.
That Christmas evening, when dusk is darkening the sky, a stranger visits the Wright’s home wearing a Santa hat and carrying a gun. Bound and forced to submit to the thief’s depraved demands, the Wright men try to find a way to survive the night.
Nick isn’t a saint by any means, but he might be the miracle Joshua’s been dreaming of. That is if the gunman’s ever willing to leave.
This fic is over 25,000 words and contains explicit sexual m/m content between multiple partners and graphic language. It features forced incest, first time, straight to gay, a very small amount of violence, and a HFN ending.
25,000+ wrds, Published January 15, 2017.
Heat level: XXX
Why couldn’t this damn holiday be over already?
Joshua gave Max a final ruffle to his golden fur that was currently dusted in snow, then shooed the dog towards the garage where it could dry off without making a mess of the house. His father was at the mailbox down their long, flat driveway, peering into the small metal container with a contemplative look on his face. They had managed to ignore mail for the entire week of Joshua’s winter vacation, but apparently Christmas Eve had been the deciding factor for his dad to tackle the growing pile. He wanted to celebrate the holidays without having to think of any bills or thank-you notes.
Joshua’s nerves were at their breaking point. He couldn’t even blame it on the holiday. No, it had been a subdued affair this year. His dad knew college was crushing him and had insisted on just having the time for the two of them. The woman his father had been seeing for the last few months hadn’t worked out. Joshua didn’t know if he was relieved or frustrated by it all. The longer he was left alone with his dad, the more stressed he was getting.
His dad was great, just to be clear. Kyle Wright was about the most perfect man ever—hell, a superman even. Joshua’s mother had passed away over ten years ago, but his dad had never faltered once. No, he had gotten an extra job and then clawed tooth and nail to the top of the tech industry so that he could have time to spend with his son instead of leaving him at the neighbors all the time. Joshua was super proud of his dad. Which was why it sucked extra that it was awkward as fuck to be around him.
He didn’t want to ruin the holidays—not that he was enjoying things much. No, even though his goal was to not to bring it up, Joshua couldn’t make his brain stick to that rule. It kept spinning around in his mind, again and again.
He might be gay… Gay, or really confused. Gay, or at least interested in being fucked.
Probably gay. Maybe.
Tearing his mittens from his hands, Joshua pulled his keys from his pocket and made his half-frozen fingers open the front door. The heat of the house hit him square in the face, and he paused. It felt nearly suffocating when stepping in compared to the crisp winter air outside. The snow he had barely noticed began to immediately melt, creating rivulets of water that dripped down his hair and face he had to blink away from his eyes.
Joshua had caught his dad, well, jerking off that summer break. Awkward. Really fucking awkward. See, there had been this magazine. One of those magazines that existed for one reason, and it wasn’t for reading the articles. He still wasn’t sure where his dad had gotten it… He still wasn’t sure about a lot of things. Joshua had walked past the bathroom one morning only to find the door ajar and his father staring at a magazine. Staring at it while touching himself.
It had been the first dick besides his own he had seen in real life, and for some confusing reason, it had been fascinating. So large when fully erect, so thick and turgid as his father’s strong hand had moved confidently up and down the flushed length. Joshua had suspected he might like boys as well as girls before then. In that moment, he realized just how attractive a man was. A large, fully developed, muscle rippling man with a dick the length of a ruler.
He had watched, silent, saliva filling his mouth, hyper-alert to every sound his father made. The soft grunts, low, masculine sighs, and noise of his lubed cock sliding and then slapping louder in his fist when he pumped in earnest. The growl his father had released right before he came had sent such intense shivers through him that Joshua still had the bad habit of getting hard whenever he heard his father growl at something in anger.
Just thinking about it now got him so hard. Hard and panting and wishing he could stop this insanity. Not that it had been the last time he had tried to spy on his father that summer. No, his curiosity had not been sated by one very dirty peep show. And dirty it had been. His father had blown his load all over the pages, Joshua seeking out the ruined magazine in curiosity once his father had left.
He had turned to the page Kyle had been looking at, identifying it as the one coated in thick streaks of his semen. Joshua had assumed he’d find a woman that looked a bit like his late mother, or maybe even the very large breasted one on the cover coated in clear latex who had displayed every inch of herself with fingers splaying her inner lips. No, not on that page. His father’s choice had been far more revealing in ways Joshua still couldn’t get his mind around. It had been of a brunette bent forward on knees, the camera focused on a toned back where his hands were bound in rope. His legs had been spread wide to straddle the hips of an unseen man whose hands were holding his cheeks open wide for the camera.
It had started Joshua’s fascination with two subjects that had yet to bore him no matter how much he researched: bondage and anal sex. Gay anal sex.
The familiar wash of desire and shame hit him full force. He groaned softly and leaned his weight against the front door until it shut tight. He still wouldn’t call himself gay… Not really. He didn’t think of guys that way… A lot. Fuck, okay, just sometimes he really wondered what his dad thought of guys like that. It always got him so hard that he couldn’t stop thinking about it until he got off.
He could count on his left hand how many times he had actually dared to buy a dirty magazine and leave it out in the hopes of his father doing it again. He knew he was sick—he fucking knew it—and he was grateful that Kyle had never risen to the bait. Because if he had… Fuck, he never would have stopped trying to lure him. It had gotten to the point that Joshua had fantasies of coating himself in pages of filthy magazines if only to get his father to look at him the way he had been looking at that image.
There was something wrong with him. Really fucking wrong with him. In that one moment, he had stopped seeing Kyle Wright as just a father. Instead, he had seen him as a sexual being and hadn’t been able to differentiate since.
Not just any sexual being. His. Connected and existing just for him with the most beautiful blue eyes ever.
Stepping into the house, Joshua kicked his snow-coated boots off. He bent over, clunking the wet footwear together until they were free of the quickly melting slush, then placed them on the rubber mat by the wall right in front of the heater vent. His heavy winter coat ended up hanging above on the series of hooks just for that purpose. As he turned, he caught a glimpse of his father through the window in the growing dusk outside, the blond man’s rugged, handsome face fixed on the mail as he slowly drifted down the snow coated driveway.
It wasn’t hard for his dad to be a sexual figure if he were honest. Kyle wasn’t old the way a lot of his friends’ dads were old, and not just because he had only been 24 when he had started a family. He was still fit, still sharp witted and jovial. Kyle could catch him in a joke faster than anyone else, and race him for a soccer ball and still win if Joshua didn’t try his hardest. His dad worked out, ate healthy, took care of himself. He even dated, a bittersweet occurrence for Joshua. Recently, he half hoped Kyle would find someone while cheering inwardly when he didn’t. Stupid—He knew it was fucking stupid, and selfish, and damn crazy.
He would do anything to make his dad happy, even if it meant never bringing any of this stuff up. He wasn’t ever going to tell him how messed up he felt—He didn’t need to burden his father with something that weighed so heavy on his own heart. A part of him was certain the only reason he wanted to talk to Kyle about his confusions over his sexuality was because he was secretly hoping he would start looking at him as available sexually. Joshua knew he was fucked up and he couldn’t even trust his motives when it came to his dad.
It wasn’t normal; he knew that. There was nothing normal about it at all. It didn’t stop the feelings, though. No matter how much he yelled at himself in his head, nothing stopped how crazy he felt. How hot he got just being in the same room as his dad, how much he thought of the man’s body, his dick, that growl whenever he masturbated. Joshua knew it was wrong and he couldn’t stop it, and he really needed for Christmas to be over so he could get the fuck out of the house and away from his unbearably sexy dad.
Going away to college hadn’t fixed anything. Joshua had tried to hook up with a guy just to see. He had thought maybe he could get it out of his system, but all his timid experimentations with a boy his age had proven to be boring and lacking in the fire he got from his very active imagination. He had even considered hitting on his teacher who was about his dad’s age but, well, the guy was married, for starters, and it just kind of went downhill after that.
Coming home to his dad with no one there to interrupt, to distract, to be witness to the insane lust burning in him had been the worst. Knowing Kyle was sleeping just feet down the hall had made everything so difficult. Every time he touched himself while lying in bed, the level of danger had grown. It would have been nothing to let his moans ring out. So easy to gasp and cry for relief until his father heard him and came to see what was wrong. And once he was there, Joshua would beg him to stay, just to stand there and watch while he touched himself. Maybe even have him come closer, touch him, taste… cover him in his hot cum like the pages of that magazine.
No, it hadn’t gotten better at all.
Returning home with such crazed thoughts had filled him with even worse guilt. His dad had clearly missed him and was woefully oblivious to just how fucked up he was. Kyle was hanging in there, putting up a strong front, but Joshua could tell. They used to do everything together. But going off to college had grown Joshua’s lust into something damn near insatiable and bigger than him. It had made everything so awkward. Even if his dad didn’t understand why, he just couldn’t change the fact that it was never going to not be awkward. Not when he had spent half the walk that evening staring at his dad’s ass and wondering if the man had ever fucked a guy.
Had he? That magazine had been full of women and some men, but his dad had gotten off on looking at the guy. He had chosen to drizzle cum all over that picture out of all the ones available. It had to mean something.
Dripping water onto the floor, Joshua’s socked feet slipped on the tile at the base of the carpeted stairs before he peeled them free from his clammy toes. He paused once reaching the top of the steps, the Christmas tree lights casting a soft, magical glow in the otherwise dark, empty space.
They lived in what average people would call a mansion. It was too big, too empty, but his father said it was an investment in real estate more than anything else. Joshua had grown used to it, even if the place still gave him the creeps when it was dark out and he was alone. It was partly why they had gotten Max when he was a kid. He barely remembered their last house, the one his mom had died in from a carbon monoxide leak from their old, faulty heater. Kyle insisted in having a CO detector in every room of the house now, just to be safe.
The carpet was quickly growing damp beneath his feet. Joshua shucked off his jeans, his mind hot on a shower. The material was half frozen, sticking to his chilled thighs as he tugged the jeans down and off. He rolled his pants up with his socks into a ball and tucked it all under his arm. He just needed a fresh towel and he’d be able to warm the hell up and jerk. God, he needed to fucking cum so bad. Returning home had put him in a near permanent state of arousal that no amount of masturbating seemed to be able to alleviate fully.
He ran his free hand over his erection through his red briefs, his steps faltering for a moment in the hall that led to the bedrooms. His father had just done laundry… Just, the idea of going into his room while hard and thinking of him was probably crossing a line.
The garage door gave a shudder right before it opened, echoing quietly through the house. Kyle was seeing to Max. Joshua could probably get off on his father’s bed and have time to clean up the mess if he was fast enough. Just thinking about it made his balls ache. It’s not like his dad would know. It’s not like he didn’t come all over the shower walls just anticipating his father was going to be in there after…
No, there was nothing normal about it. He had some fucked up obsession that he was losing control over.
His mind was hot with inappropriate thoughts and Joshua twisted the hem of his shirt and tried to take it off one handed as he walked. His shirt obscuring his vision, he didn’t see the man standing in his father’s bedroom, the tall figure between him and the pile of clean laundry on the bed.
“Damn.”
Freezing, Joshua realized with a stutter to his heart that the voice had come from in front of him and not behind. He slowly lowered his arm, unwittingly ruffling his dirty blond hair up as he pulled his shirt free and got a good look at the stranger. There was a click, and his eyes widened to take in the gun pointed at his head.
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.
“Excuse me, sleeping beauty. We would like a word.”
Draco stirred from his slumber, blinking wearingly into the darkness of his curtained bed. Damn, he had been having the hottest dream involving leather and some weird panther… That he really didn’t want to decipher too much, now that he thought about it…
“Is he even there?”
“He’s there. Probably just asleep.”
Draco growled, recognizing Crabbe and Goyle’s voices whispering behind his bed curtains. He debated getting up and beating the shit out of the two, or falling back to sleep. Weird or not, it had been a good dream… certainly more interesting than whatever it was those two idiots wanted…
“For fuck sake, just charm the damn thing open!”
Eye’s shooting open, Draco jumped from his bed, pushing the curtains aside to grab his wand from the nightstand. It wasn’t there. His stomach plummeting, he turned slowly to the group of students staring him down menacingly.
Blaise Zabini was in front, face lit from below with a lumos. He was smiling chillingly, like a predator staring down his prey before the death blow.
Eyes narrowing, Draco crouched and pointed himself towards the door currently blocked by the seventh year Slytherin class, peppered with some large sixth years. Calculating quickly, Draco surged forward, slashing the gap between the two smallest students with his claws.
Bodies pressed in, getting behind him and turning him, an elbow to his face stunning him momentarily. Quickly Draco kneed Goyle in the crotch and whirled, punching the nearest face, and ducking and smashing into another’s stomach.
“Fucking stun him!” Draco ducked again, but fists hit his side. Catching sight of Blaise’s bastard face, he lunged and pushed him back into the wall with a crunch against the stone. A spell hit Draco in the middle of the back and he felt his spine tighten and refuse to move.
Snarling, he curled claws around Blaise’s throat and crushed until someone had the nerve to pull him away.
“Fucking Malfoy, just stay the fuck down.” Three stunners hit him at once, and Draco fell to the ground, body contorted painfully, ears ringing as he lost his ability to hear. He focused on his muscles, trying to get them to tense out of the spell while Blaise kicked him repeatedly.
There had been too many attackers in too small a space. Even with Draco’s unnatural strength and violent nature, there hadn’t been room to deal enough damage to effectively defend himself. The Slytherins had planned accordingly, knowing that being wandless wouldn’t cripple Draco and bringing enough bodies to take him out.
Hands pulled him upright and a hood was thrown over his head, and then the weight of a heavy cloak. He was dimly aware of arms lifting him up and the awkward lurch of being carried.
Of course the Slytherins weren’t stupid enough to do this business in the dorms and incriminate themselves. Blaise had brains, which only made him that more dangerous.
Still focusing on his muscles, Draco noticed when they began to loosen minutely. He wasn’t down yet. Still alive. Still proud. He could go to the grave if it was on his terms. He just hadn’t expected it to be this soon.
The cloak and hood were removed, and Draco glared, his eyes and ears working again but muscles still resisting control. He didn’t recognize the room, but he did the students. As if realizing their mistake, someone tied a blindfold over his eyes, pulling tight.
They stripped Draco while he counted faces in his head, memorizing everyone he would destroy once he was free. Hands roughly tore his night clothes off, going so far as to take his briefs. His arms were then wrenched above his head and clasped into heavy chains.
Draco wouldn’t plead. Let the fuckers think they had him. It was just his body; none of them had the power to take his will.
A faint whistling noise was his only warning before his head snapped back with a crack, a hand brutally connecting with his face.
“That’s for my fucking neck, Malfoy,” Blaise hissed in his ringing ear. Draco could only assume that Blaise was no longer smiling. Score one for him. He was prepared for the second punch to the face, but not for the next that hit his stomach and stole his breath, forcing him to gasp for air his lungs couldn’t take in. The shackles bit into his wrist painfully as he bent over, but the pain helped him focus on finding his air again.
His housemates were talking, trying to decide what exactly to do with him. Given some of the murderous suggestions, Draco realized he must have severely fucked up somewhere. Confusing, since he had not seen any signs of discontent in his housemates before that night.
Blaise’s voice broke through the rumble, far closer to Draco than the others. “I’m sure you’re wondering why we had to go through such measures just to get you alone, Draco.”
Actually, he wasn’t. Draco had realized that this chat with his housemates was inevitable. News had reached Hogwarts only a week ago of his father’s very public rebellion against Voldemort. He had just not expected the extreme vigor his supposed friends had for this meeting. Apparently they had seen it as personal. That he had not anticipated it, was a mistake that Draco was not positive he was going to survive.
Someone slapped him hard, his cheek stinging numbly. “Speak up, you fucking waste.”
Draco waited a moment out of sheer stubbornness, and then finally snapped a reply. “I assumed it had to do with you being too fucking weak to beat me in a fair fight, asshole.”
Blaise laughed harshly. “I know my limits. You’re the goddamn dueling champion, tied only with that shithead, Potter. And everyone knows just how dangerous your blood can get when given the chance. We’re not fools.”
Draco raised a brow, unseen beneath the cloth covering his eyes. Commenting on how fucking stupid the whole lot of them were was not going to help him at the moment. Draco would wait until free and armed to hex that lesson into them.
“You see, Malfoy, there have been rumors circulating. Rumors that have certain interested parties very concerned.”
Draco frowned, searching his memory for anything he may have heard whispered about him. Recently it had all been about Lucius and speculation if Draco was going to have a breakdown over it. “Could you try to be a little more specific? I can’t imagine how McGonagall’s new sock fetish concerns me.” Draco didn’t hide his anger from his voice. Blaise wouldn’t believe anything he said anyways.
Snickers ran through the room, dark cruel cackles. These weren’t children anymore. Draco should have been paying attention; he should have noticed. But he had been so busy worrying about his family and his own physical changes to notice how things had been going to shit around him.
“I think you know what I’m talking about, Malfoy. During a certain Potions class. A certain Gryffindor… You didn’t seem to have any problem talking at all then.”
Draco furrowed his brows, racking his brain to try and figure out what the fuck Blaise was ranting about. “What? When we started partner work? What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”
“Don’t fucking play with me!” Blaise yelled, wrapping an unyielding hand to Draco’s throat. He laughed cruelly as Draco reflexively gasped. “The whole class heard you talking with him as if you were best friends. Then the very next day the Ministry just happens to take out the reserve stores.”
Draco would have snorted if Blaise’s hand wasn’t clutching his throat so tight. “You think I’m relaying information? How fucking stupid do you think I am?”
“You tell me. What could have been so interesting that you spent a whole double period talking to Scarhead? You were laughing with him.”
Fingers threaded through Draco’s hair and he repressed a disgusted shudder. “Just because he won’t let you in his pants, Zabini, doesn’t mean you should freak the fuck out when he shows an interest in me,” Draco taunted sharply.
He realized he had struck a nerve when Blaise immediately pulled back and punched him in the jaw. The pain was worth the information. Blaise had been trying to get to Potter and clearly wasn’t succeeding.
“You’re a fucking imbecile, Zabini. If You-Know-Who finds out you’re feeding false information for your own gain, he’s going to kill you. The worst part is, you put every fucking person in this room in danger. Did you bother telling them the risk—”
“Shut up! I’m not the one spying for Dumbledore!” Blaise roared, smashing Draco across the face. “All of you out! Now!” He shouted, waiting for the footsteps to fade before returning to Draco.
“How long have you been giving him information? What have you been telling him?”
Draco hissed, quickly losing his temper at the ridiculous accusations. “Unlike you, I value my life. I don’t play spy—I’m not that fucking stupid! And just so we’re clear, my family isn’t in league with Dumbledore either.” Draco spat, blood dribbling from his mouth. “Let’s be serious, Zabini. If Voldemort really thought that I was leaking information, I would already be dead. He sure as hell wouldn’t send a two-bit weakling whore like you to get the information from me. You don’t even have the power to use Legilimency.”
“I don’t need magic, Malfoy.” Blaise’s hand grabbed his hair and pulled back painfully, tears stinging at the corner of Draco’s eyes. “There are other forms of power. All it takes is the right evidence in the right spot and the Dark Lord will kill you for me.”
Draco probably should have been terrified; Blaise wasn’t in the habit of making idle threats. Instead, he laughed, his voice promising pain.
“How about we stop this stupid shit and get to the point? You’ve always thought I was a threat to your position, but you never had the guts to do anything until my father left the protection of You-Know-Who. So you manipulated anyone that has something to lose by saying I’m putting their families at risk by informing on them. Because you want to take me out. It’s not going to work, Zabini. And once I’m free you’re going to regret that you even fucking tried.”
“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Draco,” Blaise said silkily, pressing lips to the blond’s bruised cheek. “You’re not going to get free. You’re going to hang in this room tonight. And then this room is going to disappear until next Friday, just like it always does. Unfortunately for you, by that time you’ll be dead from lack of food and water.”
Dread sliced through Draco, chilling more thoroughly than the cold castle air. Blaise was going to kill him. His housemates were going to stand by and let him starve to death, the bloody fucking cowards!
“It’s such a shame it had to be this way, Drake. You know I always had a thing for pretty blonds.”
Draco snarled, striking the moment Blaise got too close, sinking teeth into Blaise’s cheek. Howling, Blaise wrenched away, Draco spitting out a chunk of flesh with a frightening smile. “You ever hear of the Furour Ghosts, Zabini? I guarantee I’ll be coming back to torment you. Just a month and my soul will have enough power to haunt your fucking ass to the grave!”
Draco laughed menacingly at Blaise’s angry shout. The final hit to his gut and loud slam of the door did nothing to dull his dark laughter. They would all suffer by his hands, whether he was fucking alive or not.
“Fuck this is boring… Fucking kill Zabini… I’ll fucking kill all of them… Stupid Potter and his damn sense of humor. Just had to laugh, didn’t I? Fuck! I think I’ll gouge out Zabini’s eyes first… Maybe cripple him… Fuck. This is a shit boring way to die.”
As each minute ticked by, the stark realization that no one was coming for him had sunk in until it was clutching at Draco’s throat as strong as Blaise’s hand had. A wand to the head would have been easier. Instant death. Not this stupid waiting around shit. Not the helpless feeling of being stalked…
That, of course, was another problem. Draco did not know which room he was in, and more importantly, if it had windows, because the soft sound of fabric sliding over the floor was starting to freak him out. Could it be a ghost? A wayward student… Some sort of beast? What horrors did Hogwarts house in the darkest of corners?
There was a clatter and Draco jumped, his chains rattling as the noise of a glass container rolling came closer and closer until stopping at his bare feet.
“Hello?” He called, trying with all his might to see through the thick cloth over his eyes. “Is somebody—Shit!” Wind whooshed by him, clothing brushing his side. Draco strained in the darkness, seeking some sort of recognizable sound to calm his racing heart. Gods, let it be human…
Cloth rustled a mere foot away. Draco stepped back as much as the chains would allow. “Back off!” He prepared himself for a good kicking if the need arose. Action was always better than freezing to fear.
“This seems quite the predicament.” A voice commented from where the rustling cloth had been, the whispered words distorted by magic until completely unrecognizable. It was too low to be anything but male, and too indifferent to be Slytherin.
Breath caught in his throat, Draco automatically turned his head, the darkness still remaining with his blindfold. “Who’s there? Can you… let me go?”
A tingle trilled down his spine as hot breath spilled over his neck, reminding Draco very quickly that he was naked, chained up, and absolutely vulnerable to this total stranger. It was not all together unpleasant. Draco pursed his lips, annoyed by his body’s reaction. His heart was already trying to beat out of his chest; he could not deal with embarrassment as well.
“I don’t know. I guess that depends on you.”
Draco had had enough of games that night. “What the fuck? Who are you, you bloody bastard!” He jolted as a hand pressed lightly to his face, rearranging the blindfold gently and setting his nerves jumping with something neither fully anger or fear.
“For someone tied up, you’ve got quite the nasty attitude towards the only person around to help you, Malfoy.”
Hissing, Draco swallowed his anger and pride. This person was no Hufflepuff, of that he was certain. But they did know who he was. That probably would not help, given Draco’s reputation. He would have to make an effort. “Sorry, it’s been a bad night. If you can’t tell from the bruises on parts of my body that I usually don’t show to the whole fucking world. Please let me go.”
Yes, he had said please. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
The person started moving, cloth sliding around Draco as the boy talked. “I could tell, actually. Actually, it’s really difficult to miss… I knew you were toned and near glowing pale but… you are surprisingly long, Malfoy.”
Blushing, Draco shivered as a prickling sensation began to slide over his flesh. Resisting the urge to squirm under the stare boring into him, Draco concentrated on the chains biting his wrists. He forced his breathing to slow and did his best to will his quickly growing erection away. This was so not cool.
Stilling again, the voice spoke to the right of Draco. “Answer me truthfully and I’ll see what I can do to get you out of here.”
Gods damn it! Draco took a deep, steadying breath and vowed that he’d curse the bloody asshole once he was free. “Sure. Ask away, mate,” he chirped with false sweetness.
He could almost sense the wry smile sent in response. Hell, he could sense the damn heat and magic coming from the bastard too, and it was fucking unnerving. Draco’s body was too responsive to his liking. Everything seemed to be setting it off, even the sound of the other’s breathing.
“Alright. Who do you serve?”
Draco froze, his anger catching in his throat. “Are you mother fucking kidding me? Were you watching the whole bloody time? I don’t serve anyone! Not Voldemort. Not Dumbledore. Not my father. Not anyone! I’m my own man, and that’s how its going to bloody stay until the day I die—Which apparently is pretty fucking soon. Fuck you!” He scowled at where he assumed the asshole that could have saved him from a beating was staring.
“I see… I’m afraid that makes things difficult,” the boy mused, breath changing direction as he circled slowly around Draco.
“Well too fucking bad. You’re not going to convince me otherwise,” Draco snarled. So much for being saved. It was just one more to add to his list of hauntings once he died.
“Hey—Watch it!” Draco gasped as hot, rough hands found their way to his back and began sliding down. He had to bite back the sound that was fighting to break loose when the hands stopped and slid to his front, thumbs caressing the taut flesh right below his stomach.
For some reason the disgust Draco had felt when Blaise had merely tried to kiss him was absent with this stranger. That alarmed him more than he wanted to dwell on. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. He usually had better control.
“I have no interest in changing your mind. I actually find it admirable that you don’t give in to the pressures of both sides and stick to your own conscience instead.”
“But?” Draco asked, breathing shallowly while he tried to figure out why he was no longer trying to kill, or get away from this person like he had wanted moments ago. Actually… He was pretty sure he was happy right where he was.
“But… It makes things difficult,” the boy murmured into Draco’s neck. “I had planned to leave you here if you picked Voldemort. That’s the sort of fucked up shit he would have done. If you had said Dumbledore, I would have released you immediately. You… you didn’t pick either.”
Hands began to slide up Draco’s torso, over his flat stomach and up to his chest. Palms found his nipples and rubbed, Draco biting his lip painfully to keep from crying out from the maddening sensation.
“You chose yourself, and now I have to consider what you would do. Tell me, Malfoy, would you let such an opportunity… slip?”
“Oh gods,” Draco moaned, the hands on his chest slowly sliding down, rough palms moving heatedly over him. Unconsciously he pressed back into the firm body behind him.
Draco knew exactly what he would have done if the situation had been reversed, and the mental image shook him. He should deny it… say something clever. But all he could think of was what could happen if he just stayed quiet and let those hands continue sliding over him.
“Oh fuck… Don’t think I won’t beat you,” Draco said shakily, his head falling forward.
“That’s what I thought,” the boy chuckled, a husky, delicious sound that left Draco trembling.
With a jolt, he tried to come back to his senses. “Stop… release me first.” He went to step away, but strong, toned arms wrapped in the sleeves of a school robe replaced the hands and pinned his back hard against the body behind him. It should have frightened Draco. The raw power he felt holding him close did a little. But mostly the tighter the arms held him, the faster his pulse raced and the more his body cried for attention.
“No. What fun would that be?” An arm loosened and fingers began to dance over Draco’s stomach. The simple movement was amplified by the rough fabric that moved with every breath against his skin. A chin settled on his shoulder; it didn’t have too far to go. The boy was only a little taller than him.
“Your name, then.” Draco turned his head, his strained breaths ruffling soft strands of hair brushing his cheek. It was longish… shaggy, maybe.
The face turned to Draco’s, lips pressing low on his jaw and biting lightly. “Does it matter?”
“N-No…” Draco whimpered, the scrape of teeth shooting fire through him. The boy was right. If anything, a face to go with the undeniable lust could actually make the whole thing very awkward. Especially if it was a familiar face. Still, Draco’s curiosity always was his downfall and right now he knew it would bother him till his last days. Who was it that could make his body ache like this? How the hell had he missed him all these bloody years in the same damn school?
Besides, Draco needed to know who to beat the shit out of.
“Will you tell me after?”
“Not if you plan on hexing me,” the boy whispered back. From his tone, Draco sensed he was expecting it. Without waiting for him to respond, the boy nudged the blond’s feet wide and slid a supporting leg between them. Dragging the hand that had been previously playing with the light wiry hair trailing beneath his navel, he traced down Draco’s length to stop at the head of his cock with a teasing touch. “I value my life, as well.”
Draco cried out from the touch, all angry retorts lost. His hips jolted forward but the arm pinning his waist wouldn’t give. Another brush of fingers to his cock and Draco’s whole body was straining, muscles tight with need. He fought the embarrassing urge to plead, instead focusing on breathing. He could feel the boy behind him, his breathing rougher and erection burning through his robes as it rocked against Draco slowly. Yes, definitely male.
The hand cupped his balls lightly and Draco’s breath caught. The boy was tentative, as if afraid he would disappear if pushed too fast. Draco would have told him that it was fine but his voice wasn’t working at the moment. Hesitant fingers trailed up and down the length of his cock, tormentingly slowly until Draco was fully erect and whimpering mindlessly.
Draco struggled, needing more than light touches, but the hand pulled away. “Don’t…” Draco fell silent when the body pulled away as well, leaving him cold and alone.
Anxiety hit him but not the absolute terror that had gripped him before. Would the boy leave him there, vulnerable and hard, or was it some sort of game? Draco was too prideful to ask. If he was going to be left to die again he wouldn’t give the bastard the added bonus of hearing him beg like some frightened child. At least the boy hadn’t gone far. Draco could sense the heat circling him, the powerful gaze watching him. Gods, that stare could burn.
Hands suddenly slid up his arms to land on Draco’s hands. He gasped, feeling the boy standing in front of him. Was he being released? Did he want to be?
“I can’t stop looking at you. You’re so fucking beautiful,” the boy growled into Draco’s ear, breath hot on his neck. “I want to have all of you at once but I can’t. I have to decide where to start. Seeing you stretched out like this…” The boy’s voice broke with a shudder, dripping with pure need. He stepped forward, lining up their bodies together from hands to toes, just resting against Draco.
Draco groaned in relief, pressing his hips forward and responding encouragingly to the face nuzzling his neck. Just nerves. The boy was bold but not very experienced. That was fine. Hell of a lot better than being left to die, or maybe worse, stopping. He could handle the slow fiery burn, even if hard and fast would have been just as nice.
“Ah…fuck.” Draco let out a low moan as the boy’s hot mouth latched onto his collar bone and began sucking, a hand sliding back to tangle in his hair. Yeah, this was more than fine.
Once his neck with near numb with pleasure, the mouth pulled away and Draco chased it, sliding his lips against the other’s swollen ones. The boy hesitated and Draco almost pulled back until he realized that it was once again a lack of confidence from the other.
“Come here,” Draco whispered, pressing forward and slowly meeting soft lips. He flicked his tongue against the yielding flesh, tasting cocoa, toothpaste, and something beneath it all that had Draco pressing harder, teeth biting until the full lips parted and divine heat greeted him.
He kissed slowly, becoming familiar with the mouth. Exploring every surface and taunting the other’s tongue into a leisurely wrestling match. The boy quickly caught on, responding with a raw need that left them both breathless.
The hands in his hair tightened painfully and Draco cried out. What had been sore, burning bruises only a few minutes ago were now super sensitive aches of flesh that only amplified his pleasure. He rubbed up against the body before him, gasping from the sensation of the rough material against his exposed flesh. Since his arms were still secure, Draco used his leg to pull closer. Finding his balance, he slid his right leg up, pushing the boy’s robe aside with his knee to wrap around a pair of jean clad thighs. The friction was amazing and Draco ground his hips against the sturdy form.
“Hell,” the boy groaned into his mouth. He pulled Draco closer, one hand circling his raised thigh and kneading the flesh with strong fingers while thrusting against him in a slow, desperate rhythm.
“I want to… to feel your skin.” Draco tried to get closer, rubbing his body wantonly even as the chains around his wrists pulled him back. The fabric was almost painful against his sensitive skin. But Draco didn’t mind, his power rising up to compensate.
“I think we can do that.” All confident taunts had been stripped from the voice to leave a heady, dark growl of desire. The boy pulled back enough to remove his cloak. His knuckles brushed Draco’s skin, pulling small gasps from the blond as the boy unbuttoned his school shirt. He tore the material away quickly and sunk back against Draco’s body with a moan. “Better?”
Draco shuddered in approval. The other boy’s flesh burned against his, smoothly sliding. Draco pulled at his chains with a snarl. He wanted to wrap his arms around that taut body… dig fingers in… sink teeth deep into that hot flesh so he could taste every fucking inch. The chains made a high pitched screech and began to give way. Draco’s triumphant smile fell when a rush of magic tingled over his arms and reinforced the bonds.
“Malfoy,” the boy warned. He grabbed a chunk of Draco’s hair and pulled until the blond’s head was bent back and elegant neck exposed. “Control your blood or I will.”
Draco’s smiled wickedly and licked his lips. Centuries of magical beings integrated into his genes were trying to gain control of the situation. “Think of it as a compliment. It takes a hell of a lot of passion to get my beasts roaring.” Growling, he threw his other leg around the boy’s waist, grabbing the chains with his hands and pulling himself up. He didn’t even flinch from the punishing pull to his hair. The pain was more than welcome.
“Too bad you didn’t use it earlier. If it was anything like that quidditch match, Zabini would have been dead.” The boy grunted softly from the extra weight. He slid his hands under Draco’s thighs, balancing them. “Not that I’m complaining.” He kissed the pulse in Draco’s neck and bit down lightly.
“Ah… Fuck. It, ah, takes a certain power. He doesn’t affect me… enough to wake it up.”
“Mmm… Don’t you hate him enough?” The boy slid his tongue out where he had just bit, licking firmly.
“Oh, yes… I wouldn’t fuck him though. Lust is the easiest way—Oh hell! Do that harder. Oohhh.” Teeth sank in deeper into his throat, enough to bruise, enough to mark. Pleasure burst in hot spots behind his eyes and Draco felt his body go limp for long moments as his mind drifted. “Bloody hell.”
The voice laughed, a low, sensual breath of air that curled around Draco’s ear and sent shivers down his spine. “You do realize what you just implied, right? You were fighting Potter two years ago when you first showed your power.”
Draco stiffened but didn’t pull away. “Drop it.”
“Heh, did I hit a nerve?” He laughed again, grinding his hips into Draco’s. “Maybe you’re so hot for it because you’re thinking of a certain Scarhead.”
Hissing, Draco snapped his head forward, catching the bastard in the chin. “Drop it, or I turn your face into hamburger.” Anyone with half a brain knew not to bring up Potter in his company, bastard. Following the scent of blood, Draco smashed his lips down and rolled his hips. He smiled into the kiss when the other boy responded with vigor, short fingernails scratching down his back. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you liked that.”
“You’re not the only one with magical beings in their bloodline, Malfoy. Some just fucking control themselves better.”
Draco laughed darkly. “A challenge?”
“No… not tonight.” The boy softened his tone, all additional tension from the power within draining from his form. He kissed Draco gently, slowly, until the blond settled down. The erection griding into his stomach was the only sign of how close Draco was to losing his patience. “Tonight you play.”
Nuzzling into the other’s neck, Draco nodded. “Fine. Now take off your fucking trousers already. I want to feel all of you.” He carefully unwound his legs and stood shakily on the cold floor.
Shoes clattered, followed by the rip of a zipper and the dull drop of clothes hitting the floor. The only other noise was their combined breathing and the chains clinking lightly as Draco swayed. Steps padded lightly on the stone, letting Draco know he was once again being circled. He stood taller, waiting patiently.
A hand touched his arm and he gasped. But his companion didn’t stop moving, instead sliding his hands over whatever piece of flesh caught his attention while he stalked around the blond. Each touch was a jolt to Draco’s senses, his cock twitching with need. The bastard was either pushing his luck or still debating how to approach him.
“Hell, if your intent is to drive me mad, you’re closer than you think.” Draco groaned, jumping as his nipple was pinched. Another hand found his side and long fingers ghosted over. He trembled, panting quietly.
“There’s just so much to admire, Malfoy.” The boy stopped and stepped back into Draco. He wrapped an arm around his waist, pressing their bare torsos together with a sigh. He then slid a hand between the press of their bodies and slowly moved it down. His mouth made its way back to Draco’s, kissing deeply and trailing saliva when he moved down to kiss his jaw.
“Ahh… fuck. You make me want it so bad,” Draco groaned, the press of the other’s bare flesh overwhelming his senses. He locked a leg around the boy’s leg, rubbing it up and down to revel in the sensation of soft body hair. The pace was painfully slow but Draco forced himself to follow along. He refused to stop even if his friend was a little too jumpy.
The evil, teasing hand finally made its way to his cock, wrapping firmly. Draco moaned, the hand stilling all motion as if daring himself to go on. Draco was not in the mood to see how long that would take. “Shit, come on. Just like your own, only in reverse.” Draco slid his mouth over the side of the boy’s face and found his ear, lightly biting down. The boy gasped in surprise and tightened his grip even more. Slow, long strokes pulled hesitantly around his cock. “Yes, ahhhh, that’s it. Oh fuck… so good.”
“If you only fucking knew how you looked right now.” His voice breaking with lust, the boy buried his face into Draco’s shoulder, finding the mark he had made earlier and sucking on it as the blond thrust into his fist.
The heated words were a touch all their own, sincere and passionate. Draco forced himself to go slower. He wanted to touch the boy so badly but the other seemed to need some semblance of control to keep going. It was maddening. That voice inside him was clamoring for something… needed something…
Draco groaned and opened his mouth. “Fuck me,” he whispered, stilling all motion to show he was serious. “I want you inside me. Now.”
His breath coming out in a soft hiss, the boy pulled his head back. He trailed his hands over the blond’s body, rolling one of his dusky nipples between thumb and forefinger until Draco whimpered and rested his head forward against the boy’s shoulder. He slid his other hand down, cupping Draco’s ass and pulling him tight against his body. Holding him steady, he began rocking them together.
Shuddering, Draco thrust up, rubbing their bare erections together with a cry. His whole body was aching, and he felt long, lithe and amazing with each quiet moan the boy holding him made. “Oh gods.” Fingers began to circle his entrance and he spread his legs wide, not caring that he might as well be begging for it. “That’s it… yesss.” Draco licked his lips, nuzzling his head against the boy’s cheek and trailing his tongue over the smooth flesh as a finger slowly penetrated him. His hips jolted back but the flinch of pain was well worth the burst of pleasure that followed.
“You’re so tight. Fuck… Too tight to not be your first.”
“Mmmm… there’s a first time for everything,” Draco moaned breathlessly. “Like I said… you make my, mmmm, my beasts roar—Oh!” The angle of the finger suddenly changed, brushing against his prostate with wonderful results. “Oh fuck, again. Again.”
“Like this?” The boy quirked his finger again, becoming more bold with his positive reaction. Draco moaned unintelligibly and rubbed his head against the boy’s neck, mouth moving until he found the perfect spot to mark.
There was something dark inside of Draco, that other voice that had only started making itself known the last couple years. It wanted this boy. He couldn’t explain why—it was a complicated voice—but it wanted him bad and wanted him now. “Please… please… fuck, I need you.” Another finger pressed into his entrance, causing Draco’s whole body to tremble uncontrollably.
The boy pulled his head back, gaze searing over him while his fingers continued to slowly stretch the blond. “Do you really?” He asked quizzically, almost as if detached from the scene. “You don’t even know me, Malfoy.”
Draco shook his head and laughed weakly. “Gods, I know you. I haven’t figured it out yet, but I know you. That weird beast inside me definitely knows you and your weird beast… Oh. Oh yes. Uh, yeah… Don’t think I won’t—Oh fuck.” Draco pushed hard against the fingers stroking inside of him, trying to bury them deeper.
“You won’t what?”
“I’ll find you,” Draco promised with a whimper, holding tight to his bonds to keep himself from swaying to the side.
“Fight me?”
It took a moment for him to process another thought through the lust fogging his brain. “Maybe. Probably kill you, if you don’t fuck me already. Come on… I need you inside me.” He nipped painfully at the boy’s flesh to spur him into action.
“Fuck.” Not changing what his hands were doing, the boy rubbed against Draco and slowly slid down to his knees.
“Wait, I need—Fuck!” Draco cried out, certain he’d have fallen forward if not for his restraints as impossible heat engulfed his cock. “Oh gods… oh gods, I can’t.” He was going to come if the boy didn’t stop. And he didn’t want to come, not until the boy was buried deep inside him.
Shit, for a tentative kisser, he sure had no problems with his mouth where it mattered.
“Wait… Come on, please… Oh, oh hell… again… just like that.” Draco gave up, unable to fight the hot mouth sucking him off. Instead he began to rock forward, losing himself in the feel of the fingers filling and receding in his channel and the sensation of wet heat moving over his cock and taking him down deep.
Draco thrust lightly, wondering just how much the boy could take. He hadn’t gagged at all. Maybe he preferred to bottom. Gods, he must be a good fuck with a mouth like that… “C’mere. If you’re not going to fuck me, then at least let me feel you,” Draco said shakily, stilling his hips and the urge to dominate the experienced mouth.
The boy took his time, sure to get a thorough taste of the blond before rising from his position and leaning in to kiss. “You taste fucking amazing.”
Draco mumbled something inarticulate. A third finger was pressing up against his hole and he was having a hard time noticing anything else. He jolted as his lip was bit to the point of pain, and instinctively responded in kind before he realized that blood was spilling from both their mouths. “Shit… oh hell.”
The boy didn’t back down, his tongue trailing over Draco’s mouth and chin, sliding down to catch the trickle that had made its way to his neck. Blood and beasts went hand in hand, and it took everything Draco had to hold onto his restraint as the boy rocked against him.
“I’ll make a deal with you, Malfoy. I want you. Right now, I think I would go seek out Voldemort and blow him just for the chance to bury myself in your oh-so-perfect ass.” The boy annunciated each word with a sharp thrust of his hips. “Sadly, I have this thing called a conscience. You may have heard of it. It keeps you from doing very bad things.”
“You’re really not helping yourself here,” Draco growled. He was too turned on to be truly offended, and wriggled as close as he could get, his cock snug against the boy’s. “What’s the deal?” Please let it involve burying and his ass…
“Yes… ah, the deal.” The boy let out a low moan, using his free hand to slide between their flushed bodies and wrap shakily around their combined lengths.
“Oh fuck!” Draco’s breath exploded out, his body tightening and back arching.
“Fuck yess… Ah, Malfoy, you get a choice.” The boy stilled their motions enough to whisper into Draco’s ear with some sense of clarity. “When you find me, which I’m sure you will once you understand what that beast of yours is saying… Um, yeah. So find me. And then you can decide if you still want me.”
Draco shook his head weakly once the words sunk in. “Just fuck me. Gods, please.” A strangled sob escaped him as the hand around their lengths began to move and the fingers in his ass resumed their thrusts. Coordinated… bastard.
The boy quickly smashed his mouth to Draco’s. “Fuck, don’t say that. Don’t beg, or I’m going to split you apart, Draco. I want to so bad. You’re so—Fuck, that’s hot.” The boy shuddered as Draco whispered another demanding please. “Damn fucking conscience!”
“Oh, harder… Yes, that’s it.” Draco was too close to notice when his arms fell, immediately wrapping them tight around the boy fisting their cocks together. “Don’t stop… Oh gods. Yes.”
Mouth open in a silent cry, a slippery finger brushed deep against his prostate and Draco came hard, feeling every inch of his cock pulsing in rhythm with the thicker one wrapped against his.
“Hell… fucking hell,” the boy hoarsely whispered out as his own release followed, spilling hot seed onto Draco’s stomach. “Gods… you look good like that. Real good.”
Draco moaned weakly, his arms wrapped around the other’s neck the only thing keeping him up since his knees had turned rubbery. His orgasm had come with an annoying weight of tiredness. Even as he knew this, he could also sense that other inner voice telling him to catch the boy for good and claim him in a more permanent fashion… Whatever that meant.
Draco frowned, grumbling as the world tilted and the warm body supporting him started shifting. “Give me a sec. My arms feel like they’re being attacked by pixies.”
“Sorry, Malfoy. We need to go before the room pulls its disappearing act.” Draco felt arms pulling him up, lifting him easily. The boy was strong. “Just gotta grab my clothes and get my wand.”
Draco was aware of the rustling of fabric right up to the point where the tip of a wand was placed to his forehead. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Figure it out. I’ll be waiting.” The boy quickly whispered a sleeping spell. Draco was able to feel relieved he wasn’t being killed, and momentarily angry for being knocked out, before fully losing consciousness.
Draco awoke blearily, the crackling of torches pulling him from his sleep. He ached everywhere. But it was a strangely delicious manner, as if he had been stoned with marshmallows instead of heavy rocks.
Slowly the numbness faded and he gained enough awareness to realize that he was in the hospital wing and all alone.
The windows were pitch black and Draco quickly rose from the bed hoping to keep the night on his side.
Oh, yes, he was sore. He pushed aside his hospital gown, examining the bruises and bandaged wounds on his perfect body. The beast rose up in him, reminding him that he had some hunting to do.
A group of Ravenclaw fifth years, up early in preparation for studying, entered the Great Hall for breakfast. They were greeted with the sight of four very nude seventh year Slytherins hanging upside down from the ceiling. Their faces were bright red either from embarrassment or the settling of blood.
The Slytherins did not scream, or cry for help, nor did they move. If not for the motion of their eyes, eyelids unblinkingly open, the Ravenclaws would have thought they were dead. Since they weren’t dead, and the four Slytherins each had a distinct mark burned onto their arm among the many bruises and slashes all over each body, the Ravenclaws sat down at their usual table and began to eat.
An hour later the Great Hall was a roar of commotion, students speculating who could have stuck the whole Slytherin seventh and six year classes all over the castle. And what the victims must have done to deserve to be so humiliated.
The other members of the sixth and seventh year Slytherin dorms had been stripped as well, but they were hung right side up and in less visible place. Much like surprising mistletoe, haunting doorways and classrooms at every turn. None of them could move and all of their eyes had been forced open so that they had to see everyone that saw them.
The teachers were trying to get them free and having little luck at it.
Blaise, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle had been the unlucky four in the Great Hall to hang above while every person who came to eat could see them and laugh at the suggestive positions they had been left in. They must have made someone very angry, Ron thought, and with a laugh he silently thanked whoever had gotten revenge.
Harry, mildly amused by the new decorations, didn’t linger with the rest of the students, reminding his friends that they had potions and Snape would be in an extra foul mood. Not wanting to be late and becoming the scapegoats for the potion teacher’s anger, the seventh year Gryffindors quickly gathered their things and filed out of the Hall.
On reaching the Potions classroom, locked until Snape deemed himself ready, they all had to wonder what they would do since they shared the class with the Slytherin seventh years and each were now missing a partner.
“Do you think they were real?” Hermione asked her two friends quietly, referring to the dark marks clearly seen on the four Slytherins in the Great Hall. All the other students stumbled upon didn’t have the mark aligning them to Voldemort. It became a wonder if the prankster had placed the mark on them when hanging the four. Or if the four Slytherins had been singled out because they had those very marks.
“They’re real,” Harry said with certainty. He had seen the mark enough to know and even though quite fresh, they were real.
Ron nodded in agreement. “I’m surprised Malfoy wasn’t hanging up there with the rest. Did anyone find him yet? I bet anything, they stuck him on the goalpost in the quidditch field.”
“Not bad, Weasley. It’s quite fitting since I’m always kicking your ass in the sport,” Draco spoke up behind Ron, causing the boy to whirl in shock.
“You’re free! How are you free?”
Draco smiled darkly. “Wasn’t caught in the first place.” Before Ron could grill him with a million questions, the potions’ classroom door flew open. Snape towered in the doorway, his expression grim.
“I would ask that you children refrain from commenting on the new addition to our class. Those remaining students will complete the day’s work alone until this crisis can be remedied. I will be busy brewing a solution to the sticking charms in Lab 2. Refrain from disturbing me or destroying the classroom.” His voice a dark purr, Snape stalked back into the room, giving no glance to the nude Nott stuck on the wall as he retreated through the connecting door.
“Hey there, Nott,” Draco said cheerfully, waving to the boy stuck to the dead center of Snape’s chalkboard. “How’s it hanging? Oh wait… I can see. Not much for hanging, is there?” He smiled viciously and took his seat, pulling out his notes from his bag.
Seamus, ignoring all Slytherin Gryffindor protocol, bounced over to Draco and asked demandingly, “How’d you do it, Malfoy?”
Draco flipped through his notes, hardly sparing him a glance. “If you mean my potion, I suggest you ask Potter since he’s my partner in this one. Although, I do frown on cheating,” he added.
Ron scoffed and the rest of the Gryffindors crowded over to Draco’s seat. “Only when it’s not your friends. And I have to say, it looks like you don’t have many friends at all if you’re hanging them all on the walls in the buff.”
Draco placed his papers down, looking up in mock innocence. “You can’t possibly think that I had anything to do with that? Not when all my friends and housemates have been attacked in such a crude, and very violent way. It seems more a barbaric Gryffindor prank.”
“Like anyone here could have done that. And all in one night?” Hermione said knowingly. “You’re the only one I know that could have pulled that off.”
“Oh, what about Potter?” Draco pointed out. “He actually has a motive, too, since the quidditch cup match is coming up against Slytherin.”
Harry nodded. “I could have done it. But I wouldn’t have. I’m just not that brutal.” He gave Draco a searching look and then took his seat next to the blond. Draco measured him right back, quickly reminded that Potter had shown potential of having his own beast sleeping inside on many an occasion.
Still… Potter was just too much of a goody-goody. As hot as Potter was with his messy dark hair, glowing green eyes and lush mouth, Draco just couldn’t imagine the boy having the nerve to molest him when the opportunity was available. Learning how to dress properly and ditching his nerdy glasses didn’t mean Potter knew anything about fucking.
Draco had ruled out Slytherins on principle alone, along with Hufflepuffs. That left Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, and Draco was rightfully rooting for the former. It was bad enough that he was in the predicament he was in with his housemates. He did not need anything else to make him a target.
Although he had little worry that his dear classmates would be attacking him anytime soon. Not unless the teachers were able to counter his time release seal that would free the Slytherins days after graduation. A good month away.
“If you lot will excuse us, I can’t concentrate on my work when you’re hovering.” Draco stood, those closest forced to step back, and he made his way to the storage closet. The other students rambled after with their ingredients list just in case Snape came around and started hexing.
Harry was busy preparing the next round of ingredients when Draco had enough time to relax and look around the room for signs of his mystery boy. He looked for those a little taller than him, and with hair not too closely cropped but not too long either.
Thankfully the Weasel King was taller than anyone in the room, and Draco was saved that suicide.
Finnigan was about the right height and he had been letting his hair grow out lately. Draco didn’t sense anything from him though and his beast had no recollection of another soul dwelling in the rambunctious boy. Draco glanced at Seamus’s hands, trying to picture if they were like the mystery boy’s. His nails were a bit too short and Draco gladly crossed him off his mental list of candidates.
“Hey, Malfoy,” Harry whispered, leaning into Draco’s shoulder while chopping a long root. “For real, are you okay? You’re covered in bruises and you walked in here with a limp.”
Draco glanced over in surprise. Spending most of his time hunting and capturing his classmates, he had only bothered to heal the obvious wounds on his face. Potter had been the only one to notice, everyone else preoccupied with him actually being there and not stuck to the ceiling.
Eyes straying to the blade flashing in precise slices, Draco peered closer to see what Harry’s fingernails looked like. They were long enough to dig into his back…
“Is there a reason you’re sniffing my neck, Malfoy?” Harry asked, turning amused eyes to Draco.
Draco hadn’t caught any familiar scent and his beast was currently denying any signs of a beast in Potter. Although… Draco was well aware that Potter had one. He had sensed it quite clearly when his own had woken up the first time two years ago. Narrowing his eyes at the confused look he was getting, Draco asked a question of his own. “How tall are you, Potter?”
“Oh… I don’t know. A bit more than you, I’d say,” Harry said smugly, turning back to his work. Draco glared and turned away, more than happy that the obnoxious Gryffindor couldn’t be the one.
It wasn’t until afternoon, and Draco was roaming the halls making sure he said hello to all the Slytherins currently hanging in the castle, that he caught the scent. His beast roared up immediately in recognition and Draco had to grab the wall to keep from stumbling as his knees went weak.
Whoever the fuck he was, Draco’s body responded in ways it never had before and it left him momentarily stunned. By the time he pulled himself together and made it to the hallway the scent was drifting from, a mass of students getting out of their last class was broiling about. Draco’s nose couldn’t discern up from down with all the people.
Cursing, he stomped around for a bit and to his shock, a little dribble of scent reached him and he held on, quickly rounding corners and students, only to smack right into Hermione Granger, knocking them both to the ground.
“Shit!” Draco snarled, rubbing his forehead with one hand and helping the girl up with the other. “Did anyone else go by here just now?”
“If they did, they went around me,” Hermione retorted sharply, pulling her bag up and checking the contents for anything broken. “Honestly Malfoy, all the Slytherins are tied up. There’s no one left to be chasing you.”
Draco focused on the girl instead of walking off like he had intended. “And just what do you know of Slytherins chasing me, Granger?” He asked, warning clear in his voice.
Hermione tossed her head back, hardly intimidated. “I know they beat the crap out of you last night and you stuck them to the walls in retaliation. They’ve been plotting your downfall ever since that article was printed about your father. Not all of us are completely daft to inter-house politics.”
Not satisfied, but not in the mood to talk with the girl either, Draco just shrugged. “As long as Potter doesn’t have it in his thick skull that he can try and save me, or some rot. I don’t need your help.”
“Clearly.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Although, if we were to help, we would have had better results than a beating and humiliation. And no one would have found the bodies until we were ready for them to be released. The professors are bound to get them down eventually.”
Draco resisted the childish urge to stick his tongue out at the girl. “Whatever, Granger. Public humiliation suits my needs much more than torture and information. Whenever they’re cut loose, they’ll still be expelled for the mark, and their families will be ousted in the papers long before that time comes. If it all goes well, the four of them will be disowned—Not that I’m admitting to any part in the matter. I’m just quite content with the outcome.” Draco smiled at the thought and then brushed past the girl.
The scent had completely disappeared and Draco scowled at the realization that Granger had made him lose it. Bloody Gryffindors.
Decided, he changed directions and headed toward the library where he would be sure to have his fill of Ravenclaws to sort through. Hopefully the boy he was looking for would be there.
It was late when Draco finally dragged himself to the Great Hall for dinner. The room was practically deserted except for the Gryffindor quidditch team, who had been practicing that evening.
Draco sat as far away from the group as possible. But without the other Slytherins to create the proper intimidating atmosphere, little deterred the Gryffindors from picking up their plates and sitting down around him at the table. Draco’s annoyance was kept in check by the sudden, intense appearance of the scent. He sat at attention, looking at the faces of the boys all smiling at him.
“Not to be a bother, Malfoy, but would you mind telling us how you stuck them up like that?” Seamus asked brightly, pointing his fork up to the ceiling where the four Slytherins still hung suspended above. The teachers had tried to at least cover them up but Peeves had floated up and stolen the sheets the instant the professors had left the room. “Malfoy?”
Draco showed no signs of hearing, his eyes moving to each boy as he realized they were all saturated in the scent. How, he could only guess, and his lust addled mind immediately jumped to Gryffindor orgy on the quidditch field. A more reasonable explanation was that the source of the scent had dosed them all in passing… Or that the source was at the table and the scent was so strong it was overpowering everything else.
“Malfoy, are you okay?” Harry touched his shoulder, causing Draco to jump and lock his eyes on the tanned hand. Streaked in dirt, it smelled like sweat and endorphins, and Draco calmly asked his beast if it remembered it. It did not.
Draco was sure he did though… He grabbed Harry’s hand to sniff suspiciously. Nothing, but… Uncertain, Draco licked the palm questioningly.
Ron growled and stood, his fist pulled back ready to punch, but Harry held him off with a look. “There’s plenty of food if you’re that hungry, Malfoy,” Harry said carefully. The Gryffindors chuckled awkwardly but Draco didn’t react, still staring at Harry’s hand.
Brows furrowed, Draco licked again, running his mouth against the ridges that seemed very familiar… But still, he couldn’t get a clear read. Deciding there was nothing more to it, he sunk his teeth in and bit down hard. Harry moaned in surprise, his palm dripping scarlet that Draco immediately recognized.
“Potter, you wanking bastard!” Draco snarled, standing and roughly pulling Harry across the table and wrenching his hair. This time when Draco sniffed the boy’s sweat soaked neck, a very familiar scent answered him.
Harry smiled sheepishly, not pulling away from the painful grip on his head. “Well, I couldn’t make it easy on you, could I?”
“I had to draw blood to tell! That is beyond unfair!”
“Oh, like you give a shit about anything fair.” Harry tilted his head back, his smile enticing. “I should remind you that my friends are going to kick the crap out of you if you don’t let me go soon.”
Draco glared unconcernedly at Harry’s wary teammates and then jumped onto the table. He hauled Harry up with him, still holding him by his thick chocolate hair.
“I should have known, Potter. I would have if you hadn’t disguised yourself! I am very pissed off at you right now.”
Harry panted, turning his head in the cruel grasp. “Yeah? What are you going to do about it?”
Draco paused, licking his lips as his beast made many lust crazed suggestion. Harry was dusty from the field, dripping in sweat, and smelling of fresh air. Twisting in Draco’s hold, the boy was damn delectable. “I am… going to make sure you can’t ever disguise yourself from me again,” Draco said finally, remembering that they had an audience.
Harry laughed and leaned in, whispering in Draco’s ear. “The only way to do that is to mate with me. Surely thats just a bit too much for your sensible, self-serving ways, Malfoy.”
Staring expressionlessly at Harry’s mischievousness green eyes, Draco let the boy go abruptly, hands falling to his sides in defeat.
He would not be a pawn to Dumbledore, not even for Harry. Not even if his beasts were screaming at him to claim the infuriating boy for his own.
Draco climbed down from the table, sending an uninterested look at his barely touched dinner. Curling up in bed feeling miserable sounded like a good idea at the moment, and stepping around the confused Gryffindors, Draco headed for the door.
“Oi! Don’t tell me you’re giving up that fucking easy!” Harry shouted after him, scrambling from the table. Ron grabbed his arm but Harry shook him off with a glare and ran after Draco. He caught up with the blond right outside the doors.
“Come on, Malfoy,” Harry insisted, grabbing Draco’s hand. “You’re supposed to be smart.”
Draco whirled, anger twisting his features. “Do not tell me that choosing sides is smart, you pompous—!”
Barking in laughter, Harry pinned Draco effortlessly to the wall by his shoulders. “I had the pleasure of hearing your loyalties first hand. Why don’t you try asking mine?” Harry breathed tauntingly into Draco’s ear.
Draco struggled uselessly against the uncommonly strong grasp. He might win if he let his beast loose, but the creature was very much interested in fucking, not fighting. Snarling, Draco stopped moving, instead growling low at Harry.
“Why bother when you are so fucking deep in his pocket you can’t find your way out!”
“I would have said the same of you, of a different wizard, just yesterday,” Harry reminded soothingly. “Perhaps you should ask me, just in case.”
Draco huffed, staring at Harry suspiciously. “Fine. Who the fuck do you serve?”
“No one.” Harry said bluntly. “Honestly Malfoy, do you think any beast could stand to take orders from anyone?” He asked, face slowly nuzzling into Draco’s neck and breathing deep.
Draco closed his eyes, feeling Harry like he had when chained, flesh against flesh, scent strong in his nose, power radiating from the hard body before him. It was intoxicating… maddening… and he felt very dizzy and very hard all at once.
Harry released Draco’s shoulders, hands tugging at the blond’s shirt and pulling it free from his belt. Those same, rough hands were suddenly on his waist and moving up his back, touching desperately as if they had been apart years instead of less than half a day.
But this time Draco wasn’t chained. Growling, he grabbed Harry’s hips and twisted, slamming the infuriating boy up against the wall. “You’re a fucking asshole, Potter,” Draco snapped before crushing his mouth onto Harry’s ripe lips, biting viciously as the brunette dug nails into his back and clawed down.
Draco tore at Harry’s t-shirt, the cotton stretching and then ripping down the front. He kissed down the flesh of the chest revealed, licking and sucking and biting while Harry groaned, head lolling against the wall in surrender.
“Crap, crap… fucking hell!”
Draco snarled, looking up to find that Harry’s friends had thought to follow. “Potter, get them the fuck out of here,” he demanded, voice hoarse with want.
Harry opened his eyes blearily, focusing on his quidditch teammates staring at him with a mix of horror and amusement, and dare he say, a fair bit of lust.
“You heard the sexy git. Get lost,” Harry said, grabbing the back of Draco’s neck and kissing the boy deeply. Blood had appeared from somewhere and Harry licked at the corner of Draco’s mouth, chasing the metallic flavor.
“Potter, fuck… Stop,” Draco growled, pushing the boy back against the wall again, his body tight and bristling as their audience refused to leave. “Either they leave, or I do.”
Harry gave an exasperated exhale, nudging Draco’s face to the side so he could glare behind him properly. “What? What the fuck do you want? I’m busy.”
Ron, looking green and extremely uncomfortable, shook his head slowly. “You were very clear, Harry. Hermione and I were to keep you from… Well, from exactly what you’re doing. Three years ago we promised that if you lost your shit and started kissing, and or beating Malfoy, we would stop you.”
“Oh… right.” Harry licked his lips thoughtfully, turning his gaze to Draco’s very angry silver eyes. “I was pretty sure you were a Death Eater, Malfoy. It had seemed like the reasonable thing to do at the time.”
“For the last three years? Three years you’ve been calling for me?”
Harry shrugged, his eyes darkening. “Like I told you last night. Some of us have a hell of a lot more control.”
“That means you woke it up that day, Potter. It might have slept forever without someone calling. You’re the fucking reason I’ve been losing my god damn mind the last two years. Fuck!” Draco pushed away, glaring at the extremely gorgeous asshole that always seemed to find a way to ruin his life. “Do you even realize what a fucking monster this thing is in my head? I nearly killed those fuckers!” He pointed to the Great Hall doors and the students hanging from the ceiling unseen behind them.
Harry smiled savagely, stalking forward and grabbing Draco by the biceps. “I am fucking aware.” He kissed Draco again, ferociously, and then started nipping down the blond’s chin and throat with hard, heated bites.
“Shit, Potter… I’m still angry with you!” Draco moaned, even as Harry pulled him into his embrace, the blond’s body trapped against his.
“Ha, you’re so fucking hot when you’re angry…”
Ron, now a very distinct shade of white, tapped Harry on his shoulder. “I’ll stun you if I have to, Har.”
“Weasley, get the fuck out of here before I maim you!” Draco snarled, turning Harry so that he was behind him, and then rounding on Ron. “We are having an important conversation. Stop interrupting!” Draco glared at the group of Gryffindors, Ron sick and the rest laughing. “Fuck off!”
Seamus, wiping tears from his eyes, grabbed Ron’s arm and pulled him away. “Clearly Harry doesn’t need your help, Ron. Nor Malfoy, for that matter. Let’s go.”
Ron resisted, looking torn. They had promised.
Harry grabbed Draco from behind, hands slipping under the blond’s shirt while he kissed up the side of his neck. Ron really did not want to see this, especially with the way Draco was throwing his head back, leaning against Harry and panting. He decided he would find Hermione and figure out what to do from there.
“They’re gone,” Harry murmured into Draco’s throat, his hands seeking out his nipples and squeezing hard. Draco cried out, hips thrusting forward for contact that wasn’t there. Harry pulled him back tighter against his body, rubbing his hard erection against the boy’s ass.
“Potter… we still need to talk.” Draco could barely speak, his body achingly hot everywhere Harry touched.
“Later,” Harry insisted, running his hand down the front of Draco’s pants and pressing his palm into the bulge growing there.
“Noo… fuck… oh fuck.” Draco’s knees gave way, and he would have fallen if Harry hadn’t supported him. Suddenly he was being turned, Harry throwing him over a shoulder as if he weighed nothing at all. Draco shook his head, trying to understand what was happening as Harry carried him down the corridor, the boy’s hand squeezing his ass as he walked.
Draco caught the faces of a group of third years, hands over their mouths to keep from laughing as Harry walked by with a cheeky grin. “Put me down, you ass!” Draco hissed, only to have Harry smack his behind smartly in reply. “You fucking git!”
“Almost there… Unless you’d prefer I take you right on the Great Hall doors?” Harry asked, smirking mischievously. “We can always go back.”
“So help me, I am going to tear you to fucking pieces.” Draco snarled, his claws growing in response to his anger and biting into Harry’s shoulders. Draco watched as Harry’s eyes widened, pupils dilating and lips parting.
Harry stopped, lifted Draco back to the ground, and snapped him up against the wall. “I am going to fucking destroy you,” Harry growled, looking down into the blazing eyes before him.
Draco smirked and suddenly sliced his hand across Harry’s face, four slashes of red appearing from cheek over nose and forehead back to cheek. Harry’s green eyes were near glowing against the scarlet as he glowered down at Draco.
Harry grabbed both of Draco’s wrists, pinning them painfully in his grip. “You are very good at that,” he said heatedly, tongue peeking out to taste the small red drips of blood as they reached his mouth.
“You know what you’re really fucking good at, Potter? Sucking dick.” Draco pushed forward with all his strength and Harry went flying back stumbling, landing in a crouch before he could hit the opposite wall of the hallway. He was smiling, fingers gingerly touching the torn flesh of his face and then licking the blood off his hand.
“Glad you enjoyed it. I have a feeling you’re going to like what comes next even better.” With that Harry straightened, strode forward, and slugged Draco across the cheek. Dazed, Draco didn’t resist the hard kiss that quickly followed, the brunette grinding him back painfully into the wall.
Then Harry was gone, pulling Draco by the collar of his shirt and dragging him down the hallway. Moments later, Draco was pushed against a door, slamming forcefully and then falling backwards as it opened. He twisted, doing his best not to crack his head against the stone floor.
Glaring up from his sprawl on the floor, Draco took in Harry’s dusty jeans, torn shirt, and bleeding, grinning face. Harry slowly shut the door behind him, walking deliberately towards Draco. Seeing an opening, Draco kicked his foot out, wrapping his legs around Harry’s feet and dragging him to the ground.
Eyes wide, Harry windmilled and fell heavily. Not having enough time to brace himself, he landed hard on his shoulder, nearly elbowing Draco in the process. Draco snarled and grabbed Harry’s arm, twisting back and pushing the Gryffindor’s bleeding face brutally against the stone floor. “Three fucking years. Why the fuck didn’t you say something sooner, you pain in the ass?” Draco demanded, leaning forward to bite Harry’s ear hard. “Have you been hiding your scent this whole fucking time too?”
Harry groaned, Draco’s tongue on his cheek licking at the cuts there. “I thought you were His, Malfoy. I wasn’t ever going to touch you. Then your father flipped sides, and… fuck… and I saw the Slytherins carrying you. And I couldn’t fucking stop myself.”
Draco growled, biting Harry again. “And your scent? Tell me!”
“Yes! I was… I was trying to be considerate, you slimy git. When you tried to beat me into the quidditch field, I felt you wake up and respond. It wasn’t fair to you, so I charmed my scent ever since to keep you sane.” Harry was starting to gather his strength again, and he began pushing back against Draco’s weight, lifting himself from the ground. He pushed the blond boy away, meeting the angry glare from where Draco knelt and waited.
“I should have taken you when I had the chance last night. Should have made you mine and never offered a fucking choice.” Harry grabbed his head, growling into his arm. “But I am in control of that part of me.”
“You’re an ass,” Draco grumbled, carefully combing his blond locks into place as he processed what Harry had said. Not only had Potter woken up his beast, but he had then proceeded to hide the mating call from him for two years. Considering the fucking pain in the ass the beast had been without the call, Draco had to wonder what the idiotic Gryffindor had been going through with the call.
Harry reached forward and grabbed Draco’s arm, pulling the startled boy down on top of him. “I’ve been waiting a long time, Draco. I need you.”
“Too fucking bad,” Draco hissed. “I didn’t know it was you last night. I have no interest in mating with you.”
Harry ignored him, tangling fingers through Draco’s hair and kissing the boy hungrily. Draco struggled and bit back, gravity working against him as Harry wrapped his arm around his shoulders and held tight. Harry’s other arm pinned Draco’s hips down. Then his knee nudged between his thighs, and Harry’s leg pressed against Draco’s hard length determinedly.
“Stop—I’m going to kill you… oh…” Harry continued to kiss Draco, tongue driving into his gasping mouth, slowly muffling the furious resistance. He rolled them, his body crushing Draco into the ground, hands free to strip the boy’s shirt off.
“You still have my bites,” Harry pointed out, fingers brushing over the dark red marks he had left on Draco’s skin. “You had to know, even then, that you were mine.”
“Shut the fuck up. I’m not yours. I’m not anyone’s.” Draco pushed at Harry’s shoulders but the boy didn’t budge.
“You are. You are fucking mine.” Harry ran his palms over Draco’s sides and then bit fingers in hard until the pale boy moaned and arched. “One taste and I knew. One fucking taste of your skin and blood when you punched me in the mouth three years ago. Every god damn moment since, I have been fucking insane for you, Draco.”
“You’re just insane… in general,” Draco whimpered, Harry roughly twisting his nipple, then licking his hot mouth down over the flesh, only to pinch again harder.
“Little prat.” Harry began biting down Draco’s chest and stomach, wrenching at the boy’s hips and tearing at the clasp and fly to Draco’s pants after removing his belt. Draco was still mumbling about hating Harry and wanting to kill him, but his body was readily responding to his touch, hips raising to allow him to pull his pants and briefs down and off his legs.
Without hesitating, Harry licked his palm and wrapped his fingers around Draco’s long, smooth cock, stroking it to full arousal. Draco cried out, fingers curling into fists on Harry’s shoulders, hips bucking into the touch. “No… oh fuck, don’t.” He scrabbled at Harry’s back, tearing at the ripped tee and pulling it off in shreds. “I am not… yours.”
Harry laughed lowly, gripping Draco’s jaw and pulling the boy’s gaze to his. “Tell that to the pretty mark you left on my face.”
Draco swallowed, very much finding the claiming slashes on Harry’s face beautiful and belonging to the handsome boy. “Fuck you, Potter.”
Harry pushed Draco down flat on the floor. “Maybe after I fuck you first.” He pulled the blond’s knees up, pushing them until Draco was spread out and exposed before him. Then hands following down the smooth thighs, he sought out Draco’s pink entrance and began probing.
“Damn it… oh, wait just a fucking second… fuck… oh gods.” Draco thrashed as two long fingers breached him, Harry managing some sort of lubricating spell at just the right moment. This was not over. Draco would beat the crap out of the smug, infuriating Gryffindor. But… but his beast was very loud and winning so first he would see to that deal of burying and his ass.
“Shit, how are you so tight again?” Harry grunted, nuzzling his face in Draco’s neck and sucking thoroughly as he fucked the tight boy with his fingers. Draco was digging claws into his back, whispering something about hurrying the fuck up, and damn if Harry was going to argue about it.
Harry quickly undid his own fly, pushing his jeans and underwear down his thighs, and pulling the aching boy’s hips to him. He pressed experimentally against Draco’s entrance, feeling the flesh yield. Draco’s hands were suddenly grasping his forearms and Harry looked up, meeting the intense silver glare.
Licking his lips, Harry slowly pressed forward, watching as Draco’s mouth parted in a silent moan. He could feel the blond’s flesh loosening and opening to him, tight and burning hot as Harry delved in excruciatingly slow.
Draco found his voice, crying out lowly as his channel was spread wide and filled completely, Harry pushing in with small, shallow thrusts until entirely entrenched inside. Tears were stinging his eyes and Draco wasn’t sure if it was from pain or the extremely intimate feeling overtaking him from Harry being buried so deep and fully. He gasped for air, trying to find some sort of semblance around the unbearable fullness.
“Fuck… look at you,” Harry murmured, pushing Draco’s silky hair off the boy’s sweaty face and running fingers across the gasping, pink lips. “Yes, you’re mine. I can see it on your face, Draco. Your body… your entire beautiful body is telling me.” He kissed Draco’s bottom lip, and then tugged, teeth nipping until blood ran.
Draco shuddered, unable to look away from Harry’s possessive gaze. At that moment he was certain Harry was right and he most surely belonged to the brunette. Unwilling to admit it, he rocked his hips to distract, and then groaned, the feeling overwhelming from the movement.
“Oh, hell.” Harry’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, Draco clenching around him. He couldn’t stop himself from pulling back and thrusting deep. Draco sobbed in his ear and Harry did it again, wanting to hear the boy cry, and beg, and finally admit that he was his.
Draco was so tight, hot and slick, and Harry couldn’t take it any longer. He braced an arm on the floor, gripped Draco’s hip tighter, and began to steadily pump into the gasping boy. Claws biting into his back, a leg thrown over his shoulder, Draco held onto him, no longer resisting. Instead he urgently started pushing back into each thrust, helping to bury Harry in deeper.
“That’s it… fuck, Draco.” Their ragged breathing was loud in the room, broken by the wet sounds of Harry’s cock driving in and out of Draco’s slickness. Draco’s aching cries and gasps echoed dully as Harry thoroughly fucked the boy and made him his.
Harry held back as long as he could, wanting Draco to feel every moment, every inch, and never forget that this was how he belonged. Under him… opened to him… begging and pleading for more.
“Please… oh please,” Draco cried again, his body arching, head thrown back to reveal his long pale neck. “Don’t stop… please.”
Harry grinned viciously, biting the boy’s shoulder. “Never… fucking… stopping.”
“Harry… please… oh, fuck… please,” Draco whimpered, a low desperate sound, and grabbed Harry’s hair. “Bite… hard.”
Harry glanced up at the boy and then stared, catching the look of pure, agonizing torment on Draco’s face. That would prove Draco was his. That would show anyone that fucking looked at the sexy prat that he belonged to him and only him.
“Tell me you’re mine,” Harry demanded, thrusting harder into Draco.
“Fuck you!” Draco choked out, head lolling to the side. He wrapped his free leg around Harry’s waist and rolled his hips, trying to get very needed pressure onto his aching erection.
Harry glared, and with utter, terrible restraint, stopped all motion. He grabbed Draco’s arms and pinned them to each side of the boy’s head. “You are fucking insufferable. Tell me.”
Draco, hips bucking, laughed. “Make me.” He forced his head up, meeting Harry’s narrowed eyes. “Come on, Potter. Fucking make me.”
“Arrogant fucking pain in the ass!” Harry disentangled himself from Draco’s sweat soaked, delicious body and stood, grabbing the blond by the waist and hauling him along. Harry kicked his jeans off all the way and took a quick look around the dusty classroom.
Draco squawked as he was pushed roughly across the room and into the heavy teacher’s desk, the desk’s lip biting into his thighs. Harry painfully grabbed the back of his head and forced Draco’s face down into the wood, kicking his long legs wide as he bent the boy over.
“Alright, let’s try this again,” Harry snapped, smacking Draco painfully across his raised bare ass. “Who do you belong to?” He ran his hand softly over where he had just hit, touching the burning spot softly as he waited for Draco to answer.
“I am… going to… fucking kill you,” Draco panted out, fighting and failing to get his head off the desk under Harry’s hold.
Harry slapped him again, this time on the other cheek to leave matching marks. He pressed forward, rubbing his dripping erection against the stinging flesh, smiling when Draco moaned. “I’m waiting.”
“You fucking… son of a whore.” Draco closed his eyes as Harry smacked him again, trying to understand why he was so achingly hard. But he was, Harry’s continuous soft touch over the numb, heated flesh making Draco press back and spread his legs wider.
Harry noticed, nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing as Draco tried to get more contact. “You are so unbelievably hot right now… Fuck, Draco. Just tell me so I can claim you.”
“I have told you. I don’t belong… to anyone.”
“Gods fucking damn stubborn foul mouthed sexy prat.” Muttering angrily, Harry lined himself up with Draco’s entrance and surged forward, keeping the blond flat against the desk as he began to ream the infuriating boy he had fallen for ages ago. “You are going to… fucking tell me… or I am going to… fuck you all night!” He promised, thrusting into Draco gruelingly while the pale boy moaned and spread this thighs wider.
“Oh fuck… harder.” Draco grabbed uselessly at the hand holding his head down, pushing back into the hard thrusts trying to claim him. “Oh fuck… so good.” His flesh ached where Harry had spanked him, tight and hot against the brunette’s rocking hips.
Suddenly Harry lifted his hand and pushed Draco forward, Draco’s thighs smarting against the desk, head and chest no longer having a surface to rest against. Draco spread his arms wide and gripped the table, Harry thrusts changing direction and increasing intensity. White flashed behind Draco’s eyes and he cried out, Harry hitting the sensitive spot buried inside him.
“Fuck, you’re close,” Harry grumbled, eying Draco’s long, flushed body heatedly. The stubborn boy still refused to admit he was his. Draco had no problem begging, and whimpering please and harder, but the fucking ass just wouldn’t submit. Harry would not bite him without consent, no matter how much he fucking knew Draco was his and that Draco damn well knew it too.
Harry reached around Draco, finding the boy’s straining arousal crushed unpleasantly against the desk, He pulled the blond up so that he was leaning back unsteadily against him, and began to pump the hard flesh as he fucked Draco in long, driving thrusts. “You want this Draco… You want me… Just fucking say it.”
Draco moaned, head falling back against Harry’s shoulder. “Shut up.”
“Tell me, you gorgeous prat… Tell me you’re mine.” He found Draco’s prostate again, giving it a long stroke.
Draco’s mouth fell open, saliva dripping down, eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck… oh fuck, please.”
“Oh, you’re tight… fucking hell,” Harry groaned, Draco’s length swelling, jumping under his fingers as it streamed seed over his hand and the desk. Harry continued to thrust, slow and hard into the boy’s clenching channel, grunting at the tightness. He pushed Draco down against the desk, slamming into the maddening heat again and again. Harry came with a hoarse shout, filling Draco’s eagerly clenching body.
“Fuck Potter… oh fuck, yes.” Draco, eyes closing, relaxed as Harry fell against him and crushed him onto the desk. “Fucking amazing.” He panted heavily, heart still pounding in his ears.
Harry nodded blindly, having to agree. “You’re a stubborn ass.”
Draco smirked lazily, wiggling in Harry’s grip. “Come here and let me see that cut on your face.”
Harry obliged grudgingly, feeling very tired. He pulled out of Draco and stood, helping the blond sit up. Draco ran gentle fingers over the slash on Harry’s nose, looking thoughtful.
“You know, Potter, as nice as this looks…” Draco suddenly grabbed Harry’s hair, viciously twisting his head and sinking teeth into his throat. Harry howled in surprise and pain, body tensing and arching backwards. Draco wrapped his free arm around Harry’s chest, using his weight to push the boy down to his knees.
“Sodding… wanking… ferret!” Harry hissed, Draco’s magic rushing over him, binding him, claiming him. His body shook in Draco’s hold, agonizing waves of pain and pleasure washing through him while Draco puffed hot air on his neck, blood and saliva dripping hotly down his skin.
Draco ignored Harry’s complaints, running a hand gently across his cheek and jaw, soothing while he continued to clamp his teeth tight. Draco’s beast had calmed at the mating bite, its roar now a simple purr in his chest as Harry thrashed.
“Draco… oh fuck… please.” Draco raised a brow at the un-Harry like words, slowly tracing the brunette’s features as he finished the bond. When he finally pulled away, jaw aching, Draco found Harry flat on his back, green eyes blinking unseeingly as a dazed smile graced his lips.
Draco flexed his jaw, trying to relieve the sore muscles. “You are fucking mine, Harry,” he said, leaning over the groggy boy who nodded dully in reply.
“Say it,” Draco insisted, grabbing Harry’s hair and pulling.
“Fuck… I’m yours, Draco. Always yours.” Harry turned his head, kissing Draco with slow and heady movements.
Draco pulled away, calling his wand to his hand. Grinning smugly, he pointed it to Harry’s head and raised his brow. “I still owe you for last night, Potter.”
Harry rolled his eyes, far too tired to fight. “Whatever.” He was not surprised by the sleeping spell, although he did have time to wonder briefly if he was going to find himself stuck to the ceiling when he woke up.
There was a shirt resting by Harry’s face once he awoke. He was fairly certain it was a shirt anyways, the material silky and black. Now he could tell that his chest and stomach were exposed as they pressed down on the ground, he was fairly certain it was from lack of said shirt.
He did not feel quite right, very dizzy and tired. Underneath his sore muscles and bruised flesh he felt content. Warm… complete… His beast was purring like a sated kitten full of milk.
Harry became aware of a heaviness to the air, as if people were yelling… no, laughing…
Trying to see what was going on, he moved his bleary gaze from the black shirt and to the right. The faces of his oblivious Gryffindor classmates greeted him, chuckling about something. Considering where their faces were in relation to Harry, they were likely laughing at him.
Harry wasn’t certain exactly what Draco had done yet, but it seemed to involve him waking up face down and topless on the Gryffindor dining table.
It was breakfast time. Unable to wake him, his classmates had started eating around Harry’s prone form, laughing as they grabbed from serving plates he was strategically placed between.
Harry gave a great groan and tried to pick himself off the table, only to freeze, lips parting wide as he squeaked. He immediately fell back down, covered his mouth with his hands to keep from making a louder, needier noise, and tried to figure out if he knew for certain what a butt plug was supposed to feel like.
Warm heat was nuzzled between his cheeks, stretching him wide. Maddeningly, the moment he had become aware of it his body had started clutching around the intrusion in attempts to free it. But each squeeze tortuously revealed the size and thickness of the object and only seemed to spur the desire to tighten.
And each time he clenched he felt agonizing, aching pleasure.
“Watch the eggs, Harry,” Neville chided, trying to get a serving spoon full without Harry’s elbow getting in the way. “I like your pants, by the way. Although, you never seemed like the leather type.”
Eyes squeezed shut, trying to will his quickly growing erection away, Harry didn’t answer.
“Harry, you’re awake!” Ron cheered, leaning in front of his face, head resting on the table to make eye contact. “Your face is a mess. Do you have a hangover? I figured you had to be drunk to end up here… or to be chasing Malfoy, for that matter,” Ron added with a dark mutter.
Hermione had told Ron that since Draco was clearly not a Death Eater that Harry was more than allowed to spend time with the git. It had been a very displeasing conversation. “Here, let me help you up.” Ron offered, reaching across Harry’s shoulders to lift his friend.
“No!” Harry gave a weak yelp, twisting from the helping hands only bringing back the very delicious sensation of something quite large and thick buried in his ass. He was going to kill Draco. Fucking kill him.
“My, uh… wand?” Harry inquired his voice way too high pitched while Ron stared at him confused. After a moment, Ron handed it over, having found it on Harry’s back.
Harry quietly whispered a concealing charm on the front of his pants. It did nothing for the feel of his aching arousal, but it would stop everyone in the bloody Great Hall from seeing it, which was most important. Harry again tried to push himself up, only to fall back down and bite his hand to keep from crying out as the butt plug moved inside him. Fucking Malfoy!
Glaring daggers, Harry turned his head and sought out where Draco usually sat. The sexy prat was in his normal seat, head resting on his hand while he leisurely watched him from across the room. Noticing Harry’s glower, Draco raised his middle finger and then licked up it slowly.
“Fucking ferret,” Harry muttered hotly, trying and failing to not respond to the boy’s pink tongue moving lewdly. Slowly and deliberately, Harry rolled himself towards the edge of the table, regretting it the moment he was on his back and his ass was pressing against the wood and driving the plug in deeper. Palm firmly between his teeth, he shimmied down the edge and tried his best not to bend in any way.
“Harry, are you okay? Did you hurt your back, or something?” Hermione looked genuinely concerned, taking in his face covered in four horizontal slashes filled with dry blood, a very large dark bruise on his neck streaked with more dried blood, and smaller marks and bruises all over his flesh. She paused, eyes drawn back to Harry’s throat. “Harry… did you and Malfoy…?”
“Don’t say it, Mione,” Ron broke in, his face green. “As long as no one says it, I can pretend it didn’t happen.”
Seamus laughed. “Oh, it happened. Look at his neck.” He pointed to Harry’s bite. “Our lil Harry is officially claimed, and likely shagged too.”
Harry ignored the three of them, his entire focus on the very thick item inserted in his ass as he tried not to sway on his feet. Draco was staring intently, eyes blazing in smug satisfaction. Harry also noticed that the boy’s pale face was flushed with desire.
“Sweet pants,” Seamus quipped, putting down his pumpkin juice to boldly run a hand across Harry’s thigh. “Your boyfriend has good taste.”
Harry frowned down, noticing for the first time that he was in form fitting black leather pants and heavy dragon hide boots. He slapped away the hands of his classmates that suddenly thought it was okay to paw him, whirling on Dean when he pinched him cheekily. Harry scowled, once again seeking Draco’s face out of the crowd and pointing to the pants. Draco just wagged his eyebrows suggestively and then tilted his head towards the shirt still on the table.
Reaching as carefully as he could, because every movement Harry made was excruciating torment to his backside, he snagged the shirt and looked it over. The silky material was stretchy, and when he threw it on he found it clung to his muscles and chest like a second skin. Hardly appropriate for school but certainly fun for a different occasion. Harry sent Draco a heated glare and slowly tried to make his escape.
Each step was aching, panting hell, and Harry vowed he would hex the little bastard into next year. If he ever made it out of the Great Hall. Suddenly his classmates were surrounding him and Harry sighed, realizing it was time for first period. There was no way in fuck he was going to Defense Against the Dark Arts like this.
“You all right there, Potter?” Draco was waiting at the Great Hall doors, easily ahead of Harry given the Gryffindor was taking small measured steps and biting his palm with each movement.
“I’m going… to fucking… kill you,” Harry grunted between steps, glaring down Draco’s smirking face.
“You’ll have to catch me first. And I just don’t see that happening.” Draco gave Harry a long, assessing stare, his hand twitching to touch the Gryffindor’s tight ass in the buttery leather pants. Harry looked fucking sexy. “I have to know; is it a snug fit?”
Harry growled, well aware Draco was not talking about the clothes, only making the blond’s smile wider when the Slytherin added, “Because I can adjust it if its not.”
Harry narrowed on Draco’s right hand, fingers casually twirling his wand. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Harry. Come on, you’re blocking the—” Hermione back peddled before she could trip over Harry, who suddenly fell to his knees, head bowed, hand wedged between his teeth. Ron grabbed her shoulders to keep her from falling, glaring at Draco who had stalked forward.
Eyes squeezed shut, Harry tried to pull above the absolute agony as the thickness inside him grew, spreading his channel wider and lodging in deep. Fuck… he was so hard. He could barely sense the rest of the world around him, everything focused on the mind numbing, excruciating ache.
“Potter, have you explained to your friends what this means?” Draco drawled, slowly running his fingers over the mark on Harry’s throat. Harry’s neck and face were bright red, brows furrowed, mouth gasping around his hand. When he finally opened his eyes, craning back to see Draco, his green eyes were dark with lust, all defiance gone.
Forgetting himself, Draco stared down into Harry’s burning gaze, feeling light-headed. He ran his fingers over the ragged slashes on the brunette’s face, touching tenderly. Harry’s lids drooped and he pressed into his hand. Draco slowly extracted Harry’s hand from the death grip of white teeth, noting that he had drawn blood.
“We know what it means, Malfoy,” Ron snapped. “Now take this shit somewhere else. I have no interest in seeing you two…” He trailed off, unwilling to put the thought into actual words.
Draco ignored him, pressing his fingertips to Harry’s mouth, wet heat opening and red tongue flicking out to taste his soft pads. “Potter, I will see you third period.” He breathed out shakily, feeling Harry nip his fingertips. “Do try to behave.” Draco forced himself to step back, knowing if he didn’t soon he would lose his will to make Harry suffer a little longer.
Harry bit his lip, shaking his head lightly to clear the haze from his mind. Draco had disappeared down the hall, shrinking the plug back to previous size before mixing into the crowd. The loss of the Slytherin was strange, taking a lot of the heat away and leaving Harry feeling lonely.
Harry’s friends were staring down at him with a mixture of emotions, Seamus once again laughing raucously.
“Someone help me up, please? Uh, carefully,” Harry asked, reaching a hand out and letting Ron haul him up. He stood long moments, eyes closed while his body adjusted to the plug within.
“We’re going to be late,” Hermione reminded, eying Harry suspiciously. “Do you want us to drop you off at Madame Pomfrey’s? She can fix your back up in a jiff.”
Harry shook his head, moving gingerly. “I’ll go alone. I’ll meet you all in class.” Waiting for his friends to go ahead, Harry slowly made his way to the nearest loo so he could deal with his problem in peace.
Of course, the sodding butt plug would not come out. Harry had struggled with the blasted thing for fifteen minutes before giving in to a rough wank and bearable compromise. He had found a way to shrink it down to a near thin one inch diameter even though he couldn’t remove it. Harry prayed Draco had not used the same sticking charm that was currently holding the Slytherin sixth and seventh years to the castle walls.
Even small, the plug was a distracting nuisance. But at least now Harry could sit and bend without pain, or becoming achingly hard with a need to loudly vocalize it.
The next two classes went by in a hot blur, Harry sitting at his desk trying to ignore the occasional ache and clenching of his ass. Worst was the fact that everyone was looking at him. Not just because of the outrageous clothes Draco had dressed him in, or even the cuts and bruises. Rumor had gotten out about just who had put the bite on his neck, and everyone was whispering about it. And naturally, Harry’s dormmates had no problem gossiping with the curious Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws as if he wasn’t sitting right in front of them.
“Oh, you should have seen Malfoy. The little beast had Harry up against the wall… Actually, that was by the Great Hall, too. With Harry on his knees today, and on the wall yesterday, maybe they have a thing for food,” Seamus pondered to his Ravenclaw cohorts who were giving Harry lusty looks as their second period class let out.
Harry tried to ignore them, instead remembering that he hadn’t eaten breakfast because of how he had woken up. And then he had been so hard, the idea of adding food to the mix had been a stomach ache waiting to happen.
He stood up gingerly, deciding a quick snack was in order before third period and Care of Magical Creatures with Draco and that damned wand of his.
Harry was foot in the kitchens when he growled and turned around abruptly. He had a stopper firmly plugged to the ass end of his digestion system. Adding food to said system would not end well. Fucking Malfoy.
First stomping and then quickly realizing his mistake, Harry made his way down to the edge of the Forbidden Forest where his next class was.
Draco had waited until everyone was paired off and hunting for pixes through the forest before he made his next move. He had noticed Harry seeming just a little too comfortable with his new addition and Draco’s suspicions were raised when Harry caught sight of him through the trees and easily began taking large, angry steps to try and catch him.
Waving his wand, Draco smirked as Harry froze, groaned, and then lurched to his hands and knees in the dirt.
“Fuck… oh fuck… kill you,” Harry whimpered, chest heaving for air as he tried to adjust to the growing thickness deep within him. He had thought by now he would have gotten used to it but his body clearly disagreed, clenching and tightening around the overwhelming length.
“That’s what you get for cheating. You should have asked if you wanted it smaller,” Draco said, not unkindly as he sauntered up to Harry’s panting form. “Potter, have I mentioned how fucking hot you look? I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends or I would have said it earlier.” He ran his palm over the back of Harry’s ass and the leather stretched there.
Harry gave a chocked laugh. “Embarrass?” He was crawling around with a butt plug and raging hard on, but heaven help if Draco complimented him.
Getting his point but not caring, Draco bent down and grabbed Harry’s hair, pulling the boy’s face up. “I’ll give you an option. You can spend the rest of your day with that very pretty new accessory or…” Draco paused, running his thumb slowly over Harry’s lips and spreading saliva there. “Or you can try and convince me otherwise. I remember you being quite good.”
Harry gave a low moan at the proposition, his tongue flicking out and tasting Draco’s skin.
“Well?” Draco pressed when Harry made no move except to gently nip his thumb between hard teeth.
“Okay.” Harry pushed himself off his arms, kneeling back with brows furrowed as his ass clenched from the change. Opening his eyes, he looked up at him hungrily. Draco tried not to melt in the gaze, something in Harry’s expression making his heart trip with more than just lust.
Refusing to think of it, Draco tightened his grip in Harry’s thick hair, rubbing his bulge against the boy’s cheek.
Harry closed his eyes, breathing Draco’s scent and feeling the rough fabric against his face. He slid his hands up the outside of the blond’s thighs, fanning fingers over his hips and then seeking out his fly. He pulled Draco’s pants aside slowly, watching his long erection spring forth, straining forward from knowing Harry had been aching and full since waking that day.
Harry kissed slowly, lips parted and yielding to Draco’s hot length. He tentatively ran his tongue up the side, taking his time and thoroughly tasting Draco.
Harry had rushed that night when Draco had been chained. He had been holding himself back, trying not to take too much from the Slytherin since Draco had not known who he was. Now Harry could savor the boy who had readily claimed him. Now he could show Draco what it would be like to be his… If the stubborn git would only submit to it.
“Oh… oh.” Draco watched, jaw slack and eyes wide as Harry’s mouth made love to his cock. His grip loosened on the brunette’s hair, letting his fingers feel the soft fringe tickle while Harry slowly kissed and licked.
Harry ran saliva coated lips over Draco’s length, making his way up to the sensitive tip and probing with his tongue for the sharp tang of precum at the very top. Slowly he opened his mouth wider to Draco’s thickness, lips yielding and tight around the head, and then pulling back off, leaving wet trails of fluid.
Draco’s knees felt weak, and he leaned forward, resting his hands on Harry’s shoulders. Harry gripped his hips steadily, keeping Draco from falling as he opened up to the boy’s long cock again, taking more in before pulling away.
“Oh… Harry, please,” Draco said breathlessly, lids slit open, head bowing down. Harry looked up at him, his eyes dark and lips flushed, chin dripping with saliva. He opened his mouth wide again, sliding lips over the side of Draco’s length and pressing his flat tongue in rough swipes, pulling soft, desperate sounds from the blond.
And then Harry was swallowing him down, Draco plunging deep into his hot throat.
“Fuck… What are you doing to me?” Draco muttered hoarsely, hands finding Harry’s head again and tangling his fingers in the silky strands. Harry answered by bobbing in long, drawn out movements, lips clenched snug and wet.
Draco shuddered when Harry looked up again, his heart tightening from some raw nameless emotion. He came with a low cry, his hips held still in a steel grip as he shot deep into Harry’s mouth. Harry held him there long moments, tasting cum and cock while Draco panted and gasped.
Pulling away reluctantly, Harry licked his lips and gently tucked Draco back in. He zipped him up and buttoned him tight, then grinned up at the blond’s dazed expression.
Draco was looking down at him still, eyes glazed as he trailed fingers over the healing cuts on Harry’s face. Harry’s smile faded and he swallowed heavily. He very much wanted to take Draco and show him the other ways it meant to belong to him.
Instead, Harry nipped at Draco’s fingertips, his eyebrows raised inquiringly. “Come on, prat. You promised.”
Draco nodded slowly, Harry’s voice raspy and delicious. He pulled his wand from his back pocket and twirled it idly. Something about Harry was making him crazy… Made him want to do terrible sweet things. It was an unsettling feeling and Draco thought maybe he wouldn’t let Harry blow him again if the Gryffindor was going to insist on being so romantic about it.
“Potter, push your pants down,” Draco finally said, focusing on Harry instead of the concerning thoughts in his head.
Harry did as he was told, unzipping the leather pants and pushing them down to his thighs, naked underneath, the material resisting and catching on his damp flesh. He was hard, his cock red and in need, something he planned on dealing with once the damn butt plug was finally removed.
Draco pushed him forward until Harry was on hands and knees and then traced his wand down the brunette’s lower back. Harry shivered from the sensation, Draco moving until his wand was centimeters from his stretched entrance. Then Harry sensed it, the wicked smirk Draco was sending his way right before the plug expanded.
Groaning, Harry braced himself, thighs spreading involuntarily, hips rocking forward. “Malfoy… you ass,” he grunted, Draco smacking him lightly on his tight backside.
“Don’t worry, you’ll like this,” Draco promised, tapping the plug in Harry’s entrance. The thick length began to move in and out of him in slow thrusts. Draco took a step back so he could watch as Harry thrashed.
Harry fell to his elbows, head resting on the ground, long desperate moans being pulled from his lips as he was fucked slowly and deeply. Draco knelt before him, pulling his head up to watch the delicious agony twist on Harry’s features.
“Oh, you like that, do you?” Draco murmured, kissing Harry’s cheek as the boy gasped and shuddered. “How do you like it, Potter? Hard… fast… deep? Tell me what you like.”
Harry moaned, far too overcome to speak. Draco wasn’t daunted, licking a tear from Harry’s face as the boy became unhinged. “I think you’re a bit of a romantic. I think you like things slow… and big.” Draco tapped his wand again, adding another half an inch to the thickness taking Harry slowly.
Harry cried out, sobbing from the consuming, overwhelming ache of being so full. Draco held his head and shoulders, supporting his weight as the brunette’s hips bucked in rhythm to the movements taking him.
“Fuck, Harry… my gods.” Draco stared at him, eyes wide as Harry took it all in and quaked. The boy was so fucking beautiful… so fucking raw, and honest, and beautiful… Draco wanted him so badly. Needed him. If only Harry would stop being so stubborn and just claim him already. Instead of insisting he admit to the feelings welling in him unbearably.
Draco surged forward and kissed Harry’s gasping mouth, unable to watch any more. Harry’s kisses were uncoordinated and sloppy, the boy’s body exhausted and trembling from the plug plunging inside him. Draco didn’t care, moving his tongue over Harry’s jaw, down his neck to the mark blazing on his throat.
“That’s it, Harry. Take it all in… You can do it.” Draco added another inch to the length, feeling Harry shudder when he felt it shift and hit deeper. “That’s it.”
“Can’t… uhn.” Harry’s arms gave way and he fell forward across Draco’s lap, face gasping in the dirt and the grass as the plug began to increase in speed. “Dra…co.”
Draco bit his lower lip, hand reaching out to gently touch the flesh stretched wide between Harry’s tensed cheeks. The plug had small ridges, forcing the flesh to contract and stretch repeatedly as it plunged in and out of the moaning boy. Draco slid his hand behind the aching hole, finding Harry’s balls and squeezing lightly.
“Do you want more, Harry?” Draco turned to where his face rested, dirt smearing the brunette’s face and lips. “Tell me what you want.”
Harry moaned, rubbing his forehead against the grass in absolute agony. His chest, neck, and face were flushed deep red, and his chest was heaving wildly. “Please,” Harry choked out and then bit his palm until it bled.
Licking his lips slowly, Draco reached beneath Harry’s rocking hips and sought out his thick, leaking arousal. Harry howled at the first touch and Draco smirked, tightening his fingers around his straining cock. He pushed his palm to the tip, giving Harry something to thrust into while the boy bucked against the thickness fucking him.
Draco watched Harry’s face, seeing the moment an instant before and at the same time feeling it against his fingers as Harry finally gave in and came. Draco stilled and shrunk the plug immediately, knowing the agony it could cause if left in after orgasm, and let Harry moan into the dirt, seed spurting into Draco’s hand.
“My gods… you are so…” Draco trailed off, unwilling to voice just what he thought of Harry just yet. He carefully removed the plug from his ass, spelled it clean, and tucked it away. Harry was groaning softly, head still lolling mindlessly. Pulling his leather pants up trembling legs, Draco gently moved his legs from beneath Harry’s hips and rolled the boy over.
Fuck, but he was beautiful. Even with the dirt, saliva, and sweat. Draco kissed Harry deeply, tangling into his sweaty locks and tugging until Harry responded. Then he pulled back, wiping some of the dirt off of his face as green eyes blinked up at him. “Next time you find me tied up and nude and I tell you to fuck me, you better fucking fuck me. Got it, Potter?”
Harry nodded after a long moment, lips twitching. Staring thoughtfully, Draco stood up, running a hand through his hair. With a backwards glance to Harry, he walked away with hands in his pockets, not bothering to say goodbye.
Draco skipped the rest of his classes that day, feeling depressed and confused. He hid himself away in the Slytherin seventh year dorm, all his other dormmates currently indisposed of around the castle ceilings and leaving him to the room alone. Draco used the extra space to brood.
Finding, fucking, and claiming the boy that had caught him while blindfolded had seemed like an extremely good idea at the time. Draco’s beast had been very insistent upon just how good an idea it was. But the boy had turned out to be Harry. And Draco had problems with Harry.
Two years ago, moments before his beast had woken up, Draco had realized he wanted Harry. And he had attempted to beat the boy’s skull in because of it.
Slytherin had lost to Ravenclaw and Harry had been laughing to the Ravenclaw seeker like an ass. Then Harry had glanced at Draco, green eyes bright with hidden thoughts, and Draco’s heart had flipped. The bastard had been breathtakingly beautiful.
When Harry commented on how Draco probably would have caught the snitch if not for the elbow to his face, Draco had snapped and tried to throttle him.
Draco’s beast had woken up in that moment with him staring down as Harry blinked up in surprise to find himself pinned by the furious Slytherin. And then Harry had licked his lips, and Draco saw the dark shift in the green eyes, the low demanding call to come to him and stay forever.
Startled and confused, not only by the new vicious presence in his head, but of also finding one in Harry, Draco had rolled off, stood, and gotten the fuck out of there. He had spent weeks thinking and learning how to deal with the beast within, and small, quiet moments rare and far between wondering about the one in Harry.
Draco had done a very good job in forgetting what he had felt for Harry, repressing until he didn’t have to worry about falling for the fucking Golden Boy. And if he had indulged in some harmless staring, maybe even flirting during Potions class, it was hardly a damning offense. Potter never seemed to notice, never seemed to have a beast to respond back. But as much as Draco had run from his feelings, his own damn beast had been determined to win.
Biting Harry had been wrong. It had been a mistake, one that Draco could not take back. Because now when Harry looked at him, he couldn’t help but respond. He couldn’t hide from Harry anymore. He couldn’t hide from himself anymore. It was terrible.
Draco awoke deep in the night to find Harry standing over him in the dim torchlight. He had not bothered to shut his bed curtains, allowing Harry an unobstructed view of him topless in pajama bottoms where Draco had fallen asleep while reading. Dully, he wondered what time it was. That was, until Harry shifted and pulled his shirt over his head and threw it to the ground.
Green eyes regarding him heatedly, Harry kicked off the boots Draco had lent him, and then removed his pants. Draco pushed up to his elbows, watching the boy strip. Still not speaking, Harry crawled down the mattress, hands bracing on either side of the blond’s prone form. Reading him for long moments, Harry dipped his head and kissed Draco gently.
Eyes fluttering shut, Draco pressed back, opening to the touch of Harry’s tongue. Harry pushed him back onto his pillow, kissing deeply, slowly, until Draco felt heavy and out of breath.
Harry ran rough hands down his sides, running underneath his pajamas and rubbing softly over his ass and thighs. When he tugged at his waistband, Draco lifted his hips, allowing Harry to move down his body and take his pants off.
Harry knelt, staring down at Draco as the pale boy softly panted. He ran fingertips over the blond’s flat stomach, and then bent, dragging his tongue down to the dip, and plunging into his bellybutton. Draco squirmed, moaning softly.
Harry’s hands moved to the back of him, fingers gently probing his entrance. Draco raised a knee, turning his hips to the side to give better access as Harry began to stretch him. Unhurriedly, Harry twisted fingers into the boy’s hot hole, nipping at Draco’s stomach and chest while he did.
Harry ran his palm up and down the thigh Draco had raised, eventually pressing and urging the boy over onto his stomach. Draco settled carefully, erection pressed hard into the mattress as Harry breathed hot breath over the dip in his lower back and down to his pert behind.
Draco gasped, Harry’s tongue roughly licking down the crack of his ass, teasing into the recess and moving towards his entrance. Draco bit his wrist, trying to stop his low keening wail when Harry finally made it to his prize and languidly probed his entrance.
Harry steadied the blond’s hips as the boy spasmed. He pressed his tongue into Draco’s tightness, tasting his mate, recognizing and meeting him all at once. He soothed fingers over his hips while laving down to Draco’s balls and then back up to delve into his entrance and taste again. He stayed their long minutes, stroking inside the blond, feeling Draco clench and shake with each touch and driving thrust.
Sighing, Harry released him and pushed himself up. Slowly he lowered his weight on top of Draco’s lithe form, nuzzling into his neck and licking. Harry frowned, becoming aware of wetness on his cheek where he was kissing the blond’s jaw. The beautiful gray eyes were full of tears, few spilling free as Draco gasped in need.
Harry kissed him again, burning and passionate until the boy was moaning. Pulling away, Harry shifted his hips, guiding his cock to Draco’s entrance and slowly sinking in. Draco opened to him readily, more tears spilling free as his eyes squeezed shut from the feel of being filled by Harry.
They rocked slowly together, Harry moving slickly through Draco’s passage in long, gentle thrusts. Harry’s weight crushed down on him, the sheets caressing Draco’s skin. He moaned lowly, mouth wide in delicious agony as Harry took him slowly and completely.
Lips resting on Draco’s turned cheek, Harry finally spoke, his voice a low murmur of desire. “Are you ready to tell me, Draco?”
Tongue flicking thoughtfully, Draco slowly shook his head. “Not yet.”
Harry smiled against the boy’s skin, knowing he was winning the Slytherin. Harry had waited three years. He could wait a little longer.
Grabbing one of the pillows scattered at the head of the bed, Harry lifted Draco’s hips and settled it beneath them. Draco spread his thighs, knees pressing into the bed as he pushed back into Harry’s heavy thrusts.
He ran his hands over Draco’s sweat soaked skin, palms pressing firmly everywhere he reached as he slowly and sensually pumped into the boy’s clenching body. Draco’s cries were getting louder, more insistent, but Harry would not increase his speed from the languid, burning pace. He wanted Draco to remember how it felt, know what it would be like if he only gave in that last bit.
Hands fisting the sheets above him, Draco stretched his body, pushing back against Harry’s thighs, trying to bury the boy deep and keep him there while Harry tried to pull out. Harry pressed forward into the gripping heat, Draco taking the weight as he pushed back, his orgasm nearing.
Hanging at the edge, back arched, thighs and ass clenched unbelievably tight, Draco felt Harry come, jetting into him as his hips bucked. Crying out, Draco’s orgasm tore through him, stealing his breath as his cum spilled onto his pillow.
Harry fell against him, sweaty and sated. Still embedded deep in Draco, he settled and closed his eyes. Draco didn’t complain, the heat and feel of Harry’s flesh very welcome as he gasped for breath.
He wanted Harry to bite him. Wanted the boy to claim him properly. And in that moment, that idea wasn’t so bad to Draco.
Maybe tomorrow… Maybe.
Draco woke alone in his bed, trying to figure out if it had all been a dream. Faintly he thought he smelled Harry in his sheets… Hand straying down and behind, he probed softly, feeling the boy’s seed dripping still warm from his body heat. Draco gave a shattered moan and closed his eyes.
Breathing deeply, he wondered if he would ever find his sanity again.
He got up, realizing that he was late for breakfast and very hungry. Draco showered quickly, pausing when he considered what to wear. Maybe something Harry might appreciate… like well fitting torn jeans and a tight tee. Instead of pushing his hair back, Draco let it fan around his face and neck, remembering how Harry had liked to run his hands through the strand while they had been drifting to sleep.
Draco grabbed his bookbag and made his way to breakfast. The Great Hall was full, students getting in their meal and talking about their weekend plans before Friday classes started. Draco sat in his normal seat, now quite spacious with the six and seventh year Slytherins still incapacitated.
He glared up at his classmates stuck above, the four still looking very uncomfortable in their upside down perch. The beast rose up in him at the sight, still full of hot hatred for the group that would have left him for dead. Draco knew they felt far worse then they looked, and he was glad for it.
Reaching for some kipper, Draco glanced up as Harry sat down across from him at the table. Eyes straying over the gorgeous boy for long moments, Draco resumed filling his plate, determined to eat before breakfast was over and not think about how last night had left him feeling strange and weak.
Harry gave a small yawn, resting his head in his hands and staring blankly down at the table. He had not slept much, not that night or the one before. Looking up at Draco’s hands as the blond spooned food onto his plate, Harry didn’t have any objections. Not for his tiredness, or bruises, or rather sore backside. He was feeling pretty damn good, all things considered.
Draco’s prank had been torturous but unexpectedly arousing. And at the end, when Draco had basically fucked him with his magic, Harry was certain that there was nothing quite so damn maddening. Except… maybe Draco’s long length, hard and driving into him.
His beast certainly didn’t have a problem with the idea, also surprising to Harry. But Draco’s bite had done something to the creature. Had snared it and collared it, and although it still enjoyed the hunt, it thought being prey had a thrill to it as well. Anyways, it all ended in hot fluids being spilled.
Eyes downcast as Harry mused these thoughts around in his head, he waited silently for Draco to finish eating. The other students moved from the hall in groups as the time for first period approached. Harry waved to his friends briefly but made no move to leave when they rambled by.
Draco finished his breakfast, sipping on a glass of juice to wash it down. Harry looked tired… and maybe a little solemn. He reached across, touching the cuts on the brunette’s face. Harry opened his eyes slowly, staring.
“I’m going to have to heal them today,” Harry said. “I have to take care of some stuff at Gringotts this weekend. I thought maybe you’d want to charm your handiwork?”
Draco nodded, feeling a small sinking in his stomach at the realization that Harry would not be around for the weekend. He took his wand out, carefully knitting the flesh back together until no signs remained of the slashes he had made.
Harry caught Draco’s hand when the boy turned his aim to the bite on his neck. “Leave it. That one stays.” He kissed his pale fingers, rubbing his cheek against them and sending butterflies through Draco’s stomach that he tried to squelch. “Ready?”
Heart in his throat, Draco nodded again, extracting his hand from Harry’s warm grasp. They got up, taking bags and books with them, and walked down their respective sides of the table until reaching the end.
Now that he could reach, Harry grabbed Draco, kissing him hard, stepping into him until they were crushed together. Caught off guard, Draco dropped his bag and wrapped his fingers in Harry’s hair, kissing back hot and desperate, not realizing how much he had wanted to until that moment. Then he pushed Harry back and stepped away, trying to regain his senses as the last of the students left the Great Hall.
Harry glared at him, panting while he ran his fingers over where Draco had bit his lip moments ago. He reached, trying to capture Draco’s arm and pull him back. But the blond slipped away, ducking for his bag and turning towards the door. Harry followed quickly, walking beside him, eyes straying over the boy distractedly. He touched Draco’s shining white blond hair, flowing silky and loose for a change. “You look nice. You hardly ever wear jeans.”
Draco nodded, eyes flicking to Harry’s possessive gaze and quickly looking away. “Well, you know my family. Have to keep up appearances, and that rot.” His step faltered as Harry wrapped an arm around his shoulder, but that seemed to be all the boy was going to do, so he kept walking.
Their classmates were waiting in front of the door to the potions classroom, Snape still hidden away until first period officially started. Harry didn’t remove his arm from Draco once reaching his friends, and Draco didn’t really want the touch to stop, so he kept quiet about it.
Alone with Harry, things seemed slow and heady. But with other people, the world sort of sped up and got loud, much to Draco’s annoyance. The bouncing Finnigan could have had something to do with it.
“Harry, perfect, we were trying to figure out something.” Seamus welcomed them over, moving aside so Hermione and Ron could see as well.
Harry pulled his gaze reluctantly away from Draco’s bowed head. “Hmm? What’s that?”
“Seamus, stop. It’s rude,” Hermione broke in, glaring at the boy. “I’m sure they have a perfectly good reason…” She blushed as Harry turned his gaze to her. “Ignore him. It’s no one’s business but your own.”
Harry raised his brows at that, wondering if somehow someone might have figured out the hell he had been through yesterday with Draco’s butt plug prank. Draco didn’t look particularly malicious though, which would be expected right before walking into a Malfoy style ambush. “What?”
Hermione sighed and Ron glowered and crossed his arms over his chest. “They want to know more about the bite,” Ron muttered.
Seamus nodded. “The mark. We were wondering why Malfoy didn’t have one.”
“Ah.” Harry clicked his mouth shut, really not sure if he wanted to explain why he hadn’t bitten Draco. Draco distracted him from the issue, huffing and pulling out from underneath Harry’s arm.
“Because the stubborn git has a conscience,” Draco said with a scowl, clearly not pleased about the subject. Harry went to hold the boy again, but Draco was having none of it, his anger raised at the memory of their first encounter when Harry had refuse to fuck and claim him when the opportunity had been given.
What the hell did that mean of him, biting Harry even while his higher functioning mind had known it was a stupid mistake to get caught up with the Golden Boy? Fucking Harry and his fucking self control and scruples.
“Seamus, drop it,” Hermione ordered, seeing Draco’s annoyance and how Harry was acting in response. “Like I said, its not our business.”
“I know, I just wanted to know what it means when only one is marked,” Seamus said curiously. “I thought a mated pair of beasts had matching marks. Not that you see many beast much these days.”
“They do,” Harry said carefully, watching Draco stiffen at the words. “But just because some of us have very strong instincts, it doesn’t mean we feel comfortable giving in… At least, not until certain things are known.”
Draco looked about ready to hex Harry across the hallway. “And some people are just so fucking repressed, they don’t know to stop fighting and just accept the situation for what it is.” He looked Harry up and down, huffed in disdain, and then turned to Seamus. “Finnigan, you want to know what it means when only one is marked? To the beast it means that its chosen just doesn’t give a fuck. It won’t protect its mate, won’t defend its territory, and certainly won’t fight off any potential suitors. Its a clear sign that the relationship is one sided and doomed.”
Harry sighed in exasperation. “No it’s not. Not really.”
Draco raised a brow, anger crackling underneath his calm exterior. “Really? How about you have a chat with your beast and see what it thinks about it.”
Rolling his eyes, Harry stood long moments, his expression slowly growing grimmer as the seconds ticked by.
“Well?” Draco pressed, hands on his hips.
“My beast thinks that you’re a willful, vicious pain in the ass.” Harry held his hand up to stop Draco from retorting. “And to capture one as powerful and enthralling as you, it has chosen to use cunning instead of brute force. Because it knows, as well as you and your beast, that for a claiming to actually work, the stubborn prat human mind has to fucking give in.”
Harry was glowering, head held high and eyes in slits as he turned towards the classroom door that had finally opened. Snape gave them all a hard look as he sensed the tension in the air, and then stepped aside so the students could file in. “The final steps of your potions are at hand. Instructions are on the desk if you have questions. I will be in Lab 2.” He did not disappear right away this time, narrowing his eyes on Harry and the mark on his throat.
Harry didn’t feel like dealing with a snapping Snape, so he stepped into the room quickly and started going through his notes.
Draco was such a stubborn ass. All the time really, so Harry had no idea why he let the boy get to him anymore. But he couldn’t stop himself, like little fire ants stinging at his skin every time the sexy prat opened his mouth. It was either bicker with the boy, or shove something between the Slytherin’s very pink lips before he had a chance to say something snarky…
Harry paused at that thought, turning his gaze to Draco’s fuming form as he scribbled furiously on his notes. Draco looked nearly untidy with his hair free, wearing jeans and a band t-shirt. Sure, the fabric clung in very attractive ways, reminding Harry very well of what was under it all… But Draco looked sort of messy and that was damn hot. Almost rain, quidditch and mud hot.
Harry peered closer to see what Draco was writing, only to scowl at the lewd swears and Harry’s name filling in the margins. “Malfoy,” Harry growled. Draco stiffened but didn’t turn, writing another line about fucking coward Gryffindor beasts that don’t know how to fucking take what they want like proper.
Harry grinned then, dark and heated, and pressed into Draco’s back to whisper hot breath against his ear. “Is that what you want, Malfoy? Me to force you to submit?” Draco hissed, writing another line, this time about clueless fucks, and no fucking duh, shithead.
Harry nuzzled into Draco’s neck, the boy still tense and quite livid before him. “After you tell me that you’re mine, I will fucking take what I want, Draco. Whenever I want it. I have waited… Watching you watch me, want me, and hide from it at every turn. You will tell me. And it will be fucking loud when you do,” Harry promised, abruptly pulling away from Draco, who was swaying weakly on his feet, holding the desk for balance.
But Draco was still glaring, his eyes burning between anger and lust, and Harry knew just how long that fire could last in the stubborn, beautiful boy. Anger was Draco’s first and favorite weapon of choice, his defender and protector from everything that made him feel overwhelmed and uncomfortable. Unfortunately, a lot of that was currently Harry and all those many feelings he was certain Draco was still running from.
If Harry was going to get through to Draco, he knew he had to get around that anger. He had to strike when Draco was unsuspecting and calm, not bristling and murderous. That’s why he had went to Draco last night, waking the boy from sleep. And that’s why Harry would wait long days until he touched Draco again, until the Slytherin was lost and aching for him.
As much as Harry knew Draco’s anger, he knew the boy’s lust. It would not take long to bend the blond to him. That was another problem. Because as Draco made sure their potion didn’t turn to a smoldering evaporated mess of cauldron, along with their combined grade, Harry couldn’t help staring and wanting to take the stubborn git. Draco was peering down, biting his lip in concentration as hazy steam rose up from their cauldron. Hair fluttering around him, the boy looked rather angelic.
Maybe he would fuck him over by the bookcase on the wall, where he would be able to position Draco to just the right height and the blond would have something sturdy to grab onto…
“Potter, get your hand off my ass,” Draco hissed lowly, glaring around to see if any of the Gryffindor students had noticed. They had, bloody observant wankers. Draco swatted at the damn nuisance that was Harry Potter, only to have the brunette step up, now both hands tight on his jean clad behind as he pressed into him boldly.
Shit. Fire was quickly tingling through Draco, tightening his muscles under Harry’s hands, his breath quickening and body very much responding.
“Seriously, you two. Have some consideration,” Ron muttered. “This class is difficult enough without me being sick.”
Draco glared, annoyed to have been interrupted by Weasley. Even though moments ago he had been adamant that if Harry so much as looked towards him he was going to hex the bloody bastard… Pushing the thought from his mind, he glanced back at Harry’s bowed head, green eyes looking particularly steamy. “You all are pretty rubbish at potions. Well, except Thomas and Granger.”
“Yes, we are. Maybe you should have thought of that before cursing all your housemates,” Neville spoke up with a sigh. Pansy had been a right mean bitch, but she had been determined to make sure they passed.
Draco shrugged, not feeling particularly sorry. The Slytherins had deserved it, and to be honest, now that his housemates weren’t cursing and hexing the Gryffindors’ potions whenever they got a chance, the group was improving. Even Longbottom. But that thought was short lived, Harry’s hands suddenly deciding that holding wasn’t enough, and began rubbing Draco’s ass.
“Potter, this is not my thing,” Draco stressed as he was pushed forward, thighs hitting the desk. He was very much annoyed to be touched in front of anyone, never mind a room full of Gryffindors that didn’t even have the courtesy to look away while Harry pawed at him. “Wait till lunch, or something…” he trailed off, Harry’s hands moving to his hips and pulling him back so he could feel how Harry was hard and didn’t want to wait.
Harry breathed against his neck, watching the soft bright strands move with each puff. “No one cares, Malfoy,” he murmured, slowly grinding against Draco’s ass as the Slytherin tried to keep from making that moan Harry liked to hear so much. Shaking his head, Draco tried to push him away since he couldn’t move forward. It did not have the effect he had hoped for, Harry’s grip and energy raising in intensity as the blond bucked against him.
“Potter, you fucking waste… let me go…” Draco snarled, but Harry had his mouth on the back of his neck, teeth biting, tongue laving, and it was getting very difficult to pull out of the heat. Maybe it had to do with the cauldrons shimmering, turning the air a steamy purple color…
Draco closed his eyes, his head bent down as he gripped the desktop and tried not to give in. All Harry was doing was rubbing against him. It wasn’t like he was spread out over the desk or anything. He could resist this… had to… He was fucking surrounded by Gryffindors!
“Potter, I am going to count to five. If you are not off me by then, I am going to hex you. Do you understand?” Draco bit out.
Harry, of course, responded by running hands down the front of Draco’s soft cotton tee, and then his jeans and pausing at the boy’s growing bulge. “Try it. Let’s see what happens,” Harry challenged, not caring in the slightest that he had told himself only minutes ago that he wanted to avoid getting Draco angry. Draco was fucking hot when he was angry. Why wouldn’t he want to annoy the sexy prat until he started hexing?
Draco had started counting, only to get lost at three, trying to remember if he had said four yet or not. Harry was moving slowly, achingly slow, and it was reminding him of that crazed, suffocating dream of last night where the Gryffindor had been so gentle… so very, very thorough… his tongue driving and persuasive inside him and… oh…
“Four, Malfoy. It comes after three,” Harry encouraged, his mouth wide and sucking on the flesh beneath Draco’s ear.
Draco inhaled sharply, Harry rubbing particularly hard while finding the edge of his shirt and slipping under. “I’m going to kill you,” Draco groaned, his legs spreading, hips moving with Harry’s persistent grinding.
“Not if you don’t get to five,” Harry teased, fingers now fiddling with Draco’s waistband. “If you only knew how you looked.” Harry’s voice had become very hoarse, a soft, broken moan trying to pull free that he buried against the blond’s throat.
And Draco had to wonder blearily just how the two of them did look, with Harry trapping him, tanned hands moving over his pale flesh while their hips kept forever rocking. The mental image made him arch, body lengthening and bowing back as Harry ran strong hands over him. Then Draco caught sight of the other occupants again and remembered they were not even remotely alone.
This was so not okay. Draco shook his head and then made a fist, his claws biting into his palms until blood trickled. He reached for his beast, more than enough sex energy moving through him to call it loud and strong. “Five,” He announced with wet lips, right before reaching up and behind him, grabbing Harry’s chest and shoulders, and hauling the boy over his back and head, and throwing him across the large room.
Harry, the bloody coordinated bastard, rolled and landed in a simple crouch on the ground, managing not to hit the wall, or desks, or cauldrons. It was actually quite an accomplishment, which Draco admired quietly as Harry stood, power raising with the explosive Gryffindor.
If Draco didn’t know better, he’d say Harry had liked his show of strength. A lot.
“Nope, this is actually worse,” Ron muttered in exasperation, trying to put himself between Harry and his precarious grade. “Do not fight in here. These cauldrons are sensitive.”
Harry was grinning, staring Draco down and ignoring the wands suddenly pointed his way in defense. But Draco noticed them and he turned to stare incredulously at Harry’s housemates. “What, you’re going to curse your Golden Boy?”
Hermione snorted, stepping forward towards Harry. “If you knew the stuff Harry gets up to when mad like this, you would understand. Nearly had to kill him after you first woke up, the way his beast was raging over you. He asks us to, just to keep him from destroying the castle.”
Draco raised a brow at that, turning to look Harry up and down. “Now who’s the one in control, hmm Potter?” He taunted, Harry always so damn smug about his power over his instincts.
Harry didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed, his grin widening to manic. “Mione, he’s not talking,” Ron pressed, eyebrows raising and head tilting to get the girl to do her thing. But Hermione hesitated, looking instead to Draco. “Malfoy, can you fix him? You are his… well… mate, and all.”
Draco again ran his eyes over Harry, taking in his tensed muscles, clawed fingers and very prominent erection. Draco could do something… but fix? He delved deep, talking to his beast.
The beast didn’t think Harry needed fixing either. Just a good, hard fuck.
Eyes glazed for a moment, Draco slowly refocused on Harry, who looked about ready to hunt him down and maim him. If he did, Draco was certain he would enjoy the experience. “Come on, Potter. You’re freaking your friends out.” Draco walked slowly to the classroom door, eyes never leaving Harry as the boy continued to stare. “Hurry now, before I get away.”
With a wicked grin, Draco slipped out the door and started walking down the hall.
Draco heard Harry crash through the bathroom door, not bothering to turn as the boy strode up behind him and breathed down his neck.
It was amazing to think all the time they were suddenly spending together, and yet still couldn’t make it through a full conversation about anything. Last week they had been flirting, and laughing, and even talking about quidditch and school during their potions partner work. Not that Draco had much to say at the moment. Just that he was becoming concerned that if he felt sex starved and lust driven every time he saw Harry, it might become, well, exhausting.
A good exhausting, he thought as Harry gripped his shoulders tightly, but maybe a bit boring after a while. He would have to work on expanding their interactions a bit… Later. Much later.
He turned in the grasp, noticing the brunette looked almost sweet without Draco’s slashes on his face. Harry was staring at the blond’s hands, looking at them in awe. Draco raised them, watching as Harry’s eyes followed, and then his hands, tentatively brushing fingers to fingers.
“Draco… You threw me across the room.” Harry’s voice was rough, eyes hazy like a summer day in the forest.
“Yes, you did seem to like that.” Draco watched Harry’s face as the Gryffindor continued to play with his hands, fingers caressing and then biting in, only to jump back and sooth over again.
“You’re strong,” Harry whispered, dragging his gaze up to Draco’s. “When you bit me, I could feel how strong… how powerful.” Harry swallowed, fingers twining with Draco’s as he held himself still.
“Do you want me to show you how strong I am?” Draco asked, stepping forward and tightening his grip on Harry’s hands.
“Yes,” Harry breathed out, eyes wide and lips parted.
Draco stared long moments. Harry’s expression was similar to right after Draco had claimed him and very reminiscent of only yesterday, Harry’s face streaked with dirt and sweat, and rubbing against the grass. Fuck.
The gorgeous idiot was going to drive him crazy.
Draco released his hands and stepped forward, pushing Harry back and stumbling across the room and up against the door. Draco followed, locked the door with a loud click, then pushed Harry’s wrists up on either side of his head. Harry was grinning crookedly, face flushed as he stared intently at Draco’s mouth, waiting for a kiss. The expression was very sweet, annoyingly so.
Why couldn’t Potter just stick to the whole angry, forceful fucking, and stop trying to be romantic? Draco didn’t want romance. He didn’t want softness, and sweetness, and to feel the damn ache that kept twisting in his heart every time Harry looked just so at him.
Growling, he grabbed Harry by the shoulders, pulled him forward, and then slammed him back into the door. Harry hissed, glaring back. But still he smiled that sweet way and Draco grabbed the boy by his biceps and lifted Harry, pushing him up while the brunette stared down at him in surprise.
“Fuck,” Harry grunted, fairly certain Draco was angry at him when the boy, still holding him high in the air, turned and threw him. Harry narrowly missed crashing into the sinks, but his hands and face hit the mirrored wall and cracked the glass, leaving a bleeding wound on his cheek and raw sting to his palms.
Harry carefully straightened and turned, taking in Draco’s burning eyes and dark grin. Yup, Draco was fucking pissed, the boy’s energy pulsing in large cresting waves. And yes, he looked damn fucking sexy when he was angry.
“What’s wrong, Malfoy? Rather be back in class?” Harry taunted, taking a step forward and pushing back against Draco’s magical aura that was filling the room. Draco seemed to like that, Harry coming at him, and he took another step, and then another, straining against the pressure until he was face to face with the glaring blond.
Draco grabbed the side of Harry’s face and dug his thumb into the cut there. Harry clasped unyielding fingers on his wrist, pulling the hand away and glaring back into the angry silver eyes. “You’ve mussed your hair,” Harry pointed out, using his free hand to take a chunk of the white blond locks and twist.
Draco laughed harshly in the hold and then pushed Harry hard, once again sending the boy backwards across the room. Draco’s head stung where Harry had nearly taken his hair with him but he didn’t care, stalking forward, turning Harry and slamming him face first into the mirrored wall.
Dazed, it took Harry a moment to notice that the hands pushing him forward were pulling at his pants, roughly fighting with the clasp to his jeans and tearing at his fly. Harry glared blearily into the mirror, finding Draco with a vicious grin on his face as he stared at him and tore his pants down.
Then Draco was pushing against him, his rough jeans and bulge rubbing against Harry’s bare ass. Harry moaned, enjoying how Draco seemed to suffocate him with his scent and heat, arms wrapping around him and claws digging in where they chose.
“You want me to fuck you.” It was more a statement than a question, but Harry nodded anyways, just to make sure Draco wouldn’t think to stop. “Good, Potter, cus I’m going to fuck you.” Draco slammed his shoulders into the wall, pulling another groan from Harry.
Harry licked his lips, a slick rush of magic moving inside him where Draco was pressing his wand to his entrance. He wondered if that was how Draco had gotten the butt plug in yesterday, only to cry out, knees suddenly failing him, when Draco pressed his cock against his entrance and surged forward.
“Oh gods… could’ve… fucking… warned…” Harry trailed off, Draco’s length forcing its way in, widening his channel and stealing his breath. It was as intense as the butt plug, even more so because Draco gave him no time to adjust. It didn’t tear him—the spell had prevented that—but the size and thickness was absolutely overwhelming.
Draco fucked Harry like he fought, unbridled, and brutal, and fucking owning him. And Harry pushed back as he took it, trying to gain some sort of leverage against the glass, seeking out Draco’s face close beside him. Draco caught the gaze, holding it as he snarled at Harry.
Harry wasn’t quite sure what the hell Draco was so angry about, but it felt fucking fantastic.
Hands tightening on his hips, Draco pulled Harry’s off of the wall, spreading the boy’s shaking legs wide and forcing him to stand without support. Harry moved his arms above, grabbing at Draco’s neck and shoulder for something to hold to. Draco grabbed Harry’s hair, forcing him to stare at himself in the mirror while he continued to slowly thrust into the boy.
“You look like a right slut, Potter.” Draco pulled at Harry’s shirt, pushing it up to show off Harry’s straining erection. He didn’t touch it, just allowed Harry to see how hard and red he was while Draco filled him. And Harry had to agree, his face terribly flushed, eyes dazed and streaking tears, and mouth very wide open as he moaned and panted.
“Draco… please.” Harry could barely stand, his legs quaking under the strain of his own weight and the unbearable feel of the blond moving inside his slick passage. And either Draco took pity on him, or could no longer stand to see his expression, because he pushed Harry back up against the wall, burying himself in deep.
Fingers pressed against his mouth, and Harry sucked them in, licking and wrapping his tongue mindlessly around the digits. Draco thrusts were changing, slowing in pace but increasing in force, fucking him slow, and deep, and hard.
“Ask me nice and I’ll hit your prostate,” Draco demanded, biting Harry’s ear hard. Remembering vaguely of the way Draco had screamed when Harry had found his, it sounded like a damn fine idea.
“Please?” Harry whimpered, brows furrowed as the fingers in his mouth began sliding over his lips, dripping saliva and forcing him to follow with his tongue to chase them.
“Nicer than that,” Draco said with a dark chuckle.
Harry groaned, pushing back into the hips that had stopped moving. “Please Draco… fuck me… come on!” He whined, nipping at the fingers to spur the boy on.
Draco was outright laughing now, the fucking prat. Harry forced his heavy head up, catching Draco’s gaze in the mirror. “Malfoy, finish what you fucking started—Fuck!” Harry shouted, Draco suddenly driving into him and hitting something that ached and sparked red behind his eyes.
“Oh fuck.” Harry fell forward into the mirror, Draco pumping into him with abandon, bruising his hips, and shoulders, and chest against the wall with every thrust. “Fuck yes… oh yes… more… Draco… more.” Draco was his beast, fucking raw, and untamed, and damn, damn big inside him.
“Potter, you sound like a whore,” Draco growled, biting at Harry’s neck in sharp deep pinches. And then lingering on the mark on Harry’s throat, tongue laving and teeth sinking in. Harry jerked as Draco bit him again, reclaiming him and making his heart ache for it. “Draco… Draco, I’m…”
Draco heard the unbridled need and reached for Harry’s length, the hard flesh bobbing with every thrust he took. He quickly ran his hand across Harry’s stomach, using the sweat plus saliva of earlier as a quick lubrication, and wrapped his fist around the brunette’s cock. Harry shouted loudly, moving into the touch and then pressing back against Draco.
Fuck, but Harry wanted it bad. Draco felt dizzy from the plain need in the boy. Even now, even with him being brutal and rough, Harry still needed him. Still needed his touch, and his presence, and… fuck. Fuck Harry Potter and his fucking sentiment.
Harry gave a low cry, his body clenching, cock swelling and spurting against the mirror and Draco’s hand. Shifting, Draco dug fingers into the boy’s hips and slammed into him, trying to erase the feeling of sweetness Harry’s voice and expression had left in him.
Harry gave low, long moans as Draco continued to fuck him, his body aching inside and out. Especially inside, Draco’s cock shaping him brutally. This was what Draco needed right now, Harry realized wearily as he leaned his face on the cool mirror. Needed to not feel so weak around him. Needed to not feel so vulnerable.
“You’re almost…” Harry could feel it, could feel how Draco swelled inside him, and he clamped his muscles tight in response, wanting the blond to shout. But Draco just hissed against his neck, grinding into him and marking him deep inside with his hot seed.
But Harry needed too and when Draco pulled out of him and cleaned himself off, he turned and pulled the blond back, kissing him deep. Draco let him, opening to his tongue, kissing back just as passionately and needy. Then he growled again, pushing Harry away and glaring.
Harry was not surprised when Draco left this time, the blond slamming the door behind him. He didn’t know whether to feel glad that Draco very clearly had some emotions concerning him beyond the lust of his beast, or frustrated that the closer he got to discovering said emotions, the more vicious Draco came when pushing him away.
Harry slowly cleaned himself up, using magic to keep any awkward fluids from appearing later in the day. Then he healed the cut on his face and the cracks in the mirror, his mind strangely empty.
He returned to class, knowing Draco wouldn’t be there, and watched over the potion that the Slytherin had shown a genuine interest in. Harry let his friends chat to him about inane things he used to really enjoy while quietly he thought.
He had once thought of a lot of things before Harry had seen Draco chained and stretched out nude. Then the rest of the world had sort of melted away in a red haze of lust and need when his beast had roared in his ears, unwilling to let the opportunity go. So loud, until Harry couldn’t stop but touch Draco’s beautiful, bruised body.
He had fought with the beast then, struggled not to take Draco without true consent, without honesty and fairness. Because even if Draco wasn’t Voldemort’s, it didn’t mean he was Harry’s. Even when the beast roared otherwise.
Harry suspected if he did claim Draco, did give the beast what it kept loudly demanding, it might finally settle down again. Might stop the maddening throb he felt every time he caught sight of the blond. And Draco wanted to be claimed. He understood the Slytherin’s anger about it earlier, about the beast feeling unloved and unwanted without the mark.
Still, Draco had to admit his feelings. Harry would not yield. Not on this. Not even if it destroyed him. Draco would tell him. He would make him. As strong and powerful as his beast was, Harry was stronger, and dare he say, far more determined. He had fought with the beast many a time over the last three years, and he had always won. Always. He would not lose on this either.
Harry didn’t see Draco again for the rest of the day. He lingered at lunch, and then at dinner, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Slytherin, but Draco never ate. Harry assumed he was holed up in his room again. He could have gone to see, could have caressed, and kissed, and tasted the obstinate boy until Draco gave in and spread to him, like the night before. But there was too much to do, what with packing and getting his financial documents ready for the Goblins tomorrow. And then Ron and Hermione wanted to ‘chat,’ which was their way of ambushing him into listening to all their many—few valid—concerns about the ‘Malfoy Issue.’ And once Harry had fended that line of conversation off with a big, its none of your bloody business rant, they started on about how the Dursleys were kicking him out now that he was of age and out of school and shouldn’t he want to move in with them at their place for a bit.
Maybe Harry should have wanted to move in with them, had even thought of it seriously when he had first received the note from the Goblins that he was being ‘disowned,’ as the Dursleys had put it. But Harry had realized that his friends had greater expectations on who he was and was supposed to be, than first thought.
It wasn’t necessarily a poor thing, just that it created a lot of pressure. Pressure Harry didn’t want to have to deal with on a daily basis from his friends, never mind the rest of the damn wizarding world. As it was, he could barely escape Ron and Hermione with a whole castle to hide in. What would it be like in the small apartment Ron’s brothers had helped them find?
No, Harry would deal with the Goblins tomorrow, deal with his vaults, and seek some place quiet to live once he was free of Hogwarts. Hermione wanted him to jump in, rush to the next big thing while he was fresh from school. But really, Harry didn’t give a fuck what Hermione wanted for him. He wanted to figure out what he wanted instead.
And how Draco Malfoy was going to fit into it.
That was the big issue, wasn’t it? Harry loved the vicious, cold hearted, hot blooded prat with all he had in him. Loved his taunts, loved his snarks, loved his bitchings… There were probably some good things that he loved about Draco as well, but he couldn’t really think of them at the moment.
The Slytherin was an ass, all said and done. Not a Death Eater, but still a right bastard. And at some point, Harry had begun to find it endearing. Sometimes infuriating, but still, Draco was damn adorable when malicious. And Draco was adorable a lot.
Draco had bit him. He had claimed him. Had taken the opportunity again that very day, even when clearly angry, to make sure Harry knew that he belonged to Draco. It was an unspoken commitment. It meant Draco wanted to stay with him, possibly forever.
At least, as long as it took for one of them to kill the other, in what apparently was turning out to be a normal occurrence of rage between the two.
Harry didn’t know what Draco wanted to do after school. All he knew for certain was that he wouldn’t be running off to join the Dark Lord. Maybe there was a job the blond wanted? Some sort of dream he’d been seeking to catch once free of Hogwarts?
It bothered him that he didn’t know because Harry didn’t know how he was going to fit in with what Draco wanted. If he even could.
“Damn it Malfoy, put your wand down!”
Draco had never heard Hermione swear. Part of him wanted to laugh out loud at the outlandishness of it. But mostly, he really wanted to hex someone and Hermione was standing in the way of Lavender, his current target.
Lavender Brown, giggling like an idiot during potions while she whispered to Seamus about Harry running off to get away from Malfoy, had been the last straw for Draco’s questionable sanity. He was fairly certain of this fact, holding his wand chest level with the annoying bint. It seemed the other Gryffindors were certain of it as well since they were all pointing wands at him.
“Listen, Malfoy,” Ron said carefully, trying to calm things before Lavender ended up in smoldering pieces. “We don’t want to hurt you—really, Harry would get pissed—but you need to stop what you’re doing.”
Draco glared, still staring the girl down as if doing so long enough would make her incinerate before his eyes.
He was losing his shit. He had known it since Harry had failed to show up on Monday. Fine, since last week when he had first gotten the scent of Harry and sex, and needed to claim the pain in the ass. He was not being himself, he understood. But really, he didn’t fucking care anymore.
“Tell me where Potter is.” Still pointing his wand at Lavender, Draco turned his gaze to Ron. “Tell me, or she’s going to be missing fingers.”
Ron blanched, grabbed Lavender by the shoulders and pulled her aside. “Stop being an ass, Malfoy. You don’t need to threaten anyone.”
Eyes narrowed back to Lavender, Draco was pretty sure it hadn’t been a threat but a promise.
“For god sake, Malfoy, calm down,” Hermione said irritably. “Harry will be back soon. He just had some family problems to deal with that took longer then planned. Put your wand away already.”
Draco slowly and reluctantly put his wand in his pocket, still glaring at the annoying twit who would dare suggest Harry had left him. “When? It’s already fucking Wednesday. When will he be back?”
“We don’t know. Some sort of legal confusion came about. He needed to get all his things from the house and store them. He didn’t go into it with us too much, just said he was busy.” Now that Draco had disarmed, the rest of the Gryffindors did as well, although Lavender was walked to the other side of the classroom to finish her work away from Draco.
“Doesn’t your bond tell you stuff like this?” Seamus asked. “Like, he’s alive and okay?”
Draco snarled and sat heavily on the nearest desk. “No. Not without him biting back, the fucking ass.” Fucking stupid Potter. Why hadn’t Harry told him he was going to be late? Shit, why the fuck did he even have to care that Harry hadn’t told him? Fucking hell.
“When did you speak to him last?” Draco asked, needing to know as much as possible to stop his whirling mind. Because he still wasn’t sure Harry was okay. Harry would have told him he was going to be late… Right?
“Sunday evening. Harry’s guardians went out for the weekend even though they had arranged the time for him to get his stuff. They have to be there for the pickup.”
“But, thats days ago. How long is he going to wait?”
Ron shrugged. “Probably as long as they take. They’re really terrible people.”
Draco scowled, staring at his shoes. This was fucking miserable, caring all the time. And it wasn’t a nice, bearable quiet caring. No, it was this loud, horrible obnoxious aching caring that made him want to hurt people. Or maybe just slam his head into the wall really hard a couple hundred times to stop having to feel anything at all. Fucking Potter.
“Someone, one of you lot, is going to tell me when he gets back,” Draco demanded. “The very fucking instant, or so help me, I will hunt each and every one of you down and put you next to my Slytherin brethren on the walls. Got it?”
The Gryffindors glared at Draco, like the stubborn lions they were. But then Ron chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re fucking worried about him. Holy shit. This has got to be the craziest thing yet. And the two of you have been acting really crazy.”
“Shut up, Weasley,” Draco huffed, crossing back to his own seat. That cheered him a bit, knowing that Harry had been acting just as messed up as him. But Harry wasn’t there, and that was just beyond unforgivable.
“The very instant!” He shouted to Ron, who laughed out loud in reply. Fucking Gryffindors.
Harry, through no fault of his own, had been delayed for greater reasons then just the disagreeable Dursleys. Lucius Malfoy, shining blond hair and icy cold stare, had cornered him outside of Gringotts on Wednesday morning, demanding—and he stressed demanding—to know what he had done to his son.
Harry did not feel like going into the many sordid details of what he and Draco had been up to, enjoyable as they were, and instead asked for a little more information to what Lucius was referring to.
“Do not play dumb with me, Mr. Potter. I have the official documents right here.” Lucius pulled a scroll from his pocket and unfurled it angrily. “He’s bitten you. Claimed you. The damn Goblins need me to sign off on how to handle the bond gift. What the hell has happened?”
Ah. Wizards and there insistence on paper trails. Harry eyed Lucius, trying to figure out where all the anger was coming from. Lucius was no longer aligned with Voldemort so it couldn’t be that. Maybe because Harry was a half-blood? Or a male? Or maybe just because he was Harry Potter, blah fucking blah of the wizarding world?
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say here, Mr. Malfoy. You have the paperwork. I think its pretty clear what has happened.”
Lucius shook his head sharply, cold anger radiating beneath his pristine exterior. Harry was reminded strongly of Draco before the prat opened his mouth and started hexing. But Lucius apparently had far more control. “No, it is not. The bond is incomplete. You’re making a mockery of him, and the Malfoy name.”
Harry blinked, very much confused. “Wait… so you want me to claim your son?’
“Harry, I want you to ensure that Draco is not some unloved, unsupported jest. We purebloods take bonding very seriously. His mother has been having a fit since nothing has been received to reflect that you reciprocate his attention. He is of age. He is attractive, powerful, and wealthy. Get on with it already.”
It was a very strange day, Harry decided. Very strange. Hell, Lucius was talking to him like he was an actual person. Rudely still, but one couldn’t expect miracles.
“Listen, Mr. Malfoy… err, Lucius. If it will set your mind at ease, I plan on claiming Draco.”
“When? It’s been nearly a week,” Lucius demanded tightly, but his frown had lost a bit of its edge.
“When the prat can admit to his feelings,” Harry snapped back. He gave Lucius an assessing look, wondering if Draco’s parents were the reason the boy was so messed up emotionally. “This is between your son and I. I apologize if it’s causing you any inconvenience, but it’s none of your bloody business.”
Lucius glared long moments, and then relaxed, his tension dissipating like a sudden summer shower. “We will have you over to the Manor once your school is out. Narcissa would like the opportunity to offer formal congratulations as would the rest of the family.” Lucius smiled then, still a bit grim, but a smile nevertheless.
Harry stared in shock, waiting to be hexed. There was no way Lucius Malfoy was smiling at him, especially after hearing he was bonding with his son.
“Er… Okay. If Draco agrees.”
“He’ll be ecstatic,” Lucius said assuredly, and damn near polite. Harry looked around warily, wondering if someone was waiting to spring. This was bizarre.
He decided he wasn’t falling for it. He pinned Lucius with a piercing stare and stepped forward. “What the hell are you playing at? You’re going to pretend you’re happy about this? I’m fucking your son—No parent is happy about that. Especially not the ex-lapdog of Voldemort.”
Lucius sighed in exasperation. “Potter, he is my son. My only child. And he has been infatuated with you for years. I knew this day was coming and I prepared accordingly.”
“What?” Harry narrowed his eyes, pretty sure Lucius was full of shit. “You left the Dark Lord for Draco?”
“I left because You-Know-Who has become so weak and insane that its only a matter of time before he loses. Draco is of age. His choices are his own. But,” Lucius paused, his frown a deep line in his face, “Draco was going to choose you. And he would have had to leave us to do so. I did not want that to be an option. It was fortuitous that my decision also took that situation away.”
This was fucking insane. Thankfully, Harry was saved the annoyance of having to believe and appreciate Lucius’s intentions— there was only so much one could handle in a day— by a sudden explosion of light and wind as a spell bounced by. Exchanging glances with Lucius, Harry grabbed the man’s arm and dragged him behind the large marble slab with the bank’s name emblazoned on it. Spells flew overhead, and then a loud crack and explosion.
And if to prove how ridiculous the day was insisting on getting, together Lucius and Harry fired spells back until the air was filled with dust and flashes of light. Then suddenly an earth shattering crack filled their ears, the ground gave way, and darkness fell.
It was Bellatrix. A crazed, insane Bellatrix, that on seeing her traitorous brother-in-law talking with the boy-who-lived, hadn’t been able to figure out who to kill first, so she had attempted to take them both out at the same time.
Which was fine, because Lucius made a surprisingly good shield when he pulled Harry up from the underground cavern he had nearly fallen down to his death. “Come on Potter. Before the bitch gets here.”
Harry stood wavering, trying to figure out what the loud ringing in his ears was. Then he saw her, dark hair crackling like snakes around her head as she cast another spell from across the plaza. Harry raised his wand to defend himself, but Lucius had already bounced the energy back before it even reached them.
Lucius was pushing him towards the bank doors, trying to get him to safety as Bellatrix raised more power. “Quickly Potter. Get out of here!”
It was the angry snarl on Lucius’s face, Harry realized right before his beast roared up and took him over. It was too much like Draco’s and he would never let anyone hurt Draco. While Lucius looked on, shield raised to protect them, Harry killed Bellatrix.
It was blackness itself when Draco woke up. Strange, unfamiliar sensations were assaulting him. He was cold… and something was on his face… fabric. His arms felt heavy… but, no. He was standing?
Draco shook at his weariness, trying to figure out what was going on. He couldn’t see. There was a pressure over his eyelids reminiscent of a blindfold. His feet were cold, bare on the stone floor. And his arms heavy and held above his head with chains. But different from before… These were warm and leather instead of the cold pinch of hard metal.
He was nude. Nude and stretched out in the dark, Harry’s scent strong in the air around him.
“I’m right here,” Harry murmured, hand brushing his shoulder. Harry’s voice sounded unusual, hoarse and low as if he’d been yelling long hours. And when he pressed his mouth to Draco’s cheek, he could smell dust and the faint tang of blood.
“Why am I here?” Draco asked, his mouth dry. Harry hummed into the flesh below his ear, licking slowly.
“Oh, I think you may know.”
“Harry.” Draco wanted to yell, snap at the idiot for taking off and not telling him. But Harry had pressed his body up against his and Draco couldn’t help but gasp at the bare smooth flesh rubbing against his. “Oh, hell.”
“Either I have a kink, which if you could see yourself, you really wouldn’t blame me, Draco. Or maybe, maybe I thought we could try this particular night all over again,” Harry suggested, hands moving up the blond’s arms and slowly pulling down, over his chest and sides, and settling on his hips.
“Oh gods, do me Potter. Don’t fucking hesitate and just fuck me,” Draco moaned, hips thrusting forward.
Harry chuckled, low and dark, and bit his shoulder hard. Draco cried out, back arching as he tried to move into Harry’s embrace. But the brunette was elusive, slipping back and sliding hands over Draco as he walked around him.
“I’m going to fuck you, don’t worry about that. But when, well that’s up to you.” Harry pressed his palm against the side of his erection and Draco tried to thrust into it. But then Harry slipped away again.
“Potter, fucking… Oh!” Harry’s fingers were suddenly moving down the crack of his ass, thumb pressing in and stretching his hole.
“You just have to tell me what I already know, Draco.” Harry leaned his chest against his back, pressing his hardness against his ass and grinding. “Its very simple. You just have to tell me who you belong to.”
Draco gave a shattered moan, not sure if it was Harry’s cock or words that were making him feel so hot and weak.
“Hmm, you like that, do you?” Harry asked, running his hands over Draco’s stomach and then up to his chest. He slowly plucked one nipple, and then the other, rolling and squeezing while Draco whimpered at the touch.
“Harry?” Draco whispered, head falling back against the boy’s strong shoulder.
“Yes?” Harry gently kissed the blond’s cheek, and then his chin, moving up to press kisses to his nose and forehead and other cheek.
“I… I don’t know how,” Draco breathed out, pressing his face into Harry’s hands as the boy followed his kisses with touches, ending on his jaw to firmly turn Draco’s head and kiss him deep.
Harry drank of him, hot and suffocatingly sweet, pulling Draco’s tongue into his mouth, fingers moving down his throat and caressing. And in the dark it was somehow more consuming, pulling Draco’s heart, making it well and burn until he felt the sting of tears. And then the trickle as they spilled over and streaked down his face.
Harry felt the wetness on his hand, pulling away to lick up Draco’s face. “That’s it, beautiful. Let go.”
“N-no.” Draco didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to feel so damn much when Harry touched him. Even though he had missed it. Even though he had ached each night in the dark, hoping Harry would come for him to quench the fire raging inside. It was just too much to feel.
Harry moved around him, drawing him forward, pulling him tight against his chest. He cupped his hands to the blond’s face, fingers brushing softly. And then his lips were pressing to Draco’s again, somehow even softer then before, just a feather of pressure.
Draco gasped into the kiss, warm liquid pooling in his stomach and leaving him oddly rubbery in the knees. “Harry,” he groaned, panting against his lips.
Harry let his fingers move back, tangling in Draco’s hair and massaging into his scalp. “Yes, Draco?”
“I… I want to see you.” Draco sighed, head moving back into the soothing fingers.
“Tell me you want me.” Harry tugged ever so gently at his hair, fingers digging in for the slightest of moments.
“Oh… I want you,” Draco whispered.
“Louder,” Harry pressed, tugging again a little harder.
Draco groaned, mouth seeking out Harry’s lips, but the boy was staying just out of reach. “I want you,” he said loud and clear. He felt as Harry’s fingers moved and unfurled the blindfold from his eyes.
Out of the darkness lit by soft candle light, Harry’s face came into view. The gorgeous boy’s eyes were glowing green in the low light, and…
Draco blinked, leaning his face forward and licking up Harry’s cheek. “What’s happened? You’re covered in dried blood.”
“I’m fine, Draco. Just had an interesting day.” Harry let him clean his cheek with his tongue, and then turned his head so the boy could bite at his ear the way he liked so much. Then Harry pulled away and began to kiss down his throat, wide slick kisses that had Draco bucking his hips.
Harry hovered over one of his nipples, fanning hot breath over the little nub. Draco wiggled, trying to get Harry to lick already. “Tell me you need me,” Harry said with a smirk, meeting Draco’s eyes as the boy glared down at him. When Draco didn’t answer right away, Harry extended his tongue, centimeters from actually touching the pick ache.
“Fuck… fine. I need you. I fucking need you,” Draco muttered. Harry touched his sensitive nipple, and all annoyance left him to be replaced by the sensation of tongue, and mouth, and sucking, and teeth nipping. “Oh, yes… fuck, Harry. Fuck, I need you.”
Harry spent long, wet moments on each of Draco’s nipples, hands holding the boy still as he shook before him. And then he was moving down again, hot mouth tasting Draco’s ribs, and stomach, and belly button. He lapped slowly down Draco’s navel, tongue teasingly close to his straining erection when he stopped again.
“Tell me you love me.”
Draco had been expecting another demand, just not that particular demand. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back to block out Harry’s haunting gaze. “Fuck… I can’t. Don’t make me.”
Harry stood, soothing fingers into Draco’s jaw and dropping kisses over the boy’s face. “Tell me,” he insisted, tongue and teeth marking the blond’s pale skin. “I love you Draco. I adore everything about you, from your nasty attitude to your sweet, painful tears when it feels just so good,” Harry whispered into his skin, feeling the blond’s breathing increase. “I love how fucking stubborn you are… and brilliant… and mean, you fucking prat. Now tell me,” Harry demanded, pulling back to stare into the awed silver gaze. “Tell me you love me.”
Draco slowly licked his lips, feeling pinned under Harry’s eyes more effectively then the chains keeping him standing. “I… ah, I love you,” he breathed out, his face turning red the moment the words echoed in the room.
Harry didn’t let him duck his head, cupping his cheeks and kissing him gently, achingly sweet, until Draco’s head swam.
“Say it again, beautiful. I want to hear it again.” Harry slid his tongue over Draco’s bottom lip, pulling, and nipping, and finally releasing.
“I love you, Harry,” Draco murmured, feeling dazed and very much on fire.
“Yes, again.” Harry’s hands slid down Draco’s back, down to his smooth ass and then the crack between.
“Oh… oh fuck… Harry, uhhn,” Draco whimpered, Harry’s long fingers dipping inside him without hesitation, delving deep inside his hole and stretching. “Love you.”
Giving Draco a final heated kiss, Harry knelt and ran his tongue over his long length, stretching his lips wide and taking the boy deep inside him. Draco howled above him. Harry glanced up, catching the blazing silver gaze as he relaxed and let Draco fuck his mouth while he continued to stretch his entrance.
Draco’s thrusts were slow, trying to contain himself with the fingers filling him so fully and Harry sucking so completely, cheeks hollow, tongue flat and rubbing everywhere it reached. “Oh fuck, Harry,” Draco pleaded, the damn tears finding escape from his eyes again. “Harry.”
Harry slowly released Draco’s hard cock and licked up the sides a final time in parting. Then he was standing again, pulling his fingers out of his tightness and gripping his pale thigh up and around his hip. Harry guided the head of his cock to Draco’s hole, rubbing slowly, but not breaching in.
“Last one, love,” Harry said breathlessly, mouth moving to Draco’s ear. “Who do you belong to?’
Draco closed his eyes, breathing out slowly. “You, Harry.”
“Say it all,” Harry insisted, biting the curl of his ear.
“I… Draco Malfoy… belong to Harry Potter.” Draco lips gaped open, eyes fluttering as Harry pushed into him slowly, just the tip sinking in and stretching him wide.
“You do, Draco. You really fucking do. Tell me why.” Harry’s voice had grown so rough, so low it was hard to hear, and Draco turned his head so he could read the boy’s swollen lips.
“Because I love you… Because I need you and want you… And because you’re fucking mine, Harry. You are mine,” Draco added with a groan, Harry thrusting in, sliding deeper, and sinking until he was fully impaled. “Fuck yes.”
Harry kissed him, demanding with sharp teeth and long tongue as he slowly fucked Draco, the boy clinging to his chains to keep from collapsing.
“Harry… please,” Draco gasped between kisses. “Need it now… Right fucking now.”
“You’re mine,” Harry whispered, pulling from Draco’s lips and moving to his throat. “You’re fucking mine, beautiful. All mine. Always.”
“Always,” Draco repeated, feeling Harry’s breath, and then teeth as they scraped across his throat. “Yes.”
Harry sunk his teeth in, cruelly clamping on Draco’s throat and holding still as the boy thrashed in his arms and around his cock. He raised his magic as Draco’s blood spilled, bonding the blond and his beast to him. To him forever… Or until Draco finally snapped and killed him.
“Harry… Harry… yes… oh harder,” Draco cried, rocking his hips and bearing down to remind Harry that he was still very much inside him.
Harry complied, hips thrusting in awkward, heavy thrusts that Draco responded to with broken sobs and bruised hips as the boy tried to get closer, tried to bury him completely inside. Then Draco was arching, ass clenching tight around him.
Harry couldn’t hold back anymore and came, spilling into Draco. He quickly wrapped his fingers around the blond’s flushed cock trapped between their bodies, pumping until Draco came with a final sob, hot fluids dripping over Harry’s stomach and hands.
They stood long moments, Harry still binding him, still claiming him deep inside, unwilling to let Draco go until he was one hundred percent certain the bond was beyond impossible to break.
“Harry, I feel it,” Draco exclaimed, eyes opening, head falling forward to nuzzle into Harry’s dusty hair. “Your heart… your emotions… your ache. I can feel it all.”
Furrowing his brow, Harry finally extracted his teeth from Draco’s throat, licking thoroughly to catch all the slick red dripping down over the pale flesh. He quirked a smile, feeling Draco’s awe—and dare he say, genuine affection spiral through to him.
He reached up, releasing Draco from his chains and then lifting the boy, legs wrapped around his waist. They didn’t have far to go, Harry turning and walking Draco to his bed, laying him down among the cool sheets and slipping in with him, their bodies entwined.
And if Harry mumbled just how much Draco was his as he caressed and licked his sweat-soaked flesh, Draco showed no annoyance to it, verbally or mentally.
“Harry, what happened?” Draco finally asked again once the brunette had finished his delicious ritual of licking and tasting every inch of him. “You have some bad bruises.”
Harry sighed heavily, burying his face into Draco’s throat. “I killed someone today.”
Draco, eyes having drifted shut, shot awake at that, glancing at Harry’s dusty locks. “On purpose?”
“Very much that,” Harry muttered.
Draco relaxed because if Harry was killing on purpose, then he had a damn proper moral reason for it. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was… well, worried, I guess.”
Harry smirked into Draco’s throat and then nipped sharply. “Ron told me. I figured I should get down here in person instead of risking one of them to tell you I was back.”
Draco’s scowl was short lived, Harry licking over his mark possessively stealing his anger away.
“It was your Aunt.”
Draco glanced again at Harry’s hair, hand resting now in the thick dark mess and massaging deep. He could feel Harry’s self loathing, dark and bitter. “Bella was a psycho bitch. Her existence was agony for her, never mind the people she inflicted it upon. It was a mercy, Harry.”
Draco waited, breath held as he felt the self loathing fade, although heavy guilt remained… and then awe. Awe as Harry raised himself and stared down at his face.
“You astound me sometimes,” Harry murmured, kissing Draco soft and wet. And if he felt a bit of awe himself that Harry could ever look at him that way, Harry showed no annoyance to it verbally or mentally.
Instead the emotionally exhausted Gryffindor began biting down Draco’s chest and navel, quickly raising Draco’s energy, waking his beast and demanding the Slytherin fuck him until unconscious. And neither had any negative thought or annoyance to that idea at all, Draco burying deep into Harry, pulling long, heated cries from his lover until spiraling down into peaceful, dark sleep.
“Come on guys, I have to pee!”
Barely glancing at the Irish idiot that was Seamus Finnigan, Draco pushed the boy aside and dragged Harry’s panting, flushed form into the train’s small bathroom. He spelled the door shut, only to have Harry push him onto the shut toilet lid and quickly undo his belt buckle as he knelt between the blond’s knees.
Draco watched, eyes glazed as Harry pulled his hard cock from the confines of his pants and briefs. Harry pressed his face to his length, mouth opening wide as he rubbed and moaned against Draco’s thick dick.
“Potter, you fucking slut. Wrap your lips and suck already,” Draco hissed, eyes momentarily rolling back when Harry obeyed.
They had not had an opportunity to do more than kiss for a day and a half, too busy packing, graduating and saying goodbye to long friends… And other pointless shit that seemed to pale in comparison to Harry sucking Draco down in deep.
The bond had strengthen since Harry had bit Draco, not to the point of reading minds or anything crazy like that, but definitely to the point where Draco could feel just how fucking hard Harry got when he talked dirty to the boy. And Harry made it fucking easy to talk dirty, moaning and eager for Draco’s dick whenever he looked at him. “Fuck yes… suck it down, Harry. All the way in.”
Harry made a delicious choking sound, his excitement once again getting the better of him. Draco watched, eyes slit as the boy bobbed, green eyes turning towards his to pin, and tease, and taunt as Harry brought him to the edge and let him hang there.
“Fuck, fucking finish me, or I will open that fucking door and let all your friends see what a huge slut you are,” Draco promised, grabbing Harry’s hair and thrusting into his open, hot mouth. Draco could feel the effect on Harry, the words making the boy dizzy and ache.
“You and that fucking kink,” Draco muttered, pulling out of Harry’s wet heat to cum all over his tanned face. Harry just moaned, the streams of hot liquid undoing him, mouth slack as Draco rubbed his wet tip against Harry’s lips with bruising force. “Is that what you want, Potter? To have everyone see just what a big—and I do mean big, you fucking thick pricked giant—impatient, slut you are?” Draco asked, watching as Harry opened his eyes, agonizing lust twisting his features.
“Or do you want to show them how you can bend me, hold me down, and fuck me hard? I could open that door right now, Harry. What do you want them to see?”
Eyes gaining a bit of focus, Harry glared, stood, and hauled Draco up and pushed him forward against the sink. Harry muttered one of the blond’s very favorite spells into his entrance before tearing his fly down and sheathing into Draco in one hard thrust.
“Ohhh… Oh, fuck!” Draco cried out, allowing Harry to cover rough fingers to his mouth to keep from screaming too loud. Then Harry fucked him, hard, and brutal, and possessive, until Draco’s hole was raw and aching from the feel of his Gryffindor pounding into him.
“Oh fuck, that’s it Draco… Oh, you’re so fucking tight,” Harry growled, fingers bruising into Draco’s hip as he slammed the boy forward, forcing Draco’s head against the dirty wall and changing angles so he could hit that very loud spot inside his mate. And Draco got very loud, very tight with each wild thrust Harry forced into the boy.
“Y-yes… don’t stop,” Draco begged, making Harry smile and bite his shoulder through his shirt.
“Now who’s the fucking slut, hmm? Look at you, fucking taking my cock with a line of people waiting outside. Cutting everyone, just so I would… fucking ruin you,” Harry grunted, his voice getting hoarser and dark with each word.
Draco really had no rebuttal, his mouth widening, tongue pressing flat against the wall and moving mindlessly as Harry increased his desperate, savage pace. He could feel Harry’s thickness inside, slickly jolting deep, deep within. His own thighs so tense and hole so stretched wide and sore.
Harry had gotten very good at the dirty talk too, something Draco was enjoying a lot. No way in hell he’d let Harry fuck him in front of people, but he could still give the boy the next best thrill of knowing people could hear them.
“Oh gods… Oh my fucking hell.” Draco arched, stretching his back as he renewed his grip on the sink, spreading his legs and pushing back into Harry as the brunette bit him again, this time on the side of the neck. “Fuck Harry, come inside me. Do it, you fucking beast.”
Harry did, pressing Draco’s head into the wall with his palm, hips snapping as Draco’s thighs bit into the sink and Harry exploded deep inside. He slowed his wild thrusts but didn’t stop, filling Draco slowly and fully as his cum dripped down the blond’s thighs and pooled on his trousers.
Harry grabbed Draco’s renewed erection and pumped in rhythm. Draco groaned, gasping out his release onto the sink and silver faucet, eyes shutting as Harry buried himself in deep, pushing forward unyielding and pinning him there for long, aching moments.
Harry eventually withdrew once their combined breathing had slowed enough. He cleaned them both up, along with the small bathroom, looking far too smug for his own good. His green eyes were laughing as Draco struggled to keep his knees from knocking.
“You vicious, sexy prat,” Harry murmured, kissing Draco and throwing the door open with a slam. Draco ignored the many annoyed and blushing stares to kiss Harry again, noting that Harry took them all in with a lazy smile, the kinky shit. The train only had one working bathroom currently and at least a dozen people were waiting as Harry lead Draco like a prize down the hall to where his Gryffindor friends were waiting.
Together they would be getting off at King’s Cross Station and Harry would be temporarily staying at Malfoy Manor, just until he finished the final arrangements for the flat he had bought. Warding was the hold up, and not something Harry would allow to be half-assed since Draco had been attacked by the Slytherins and Harry was still Voldemort’s favorite target.
The idea wasn’t too horrible, not since the strange morning he and Lucius had spent killing Bellatrix and then later that afternoon with Lucius and tea while reporting to the Aurors about the incident. Draco’s father wasn’t half bad. Not to say he wasn’t a selfish, evil prick, but he had Draco’s interests at heart and Harry could respect strong family loyalty.
Ron was muttering to himself when Harry opened the compartment door, glaring at the two of them as they sat, Harry pulling Draco into his lap. “I could fucking hear you two all the way down here. Made Hermione put up a silencing spell just to shut it out. Bloody wankers.”
Huffing, Ron pushed his chessboard towards Draco, who had rudely left half way through their match to pull a very horny Harry away to shag.
Hermione shrugged, trying to get in the last of her reading before she had to deal with hugs and farewells at the station. “He’s just angry because you were actually beating him in chess.” She patted Ron distractedly on the shoulder and turned a page.
While Draco slowly and deliberately destroyed every one of Ron’s players on the board, Harry sat back and thought, hands straying over Draco’s hips and back.
Draco, studious prat that he was, had told him he was thinking of opening up a potions shop, mostly of more complicated pieces that could be made on order. Harry, thinking long about it, felt he could probably supply some of his fame for Draco, just to get customers in the door while he figured out what he wanted to do. Certainly not make potions everyday for the rest of his life. But as long as it involved being near enough to grind against Draco when the urge took him, it really didn’t matter.
Draco swatted behind him as Harry’s hands began to squeeze the blond’s ass with interest. Connecting with the side of Harry’s head, Draco peered back and stuck out his tongue. Harry pulled the boy back against him, letting Draco squawk in a fluster of tangled limbs while Ron nearly missed saving the chessboard.
“Fucking hate you two when you’re like this. Could have been beating the shit out of each other like proper, but no. Fucking wankers.” Ron killed Draco’s knight, forcing Draco to smack at Harry until the boy stopped kissing him and he could continue the game.
Draco won, much to Ron’s torn distress. Ron was tired of winning all the time but he apparently was a sore loser. Something he had not realized until the Slytherin had beaten him five times in a row.
Neville and a very pissed off Seamus eventually joined them. And then Dean, just to stop Seamus from yelling at how long he had had to wait to pee while the two bastards were shagging like rabbits.
Draco ducked his head, feeling Harry’s very kinky interest in Seamus’s anger about the incident, especially when the Irish pain kept going over how he could hear every bloody breath the two were making, never mind the mind scarring words. Draco was not surprised when Harry hauled him up and whirled him against the door, kissing him soundly while Seamus then bitched about that.
“Thomas, will you shut that idiot up!” Draco snapped, pushing at Harry fruitlessly while the brunette attacked his throat and collar with lips and teeth, hot palms moving over his stomach, ass, and thighs. “Potter doesn’t need a bloody narrator to add to this fetish.”
Draco met Harry’s heated gaze, a silent war raging between them as Harry begged and pleaded to be able to fuck him then and there, and Draco promised he would fucking kill him if he so much as tried.
And so help him, Potter fucking tried, hands reaching down to the front of Draco’s pants, flipping at his zipper and sinking long fingers inside to wrap around his hard prick and pull.
So Draco grabbed the love of his life, whirled him, and pushed him through the compartment door, wood splintering around him as Harry sprawled back, grinning like a bloody fool for getting as far as he had before being stopped.
Glaring, Draco zipped himself back up, picked Harry off the ground by his thick hair, and pushed him down the hallway and back to the bathroom. The growing line stared warily, reluctantly stepping out of the way as Draco shoved his mate brutally into the small bathroom and punished him with his cock. Harry’s favorite punishment.
Naturally, Harry was very loud about it.
END
A little place to share your comments and questions on the fanfic, Loyalties. Liked it, hated it, interested in seeing a sequel or something similar? Let me know below. I love the feedback.
Lucius had never been a fan of ill fitting clothes. The human body, in all its many shapes and sizes, could always be wrapped just right to flatter. A dart here, a long line there—It didn’t take much, but it was the type of magic that had to be achieved perfectly each time through a skilled eye and unwavering hand, or disaster could befall. Some bodies could get away with more. Lucius knew because he had such a body; tall, muscular, with impeccable grace and posture.
Other bodies… Well, Lucius did not truly understand what it was about Harry Potter’s body that defied the laws of magic when it came to clothing, just that it seemed to happen every day, and in his own manor.
How the boy had come to be there, sleeping in a room off of Draco’s during the summer months, was less of a mystery. Apparently Potter’s relatives were a bit imbecilic. They had gone so far as to label the boy a Satanist, and bar him from ever entering the house again. This had been during the beginning of that particular summer, and in the middle of the night. Lucius had begrudgingly apparated down with Draco, his ever persistent son who had finally managed to get a handshake from Potter and grow a friendship.
Potter had been dressed atrociously. Lucius knew he should have cared more about the fact that the young man was sitting in the driveway on his trunk, looking as if he might have been near tears at one point. He had admitted a tendril of warmth when the boy had glanced up from his morose perch, caught sight of the two Malfoys, and beamed so brightly the night had cleared for a small moment. But then Lucius had noticed the billowing, ratty t-shirt, oversized, baggy jeans cuffed at the ankles to keep Potter from tripping, and plainly disgusting sneakers with holes likely larger than the boy’s feet. The warmth had left Lucius as had, apparently, his sanity.
The Dursleys’ car would not work from that day forward. They were not complex machines, but that particular automobile became a lemon the night Lucius had to bare witness to such a terrifying outfit, and how it somehow managed to make the owner of such hideous garb appear delectable. Lucius should have seen it as the omen that it was and left the little hell-spawn there in the driveway, glowing green eyes, lush red mouth, and hideous, atrocious clothes and all. But Draco was unrelenting; they were already there, Draco had been lonely with his mother living at her sister’s, and the manor certainly held enough space.
Potter had also been extremely polite, in an annoying, roguish sort of way. He had clasped Lucius’s hand, lips curled up in a crooked smile as he said thank you. Lucius knew though, as wide eyed and genuine as he had seemed, the boy was inwardly taunting him. One did not wear clothing like that, the way Potter managed to wear them, while not taunting the hell out of him.
Lucius was also certain of this fact today as he sat at the small kitchen table reading his morning paper. It was six in the morning, the time when Lucius enjoyed the quiet of the approaching day, warmth radiating through the windows to steal away the cold of the night. He was used to being alone during this time, Narcissa and Draco always sleeping in late. Lucius enjoyed the silence, where he could think, and feel, and not be distracted by the bustle of others.
Apparently their new house guest was prone to nightmares. A former associate of Lucius’s, back from when he had been young, desperate, and still his father’s son, had tried to kill the boy. Riddle had managed to kill both of Potter’s parents, but the toddler had proven a match too great, and Lucius had gotten the opportunity to seek better associates as a result. That said boy was gracing his kitchen niche, tartan plaid pajama pants hanging too low below a t-shirt that had to be two sizes too small, was an irony not lost on the man.
The colors were very much wrong, calamitous to Lucius’s senses, and to the senses of any respectable being that could sense in the first place. It did not matter that the boy was unusually quiet—Well, not unusual. Potter barely seemed to speak a word unless spoken to, green eyes always skirting around, crooked smile twisting his lush lips as he took in the many differences of Malfoy Manor to his former abode. The boy was nearly companionable compared to the constant chatter of Lucius’s family. That said, the outfit was loud enough. A marching band leading a circus would have been quieter than the cacophonous mix of red and gold plaid pants, and bright—Lucius stressed the word bright—orange t-shirt.
It was burning a hole through his newspaper, the shirt was that luminous. Lucius could not focus on anything else, the horrible neon color drawing his eye and keeping it as Harry padded barefoot around the kitchen island, steaming cup of tea in hand while he peered out the window at the garden. That such a color existed was tragedy enough, but to put it on a shirt? Lucius had done some terrible things in his time, including torturing a family of muggles in the name of some antiquated idea of pureblood supremacy. This shirt was a hate crime. Against life.
That is was too small, had a large hole in the back where the collar had come apart from the rest of the material to gap golden skin, only revealed that Potter was also a lunatic. Because he was holding onto the damn atrocity. It was falling apart, no longer fit him, and the boy still insisted on wearing it to bed. Maybe the boy was colorblind?
Maybe the boy was just blind?
Lucius put his paper down, debating if leaving and showering was the answer to this hideous shirt. Green eyes glanced his way from the sound of the folded paper, then quickly returned to the window. Instantly Lucius knew the boy had to have been doing it on purpose. The shirt was too terrible to not be an accident. Such alarming things did not happen by accident.
“Potter, if you are going to grace my kitchen with your presence, I would kindly ask that you dress appropriately,” Lucius said evenly, trying to keep the exhaustion out of his voice that such a shirt had wrought him.
Blinking, Harry turned, head crooked sideways. “Sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but what do you mean?” He looked down at himself, fingering the hem of his soft t-shirt, palm ghosting lightly over the gap of flesh revealed beneath the neon color. “The Dursleys would get pissed if I walked around in boxers, but they never seemed upset by my pajamas.”
Something in the words caught Lucius’s attention, and a vision of Harry walking around his kitchen in nothing but boxers flashed in his mind. He wasn’t certain if the idea was appealing only because Lucius could see that the boy had hard, long lines of blossoming muscle underneath smooth, tanned skin, or because it meant the hideous shirt would be gone. He did not have a conclusive answer, but Lucius was certain he hated the shirt.
“If I see that shirt again, I am going to burn it,” Lucius promised, meeting the boy’s wide eyes. “Whether you are wearing it at the time or not.”
Biting his lip, Harry placed his mug down on the counter beside the widow. “Er… I don’t really have a lot of clothes, Sir. I’m sorry I’m not as fancy as you guys, but I really can’t go around naked just because you don’t like my hand-me-downs…”
Lucius was distractedly now envisioning Harry naked, the boxers discarded somewhere at the foot of the table. It was a very appealing thought, especially since the little table would likely fit the boy just so between the plate of bacon and the eggs…
Fire rushing through Lucius, his mouth went dry, and stomach twisted in lust. He tightened his hands into fists, praying he would not do something extremely foolish over this horribly dressed urchin. “Potter, go away.”
“Oh… okay…” Hand tangled in his mess of hair, Harry turned, slowly padding from the kitchen, eyes skittering towards Lucius as he passed.
“Potter,” Lucius growled, the boy jumping in response even though nearly out the door.
“Y-Yes, Mr. Malfoy?” Harry asked, eyes again wide and stunningly green against the flush on his cheeks.
Lucius pointed to the counter where Harry had left his tea. “Ah… right… that. Sorry,” Harry mumbled, slowly walking back to retrieve his forgotten drink. He brought the mug to his lips, dark lashes downcast as he sipped the steaming brew.
Lucius could feel Harry glancing, stolen little touches with his intense gaze while the boy lingered in the kitchen for as long as he could get away with. He did his best to focus on his newspaper, having already read the same paragraph countless times—The happenings of the Ministry just really couldn’t compete with that damn day glow orange, never mind the unearthly green that kept gliding over him. Lucius was just about to get up and go to escape said unbearable colors when the boy gave a soft sigh, placed his drained mug into the sink, and began to rinse it.
“So… do you think you could tell me what it is about the shirt that makes you want to burn it?” Harry asked quietly, hand lingering on the counter top as he turned back to Lucius.
Lucius glared, his jaw tightening. “What, so you’ll go out and buy another one? I think not.”
“Er… that wasn’t why… Mr. Malfoy, I really don’t understand you,” Harry muttered, holding the back of his neck, which had turned a lovely shade of red to match the boy’s cheeks.
“You have been warned, Potter. Now take your abysmal shirt and get out of my sight.”
Huffing, Harry nodded and turned. “Okaaaay…”
Harry pulled at the hem of his shirt as he walked, staring at the faded white letters on the front while the hem rode up on his back, revealing a gap that would have fit both of Lucius’s hands if he had been close enough to touch. Lucius almost got up just to see if his measurements were accurate. Surely it was important to know how many times his hands would fit the length of the boy’s slender waist and back. And then he shook himself, glaring at his paper and wishing he had never allowed Draco to convince him to let the boy stay.
“Your clothes are really terrible,” Draco offered unhelpfully while peering in through a shop window where the latest broom models were hovering. “And you know Father. He has very refined tastes.”
Harry scratched his head, sighing softly. “Yeah… but he seemed really… I dunno… Like I was doing it on purpose, you know?” Harry was fairly certain Lucius had been about to drag him out the door by his pajama top and lock him out in the yard. And although the idea of the breathtakingly handsome man grabbing him by the collar had been appealing, the being left out on the lawn had been less so, and Harry was concerned he was going to have to find another place to stay if he could not figure out this problem.
“Just ignore him. Father has been on edge since the separation. Mother has been… difficult, what with taking up with Aunt Bella and going all blood hate crazy again. Hell, it’s hard on me. I’m sure it’s even harder on Father.”
Frowning, Harry put a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. He was being selfish, focusing on his own pointless fears when Draco was dealing with so much crap. Waking up to your mother going mad and wanting to kill muggles was just a bit much. It was hardly the typical midlife crisis Harry had heard about. Harry would just make a point not to wear the orange shirt around Lucius and hopefully things would work themselves out.
“Did you want to go check out the joke shop?” Harry asked, tilting his head enticingly until Draco’s eyes lost their far away look and the pale boy smirked.
“Lorna still working there?” Draco asked, perking up at the thought of seeing the pretty witch.
“I do believe she is…” Harry hummed.
“You know, that is one of the bigger perks of having a poof for a best friend,” Draco drawled, smirking wider at Harry’s eye roll. “No competition. Hell, I think you even help me lure them in with your boy-who-lived crap.”
“Well, I’m glad I can be of service,” Harry said with a snort. “Gotta do something to make up for your generosity.”
Draco shrugged, eyes losing focus again. “He really said he would burn it… while you were wearing it?”
Harry nodded, his good spirits fading. Yes, Draco was a generous person, but it was Lucius that had made everything possible. Getting on the man’s bad side was not ideal to Harry’s living situation. “Maybe I should be looking into renting an apartment? You know, be a grown up about things and all. I have the funds.”
“That’s no fun,” Draco declared loudly, pushing into Harry with his shoulder. “I like having you around—And there’s no way Father is going to let me go off and move out while mother is threatening to steal me away and raise me crazy. I’m sure he was just in one of his moods. I’ll talk to him, okay?”
“Er, don’t do that… I feel like making a big deal out of it will only make it worse,” Harry muttered.
Draco nodded, eyes lighting over the store fronts. “Maybe we should get you some new clothes?”
Harry glowered, shoving his hands into his pockets and following Draco’s gaze. “I don’t like… Shopping for clothes is difficult for me.”
“Come on, Harry, you need a damn bathing suit—What’s the point of having a huge swimming pool if you’re not going to swim in it?” It had been a sore topic since Harry had moved in, one that Harry had refused to explain.
Meeting Draco’s very determined expression, Harry huffed. “If I can get a bathing suit without having to try it on, then fine. And I want a shirt.”
“Is this about your stupid scars? For fuck sake, Potter, you can barely see the damn things.”
Harry bit his lip, glaring silently until Draco backed down.
“Fine, but I get to pick out the one you get.” Draco finally relented, pointing across the street to the clothing store he felt best for this particular endeavor. Harry followed reluctantly behind, ignoring Draco’s haughty expression when the boy waited a good twenty seconds holding the door before Harry finally stepped into the store.
“Stop looking like you’re about to get hexed,” Draco growled, pulling Harry by the arm towards the racks of summer wear. The store was charmed to be a cool relief to the summer heat outside, the air smelling of sandalwood and incense. It probably would have been soothing, but Harry’s heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. Draco had said he wouldn’t have to try the clothes on, still Harry’s palms were sweating, eyes jumping around as if expecting some monster to jump out from the racks of clothing.
Other than Madam Malkin’s, Harry had never gotten clothes for himself. He had tried once, last year when getting his new school robes. He had thought maybe it was time to start wearing clothes that weren’t remnants of Dudley’s slimmer days. But once getting into the fitting room for the first time, a small closet with mirrors and door, Harry had experienced his first panic attack, and quickly decided he was never going to go through that again.
He wasn’t sure exactly what had panicked him about the situation. Harry had been in smaller, darker rooms—He had lived under the stairs for years, after all. And mirrors had never really frightened Harry, except maybe when he was little and he had wondered if another world was staring back at him. When he had taken off his shirt and seen for the first time up close the many white scars littering his back from Vernon’s favorite belt, Harry had stared. And then he had found he couldn’t breath. And then he had known he would not be buying clothes ever again.
That feeling was rising in him now, the difficulty to draw air into his lungs, his breathing too shallow no matter how hard he tried.
“What do you think about this style?” Draco asked, holding up a white pair of shorts.
Harry shrugged, finding it difficult to concentrate. “Whatever—just not white.”
“Well, what colors do you like?” Draco grumbled, Harry sounding too snappish for comfort.
“Anything—Here, this.” Harry pulled the closest bathing suit he could find out and held it up.
“That’s a triple extra large and covered in palm trees… Are you sure you’re gay, Potter? I’m pretty sure there is some prerequisite where you have to be at least this fashionable before you can bone another bloke.” He held his fingers together, the amount of fashion needed not much at all, but apparently Harry lacked it.
“Guess I’ll have to pass my gay card to you, Malfoy. I could never compete with so much style.” Harry put the monstrosity back on the rack and pulled another one out. It was black, it was a large, it was fine. “Here. Let’s pay and get the hell out.”
“Nope, still got to find you a shirt,” Draco said, turning and moving towards the other side of the store.
Harry whined internally, jumping from one foot to the other. He didn’t want to be there. He wanted to leave, leave, leave! He flinched away, Draco suddenly in front of him holding a shirt.
“Quit wiggling—Gah! You bloody bastard, you nearly bit me!” Draco grabbed Harry by the shoulder, snarling his patented ‘do as I fucking say’ snarl. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re a medium or a large. Everything you wear is so damn big I can’t remember. Stop being a child!”
Harry stuck his tongue out, but let Draco pat his enormous shirt down and then hold the shirt up to him. “Alright… this is the best we’re going to get without taking you to a proper tailor. Give me your wallet and get lost. I’m buying you more than you want, and you’re only getting in my way.”
“Draco, this is stupid…” Harry did whine this time, then quickly stepped back before his friend could smack him.
“Shut up and give me your money.” Growling, Harry handed his wallet over. Then, remembering what Draco had said, smiled brightly. “So, I’ll be outside then, if you need me.”
Draco just waved his hand absentmindedly, rooting through racks and pulling clothes out.
Harry stumbled to the kitchen in what he thought was a more appropriate outfit the next morning. There were no holes in his pajamas and he was not wearing the orange shirt Lucius had vehemently told him he would burn if seen again. But his head was bothering him, having woken from another nightmare, so he was not surprised when Draco’s father began to glare at him the moment he walked into the kitchen for a soothing cup of tea. Clearly he had messed something up again.
Harry tried to make the best of it, taking in the beautiful view of the gardens Malfoy Manor was famous for. He sipped his tea, hoping to shake his nightmare from him. It was the one from the cupboard—The cupboard ones all blurred together. They were all dark and full of hopelessness and the inability to escape. Harry wasn’t sure why he was dreaming them more now, once free of the Dursleys. But maybe that’s when you were supposed to think of the bad times? When you were finally free of them.
Lucius was rustling his paper heatedly and Harry found himself again glancing towards the man. Although he had very little to say to Lucius, Harry enjoyed looking at him. He was very much a work of art, like one of those old Greek statues, alabaster skin and aristocratic features. Except Lucius’s eyes were a piercing pale, pale blue, like a wolf ready to strike. The man sent shivers down Harry’s spine just looking at him. But that was all Harry thought to do with the man, Lucius very much hating him and, of course, Draco’s father.
Harry heard the slight growl and then inhale before Lucius finally broke down and said his name. “Potter.”
Harry turned halfway from the window, raising his brows in question. The man was glaring, penetrating, and Harry felt that familiar tremor go up his spine from the look. Lucius totally purred when he talked, especially in the morning, voice still raspy from sleep. He hadn’t shaved yet and Harry took in the bristle on the man’s jaw, wondering what it would feel like against the sensitive skin of his stomach, or better yet, his thighs.
Sipping his tea to hide his blush, Harry waited patiently for whatever insult was due to make its way from Lucius’s entrancing mouth.
“You’ve finished off the orange cinnamon. I would appreciate if you would inform me of when we are running low,” Lucius muttered, throwing the empty box of tea bags across the table.
Harry blinked, staring down at his tea woefully. Crap. “Sorry, Mr. Malfoy. I can go pick some up today, if you’d like…”
“No, that’s hardly appropriate of a house guest,” Lucius snapped. Harry flinched from the obvious insult, because clearly he was not the right sort of house guest in any sense, even when trying to fix things.
Harry froze, eyes widening as Lucius suddenly stood, empty mug of tea in hand. He was heading straight for Harry and the sink next to him, and Harry had only a moment to decide if he should move or continue to freeze. His body seemed content to stand there like a slack jawed idiot, so he went with his first instinct, watching as Lucius stalked around him with a sniff.
“Potter, that shirt is nearly as bad as the last one.”
Harry glanced down at his old band t-shirt. He preferred the softer, smaller ones for bed, less likely to tangle and get lost in the extra folds of materials when thrashing from nightmares. It was a light pistachio green with blue lettering and white line art. It didn’t seem anything like the orange one he had been wearing the other night.
“What’s wrong with it? It doesn’t have any holes,” he said a little defensively, glancing at the man who had turned from the sink to glare at his shirt.
“It most certainly does—Are you blind? Wait, don’t answer that. It might actual justify some of your wardrobe choices and I don’t think I could live with that.”
Lucius was an ass. Glaring back at the man, Harry looked down, one hand pulling at the hem of his shirt to find this so called hole. “There’s no hole.”
“There are many holes—Here.” Lucius grabbed the front of Harry’s shirt, Harry gasping and nearly spilling his tea. Staring down at the man’s large hand, Harry tried to see where Lucius was pointing. But it was very difficult, the room spinning and the man exuding heat like a furnace that Harry just wanted to press against.
“I… uh, I don’t see any holes…” Harry whispered, refusing to look up at the eyes he could feel burning into him. Lucius shifted his hand ever so slightly and then Harry saw them, three small pin pricks of darkness against the pattern of green, blue and white. “Oh…”
“Eloquent as always, I see,” Lucius drawled, smoothing Harry’s shirt back down, fingers lingering on the planes of his stomach and drawing a small gasp from Harry.
Eyes stuck on the floor, Harry took another swig of his tea, nearly choking when Lucius suddenly touched the center of his back, finger touching his bare skin and sending a jolt of electricity through him. “You also have a hole right here and much easier to see, if you ever bothered to look behind you.”
Harry nodded, very much wishing the man would go away so he could stop feeling like a puddle of heat and mush. “I wear it to bed, so it doesn’t matter.”
Lucius was leaning near his neck, Harry swallowing as he felt the man’s breath brush against his skin. Lucius was about half a head taller than Harry normally, and was currently leaning down to glare at his shirt. “You don’t think what you wear to bed is important? I feel sorry for any lover you may have—Hopefully they’re as colorblind as you are.”
“I’ve yet to have that problem,” Harry mumbled, eyes glancing to where he could see the man’s hand hovering, as if about to touch his shoulder and another hole that was apparently in his shirt.
“They all have perfect vision?” Lucius queried, his finger slowly pressing down and slipping through the ripple of fabric to touch Harry’s skin.
Harry choked back a cough, feeling extremely hot all of a sudden. Why the man kept insisting on touching him while insulting him was just extra infuriating. “No… I just haven’t had… a l-lover…”
“I find that hard to believe, Potter.” Yeah, Lucius definitely purred in the morning. Sipping his drink again, the last of his favorite tea, Harry just shrugged, the move brushing his shoulder up against Lucius’s chest. Why the hell was he so close, anyways?
Harry didn’t really care if Lucius believed him or not. It really wasn’t a topic of conversation he felt like having with the man. He blinked, Lucius suddenly reaching around him to grab his mug. “Hey… I’m not done with that.”
“You took the last of my favorite tea,” Lucius growled, plucking the cup from his grasp. Harry did turn his head this time, meeting the challenging gray eyes. Lucius looked particularly nice in the morning up close, beard just hinting at his jaw, long white blond hair a little rumpled and loose, clear eyes just a tad hazy with sleep. If the man didn’t look like he was going to kill him, Harry would have liked to have seen just how soft his hair really was.
“This is because of my shirt, isn’t it?”
“The orange one, yes.” Lucius agreed. “This one isn’t as bad… but it’s still hideous.”
Harry glared, watching the man leave while drinking the rest of his tea. Lucius was a total ass. Harry turned his glare to the window, wishing he didn’t feel so flushed. His heart was racing again, nearly as fast as when he had freaked out in the dressing room. His clothing and Lucius Malfoy just did not mix.
Fingers rising to the bridge of his nose, Lucius exhaled slowly. There was a sopping wet Harry Potter dripping on his grandmother’s antique, oriental rug. Right in the center of it, as if the little drowned cat was making sure to soak as much as he could in as little time as possible. That Lucius hated the rug was immaterial. It was most definitely the spirit of the act that was so annoying.
“Potter, is there a particular reason you are flooding my house?” Lucius asked darkly, stalking into the room the boy was waiting in. Harry whirled, ridiculously wide eyes somehow wider without their normal veil of glasses and red mouth much redder since blood was pouring down his chin.
“S-Sorry, Mr. Malfoy. Draco wasss just getting me sssomething for the cut…”
Lucius closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out the way Harry was sweetly lisping. Of course the boy was injured. It was all he seemed to do since arriving—Eat food, wear offensive clothing, and bleed. Today’s offensive clothing wasn’t as bad as normal, black and nearly fitting the boy as it clung to his body, drenched. Actually, it was almost decent and Lucius paused, eyes skirting past said clothing to notice the form it so greedily clung to.
“Harry, I can’t find the—Oh, Father. Great, could you heal him?” Draco asked, wand twirling in his hands. “You know how bad I am with restorative magic and we’re out of the charms we keep for emergencies.”
Harry blushed, shivering in the cool manor air as he remembered all of the emergency charms that had been used on him over the last month. He could not see Lucius’s glare without his glasses, but he could certainly feel it pricking over his skin.
Lucius was glaring, but it was at his son this time. Draco was smirking in a very cocky way, and he was not sure why but it seemed like trouble.
“Do you approve of Harry’s clothes, Father? I imagine you’ll be less incited to burn these.” Draco smirked, watching his father stiffen.
“Draco, get your friend a towel… Make that many towels,” Lucius said warningly. His son was nearly as annoying as Harry was, and he was glad to get the menace out of the room. “Potter, let me see the wound.”
Harry stepped over unsteadily, bare feet sloshing on the carpet—Literally sloshing, he had managed to get that much pool water in it. Biting his tongue to keep from yelling, Lucius grabbed the boy too roughly by the jaw, bending down to look at the damage.
“Where is the—Of course…” Lucius drawled in exasperation. He could not find the source of the blood until Harry smiled unsteadily, revealing a broken front tooth and bloodied inner lip. “That you have managed to not murder yourself in your sleep is amazing enough, Potter.”
“Hey—It’s not like it was on purpossse!” Harry snapped, fresh blood dripping down his chin. “I dived too deep and hit my tooth on the bottom of the pool.”
“Yes, you managed not to drown yourself and instead drenched my carpet, bled all over the floors, and begrimed my pool in one go. You are definitely the victim in all this,” Lucius muttered, holding the boy’s jaw tighter.
Harry gave a soft hiss from the firm hold, eyes fluttering shut. Lucius, who had been reaching for his wand, froze, gaze caught on the unguarded face. Even soaking wet, Potter’s hair was a mess, sticking up in sharp points from his head, brushing over his forehead and in a way that seemed intentional to hide his scar. His skin was clear, olive and dripping crystal drops of water. Heavy brows framed his seemingly heavier dark lashes, which fluttered with each small breath the boy took. If Lucius didn’t know better, he would think Potter was trying very hard not to panic, his breathing very shallow and quick.
Bringing his wand up, Lucius relaxed his grip on the boy’s jaw, using his hand to probe fingers over the bloodied flesh of Harry’s lip. The cut had swollen the lush bottom lip even more, and Lucius pressed his thumb to the swell, watching as the boy’s breath caught. Maybe the little drowned cat was afraid of him? He certainly had reason to be. Lucius had hardly been nice… Well, besides opening up his entire house to the pain in the ass.
Or maybe the little troublemaker just enjoyed fingers touching his lips… Gently thumbing Harry’s red lip down, Lucius caught sight of the cut it revealed. It did not look too serious, for all the blood it had released. “You shouldn’t need stitches.”
“Oh… okay…” Harry breathed out, eyes half opening. Only to widen, finding Lucius very close as the man examined his lip. He swallowed hard, tasting blood and… Oh hell… Tongue flicking forward, Harry gasped, tasting Lucius’s fingertip.
Lucius took a deep breath, nostrils flaring from the ghosting of a touch. The boy was turning red; face, neck, and likely everywhere else. Did the boy flush completely when embarrassed? Would he if aroused?
“Stay still, Potter.”
Harry stiffened, his breathing increasing in speed as he tried to keep from moving. His entire body was tingling, especially his lips where Lucius was touching. It took everything in him not to lick his tongue forward again. There was no way Lucius would approve of such a thing, and Harry was already in trouble with the man. Of course, the more he thought how he shouldn’t, the more compelled he felt to actually do it, and Harry whined internally as he tried to control himself.
Lucius carefully placed his wand to Harry’s lip, wondering idly if the boy would lick that as well while casting the healing spell. Noticing for the first time that Harry had managed to also soak him with water while in the process of healing the brat, Lucius took the hem of Harry’s wet shirt and began wiping up the blood on the boy’s chin. Coincidentally giving Lucius a clear view of Harry’s flat stomach—The boy had just the beginning of hard muscle on his abs, not over done, but certainly revealing strength.
No new blood appeared, but Lucius checked the cut again because Harry wasn’t complaining and his lips were very much delicious to touch. Harry gave another gasp, eyes downcast, and Lucius couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, that was the more pressing one.”
Harry swayed, feeling light headed and very stupid for reacting to the man that clearly hated him so much. Lucius had a wife—Even if they were separated. The man had a son, and you didn’t get one of those without liking women. And yes, Lucius totally hated him.
Lucius straightened, glaring down at his wet clothes. “Now that you’re done bleeding on everything, go dry yourself off. I’ll repair your tooth once I’ve cleaned up the mess in here.”
“S-Sorry, Mr. Malfoy. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to make a mess,” Harry mumbled, looking around at the wet floor.
“And yet…” Lucius turned from the vexing thing, trying to get the boy’s scent out of his mind.
Just then, Blaise and Pansy burst in, laughing and having the decency to not be soaking wet in the house. “Harry, are you ready—Oh, hi, Mr. Malfoy.” Pansy gave a seductive grin, pulling away from her friend to wave coyly at the man. Harry rolled his eyes, exchanging glances with Blaise. Hopefully Draco would get there soon enough to stop the train-wreck that was Pansy whenever around the elder Malfoy.
“You alright, then?” Blaise asked, peering at Harry’s chin.
“Yeah, Draco’s dad took care of it. I gotta go change, and then he’ll fix my too—th!” Harry flinched on the last word, a shrill whistle escaping from around the broken tooth.
“Ha, you should leave it. Maybe you’ll find some special guy that likes the waif, lisping boy thing.”
“Gross,” Harry grumbled, playfully shoving Blaise away. Blaise squawked, his entire side now soaked by Harry.
“I just dried off!” He swatted at the spot, debating if it was worth going to get his wand over. “Harry, give me your shirt. You have half the pool in that thing, and the rest on the floor.”
Harry stiffened, grabbing the hem of his wet shirt and pulling it down his body tightly, managing to spray more water at the same time. “I’m just going to go change, that’s all…”
Pansy, who was being ignored by Lucius while the man spelled the rug dry, walked over to them, tugging at Harry’s shirt. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like we haven’t seen it all before. You’re acting like some self conscious fat girl. And I would know, seeing as I used to be fat.”
“And now you’re fabulous, and we’re all happy for you, Pans. But I really don’t want to take my shirt off, and I’m going now,” Harry said as cheerfully as he could, backing away from his two well intentioned friends.
“Leave him alone,” Draco snapped, walking into the room and throwing a towel at Harry.
“Hey, we’re just trying to help.” Pansy held her hands up apologetically. “He’s never going to catch himself a nice boyfriend and move out of your house if he’s afraid to show off what Merlin gave him.”
Harry scowled, ruffling his hair with the soft, white towel and turning from the group. “I’m not trying to catch anyone. I am perfectly fine on my own, so mind your bloody business.”
“Potter.”
Harry jumped, eyes widening when Lucius suddenly grabbed him by the arm. “S-Sir?”
Giving Harry a calculating look, Lucius raised his wand and cast a no drip spell on the boy. “Stop destroying my house.”
“Er… yes, Sir.” Blushing, Harry turned and shuffled out the door.
“Could you at least attempt to be nice to him?”
“Draco, I am doing the best that I can. The boy is a menace.”
“Father, he is going through hell right now, and you are not helping matters. I brought him here because I wanted him to feel safe. He’s terrified of you.”
“Hmph, likely just the side effect of a guilty conscience.”
“That’s not fair. Harry has done nothing wrong. That he has put up with your uncalled for rudeness is amazing enough. What’s your problem with him, anyways? Did he piss in your tea or something? How can you be so normal and nice to everyone else, but an absolute jerk to him?”
Pansy and Blaise exchanged looks while Harry hung his head, stooped over in his pool chair. The two Malfoys had been arguing for the last five minutes, specifically about Harry. That the study window was wide open was only making things much more awkward—If that were possible. Harry had come down, dry and ready to get his tooth fixed, only to find father and son had locked themselves away to have a proper family spat.
“Shit, so I was totally jealous of you being able to live here with that freaking gorgeous hunk of Malfoy man-meat in there,” Pansy admitted to Harry. “But seeing how he totally seems to want to kill you… Not so sure anymore. Lucius is, well, wow—Freaking handsome, and strong, and totally knows how to treat a lady. But when he’s angry, he’s scary.”
Harry shrugged noncommittally. Yeah, Lucius was fucking hot, but he was also an ass whenever Harry was around, and that should probably make him less appealing. It didn’t, Lucius very much extra sexy when his gray-blue eyes were flashing and glaring Harry down. And that Draco thought Harry was afraid was just, well, a relief. He had no interest in his friend, or his friend’s father, ever finding out that Harry was totally just frozen in lust every time Lucius did or said something particularly mean.
That the two were arguing about Harry was more concerning, and he wondered again if maybe it was time to go rent an apartment. Harry hadn’t really thought much about what he was going to do after the Dursleys had kicked him out. He still had one more year of Hogwarts, and he figured he’d know by graduation. But having Draco fight with his father because the man couldn’t get along with Harry seemed more trouble than it was worth. Harry didn’t want the boy to ruin his friendship with his dad—Especially since his mother had become unavailable.
Huffing, Harry stood, walking towards the house and the arguing voices.
“Threatening to burn him in his clothes is not acceptable, Father! I don’t understand how this can be so confusing for you.”
“If you had seen the shirt you would have understood.”
“That is not an excuse to burn our house guest alive!”
Harry rapped on the door, the voices inside falling silent. After a moment, Draco answered, sighing in frustration when he saw it was Harry. “Harry, don’t do anything stupid.”
Harry pushed the door open the entire way, walking around Draco to the middle of the room.
“See, this is what I’m talking about,” Lucius muttered before Harry could even open his mouth. “Look at those pants—Hideous! No one should be caught dead wearing something like that.” Harry was wearing his only pair of jeans, all the other ones Dudley had handed down far too big to even consider wearing.
“Father, stop being such a snob. He can’t help it.”
Harry held his hand up, afraid the two of them were just going to start arguing again, but with him actually in the room. “Alright… so clearly me living here is a problem.”
“No!” Draco snapped, while Lucius answered with a resounding, “Clearly!”
Harry just nodded, not at all surprised. “Mr. Malfoy, is there a way I could persuade you to give me another chance? I could pay rent, if that’s the underlying problem. Maybe do some chores around the house?”
“Harry, that’s ridiculous,” Draco said, glaring at his father. “This isn’t about money or housework. This is about Father taking all his problems out on you.”
Harry met Lucius’s eye, the man not confirming or denying such a statement. “Listen, I don’t want to get between you two. With Narcissa gone, Draco needs you more than ever, and I don’t want to be the jerk that keeps getting everyone angry, whatever the reason. I can find sssome—” The three of them flinched as Harry whistled around his broken tooth again. “I can find a motel to crash in for now, and I can probably get an apartment within the month.”
Lucius growled, avoiding Draco’s angry glare as his son stomped up to him with hands on his hips. “He’s not going to be able to get an apartment, Father. He’s not of age, and you know it. It’ll be some terrible hole in the wall, and likely condemned by the Ministry. Or worse, muggle. The two of you are going to fix this because I will make the rest of our time together a living hell for you. I promise, and you know I keep my promises.”
“Do not threaten me…” Eyes narrowed, Lucius trailed off, knowing his pain in the ass son would very well follow through with such a promise. He instead turned his glare to the green-eyed, bewitching boy that was looking surprisingly calm and collected, given the situation. Harry’s shoulders were squared, as was his jaw, as if waiting for a devastating blow. But he was resolved, unafraid in the face of it all.
“Potter, let me see that tooth. We will figure out the rest later,” Lucius grumbled.
Draco beamed, knowing he had won. “Thank you, Father!” He exclaimed, nearly bowling Lucius over with a hug that he begrudgingly returned.
Harry did not look so relieved. “Wait, I didn’t say I was staying. I mean—You’re just going to fight again.”
“Potter, sit down and let me heal you,” Lucius snapped, waving Draco away to go tell his friends the good news.
“Er… I think I’d rather wait until you weren’t so angry before I let you anywhere near me with a wand,” Harry mumbled, taking a step back when Lucius got up from his desk.
Lucius smirked wickedly, admitting a secret thrill to the boy backing away from him in fear. “That would be a very long wait. Get over here. Now.”
Harry bristled at the order, glaring at the man. Then he swallowed, heat pooling in his stomach and turning his knees to jelly. God, why did he always get like this around Lucius? It was absolutely crazy. Being inches from the man’s disdainful, gorgeous face while getting his tooth fixed was not a good idea right now, and Harry back away another step.
Lucius only strode closer, looking all the world like a predator about to pounce. “Mr. Malfoy… I would really rather wait…” Harry whispered even as the man wrapped strong fingers around his jaw and held him still.
“I have other things to do today, Potter,” Lucius drawled smoothly, tilting Harry’s face up and pressing fingers to his red lips. Harry parted them hesitantly, certain he was somehow getting himself in a lot of trouble when Lucius leaned closer, thumb caressing his bottom lip slowly.
What would Lucius taste like? That tea he drank every morning? Or maybe the wine he had at night with his meals…? Maybe he tasted like he smelled, warm and spicy, with an underlying tang of citrus…
“There isn’t enough light. Move over to the window. Sit.”
Harry pulled away with a small gasp, closing his eyes a moment to keep the room from spinning. He had not wanted to kiss the man just then. That would be insane. He was Draco’s father, and a right bastard, and god… really fucking sexy…
“The chair,” Lucius growled when Harry insisted on staring at the floor. Jumping, Harry sat in the luxurious roller chair, eyes closing as the smell of leather and Lucius encased him. No, this was very much a bad idea.
Harry jolted, the chair moving suddenly as Lucius pulled him towards the window and the daylight glowing in. He watched silently as the man knelt to his level, eyes widening when those icy, predatory eyes fixed on his and refused to look away. Harry wanted to close his eyes, afraid every heated feeling he had could be read if Lucius just kept staring long enough. But he couldn’t look away. He felt like a small animal trapped in the eyes of the creature about to devour him, and it wasn’t a completely unpleasant feeling.
Locking the wheels in place so that Harry wouldn’t roll away and ruin the intricate spellwork, Lucius leaned forward, pressing both his thumbs to the boy’s mouth until he opened with a gasp. “You need to stay very still. Regrowing teeth can be tricky work.”
Harry didn’t say anything, certain he would babble if he did and end up messing up his tooth. But at least now he could close his eyes, and he did so with relief.
Hell, he could feel Lucius’s breath, moving over his chin, touching ever so lightly across his mouth while the man studied the tooth that needed repair. He could feel the heat of Lucius’s skin, the scent of him overpowering, leather yielding on his back and Lucius’s body very much unyielding at his front. God… this was a really fucking bad idea…
Lucius’s hand was moving over Harry’s jaw, holding him still again, pulling forward a little bit, as if maybe the man was going to kiss him. Harry kept his eyes shut, telling himself he was an absolute fool and should not want such a thing from his best friend’s father. He suppressed a sigh, the hand moving again, spreading heat as it contoured to the bottom of Harry’s chin, and then kept sliding down his throat, pausing at his Adam’s apple to feel when he swallowed.
He had to be losing his shit. Lucius was just being careless as he concentrated on his tooth… Right? Harry’s mind whirled, then froze again, Lucius’s hand moving, fingers spreading and slowly dragging around to the back of his neck. The man cupped his spine with his large hand, fingertips digging in firmly, and Harry could not suppress a shudder.
Everything had gotten very quiet, Lucius no longer whispering the words to the spell. And if he wasn’t doing that, then what the hell, exactly, was he doing with his hand on Harry’s neck while he pressed his tingling wand against his lips? Harry could feel his heart accelerating at the very thought, heat rising to his face.
Lucius didn’t have an answer for the unspoken question, having healed Harry rather easily, and now unable to pull away. He had to, there was no question about that—Not because Harry was Draco’s friend, or the same age as his son, or even the cursed destroyer of Voldemort—No, because the boy was wearing the most hideous jeans Lucius had ever had the misfortune to come across, and still managed to look fuckable in them.
“Potter.”
“Y-yeah?”
“Open your eyes.”
“Er… I’d rather not, Sir,” Harry whispered, keeping his eyes closed tight. He swallowed, Lucius’s wand moving against his lips. First, because Harry had spoken against it, and now… Well now, because Lucius was tracing his gaping mouth with it. The tingling tip moved first up, over the bow of Harry’s lips and then slowly down, pressing into the swell of his bottom lip. Harry could not stop the hitch of breath from the sensation. Or the moan that followed when the wand was suddenly pressing forward and into his mouth, tingling against his tongue and moving towards the back of his throat. “Oh fuck…”
“That is… aspiring…” Lucius purred lowly, gripping tighter on Harry’s neck. Watching the boy’s face intently, Lucius drew his wand from Harry’s mouth, running saliva down over his bottom lip, the red wetting, and beckoning, and dripping. Harry licked his tongue out slowly, cleaning the wet away, drawing Lucius in until he was pressing his fingers to his mouth again.
Feeling the rough texture of Lucius’s fingertips brushing over his lips, pressing forward, dipping ever so slightly into his mouth, Harry wondered blearily if maybe the man was so angry all the time because he really might just want to shag him. That was an amazing, dangerous thought. It was such a crazy, wild idea, Harry slowly opened his eyes, wanting to see if the answer might be there on Lucius’s face.
Opening his eyes broke whatever spell Lucius was under, Harry just catching the man shake his head before pulling his hands away. And then Lucius was standing, growling under his breath and leaving, Harry staring blankly after. “What the fuck?”
He touched his front tooth, whole and at its proper size. “Seriously… What the fuck?” Harry leaned forward, running his hand through his tousled hair and pulling sharply. Then he blinked, head jerking up to look through the window where his three friends were sitting at the pool, very much staring back at him looking just as confused.
“Aw hell.”
Harry wasn’t sure what Draco was going to do to him, but it was going to hurt and would likely be loud. Draco was definitely a yeller. Not to Vernon’s level, but in its own way spectacular and just as impressive for someone so small. The boy was also a hitter—Also not to Vernon’s level. Harry tried not to compare anyone to Vernon in that regard.
The three of them were standing right outside the door to the house, as if waiting for Harry to come outside but not willing to go in and get him. Harry deliberately kept his hands down, just in case Draco was in a punching mood and saw defense as means to attack. Pushing the door open slowly, Harry stepped out, using it partially as a shield.
“Potter!” Draco shouted, wand in hand.
Harry flinched, keeping his hands down and open, and stepping out onto the patio, the door swinging shut behind. “I didn’t do a thing. I didn’t even know.”
“Bullshit! You—you… He’s my father!” Draco snarled, not really sure what Harry had done, but knowing somehow it had to be the boy’s fault.
“I am well aware,” Harry replied evenly. “That is why I’m just as confused. He’s straight. We all know he’s straight.”
Blaise whistled softly. “Is he? I mean, consider his generation. They were all in the closet back then… Hell, he could be Bi, and it just never came up before our pretty Harry here. I’m straight and things still come up for Harry,” Blaise added with a wicked smile and wink.
Harry rolled his eyes, Blaise’s theory that Harry could turn any straight man gay not helping. Especially with the way Draco was glaring at him. “I did not turn him gay. I’ve barely said two words to him since I got here. And all he’s bothered to say to me was to complain about my clothes, and how I get hurt, oh, and messing up the house, and eating everything—Shit, Draco, he fucking hates me.”
Pansy huffed, arms crossed over her chest. “Geez, I wish he’d hate me like that. I thought he was going to make you deep throat his wand—”
“That is not helping, Pans!” Harry snapped, stepping back when Draco snarled and brandished his wand again. “I was just sitting there—You saw me! I had my eyes closed. I didn’t even know the spell was done until… until…”
“Until you were sucking on his fucking wand,” Draco growled, and Harry knew that this was definitely a hitting mood.
Sighing, Harry held his hands out wide. “Fine, whatever, blame me for everything. I wanted to leave and go move into a motel, but the two of you insisted I stay. I was just minding my own business—”
“Oh, don’t pretend you didn’t love it,” Pansy interrupted with a wide grin. “Your face was bloody red.”
Harry glanced worriedly at Draco, shrugging helplessly. Harry was a terrible liar and they all knew it. “He’s… Damn it, just because he’s hot doesn’t mean I was chasing him, Draco. Stop pointing your wand at me.”
“Or he might suck it,” Blaise snickered, Pansy cackling with him.
Harry hated them both at that moment. “You aren’t helping!”
“There is no helping this, so might as well just sit back and enjoy,” Pansy said simply.
“Alright, the two of you go away. I need to talk to him without your weird shit.” Harry waved his hands at Blaise and Pansy, but Draco stopped them before they could go.
“What the hell is there to say?” Draco threw his arms up in exasperation. “He… Gah, he likes you? This is fucking gay—Damn it, literally. This is messed up. Did you—Shit, is this why mother left?”
Harry held his hands up, eyes wide. “Whoa, don’t blame that on me, Draco. I never came over here before then. You said it yourself—Your mom started hanging with your Aunt and got sucked up in her shit.”
“Yeah, but maybe she was going out more because Father was, well, gay?” Draco didn’t look sure about anything, his face pinched with worry.
“Don’t… You shouldn’t just assume, okay? Relationships are complicated, especially the longer they go. Just talk to your dad and, you know, please leave me out of it.”
Draco shook his head. “There is no way I’m talking to my father about this. He was totally going to… Right, kiss my best friend, and that’s fucked up and I’m not talking to him about any of it.”
“It’s not fucked up,” Pansy disagreed sharply. “He’s not ancient. He’s not dead, and your mom is out of the picture.”
“Pansy…” Harry warned, but the girl would not be silenced.
“I’m tired of it. He’s a damn person, not just your dad. You shouldn’t judge him like that.”
“Listen, I’ve ignored your crush on him for ages, ‘cus seriously, you never stood a damn chance,” Draco growled, Harry sighing and shaking his head with Blaise frowning worriedly. “You don’t know a damn thing about my father, and you never will, so mind your own bloody business.”
Pansy did not start crying like Blaise and Harry had feared. Instead the girl stood taller and laughed. “You really don’t know a thing about people, Draco. Maybe once you reach his age you’ll understand. Being happy is damn difficult sometimes, and why should you fight against the things that make you happy? Even your mother, as messed up and sad as it is, went off and did something she found fulfilling. Do you expect your dad to wait around for her to change her mind, like everything is just going to go back to how it was?”
Harry wasn’t sure if Draco was going to yell or breakdown, neither option desired. “Draco, I’ll leave. Right now. No anger, no bitterness—It’s fine. I don’t want to mess up your situation anymore than it already is.”
Draco pulled his glare away from Pansy for a second to turn to Harry. “Shut up, you’re not going anywhere. Pansy, I’m not waiting for my mom to come back, but god, have a little fucking respect. Shit, at least Harry isn’t following him around the house trying to get him alone.”
Pansy shrugged, not sorry for any of it. “Hey, not like you get a lot of opportunities with Lucius Malfoy.”
This was all just getting way too awkward for Harry. “Listen, I’m going to go throw some of my things together and get lost for a bit. I need to think, and this—” He waved his hand at the the world around him, “Isn’t helping.” Before Draco could turn and try and convince Harry otherwise, Harry slipped into the house and shut the door behind him.
Lucius had tried to calm himself by pacing his room, but to no success. The little brat was haunting him, glowing green eyes stuck in his memory as if he were right there in the room with him. That Lucius desired the boy be there was even worse. Surely Potter would clash with everything he owned.
Not the boy, but his wardrobe. Lucius was starting to make the distinction. Every time he was repulsed by the terror of clashing colors, torn worn fabric, and ill fitted sizes, he was being drawn to what was underneath it all. The glimpses of golden skin, toned, lithe form and those ever tantalizing red lips would go with anything. The attributes had even made the cacophony of mess that Potter called clothing bearable. Lucius was certain that without said clothing, the boy would be well suited for his house, never mind bedroom.
Harry had made the barest of noises, soft, uninhibited gasps of pleasure when Lucius had pressed his fingers to those firm, ripe lips. For all Potter’s skittering looks and mumbled apologies, underneath was a fire raging, just needing the right touch to release it. Lucius knew he could do it—The idea of even attempting was exhilarating.
But Lucius had stopped himself. Harry’s eyes blinking open, just ready to go wide and innocent like they always seemed to do, had reminded Lucius that the boy had no one. No parent, no relative, no caretaker. Lucius had too much power, owning the house and deciding if the boy could dwell within it. It was not the right balance, even for something as delicious and tawdry as a fuck in his study.
A walk was in order. Something to get him out of the house and far away from the wild boy and his many annoying quirks. Perhaps an outing by the lake… Decided, Lucius threw his bedroom door open, stepping into the hall and tripping over the bloody nuisance of a boy he had been hoping to avoid.
“Damn it—Sorry, Mr. Malfoy.” Blinking owlishly at the man who had just knocked him halfway across the hall, Harry got to his feet, muttering as he checked his glasses. They were broken, and he growled softly. Nothing was going right that day. He glanced warily at Lucius, the man looking at him as if Harry had intentionally placed himself in his path instead of having been on his way out the door. Harry would fix the glasses later, when not being glared at.
Harry picked up the duffel bag he had dropped, slinging it back over his shoulder. Glasses clutched carefully in his hand, he continued his walk towards the stairs.
“Glasses, Potter,” Lucius ordered, Harry stiffening and stopping mid step.
He really should just go. The man was probably just looking to insult him. “What about them?” Harry asked, shaking his head at his own stupidity. He just couldn’t let it go, could he?
“I was offering to repair them,” Lucius said, stepping forward with his hand outstretched.
“Oh… Fine, if you want.” Harry shrugged, dropping his bag and turning to hand his glasses over. Lucius’s fingers brushed his and Harry stared down, feeling a jolt from the contact. It really was ridiculous just how mad Lucius made him feel.
To think Draco was downstairs certain Lucius was lusting over Harry, when up here it just seemed like the man could still barely stand to be near him. Harry knew it hadn’t been a dream, very well remembering Lucius and his wand… and fingers… But it seemed very far away, Lucius now ordered and proper, and nothing like what Harry remembered in the study.
“Er… Sir, I’m going to need those back,” Harry called when Lucius suddenly turned, walking through the door he had just exited with Harry’s glasses in hand. Sighing, Harry waited a moment but Lucius didn’t return. Tapping his foot, he decided being rude and intruding was likely better than never getting his glasses back.
Being nearsighted, Harry got more of an impression of Lucius’s bedroom than anything of much detail. The smell was the most impacting, very much full of the expensive cologne the man wore. He could make out dark rich woods mixed with white linens, light blinding in from the open drapes. And Lucius, standing in front of a large mirrored dresser, chanting steadily as he spelled Harry’s glasses back together.
Harry stepped closer than he normally would, wishing to make sure the man was repairing his glasses and not cursing them in some fit of revenge for Harry’s many terrible clothes. Harry would not put it past Lucius. “If you’re done, I really need to get going,” he said impatiently, trying to ignore the funny way his stomach was tripping to be in Lucius’s bedroom. It was the man’s inner sanctum, very much seductive and sensual. A dangerous place to be after the confusing incident of early.
“Oh, and where are you going in such a hurry?” Lucius asked, pulling a soft cloth out from one of his drawers to carefully clean Harry’s glasses.
Harry shrugged, really not wanting to get into it. “Out.”
“With a bag full of clothes.”
“Yeah, so? It’s not like I live here or anything. I figured things were getting too weird, and I should start looking elsewhere.”
Lucius raised a perfectly manicured brow, humming softly. “I thought you liked weird things, Potter. You don’t seem to know much of normal.”
Harry gritted his teeth, not sure exactly what the insult was, but knowing it was another damn insult on top of a really fucked up day. Hadn’t Lucius just been sticking his wand down Harry’s throat? Now the man was going to call him weird? “You know what, Lucius? You are a bloody neurotic, rude, absolute pain in my ass. I have done everything to be pleasant to you from the very beginning—Hell, I wanted to be pleasant. You did a really nice thing for me, letting me stay here. It should have been really easy to like you. But you managed to make it impossible.”
“Potter, you have been wearing the most atrocious clothes since the day I picked you up from your relatives,” Lucius said, as if that explained everything.
“So? Who the hell cares? Why does it matter what I wear? More importantly, why does it matter to you?” Harry was almost shouting and he didn’t care. The man was infuriating and messed up, and shouting was much easier than thinking of the other things he’d very much rather be doing with his mouth in that moment.
“Potter,” Lucius growled, wrapping Harry’s glasses in the soft cloth and placing them on the bureau. “You have been taunting me since the very first moment. Wearing such terrible clothes, holes all over the place, one pair of pants I was certain were see through, they had been worn so much. Do you think I’m naïve?”
Harry had no idea what Lucius was talking about. “Naïve? Lucius, I have told you, those are the only clothes I own.”
“I am aware.” Lucius flicked his wand, Harry’s duffel bag soaring in from the hallway and landing at their feet, the door snapping shut behind it. “May I?”
“What, go through all my things and tell me how terrible they look? Knock yourself out, you bloody psycho,” Harry grumbled angrily. And naturally, Lucius did exactly that. The man pulled nearly every article of clothing Harry owned out of the bag—surprisingly not that many, for all the horror Lucius remembered of the clothing—and verbally described each piece in such scathing detail Harry was actually impressed with the man’s extensive vocabulary.
“Are you done?”
Eyes narrowing as the bag was found to be empty, Lucius turned his piercing glare to Harry. “No. Those jeans you’re wearing. Those enormous, disgusting, hideous, thread worn, low-class, shapeless…” Harry tuned the man out, watching as Lucius gasped for air while continuing his rant on the pants Harry was wearing. “…Potter, give them to me.”
“Huh?” Harry blinked, something changing enough in the long chain of insults for Harry to realize Lucius had said something different.
“Give me your jeans,” Lucius demanded, his hand held out expectantly.
Harry took a step back, grinning crookedly as heat rushed to his face. “Er… No. That would definitely be a no.” Lucius was out of his mind if he thought Harry would be handing over his pants.
Lucius ignored the answer, striding forward and grabbing Harry by the hem of his shirt. “This too. This oversized, ugly thing. Look at the holes in it—This is not the way to dress.”
“Malfoy—I don’t care. It’s mine and I’ll wear what I want!” Harry yelled, struggling against the hands trying to pull his shirt up and over his head. Pausing, Lucius gave Harry an assessing look. Then, with an elegant shrug of his wide shoulders, Lucius grabbed Harry’s shirt by the collar and tore the material in half with one harsh wrench.
“Holy crap… You’re a crazy person… Out of your fucking mind crazy…” Harry mumbled, staring down at the rip in his shirt and the flesh it revealed.
Lucius had been considering this, seeing as he couldn’t stop thinking about the hideously dressed brat. But he was also staring at the long patch of revealed skin, and was already understanding that he had been very right. Slowly and gently he pushed the scraps of fabrics off of Harry’s shoulders, watching in relief and anticipation as more of the boy’s golden skin was revealed. “This is better… Much better…”
Harry blinked up, blushing when he found the man leaning very close and staring at his body. “Mr. Malfoy…”
“Lucius.”
“Er… Lucius… Are you feeling okay?” Harry asked, genuinely concerned for the man’s sanity. Draco’s mom had gone crazy and it looked like his dad was on his way. His breath caught, Lucius close enough that even without his glasses Harry could see his sharp gray eyes as they rose to meet his. And as Harry’s shirt fell away, so did a lot of the anger in Lucius’s expression. Apparently the man really hated his clothes.
“You have been taunting me, Harry,” Lucius murmured, hands lighting down Harry’s sides.
“I-I have?” Harry did not remember taunting the man. He had been as polite as humanly possible while living with the jerk.
Lucius just nodded, mouth descending to Harry’s collarbone and pressing a long, open-mouth kiss. “Every day… covering yourself in horrible…”
“Oh hell… They’re all I have…”
“Atrocious… hideous clothing… not worthy of your beautiful flesh.”
“I am not—Oh god, why are you kneeling?”
“You are extremely beautiful,” Lucius muffled into Harry’s stomach, tongue reaching out to lick a wet path. “Even with those terrible clothes… It is mind-boggling just how beautiful you are… Because these are horrible, horrible clothes…”
Harry just nodded dumbly, holding onto the man’s shoulders to keep from falling. His knees were shaking and heat had completely flooded him, and Lucius was really close to finding out just how much Harry was enjoying the man’s mouth moving over his skin.
“Oh, please don’t,” Harry moaned, Lucius’s hands now on his waistband and seeking out the front to his belt. Draco was going to kill him.
Lucius skillfully unclasped Harry’s belt, slipping the leather from the loops and throwing it to the floor. He took his mouth from the boy’s flat stomach, resting his forehead while staring down at Harry’s fly as he slowly pulled it down.
“Stop—Shit, your son is going to kill me!” Harry tried to push Lucius away, shoving at his shoulders, but the man was like a damn mountain and didn’t budge.
“Draco doesn’t care,” Lucius said simply, glancing up at the very red-faced, absolutely stunning boy. Eyes catching, Lucius moved a hand up, pressing his thumb to Harry’s nipple and then twisted slowly.
“Oh god… oh… oh…” Harry, eyes squeezed shut and mouth gaping, completely forgot what he was saying.
“It’s not like he’s in competition,” Lucius continued, gently pulling the little bud and watching as Harry jerked from each touch. “And really, it wouldn’t be much of a competition, Harry. The things I can do to you… The depths of ecstasy I can bring you to… Hell, just the extra reach I have to twist you into any position…” He smiled into Harry’s stomach, both hands again at the boy’s hips as he began to pull the hideous jeans off.
There were too many thoughts swirling in Harry’s mind from what Lucius had just said, many of them very hot and full of inappropriate ways to test those theories out. But… didn’t Lucius have a wife…? “Mr. Malfoy—L-Lucius, he does care… He’s angry… acting like I’ve been… Oh god, seducing you…”
“Seducing… that does seem like what you’ve been doing…” Lucius snagged his fingers under the waist of the boy’s boxers, pulling the band forward as well, careful to move around Harry’s prominent erection. And then the ugly clothes were at the boy’s ankles and Lucius could finally see all of Harry, smooth skin, hard muscle and red flush. “You are beautiful.”
Harry refused to open his eyes, panting loudly and trying to will himself into some state of invisible camouflage like a lizard. This was insane—He was naked in front of Lucius Malfoy. He was naked, and the man wasn’t insulting every inch of him. No, he had saved that for all of Harry’s clothes. Harry himself was apparently beautiful to the man—Which only made Lucius that more crazy.
Lucius’s hands were at his ankles and Harry mindlessly lifted each foot when urged, the man pulling off his shoes and socks, sneakers clattering on the floor some ways off. Then Lucius shifted, shirt ruffling as he stood and pulled Harry to his hot—Lucius was very fucking hot—body and began rubbing his palms over Harry’s back.
“Open your eyes, Harry. I want to see you.”
Harry whimpered, turning his head and refusing. There was no way in hell he was going to face whatever disdain was on Lucius’s face, no matter how pretty his words were at the moment.
Lucius sighed into his hair, moving his lips down and kissing Harry’s ear, cheek and jaw. He gently caught the boy, fingers wrapped around his chin, and turned his face so Lucius could kiss him, slowly, headily, until Harry couldn’t help but part his lips and let the man’s questing tongue in.
Dear god, he was naked… and kissing Lucius Malfoy… while in his bedroom. Harry shuddered hotly, Lucius making an approving noise right before moving his hands lower and squeezing Harry’s bare ass. “Oh god—Oh!” Harry gaped, Lucius pulling him even closer, his sensitive flesh assaulted by Lucius’s clothing, his hard cock jolting into the man’s thigh. He was naked and hard in Lucius’s bedroom… And Lucius was… woah… He was big.
Harry hesitantly opened his eyes, gaze drifting down to the hot, hard bulge pressing into his lower stomach. He moved his shoulder’s back while Lucius nipped at his jaw, squinted down, wishing he had his damn glasses. But he didn’t, so Harry did the next—or maybe just better—thing, and slipped his hand down between the press of their bodies. His fingers cautiously traced the man’s length through his pants, eyes widening as he realized just what Lucius was working with.
“Do you approve?” Lucius rumbled into Harry’s ear, Harry nodding dumbly, blushing, if possible, even more. Harry could not seem to stop himself, and he pressed his palm firmly into Lucius’s hard dick, gasping when the man growled and nipped his neck in response. Suddenly Lucius was lifting him, large hands on his thighs, pulling him up against his body and bringing them face to face as if he weighed nothing at all.
Harry stared, breathing shallowly, thighs stinging raw against the man’s pants as he gripped Lucius’s hips with his legs. Lucius was looking particularly predatory as he ran his startling pale eyes over his face. It was not five o’clock just yet, but Lucius was already stubbly with bristle, and Harry ran fingers cautiously over the rough flesh. It felt particularly nice, and Harry found himself leaning forward, tongue flicking out to taste the bristle like he had been wanting to since he had first stumbled across Lucius in the kitchen after a particularly bad nightmare.
Lucius hissed lowly from the touch. The sound made Harry dizzy, and he twisted his hand into Lucius’s very silky hair, holding the man tight so that he could run his tongue flat over his jaw in long swipes. Harry soon followed with his teeth, moving to the sharp edge to nip, and then down, rough bristle scraping his smooth cheek as he bit and sucked down Lucius’s throat. He was vaguely aware that they were moving, Lucius’s hands holding him more securely, and then bright light flooded his eyes when Harry’s head fell back against soft sheets, Lucius sitting back to stare and work at the buttons of his shirt.
Harry watched, biting his lip. He stared fuzzily at the dusting of blond hair on the man’s broad chest, pale, smooth muscles and tight hard abs. He swallowed hard, Lucius tossing his shirt aside and moving forward, palms caressing over Harry’s legs, squeezing the muscles of his calves and rubbing his knees. Then he was moving up, dragging rough fingers across Harry’s flesh and digging into his outer thighs, pulling a surprised groan from Harry.
Piercing eyes caught him again, a question in them that Harry could not quite decipher. Harry was lying in Lucius’s bed, naked, the man very much breathing on his knee without even a shirt between them. Harry was having a difficult time thinking in general.
“Holy shit!” Harry yelped in surprise, Lucius suddenly gripping his hips and pulling him down the bed with a smooth motion, forcing his knees up and thighs spread wide. Harry had the amazing privilege of feeling the man’s bristle against his inner thigh, prickling him into small, choked gasps as Lucius ran wet, hot kisses down one thigh and then up the next. Harry let his head fall back, eyes squeezed shut, not sure if he was going to die from embarrassment that Lucius’s mouth was inches from his hard dick, or just die if the man didn’t at least show an interest in sucking him off.
Breathing heavily into Harry’s soft, firm flesh, Lucius gently sunk his teeth into his thigh, feeling the boy jerk and cry out. Harry was exquisite—Definitely made to be nude all the time. Even if Lucius dressed him in the finest clothes, nothing would enhance Harry better than fresh air, light, and Lucius’s hands touching the boy. Lucius moved himself up slowly, pressing a chaste kiss to where Harry’s thigh met his groin. And then ran his tongue out, moving through tight curls of hair to find the boys nestled, straining cock.
“Oh god… Oh my god…” Harry mumbled incoherently, hands flying to Lucius’s head, fingers twisting in the man’s long hair that kept brushing over his thighs and hips. Lucius continued to move his wet lips and tongue over Harry’s length, teasing, taunting, and absolutely maddening. Harry whimpered, thrusting his hips up when Lucius breathed hot air right at the tip of his cock, but the man held him in place, keeping Harry from getting the contact he desperately needed.
“Slowly, Harry… I want to savor someone as beautiful as you,” Lucius purred, tongue swiping a path from his balls all the way to his tip.
Harry just gave an exasperated bark of laughter, fairly certain that he was losing his mind. “Savor me later… Suck me now,” Harry pleaded, groaning when Lucius chuckled and ran another wet trail, deliberately scraping teeth ever so lightly against his sensitive length. Harry threw his head back, body arching as Lucius again breathed scalding heat on his tip and then slipped his tongue out, lapping at his slit. “Hell!”
Stretching, Lucius pulled himself from between the boy’s strong thighs, moving up Harry’s body and finding the flushed face and near frantic eyes of the enchanting brat. Tipping the boy’s chin, Lucius kissed him again, Harry giving a soft moan and relenting. “I’m going to burn all of your clothes,” Lucius murmured between long, deep kisses.
“Mister—Damn it… Lucius… that is not… Oh god… Oh, please…”
“I’m going to burn them… and you are going to have nothing to wear,” Lucius promised, settling his knees on either side of the boy’s long, slender legs.
“You’re… crazy,” Harry gasped, head falling back, only to be followed by Lucius’s persistent mouth and tongue.
Lucius shrugged. He figured after all these years he could afford himself some eccentricities. “If you could see just how stunning you are… How fucking sexy…” Harry gave a little gasp, eyes widening when Lucius swore, the sound very foreign and arousing on the man’s lips. “Clothing just hides you away… and that, Harry, is a crime.”
Lucius was a very convincing man, even if he was clearly out of his mind. Harry stared into the demanding gaze, a thrill tingling down his spine. “What… you uh, expect me to walk around naked?”
“Oh, you’re going to be too tired for walking, I think,” Lucius growled, hands moving up Harry’s sides possessively.
Eyes widening at the implication, Harry gaped silently. The man was… well… hot. Crazy and fucking hot. “So… er… Why would I, um, be so tired?” Harry whispered, gulping at the wicked grin Lucius gave in reply.
Hands moving down to Harry’s hips, Lucius pressed his thumbs into the sharp protrusion of bone and rubbed slowly. “Because when you look as you do, especially without clothes, you have to expect that I am going to fuck you. Repeatedly. Until you can no longer walk.” Lucius tilted his head, eyes teasing. “It’s only to be expected.”
“I see…” Harry’s arms began to shake and he lowered them to the mattress. Repeatedly… He had said repeatedly. “And, uh, do I get any say in this?”
“Oh, I suppose.” Lucius let his hands move down, cupping Harry’s ass and running his fingertips down his crack. “You get to say how hard… Oh, and how long.” Lucius bent forward, nipping Harry’s lips while the boy whimpered. “How much more.”
“More,” Harry echoed, eyes fluttering shut and hips rocking up towards the man above him.
“Yes, just like that,” Lucius agreed, pressing a finger against Harry’s tight hole. “Whatever you want…”
“Oh fuck,” Harry gasped, pressing down, urging the finger inside.
Lucius hissed, nipping Harry’s bottom red lip again, holding it between his teeth and releasing it with a wet pop. “That was the plan.”
Since finding Harry sitting on his trunk, next to the ugly metal car and wearing clothing a troll would have discarded, Lucius had been planning on having the boy. He just hadn’t fully realized it, very much distracted by foolish things like morals, propriety, and hideous clothes. Just as much as the boy was made to be nude, he was also made to be spread beneath Lucius, gasping those sweet, desperate cries in his ear.
Lucius called his wand from his bureau, flipping the surprised boy with a quick roll. He paused, hissing softly, noticing when Harry stiffened and did not relax this time.
The boy’s back was littered with scars, long white lines and shorter bright flecks of pain highlighted even brighter with the way Harry’s skin was quickly turning red. Eyes transfixed on the bizarre crosshatch that had no right to be there on the boy’s beautiful skin, it took Lucius a moment to realize Harry was gasping for air.
Moving off Harry and to the side of the bed, Lucius turned the boy onto his side, raising Harry’s face so he could breathe and Lucius could read whatever the hell was going on in his mind.
Having caught sight of those piercing eyes, Harry shut his own quickly, trying very hard to focus on breathing and not the terror and all encompassing shame that was filling him. Lucius was tracing his jaw, almost gentle, and had yet to say anything horrible or otherwise. Harry wanted to disappear into the mattress, wishing he hadn’t forgotten why he always wore a shirt, the heat Lucius had filled him with completely stealing his sanity.
“I sh-should—”
“Be quiet,” Lucius ordered, his voice low and soft. “I want you to breathe deep, calm down, and be very quiet.”
Swallowing, Harry nodded, keeping his eyes closed and focusing on breathing.
Lucius bent over Harry’s gasping form, fingers resting on the boy’s arm. Carefully, as if they were raw wounds and not old scars, he began to trace the lines on Harry’s back. Most were from a belt, a distinct buckle that’s edge had hit the boy’s back repeatedly. The bright flecks were from the sharp pin that kept the belt in place, having dug into his smooth skin on numerous occasions.
Lucius knew it was none of his business, but that wasn’t knowledge enough to stop him from asking. “When?”
Harry jolted as if struck, taking a moment to answer. “S-Summers… Mostly last…”
Last summer Draco had asked his parents if he could have a friend over for a few weeks before school started. Narcissa had become enraged when realizing the friend had been muggle raised and only halfblood. Harry’s name had never even made it into the graceless conversation.
Brooding silently, Lucius spread his fingers, pressing his palms into the boy’s back and slowly massaging his tight shoulders and muscles. Harry stiffened under his touch but slowly, bit by bit, minute by minute, the boy unwound, relaxing and turning onto his stomach to give Lucius more room to work.
His breathing was slower, nearly normal, and Lucius pressed his face to Harry’s neck so he would hear his quiet replies. “Do you have many panic attacks?”
“Only the last year…” Harry sighed under Lucius’s strong hands, lashes fluttering. “The nightmares, and now… I can’t be without a shirt…”
“You choose not to charm them hidden.”
Harry shrugged uncomfortably. “I know there are spells, just… I’ll always know that they’re there. I don’t know if I want to pretend otherwise.”
Lucius sighed into Harry’s neck, sending a shiver down the boy’s spine. “I would like to show you something.”
Harry sat up hesitantly after Lucius pulled away. It was hard to meet the man’s eyes, but he made an effort. There was no pity in the sharp gaze, no cruelty or taunts. Harry relaxed, idly combing his messy hair into some sort of order. He froze, watching as Lucius picked up his wand and waved it over the front of his broad, bare chest.
“Holy crap…” Harry swallowed, eyes caught on the deep long scars that ran across the man’s ribs. There were two and Harry was fairly certain, although having never seen the end result before, that they were done by a whip. Lucius turned slowly, and there were many more on his back, varying degrees of intensity, some so deep looking it was a wonder that bone wasn’t peeking through. “Who…wh-why?” Harry stuttered, hand inadvertently reaching out to touch the small of Lucius’s back where a particularly deep pit slashed white.
Lucius turned, grasping Harry’s hand and staring down at his fingers. “I was young. Younger than you are now… My father did not approve of my choice of lovers. He caught me… I was able to protect the young man I was with, but I was not so lucky.”
“Your own father did this to you?” Harry shook his head in disbelief. “That’s insane.”
Lucius smirked without warmth. “Yes, well that describes my father well. He never let me out of his sight after that. Took me out of school, arranged for Narcissa to marry me and then, some years later, introduced me to You-Know-Who. My father was very determined that I make something proper of myself.”
Eyes moving over Harry’s face, Lucius bent down to where he was sitting on the bed and kissed the boy softly. Pulling away, he reached across the sheets, wrapping his dress shirt over Harry’s shoulders and covering his back. “Perhaps you should go for now. I’ve put myself in a mood, and don’t wish to upset you further.”
Pulling the soft shirt securely around him, Harry’s eyes kept glancing to Lucius’s scared chest. “Oh… if that’s what you want…” He stood, fingers again brushing lightly over the white puckered marks. Lucius gently trapped his hand, raising it to his mouth and kissing his fingertips. Harry swayed, blushing and feeling very hot. Only to gasp, eyes flying to behind the man where Lucius was pointing his wand.
“You’re bloody mad!” Harry yelped, watching his clothes become consumed by purple flames.
“I told you I was going to burn them,” Lucius said simply, cupping Harry’s face and kissing him again.
Harry moaned, trying to pull away from the hot mouth plundering him. “Yes… and you were mad then, too… Now I have nothing… to wear…”
“Such a shame,” Lucius purred, pulling from Harry’s mouth to kiss his forehead firmly. “Looks like you’re going to have to stay a while longer.”
Harry gaped disbelieving at the man. He continued to gape as Lucius returned from the dresser to hand Harry his glasses and then disappear out the bedroom door.
The… the fucker had burned all his clothes!
“Do you smell something burning?”
Harry was dragging his empty duffel bag behind him, hastily buttoned up in Lucius’s shirt that came down to his thighs, when he heard Draco walking up behind him.
“Yeah, all my fucking clothes,” Harry snapped, whirling to glare at the boy.
Draco stopped sniffing the air to look at his angry friend. “What?”
“Your father! He burned all my clothes,” Harry shouted, throwing his empty bag at the blond’s feet.
“That’s insane. Shit, what the hell is wrong with him?” Draco grumbled, kicking the bag to see it was indeed empty.
“I have like one pair of pants left—Pajamas! And those shirts you picked out that I don’t know what you did with. I’m getting the hell out of here. This is crazy. Your father is fucking crazy, and I’m not putting up with this shit anymore!” Harry started stomping towards the room Draco had let him reside in, muttering loudly.
Draco followed after, grabbing his arm. “Don’t go! I’ll buy you some new clothes. Where the hell are you going to go? I’ll talk to… Hold on. What are you wearing?” Draco suddenly asked, his fingers digging into Harry’s arm. “Is that…? You’re wearing my father’s shirt.”
Eyes widening, Harry coughed awkwardly, his anger fizzling in the face of Draco’s quiet rage. “I, er… that is… I needed something to wear?” Harry looked down innocently at his friend, praying for once in his life he could lie like a proper person. Unfortunately, he could not.
“What are these marks all over your neck? Why—Why are your lips all swollen? Holy fuck! Potter, I’m going to kill you!”
“It’s not what you think—Shit!” Harry ducked, pulling out of Draco’s grasp when the boy took an angry swing at him. “I didn’t—”
“You most certainly did! I know a thoroughly shagged look when I see it! For fuck sake, in my own goddamn home!”
“I didn’t—We didn’t! Almost did,” Harry added, a grin suddenly breaking across his face. “I mean, hell, your dad is really—”
“Potter!” Draco swung again, Harry quickly stepping back and nearly tripping. He caught the next swing thrown his way, Draco growling as he leaned his weight against Harry’s unyielding guard. “My father is not some sort of teenage heartthrob! It’s obscene!”
Harry couldn’t help it, he was grinning like a fool and could not stop. “Heartthrob? That man is an Adonis. When he kisses, it’s like—Oh my god, and his tongue—What the hell am I saying? I can’t tell you this. Where’s Pansy? I can tell Pansy this.” Harry let Draco go, turning to find his friend so he could talk inappropriately about Draco’s father properly.
Draco stared after him, his mouth hanging open. “Get back here!”
Harry snorted, turning and walking backwards. “You really want to hear about what your dad can do with his tongue on particular parts of my anatomy?”
Hissing, Draco grabbed for his wand, only to be reminded that Blaise still had it in his possession. Draco was supposed to be up here making things right with Harry, because clearly his father was losing his shit. Now Draco was pretty sure he was about to kill his best friend.
“Potter, you’re not wearing any pants.”
Blinking, Harry looked down at his state of half undress and stopped walking. His manic grin faded back into his frown of earlier. “Fuck, Draco, he burned all my clothes!”
“Well, you’ll excuse me if I don’t feel sorry for you!” Draco yelled back.
Harry stared at his furious friend, scratching the back of his head while he sighed. “Draco… your dad is messed up.”
Draco took a warning step towards him, hands fisted at his sides. “Seriously? Except for your clothes, I really don’t believe you’re complaining, you randy bastard.”
Harry laughed, holding his hands up. “Come on, that’s not fair! If you liked blokes you would totally understand. Your father is just, hell, fucking something. When a guy like that comes on to you there really is no way to say no. I mean—Look at him. I’m lucky I can be in the same room with him and not fall to my knees every time he says hello. That’s half the reason I’ve been avoiding him… The other half being he’s an absolute prick to me,” Harry added with a growl.
Draco had already heard this particular argument from Pansy and even, for some odd reason, Blaise for all his insistences on being straight. Which reminded Draco again that he had come up here to not fight with Harry, but to apologize for blaming him for enticing his father.
Given time to see things clearly, Draco knew Harry didn’t have a damn seductive bone in his body. The boy was an absolute mess, more terrified that anyone might get a peek at his back or find out about his messed up home life, than to ever chase after anyone sexually. It had actually been something Draco wanted to help Harry work on once they got back to school. The kid totally needed a boyfriend. Just, preferably, not Draco’s father.
“Listen, I’m going to let this slide this one time,” Draco said with a growl, his hands on his hips. “But I don’t want you fucking, well, fucking! He’s my father and you’re my friend. It’s creepy. I’m going to talk to him about it, and this is going to not bloody happen. Okay?”
Harry bit his lip, his eyes skittering away from Draco’s demanding glare. “’Kay.”
“Potter, I’m serious,” Draco snarled, knowing that look. “I don’t want you going near him again.”
Harry growled back, his face turning red. “What, like I want anything to do with the asshole that just burned my entire wardrobe? You know how difficult it is for me to get new clothes. I’m going to kill him the next time I see him!”
Draco didn’t fully believe Harry, but was not a hundred percent certain why. Maybe because he had completely missed the boy’s attraction to his father the whole time Harry had been there. Even though Harry couldn’t lie to others for shit, he could lie to himself, and Draco suspected that was what was happening now. “We’re getting you more emergency healing charms so there will be no excuse for you two to be that bloody close. And I’m never leaving you alone with him again.”
Harry shrugged, ruffling up the back of his hair. “Shit, like I care. Although, you act like being in the same room is all it takes to start jumping each other.”
Draco rolled his eyes before pinning his friend with a glare. “What exactly happened when you came up here?”
Blushing even more, Harry glared back. “Shut up.”
“Yeah, so I’m going to be a goddamn chaperone for the two of you. Now lets find you some pants already.”
Harry cautiously walked back over to Draco, the two of them sizing each other up warily. “Sorry I think your dad is hot,” Harry muttered.
“Me fucking too,” Draco said flatly. “None of my clothes are going to fit you. You’re too tall.”
“I know…” Harry sighed, pulling at the open cuffs of Lucius’s shirt. “I could always wear—”
“No, you cannot. And you’re giving the bloody shirt back to him the second he gets back.” Draco grabbed Harry by the shoulder and pulled him into his room to find something the boy could wear.
“What foul hell is this?” Lucius grunted, stepping into his dinning room to find his son and Harry eating dinner, Blaise and Pansy gone for the evening. Draco and Harry exchanged confused glances, Harry eventually looking down at his mismatch of clothing when the man continued to glare at him.
“Come on—You have no right to complain,” Harry grumbled, shoveling broccoli into his mouth and pointedly not meeting Lucius’s gaze.
“Father, I want to talk to you about—”
“Not now, Draco. Potter, I’ve arranged for someone to be down here at eight o’clock sharp tomorrow morning. You will be awake, pleasant and accommodating. He is a personal friend, and I will not tolerate rudeness towards him.”
Harry furrowed his brow, forced to look at the man just to figure out what the hell he was talking about. “What?”
“Eight o’clock. He will be understanding of your… condition.” Lucius paused a moment, eyes lingering on Harry’s face too long, only to fall to the pair of hideous pajama pants. Garish banana yellow with blue and red cartoons billowed around Harry’s legs in cosmic mockery of decency itself. Scowling, Lucius whirled and left the room, hands tight in fists.
“Father!” Draco stood up, giving Harry an apologetic look before running after Lucius.
Lucius had made it to his study before Draco caught up. Glancing agitatedly as his son stalked into the room, Lucius reached for the scotch, pouring himself two fingers and sitting in his chair. Harry had been in that chair only hours ago, the memory still hot in Lucius’s mind, along with the one from the bedroom, and the damn scars on the boy’s back.
“So, what is this? Some sort of revenge for telling you I didn’t want to join the Ministry when I got out of school?” Draco asked, shutting the door behind him.
“Pardon?” Pulling his mind to the here and now, Lucius fixed his son with a skeptical look. “Revenge… Have I harmed you in some way?”
“As much as my father snogging my best friend can harm a person,” Draco snapped. “What the hell is going on with you? I preferred when you were just being an ass to him. This is a bit much, Father!”
Lucius raised his brow, surprised. Draco was genuinely upset. “So you do not find snogging preferable to hexing. I’m somewhat confused about that.”
“Father!” Draco stopped himself, taking a deep breath. He went to Lucius’s desk, resting his palms lightly on the dark wood buffed to sheen brightly. “What do you want with him? How can some teenage boy be of interest to you? And why a boy? Pansy has been chasing after you since she first met you. Why him and why the hell now?”
Giving his son an accessing look, Lucius placed his glass down on his blotter. “If I tell you, will you stop taking things so personally?”
Draco sighed, blowing a loose hair from his face. “I don’t know… I guess it depends on the answer.”
It was a fair enough response, Lucius feeling compelled to be open. “Your mother and I have been sleeping with men for a long time. Nearly as long as we have been married.”
Draco flinched, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Oh.”
“Arranged marriages, the good ones, allow for certain accommodations that we chose to indulge. It made life reasonably pleasant,” Lucius continued, watching his son’s face carefully. “With your mother being so erratic and filing for separation, I abstained from any pleasantries, concerned she would… retaliate in unreasonable levels. Bellatrix gleefully informed me at the beginning of summer that your mother has been ‘courting,’ as a polite way to put it, and I no longer felt the need to hold back.”
Staring down at his hands, Draco spread his fingers, making patterns idly as he thought. “So… you’ve been dating this summer?”
Lucius snorted softly. “If that is what you would like to call it, far be it for me to disillusion you. I will not be bringing anyone home, if that is your concern.”
It had been and Draco released a sigh of relief. “And Harry? What is he… just some pretty thing you saw lying around the house you decided to play with?”
Lucius didn’t answer, instead swallowing down the contents of his glass in a long gulp. “Tell me about the scars on his back. The name of the culprit.”
Draco stared at his father disbelieving and slowly shook his head. “No way. Not until I know what the hell you want from him.”
“I don’t want anything from him,” Lucius said evenly.
Draco raised his hands so he could then slam them on the desk. “Bullshit! You burned all his clothes!”
“So? They were repulsive and battered. I intend to replace them with something less offensive to my senses. There is no reason the boy should dress like that, now that he is free from those careless muggles…” He trailed off, eyes sharpening on his son. “It was the muggles, wasn’t it? His guardians?”
“Stop changing the subject!” Draco snarled. “Father, you are the most reserved, cunning, underhanded man I know, potentially matched only by my Head of House who lived his life as a double agent. You do not go into fits of rage and start burning things.”
Lucius smiled slowly, folding his hands on his desk and leaning forward. “Draco, you just found out today that I enjoy the company of men, and have had an open relationship with your mother of many years. You cannot honestly know if I’m not out setting things on fire all the time.”
Draco blinked, paling at his father’s queer expression. “Father… Now I’m even more worried for him. Is… is that what you want? Me freaking out that you’re losing your mind and going to hurt my friend?”
“I am not losing my mind.”
“You sure? Because Mother did, and you’re sure acting like a crazy person.”
Lucius sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his melodramatic son. “Draco, I am a wizard. A powerful one. I am also a powerful man, wealthy and influential. If I want something, I get it through whatever means suit me at the time. I did not like his clothing. He no longer has said clothing—Although I will destroy those pants and I have yet to find that hideous orange thing. My actions are hardly out of proportion to my abilities. Now can we let this drop?”
Draco straightened, staring down at his father silently. Lucius, unlike Harry, was a very good liar, and had never had any qualms about lying to Draco. But Draco had to ask because Harry was not only his friend, but his guest, and he was responsible for the boy’s safety. “Father, what do you want from him?”
“Nothing.”
“Sex?” Draco pressed, daring his father to deny it.
Lucius took a moment to respond. “I desire that. But I do not want it.”
Understanding slowly dawning, Draco nodded. “So the things you want, you have no problem going after. But the things you desire…?”
“Are frivolous, and do not merit my effort.” He said it so smoothly, Draco almost wondered if his father was choosing to lie, but it seemed too much like Lucius’s philosophies in life that he couldn’t be certain.
“To be clear. You do not want Harry, but you do…” Draco raised his brows expectantly.
Lucius graced his son with a thin smile. “I desire him.”
It was an odd thing to even consider, Draco having seen his father only one way for, well, his entire life. Recently, Lucius had to be seen different, no longer with Mother there to do the majority of the household upkeep. His father had even gone so far as to start working shorter hours during the summer months, just to make sure Draco wasn’t home alone. Lucius had even indulged the allowance of Harry to stay, and his friends to come over whenever Draco called. Draco hoped that he could allow his father this new definition without too much struggle. Maybe if it hadn’t been his friend it would have been easier. Surely, if it hadn’t been a boy his own age…
Draco raised his eyes to his father’s, not quite sure he wanted to ask the next question. “This isn’t some weird transference thing for me…?”
Eyebrows seeking his hairline, Lucius held his hand up. “Draco, son, I mean this with all the kindness in the world as your father, protector and provider. You are not my type, and let’s leave it at that.”
Draco nodded hastily, his stomach unclenching from the knot it had found itself in. “Very good,” he said stiffly. “So I’m going to let you be, and finish my dinner, and pretend we did not talk about any of this.”
“That sounds like a wonderful plan,” Lucius drawled, mirth reflected in his eyes. “And that name I was inquiring about?”
Draco turned from where he was leaving, a scowl growing. “His uncle. Some fat, blustery, red-faced prick that kept going on and on about his job. I met him once last year while trying to convince Harry to run away. Still don’t know why Harry didn’t just put the creep in his place.” Shaking his head, Draco left, the door clicking behind him.
Getting up to pour himself another glass of amber Macallan, Lucius considered his options. He would prefer no information to get back to the green-eyed demon in the other room. Troublesome as the boy was, he seemed a bit delicate. Or maybe that was Lucius, transferring a little of his fatherly protectiveness… Death of Potter’s relatives would certainly warrant investigation. But there were so many diverting things one could do that did not lead to death—Not right away, anyways.
Lucius ruminated, images of twisted, repentant muggles slowly evolving to scarred, flushed skin, and swollen, red lips. Lucius had not been lying to his son; he very much desired Harry. But he may have skimmed over the facts of what that meant.
Lucius did not bother to put effort into obtaining the things he desired. He had spent a lifetime desiring many things he had been told he could and could not have. In the end, all of them had been his. Wanting was just the will. Desiring… It was a power that could not be contained or denied. His son would understand eventually, likely long after Lucius had ravished the scarred beauty beyond salvation.
The scars had been a terrible revelation, and the source of Lucius’s current mood. He had not felt this particular dark mood in a long time, but it was as familiar as seeing those pale thin slashes on one as young and as beautiful as Harry. Lucius had never been as innocent as the boy feigned, but he had admitted to some naivety to the consequences of his actions at his father’s hands. He wondered what Harry had done to warrant the many marks on his back… They were likely chronically inflicted. Not like the three distinct fits of rage that had possessed Lucius’s father in face of his disobedience, until Lucius had realized there truly was no hiding things from the man.
Then again, Lucius had killed the elder Malfoy and his father hadn’t seen that coming. Hardly all knowing and all powerful, no matter how he had tried to convince Lucius otherwise.
His father had been successful in one front. Lucius was the epitome of perfection at everything he did, be it torturing the weak, to hunting down and slashing dead the powerful. That he still felt… Well, Lucius wasn’t sure if that was his weakness or strength. It depended on the situation, and currently feeling was not desired.
“You’re pissed.”
“Hardly.”
“You’re wasted—Totally shitfaced.”
“Tipsy, tops.”
“Yeah, well you just tipsy’d yourself into the bathroom, and I would like to brush my teeth in peace, you drunk-ass, fire happy jerk.” Harry fixed Lucius with a glare through the bathroom mirror. He had his toothbrush halfway sticking out of his mouth, white foam just peeking across his lips in a way that Lucius could not seem to stop staring at.
“You know we have spells for that, correct?”
Harry huffed and returned to what he was doing, determined to ignore the plastered man. There were like fifteen bathrooms on the damn floor. Why couldn’t Lucius go annoy one of those?
Lucius stepped further into the sleekly tiled room, eyes caught on Harry’s pants. “You’re wearing those hideous pajama pants again. I thought I made myself clear that you were not to wear anymore ugly, unnatural color combinations while in my presence?”
“I wasn’t in your presence, you neurotic psycho. I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth.” Harry spat into the sink, filled his cupped hands with water and rinsed his mouth. He nearly choked on the way back up, glasses going askew and head just missing the mirror when Lucius ran his hand over his ass.
“You have a hole,” Lucius grumbled with a soft slur, finger poking into an apparent rip around Harry’s right ass cheek. “I swear you put them there yourself, just so I have to stare.”
“That’s crazy talk—Oh!” Harry closed his eyes, Lucius’s hands slipping to his hips, the man pressing the front of his body to Harry’s back and rubbing against him. Lucius was half hard, his large length slowly coming to life as he ground against Harry’s firm ass. Harry let out a shaky breath, his mouth refusing to close all the way.
“You do, don’t you?” Lucius murmured roughly, teeth biting at Harry’s ear while he breathed the boy’s scent in.
“W-what?” Harry croaked, eyes glancing to the mirror where he could see Lucius hovering. The man’s sharp eyes were hazy, and he smelled of cologne and the smooth scent of rich liquor.
“Put holes in your clothes… How anyone could have so many by accident is just impossible.” Hand moving to the side of Harry’s thigh, Lucius pressed his finger through another small hole, jolting Harry with the feeling of skin touching skin. “It’s either that, or you’re infested with moths. Have you trained moths to put holes in your clothes?”
“You are so totally sloshed right now,” Harry groaned lowly. Lucius pushed him forward with a hard thrust and held him there, Harry’s waist biting into the sink while he grabbed for purchase.
“Buzzed, if anything,” Lucius corrected, fingers moving over Harry’s thighs as he sought out more hidden holes. “Only two? That can’t be right…” He continued his search, fingers biting at Harry’s flesh beneath the thin material of his pajama bottoms. “Ah, ha… I knew it…” He hissed triumphantly.
“Oh fuck…” There had been a good reason Harry had not taken these particular pajama pants with him when packing his bags. They had torn at the inner thigh along the seam, very much not okay to wear around a busy-bodied, pain in the ass, obsessive compulsive, groping Malfoy. He could feel Lucius’s fingers slipping through the fabric, not even pretending to be coy as he went straight for Harry’s rising cock.
“Let’s go to my bedroom,” Lucius growled heatedly, teeth nipping at his neck while he tugged rhythmically on Harry’s dick. “We can finish what we started earlier.”
Harry moaned, falling back against the hard body behind him. That sounded like a really good idea…. But he was already in a lot of trouble over the whole ‘wanting to shag your father’ thing. “Er… Draco said I’m… not allowed in your bedroom anymore,” Harry whispered, fighting the urge to grind back into Lucius’s erection.
Lucius ran his tongue slowly up Harry’s neck. “My son does not dictate whom my bedroom is open to.”
Harry nodded quickly, his eyes squeezed shut. “R-right.. but, oh hell… He’s my friend.”
Lucius sighed, removing his hand from the boy’s length and the tear in his pants. Harry made a small whimper of disappointment, so soft Lucius almost wondered if he had imagined it. “Take your shirt off.”
Harry choked back an incredulous laugh, then gasped as Lucius thrust against his ass again. “Th-that’s only going to get me in trouble.”
“You are already in so much trouble, young man, you don’t even know it,” Lucius purred, wrenching at the boy’s hips. “Do you think I need a bed to fuck you? Do you think I need permission from my son? Harry, I could have you right here… hideous pants around your ankles… your tight, delicious ass clenching around my cock.”
“Oh. My. God.” Harry was pretty sure he was going to black out. His blood was no longer reaching his head, and his vision was totally dark at the edges, body very much taut and tense as Lucius continued to rub his large cock against his ass.
“Do you want that? Do you want to spread your legs wide and have me fuck you?” Lucius asked lowly, fingers pinching at Harry’s waistband, pulling at the elastic material and sending gusts of cool air across Harry’s erection. “You’ll drip with my cum, Harry. That tight, pink hole of yours will trickle white with my seed… down your thighs… the back of your legs… all over your balls.”
Harry really had no proper answer. He opened his mouth, certain he should tell the man he was absolutely crazy, and more than a little tipsy, but all that came out was a long, needy moan.
“You do… You want me to fuck you.” Lucius sunk his teeth into the junction of shoulder and neck, Harry jerking fitfully and moaning louder. “I should have known the instant I saw you in those damnable jeans…”
“Leave… my clothes… out of this,” Harry panted dizzily. He slit his eyes open, finding Lucius staring at him intently through the mirror. The man’s gaze blazing, he raised fingers to Harry’s mouth, touching his red lips until Harry parted them.
Harry watched, vision caught as Lucius began to explore his mouth with his long fingers. Surely it was some other boy, some green-eyed creature living in the mirror that was just pure wanton and wild, wrapping his tongue so boldly around Lucius’s two fingers, pulling them down, sucking them deep. The heavy lidded boy in the mirror looked confident, mouth wide, white teeth flashing as he nipped firmly. He had no shame, tightening his red lips to the thick fingers, creating suction as Lucius thrust rhythmically in and out of his mouth. It must have been some other boy, even though Harry could feel them in his mouth, warm flesh, rough pads of Lucius’s fingertips that tasted of booze, and salt, and a hint of floral soap.
Harry could see now what it looked like when Lucius trailed wet saliva over his red lips, crystal liquid coating and dripping, pulling down further, over his chin, down his throat to the collar of his new black tee. “Come on, Harry… Let’s see what it looks like when your nipples are wet.”
Lucius pulled at the material of his shirt and Harry didn’t stop him. Instead he watched, transfixed as the man pulled the fabric up, bunching it and pulling it tight under Harry’s armpits, twisting the fabric to expose the boy’s chest and stomach to the mirror. “I want to watch you come. I have been dreaming of seeing those pouting lips of yours parted wide when you jet your seed all over your stomach.” Lucius moved slower against Harry’s back, rubbing in a way that Harry was pretty sure meant the man was so goddamn hard he was going to burst if he kept up at the pace. But Harry was just standing there with some liquid on his face—It wasn’t like they were doing anything crazy wild.
Then again, Harry was pretty sure he was going to come too, especially if Lucius kept panting in his ear like that, just with a low, rough undertone of breaking control that was making Harry so hot every time the man did it. Was that the alcohol, or was that just Lucius when he looked at Harry? Did the man want him that much that he would tremor and growl?
Lucius placed his fingers back to Harry’s mouth, and the boy in the mirror was quick to respond, licking hungrily, biting and sucking, and moaning around them.
“Delectable,” Lucius growled, pulling his fingers free and moving them down to Harry’s chest. Face bent over his shoulder, Harry watched Lucius watch his nipple harden and flush under his slick, tight grasp. Harry closed his eyes, gasps turning into groans, his nipple growing sore and aching under the twisting grip. Lucius’s other hand moved down, cupping Harry’s erection through his pants as the man rocked against him.
“Open your eyes… You should see how beautiful you are.”
Harry snorted in disbelief, but slowly slit his eyes open because Lucius had paused what he was doing. The man was staring at him through the mirror, like Harry was some treasured dessert he just couldn’t help but devour.
Harry trembled, wishing he could stop. Wishing he wanted to stop. Nothing good was going to come of this. Lucius was just looking for some fun. Harry didn’t know what the hell he wanted, rarely the type to seek out fun, just avoid pain. All he did know was that the man was fucking sexy, and wasn’t treating his scars like he was a hideous freak—And really, really seemed interested in getting Harry’s pants off.
“Give them up, Potter,” Lucius demanded with more lust than anger. “I want to see that tight, little ass of yours.”
Harry shook his head, grabbing Lucius’s persistent hands wrapped around his waistband. “You’re going to burn them, and then I’ll literally have no pants to wear. You know you burned all my underwear, right?”
Lucius smiled wickedly, tongue licking up the side of Harry’s face and lingering on the stem of his glasses. “Oh, I know.”
Harry glared half-heartedly, his stomach flipping at the answer. “You’re a fucking ass.”
“Maybe… But me fucking your ass just seems so much better.” Since Harry had his wrists, Lucius spread his fingers, digging in to the boy’s hips. He pushed his erection harder against Harry, burrowing between his cheeks. Harry gave a weak moan and relaxed his grip unconsciously. Grinning in triumph, Lucius nipped down the boy’s neck while finally pushing the hideous pants down to Harry’s thighs. “That’s it… Very tight, Harry… Let’s get a better look.”
Harry gasped, Lucius suddenly lifting him back from the sink, his slender torso stretching before him in the mirror. The shirt was still bunched up by his arms and pulled back, flashes of yellow fabric by his thighs. In between, Harry was exposed, warm flesh and very, very hard, his erection bobbing and flushed red. He tried to close his eyes, look away, but Lucius snared his chin and held his face forward. “The eyes are definitely the icing. You can’t shut them,” he murmured into Harry’s ear.
Harry nodded dumbly, swallowing hard and opening his lids slowly. “Oh god,” he gasped, watching as Lucius’s hands began to move over him. It felt amazing, that had never been in question, but it also looked amazing too. The boy in the mirror kept arching into Lucius’s palms, lips parted, head thrown back. “Lucius—hell!” Harry cried out, one of those large hands fisting around his cock, thumb moving up to spread the precum beading from Harry’s tip.
“Yes… yes, much better than I had even imagined,” Lucius growled lowly, his other hand slipping behind Harry so he could undo his fly and push his underwear down. He pressed his heated erection between the boy’s bare, taut thighs, nudging Harry’s balls.
“Oh my god… y-you’re…” Harry couldn’t say it, feeling the hard flesh on his flesh and shuddering in absolute, agonizing want.
Lucius smirked down at the sight of Harry’s dick twitching in his palm. He thrust in slow, languid pushes against the boy, each movement making Harry moan again. “Just want to feel you… Feel you cum… Cover you in mine.”
“Please… Oh please.” Harry tried to keep his eyes open, but his face kept insisting on twisting in lusty ways that was making it very difficult to do much of anything proper. Lucius’s breathing was ragged in his ear, not as loud as Harry’s own desperate pants for air. And his hand—Oh, so hot, fingers tight and slick with sweat and something Harry thought was lube, although he hadn’t noticed Lucius use any. He cried out, Lucius’s thumb again sliding over the head of his straining dick, the short, manicured nail pressing a little too hard against his slit, jolting him with a mix of pleasure and pain. Harry managed to look again, the boy in the mirror completely undone, hands reaching up and back to grasp at Lucius’s wide shoulders and tear at his shirt.
“You’re shaking,” Lucius said teasingly, his free hand gripping Harry’s hip to hold the boy steady. “Are you close?”
“Y-Yes… God yes,” Harry choked out, eyes again squeezed shut.
Lucius purred approvingly, his hips jolting hard against Harry in response. “I’m going to cum on you. You’re going to wish it was inside you, filling you so deep. But you… decided… to wear these damnable pants.”
Harry moaned in agony. He wasn’t going around nude just because… Oh hell… maybe being nude would be okay.
“Potter?” Lucius suddenly stilled, body leaning over Harry to reach for something.
Harry whimpered, pressing back into the man. But Lucius ignored him, growling under his breath and pushing Harry forward.
“Are you—Potter, you’ve been using my toothpaste!”
“I can’t believe you, you neurotic, psychotic, mother fucking tease!” Harry snarled even while Lucius held his rolled up tube of toothpaste and shoved it under Harry’s nose like it was the crime of the century. Harry pulled his shirt down fitfully, reaching then for his pants and carefully pulling them up around his aching hard on. Being exposed in front of a pissed off Lucius did not do anything for Harry. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What is wrong, you rude, ill-mannered, uncoordinated little hell-spawn, is that guests do not go into a person’s house and use their things without permission!” Lucius said lowly and with barely controlled anger.
“You don’t even use toothpaste! That tube is in the same place I leave it every freaking time! No one else has used it the entire month I have been here—Nor any of the toothpaste in the other bathrooms!”
Lucius narrowed his eyes, nostrils flaring. “You’ve used all of them? You systematically went through every bathroom in this house and used my favorite brand of toothpaste? You inconsiderate—Do you even understand how germs spread?”
Harry spluttered, fairly certain he was going to do something extremely painful to Lucius if the idiot didn’t stop saying such stupid shit. Instead, Harry grabbed the man by the sides of the face, roughly licked him from chin to forehead, and then shoved him away. “How’s that for germs, you goddamn psycho?”
Lucius, apparently, did not like that. Sneering like a wet cat, he grabbed Harry by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in tight. He then stepped forward, forcing Harry back until he was trapped between Lucius and the sink. Harry probably should have been frightened, but it was Lucius and for some reason he just couldn’t imagine the man hurting him. As if to prove the bizarre thought running through Harry’s mind in that moment with the blond towering over him, Lucius growled and returned the offensive gesture. He used so much force, Harry’s glasses went clattering to the ground when the man’s tongue reached them. Harry fought the urge to laugh, still upset with the ass.
“You damn obnoxious, tormenting demon,” Lucius rasped hoarsely, grinding his cock into Harry’s hip.
“Don’t you dare start, you bastard,” Harry panted, head falling back to rest against the mirror while he clung to the sink behind him. “There’s no way I’m letting you—Oh… Oh hell.” Lucius licked up his neck next, his hands tearing under Harry’s shirt. He quickly pulled the boy’s pants back down and off, wrenching Harry’s narrow hips and crashing the two of them together.
“You are going to pay, Potter. On your knees. Bent over every surface I can think of.”
“Oh hell… Shut up, you son of a bitch,” Harry groaned, his hands coming forward to clutch at Lucius’s shirt. “You are so… fucked in the head.”
“I am going to fuck you in the head,” Lucius hissed against Harry’s neck, hands clenching his ass tightly and lifting the boy up on tiptoes so that Harry was moving with every aching thrust as their cocks rubbed together.
Harry snorted. “Who says that… Oh god… oh… Okay.” Hands falling down, Harry gripped at Lucius’s hips. Fingers trembling only a little, Harry reached between them, touching Lucius’s silken length and pressing his palm to the hot, hard flesh so that it would rub against his own even more. He had never felt another’s dick, certainly not a grown man’s and in a state where it was ready to come. He’d always assumed he’d like it, seeing as he liked guys in general. Harry didn’t expect just how much he would want to suck that hard flesh, now that Lucius had put the idea in his head.
Harry did not get an opportunity, Lucius growling fiercely and lifting him up so that Harry was sitting on the sink, cold porcelain against his heated flesh making him gasp. Then Lucius was pressing the head of his cock between Harry’s spread thighs. He groaned softly in the boy’s ear as he wrapped his hand around Harry’s exploring fingers. Then he jerked them together over his large length with long, firm strokes. Harry stared down, transfixed, knowing what was going to happen and full of anticipation to see.
“Yes,” Lucius hissed through gritted teeth, hips jolting with his release, covering Harry with wet streams of cum. Each touch of hot fluid felt like electricity to Harry, moans falling uncontrollably from his lips while he watched his red length, tight sack and trembling thighs become coated with Lucius’s seed. “Come on, Potter… you’re there.”
Lucius grabbed Harry’s face, holding him still and forcing him to meet his blazing silver gaze. And then the man’s hand was wrapping around Harry’s cum covered cock, every muscle in the boy’s body tight and shaking with raw need. Lucius was staring, fixated on Harry’s mouth. Vaguely Harry remembered what Lucius had said about wanting to see his mouth when he came. That Lucius had meant it was just too much on top of everything else. Harry gaped nearly silent, a small, choked cry slipping free from his red lips when his orgasm hit, feeling the intense fire tear through him and then out.
Harry blearily felt his cum scald his stomach, Lucius even then guiding to ensure he got everything he wanted from the boy’s body. Shudder after shudder rocketed Harry, his eyes closing as he realized he had just cum, with Lucius Malfoy, in the bathroom. He had never done… Had never even thought to do something like that…
Holy fuck. Lucius had covered him with cum and then… and then…
“Oh… wow,” Harry whimpered, his body collapsing from the magnitude of it all. Lucius held him steady, pulling Harry’s face closer so he could kiss him. It was a hard kiss, sloppy and scented with sex, alcohol, and toothpaste that the man never ever used, but Harry did, every day and night. Lucius kissed him deep, tongue stealing each of Harry’s gasps. The man didn’t seem tired the way Harry felt, but wilder, more desperate to touch him, as if something had been unleashed with their mutual completion.
The mirror gave a sudden creak behind Harry and then fell, shattering on the tiled floor around them. Lucius growled lowly into Harry’s mouth.
Harry groaned, turning his head slightly so he could drag air in from around Lucius’s lips, saliva running from the corners of his mouth. “Potter, stop destroying my house,” Lucius panted against his cheek, fingers tangling into his dark hair so he could pull Harry in for another needy kiss.
Moaning, Harry opened his mouth wider, tongue tasting tongue and delving deep, before finally freeing his lips. Exhausted, sated, and very much confused as to just how safe he felt with Lucius resting against him, holding him tight in the goddamn bathroom of all places, Harry glared at the infuriating ass that kept assuming everything he did was fully intended to piss Lucius Malfoy off. “Make me.”
Mr. Adler was an older gentleman, just starting to stoop with age. His immaculately groomed form was topped with a salting of gray through dark hair. He merely tutted once when seeing Harry’s scars for the first time, and they didn’t speak a word of them afterwards. Although they were indicated vaguely when discussing what style of shirts Harry would like to wear. Mr. Adler was a tailor, Lucius’s preferred choice for casual wear when the older wizard bothered to be casual.
“I know, but I would really just like some jeans, underwear and a few shirt,” Harry grumbled after Adler listed off another supposed fifty things required of a ‘proper’ wardrobe. Harry was not a proper person, and didn’t care about owning a million things. “Do you guys have t-shirts? Like with pictures on them and stuff? I don’t want to be wearing collars for the rest of the school year.” And probably eternity, seeing as Harry could not bring himself to walk into a clothing store and buy things for himself. Shit, when had things gotten so out of hand?
“Mr. Potter, I understand some eccentricities are to be expected with someone of your fame and standing—”
“What!” Harry squawked, his face going bright red. “I’m not being crazy here.”
“You need a proper wardrobe, not just muggle styled rebellion,” Mr. Adler continued smoothly, his dark eyes steely but not unkind. “You’re coming into your graduating year, and it is important to look the part when seeking employment.”
Harry shrugged, not really concerned about any of that. Maybe he should be. Maybe there was something wrong with him for not caring about what every other person was supposedly caring about. But he couldn’t force himself to. He could only compromise.
“How about you put whatever you want in there—as long as it’s not white—and just add a good dozen jeans and twice as many t-shirts, so I don’t feel like a complete prat?” Harry asked, his tone of annoyance kept back to a minimum. Stripping had been difficult, even with Adler a professional and uncaring of his scars. Harry was grouchy, not having slept well and agitated by the idea of Lucius buying him clothing. The bastard should after burning all of his. But Harry was not happy about anything at the moment.
“I think that is a reasonable solution.” Mr. Adler began jotting down in his notebook. “The layered look is very popular these days with young people. I think it would suit you fine.”
“Whatever,” Harry muttered, sitting with a sigh while the man continued to write away. Draco wouldn’t be up for at least another hour, the boy a complete wreck in the mornings until around ten and full of caffeine. Harry really wondered how his friend thought he was doing any chaperoning at all, considering Harry usually ran across Lucius during the early hours of the day before the man went to work. Draco sure as hell had been useless last night.
Last night had been… Harry suppressed a shudder, his body tingling all over just thinking about it. He had never thought he would want something like that. Harry had known he had liked guys for a long time, but he had never really thought he would want them. Harry hardly considered himself sexual. His body seemed to not be connected to the rest of him, even less so since last summer. Since Vernon. But Lucius, a taller, stronger, and by all accounts, more powerful man, could slam Harry up against a sink and Harry wasn’t afraid. Not even for a moment. With his shirt off and scars exposed. Even when Lucius had smelled of alcohol. No, Harry had been so turned on, he had wondered if he was going to faint.
That boy in the mirror—Hell, he had been a sexual creature. When Harry got lost in Lucius, he was that boy. Unafraid. Wanton. Beautiful. There was something about the man that made Harry feel safe. And when Harry was safe, he was something so much more than what he had ever been before. Harry wanted to be that boy more. Maybe always.
Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands. Nothing good could come of any of this. Lucius was married—To a crazy woman, at that. He had a son—Harry’s freaking best friend. And the man was an arrogant jerk that thought buying him a wardrobe made it okay to completely ruin everything he owned. Yes, it had all been ugly and full of holes, but it had belonged to Harry as much as anything ever had. When you owned so little, not even a room to truly call your own, the things that were yours suddenly became extra important.
“Alright, Mr. Potter. You should expect the first of your clothing within three days, the rest by the end of two weeks.” Mr. Adler summoned up a duplicate of his list of articles, handing the sheet of parchment to Harry. “I will speak with your benefactor on the settling of the bill. If you have any questions, my shop’s floo coordinates are listed, along with my assistants’ names.”
Harry’s mind reeled, staring dumbly at the page while Mr. Adler bid farewell. Benefactor? Why would the man have phrased it like that? Was Harry some sort of charity case that Lucius was taking pity on because of his homelessness and scars? Or was it more insidious than that?
Did Adler think Lucius was buying clothes for Harry in some fucked up trade for sex?
Did Lucius think that?
Harry got unsteadily to his feet, the paper crumpling loudly as he crushed it without thinking. Harry was not a prostitute. He did not need Lucius Malfoy to buy him clothes like some whoring boy toy that chased older men to be taken care of. Harry didn’t need anything from anyone, especially not from an arrogant ass like Lucius.
So what if the man was hot? So what if Harry got weak in the knees and goddamn hard every time the bastard walked in the room? That didn’t give Lucius the right to anything. Not to being rude, not to burning his clothes, and not to touching him. And so what if that had felt goddamn amazing beyond belief? Fuck Lucius Malfoy, the neurotic piece of shit.
This was just another way for the man to piss him off, and control him at the same time. Dressing him like some child’s doll—Ridiculous! Growling, Harry took off for the bedrooms, stomping up the stairs, striding down the hall, and throwing Draco’s door open.
“Draco, wake up!” Harry growled, moving through the door and pulling the curtains open wide. Draco gave a grumble from the bed, face quickly hidden beneath covers.
“Go away… Sleeping,” Draco said with a yawn, only to snarl, Harry pulling the blankets off of him in one move. “Potter! What the hell!”
“Did your dad mention any of this to you?” Harry asked, ignoring Draco’s indignant glare.
“What?” Draco blinked at the paper Harry was crinkling at him, his eyes catching the company name at the top. “Ooh, I love these guys. They once made me—What? Why are you growling like that?” Draco asked, shimmying up the bed to get away from Harry’s angry expression.
“Is he buying me off?” Harry said ferociously. “Is he trying to get into my pants by buying me fucking pants!”
“What… Father? You think he’s…?” Draco trailed off, Harry watching his friend calculate like the Slytherin he was. “He could be. I wouldn’t put it past him,” Draco said finally, Harry scowling at the answer.
“Do I have slut written on my forehead or something? Why would he think I’d—?”
Draco raised his hand in a pacifying gesture. “Harry, not in that way. He’s just used to being able to do pretty much anything. That he bought you clothes to replace the old ones was just selfishness on his part. Likely because he wants to… Well, you know…” Draco trailed off with a frown. “He’s probably motivated by wanting in your pants, but I doubt he just assumes you’re going to feel obligated to screw him for the clothes. He knows you have your own money.”
Something tense and sick feeling inside of Harry loosened at the words and he sat heavily on Draco’s bed. It had hurt. Not just embarrassment, but outright hurt to think Lucius would think of him in such a way. “You’re sure?”
“Pretty sure. I mean, he’s been very different lately… but Father just has too much class to extort you for sex.” Draco gave Harry a long side glance, Harry catching it and blushing while looking away. He really didn’t need to be extorted for Lucius to get into his pants.
Clearing his throat, Draco sat up fully, handing the paper back to Harry. “So, there was one thing he did say to me that I thought you should know. Just so you don’t… I dunno, get your hopes up, or something.”
Again that flutter in Harry’s stomach, twisting painful in a way he just couldn’t fully understand. “Yeah?” He asked, his mouth feeling dry.
Draco tilted his head side to side for a moment, trying to think of a delicate way to phrase things. “He’s been seeing someone… Maybe more than one… He said it wasn’t ‘dating’ per se, so…”
“Ah.” Harry fell quiet, that uncomfortable feeling in his stomach growing to unbearable as the silence stretched between them. Of course Lucius was off having sex whenever he could. Why wouldn’t he? He was a grown man, extremely attractive, and no longer tied to his wife. What had Harry honestly thought? That Lucius actually had a thing for him? That the man might actually care? Lucius had proven time and time again that he could barely stand Harry’s presence.
“I, uh, didn’t know if I should tell you,” Draco said softly, hesitantly touching Harry’s shoulder. “You kept saying you didn’t like him and—”
“I don’t,” Harry said abruptly, jerking away. “He’s an arrogant ass that thinks he can manipulate me into different clothes just by burning mine and buying me new ones. He’s been mean and vindictive from the beginning, and I can’t stand him.” Harry wished his voice didn’t sound so hollow in his ears. “Fuck him,” he snapped, getting up and walking out of Draco’s room.
The next time Harry saw Lucius, he’d refuse the clothes. Whatever Lucius’s intentions, Harry could not handle the idea that the man might think he could win control over him in this way. Lucius was his host, and had been a damn terrible one, just maliciously assuming Harry knew all the rules while never explaining them. Harry should not want Lucius to care about him. That was just insane. There was already enough crazy going around Malfoy Manor without Harry succumbing to lunacy as well.
Lucius did not come back that evening, called away to a conference. Or so Draco said, looking at Harry with something akin to sympathy. Harry wondered if the man was off getting laid, fucking someone closer to his own age, or maybe closer to Harry’s instead. He hated every thought, and Lucius for making him think it at all. The bastard. Driving him crazy, poking at him, taunting him—Hell, touching him until Harry felt on fire. And then just walking away. Just to prove that he could. Because Lucius didn’t give a fuck about him.
The next morning Lucius still wasn’t home. In a fit of childish revenge, Harry went through the cupboards in the kitchen and took down all the boxes of tea. He carefully opened up every single packet of Lucius’s favorite tea, slipping the teabags out and replacing them with the mint that Harry had bought weeks ago before he had found the other tea to taste so good. And then he hid Lucius’s away in Harry’s box, knowing the man would never dare touch a brand so low class.
If Lucius thought what Harry did by accident was so terrible, just wait till the man had to deal with what Harry did on purpose.
By the afternoon, Harry was trailing mud through the kitchen. Blaise and Pansy were over again to swim, but Harry was stuck in pajama pants and unhappily dry. Draco raised a brow at Harry’s deliberate attempts to wipe his bare feet off on the inside of the kitchen door, but didn’t say a word. It wasn’t like it would be difficult for Lucius to clean. But difficulty didn’t seem to equate to the level of annoyance Lucius always seemed to reach when faced with Harry’s messes.
By dinner, Harry had ignored a healthy, deliciously cooked meal prepared by the house elves, for a bowl of cereal. He put the empty box next to the rest of the full ones, left the milk out on the table missing its top—which he had honestly accidentally lost—and left his dirty bowl and spoon in the place setting Lucius always sat. It remained there a day, accumulating two orange peels, three empty mugs of tea and a stack of three more bowls that had once contained cereal and ice cream, depending on Harry’s mood at the time.
The third morning when Harry woke up from a nightmare, he cast a sleeping spell so that he wouldn’t feel compelled to see if Lucius was back yet. His anger had left him feeling gritty inside, raw and bitter with the world. Harry didn’t want to feel that way anymore. He didn’t want to feel a goddamn thing at all when he thought about Lucius, and sleep was much easier than anything else.
Lucius had spent a miserable three days battling with the Ministry to stop the rezoning of residential homes for magic users. There had to be some protection. They couldn’t just expect that wizards and muggles could live side by side without proper defenses against prying eyes and twitchy fingers. Just think if a family like the Dursleys lived side by side with Malfoy Manor? They would have called the police countless times over trivial, pointless things they didn’t understand. They were ignorant and powerless, and would always be afraid of those who were not. And what did they do to those they were afraid of? Apparently they beat them and locked them under stairs in cupboards.
Lucius had done some digging, disguising himself and getting the Hogwarts’ groundskeeper so drunk that Hagrid had ended up bawling out Harry’s unfortunate tale. Lucius had spent the rest of the evening in the dark pub, drinking cheap ale and asking himself what the hell he was doing. Potter wasn’t some child in need of rescue anymore. If he wanted to take revenge on his abusive muggles that was completely up to him.
But Lucius also knew the boy wouldn’t. Wouldn’t want to. Might even have forgiven the wretched creatures. It didn’t sit well with Lucius, and he wasn’t certain why.
The Ministry was pushing for some ‘reasonable’ equality lately, and Lucius and his peers had to push back before the neighborhood went to trash. The Dursleys had taken a little boy into their home and had seen him, not for what he was, but as a monster. If such people could be so blind, so cruel to what was right under their noses, what would happen once a fence and lawn was there to make things look even more exaggerated and frightening? It would be torches and burnings all over again.
“Father, you look like shit,” Draco remarked, drinking down his mug of coffee like a fish in need of caffeinated water. Lucius was momentarily surprised to find his son in the kitchen so early, only to remember it was no longer early. Lucius had stayed out too late with Hagrid, the half-giant’s stories rather interesting once the blond had gotten enough pints in his bloodstream. It was Friday, and he could afford to be late for work after the last three days of torture.
“The Ministry was being difficult,” Lucius disclosed, his eyes slowly moving around his kitchen. It showed the remains of hurricane Harry all over it; mud, dishes—Damn it, the milk! “For some reason they think muggles can be trained to be civilized and domestic. I have living proof to the contrary.”
Pulling out his wand, Lucius began spelling everything clean, grabbing the now cottage cheese that had used to be milk and dumping it down the garbage disposal.
“I told you to leave him alone,” Draco said, his voice carrying a hard edge. “He’s not some plaything. He’s pissed you’re playing dress up with him.”
Pausing in front of his boiling water, Lucius pursed his lips. “So he didn’t like the clothes?”
“Don’t know. A rack of them just arrived but he’s still sleeping.” Draco shrugged, watching his father carefully. “It doesn’t matter if they’re everything he’s ever wanted. He won’t except a gift like that. He sees strings, and let’s face it, you’re not really known for your generosity.”
Lucius sighed heavily, feeling his exhausting week sink deep into his bones. “Do you have any suggestions?” He asked his son, knowing Draco was pushing at something.
“Yeah, stay away from him.”
Lucius did roll his eyes this time. “Drink another cup of coffee and then answer me. He needs clothes. He has practically nothing now.”
“All thanks to you,” Draco reminded, drinking down the rest of his cup with a gulp.
Lucius snapped his head up, glaring. “If you think me remorseful, you are very wrong. Those clothes were unfit for anyone. That he’s Harry Potter, and a guest in my house, is just coincidence.”
“Sure,” the boy drawled, hiding his smirk behind his cup.
“Draco,” Lucius said warningly, tearing a packet of tea open and throwing the teabag into his cup. “If you care anything for your friend, you will help me so that he won’t be walking around in the same disgusting outfit for the rest of the summer.”
Draco shrugged, pretending he didn’t care in the least. Lucius scowled, pouring scalding water into his mug and letting it sit. He then turned to his obnoxious son, arms folded over his chest. It was a silent standoff, Draco fixing his father with a long side glance that eventually broke.
“Fine, whatever,” Draco muttered. “But nothing you do is going to work. Maybe a week ago, but not anymore.”
“Why?” Lucius stared at the handprint he had missed on the wall, looking suspiciously of crushed fruity pebbles. Muggle nonsense junk food…
“Because he’s jealous,” Draco sneered just saying the words, slamming his mug down too roughly on the kitchen island. “The bloody idiot is hurt over you. All you’ve done is treat him like shit, and he’s throwing a damn tantrum that you left. You should have seen him when I told him you’re out with other men—I don’t like any of this, Father. He’s more a mess now than when he left those muggles. I never should have brought him here.”
Lucius stiffened at the implication, his mind stuttering to a halt. Drinking last night had been a mistake because surely that was why he was feeling slightly giddy. Harry was jealous… The little, tormenting, green-eyed demon didn’t want Lucius out, screwing other men. It was interesting. Very interesting.
Lucius snagged his mug from behind him, sipping his tea as he thought. He then paused, scowl spreading across his face while he glared down at the green tinted mixture. Head jerking to the side, he picked up the box of tea, flipping the lid open and glaring at the contents. They looked perfectly normal. He pulled out another packet, tearing it open and sniffing hesitantly.
The goddamn hellion.
Draco silently watched his father dump his tea down the sink and begin tearing through the tea packets one by one, until a pile of torn paper and rejected teabags scattered the counter. Harry had suddenly started drinking his own tea recently, avoiding Lucius’s like the plague. Draco had assumed his friend just didn’t want to have anything to do with his father, including his tea. Apparently not the case. Draco had no interest in telling his father where he thought his tea was hiding, Lucius’s angry muttering extremely satisfying after all the trouble he had caused.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Draco asked innocently, holding up the glass carafe to Lucius.
Glaring at his son threateningly, Lucius swept the pile of dreadful mint tea into the dumpster. He had to get to work. He had to get himself together, face his day with the right foot forward, and do what needed to be done. Lucius had done it everyday, even when his father had beaten him near death the night before, even when his son had been born, even when his wife decided that family and duty just wasn’t enough and had packed up and left. Lucius had moved resilient during every instance in his life, letting go of the irrelevant and forging forward as he knew he must.
Today, Lucius had to get to work.
“I’m going to shave,” he muttered to his smirking son, turning on his heel and leaving the kitchen. Once in the upstairs hallway, Lucius ignored the many things he had to do, and instead stalked towards the room Harry was still sleeping in. Work be damned.
“My tea, Potter? Every drop of my tea?” Lucius stood in the doorway, glaring into the dim lighting of the room, drapes still closed tight. Harry didn’t stir. Odd, because he knew the boy was a light sleeper, always jumping awake at the sound of people walking by his door. Realizing the brat was playing possum, Lucius shut the door behind him and glided to the bed to loom menacingly.
Harry continued to lie still, chest rising peacefully in rhythm to his quiet breaths of air. He was beautiful, unassuming and taunting at the same time. “Potter, you’re not fooling me. I’ve seen enough people pretending…” Lucius stopped, frowning at just how still the air seemed to be around Harry’s bed.
Maybe the little brat wasn’t pretending.
Glancing around the room to the nightstand, bureau, and even trunk when very little of any items could be found, Lucius sought out Harry’s wand. Surely he wouldn’t… But no, it was in his hand, fingers curled lightly around it, power still active as it drew energy from Harry’s unconscious form. Judging the situation carefully for a few long moments, Lucius eventually reached his hand out, knocking Harry’s elbow so that the wand went flying out of the boy’s grasp and clattered safely on the ground.
“Potter?” Lucius asked, bending over as the stillness began to fade, the spell slipping away without power to drain. When Harry didn’t answer, Lucius gently touched his cheek.
Harry gasped, hands flying out in front of him, eyes snapping open to reveal pure terror. Lucius remained perfectly still, allowing Harry to adjust to reality and release whatever nightmare he had been caught in.
“L-Lucius?” Harry finally asked, his body slowly relaxing. “Why are you…?” He squinted, reaching for his glasses on the nightstand. Lucius grabbed his hand before he could, pinning Harry’s wrists to the mattress.
“What did you do? Was that… intentional?” Lucius asked cautiously, trying to read the boy’s face. All he could discern was confusion and the beginnings of a flush on Harry’s cheeks.
“I don’t understand. I haven’t done anything,” Harry self-consciously muttered, wishing Lucius wasn’t leaning so close. He was supposed to be angry at the man, not pleased to find him in his bedroom. Lucius always disoriented him.
“You cast a sleeping charm on yourself,” Lucius said tightly, Harry blinking back.
“S-So? Ron used to do it all the time, whenever I woke up with nightmares at school and couldn’t sleep. I just… I just wanted to sleep, that’s all,” Harry whispered, looking away from the intense silver gaze boring into him.
Lucius’s frown deepened to severe. “The next time you wake up from a nightmare, you will either wake Draco or me. We will cast you asleep. One must never cast themselves asleep, Potter. Never.”
“W-Why?” Harry asked, gaze jumping back at the almost desperate note in Lucius’s voice.
“Because if you are not discovered, you will sleep to death. That is why we have sleeping draughts and even disposable charms. By Merlin—Do you know nothing!” Lucius pushed himself away with a frustrated growl, Harry rubbing his wrists from the dull pain he had left.
Harry sat up unsteadily, his heart pounding in his chest. He slipped his glasses on, tracking Lucius’s movements as the man paced haltingly in his bedroom. Harry opened his mouth to speak, to explain he hadn’t realized, when Lucius turned and fixed him with a glare. Harry clicked his mouth shut, silent.
“I’m sorry about your clothes,” Lucius said roughly, his teeth possibly cracking for how tight his jaw was clenched.
“W-What?” Harry asked, completely flabbergasted.
“I am sorry I burned your clothes. It was wrong of me. I was behaving rudely. Please accept the new clothing as my apology.” He knew he sounded disingenuous, but Lucius could not think straight, could not smooth himself as needed to say whatever was required to fix this maddening boy. He wanted to yell and roar, and possibly break things—Nothing that was of use at the moment.
Eyes wide as saucers, Harry nodded his acceptance, unable to speak at the moment. Lucius Malfoy did not apologize. Harry knew because Draco never apologized, and the boy was a pale echo of his father’s stubbornness. Lucius went to leave, and Harry snapped to reality. “Wait!”
Lucius froze, glaring over his shoulder. Harry stilled at the molten gaze, but forced himself to continue. “Don’t leave here thinking I tried to hurt myself. I would never—Not intentionally. I’m j-just, well, muggle raised. I don’t always know what everyone else knows.”
Lucius gave a curt nod and was out the door before Harry had finished his sentence. He was down the stairs moments later, growling loudly, the noise growing as he passed the kitchen and garbage full of tea.
“Father, you’re not ready—What’s wrong?” Draco asked, leaning around the corner, coffee mug still in hand.
“I’m going out,” Lucius said tersely, watching his son cringe at his murderous tone.
“But work…” Draco blinked at Lucius, looking all the world like a wide eyed snowy owl fallen from its perch. “Father, you’re only in a t-shirt. At least put on a proper shirt before—” Draco yelped, falling backwards as Lucius sent a vase smashing across the hallway in the opposite direction.
“Watch Potter!” Was all Lucius managed to spit out before rounding out the back door and apparating with a thunderous crack.
Harry was just pulling himself free of the bedspread when Draco came rushing in, a mix of fear and confusion on his face. “What happened! Did you fight! Was it the clothes!”
Harry stumbled backwards from the assault of questions, nearly braining himself on the nightstand. Situating his glasses back on his face, Harry blanched to find Draco right in his personal space. “W-what?”
“What happened?” Draco repeated, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and shaking him. It would have been comical if Harry didn’t feel so bloody dizzy and light headed since waking. Sleep charms always left him groggy.
Harry lightly shoved his friend away, falling back to sit on the bed. “I’m not sure,” he said weakly, eyes focusing on his wand. For some reason it was on the floor where anyone could step on it. Harry quickly picked it up and placed it safely on the nightstand.
“My father just mauled a vase while running out of here. Something happened!” Draco hissed, looking Harry up and down. The boy didn’t look particularly ravished, just the same old mess of hair as always. Which just left fighting. But whatever they were fighting about had to be beyond anything normal. Lucius was not the type to have fits of rages. Especially around his family. The man held a steel trap on his anger, Draco suspected because Lucius’s father had been reputed to be brutal with his fury.
Harry shrugged uncomfortably, looking up at Draco. “I think he thought I had done something.”
“The tea? He got worked up over the damn tea!”
“Stop yelling,” Harry urged, wincing when Draco hit one of his particularly screeching notes. “It wasn’t the tea. I woke up after a nightmare and charmed myself asleep. He seemed to think that it was a bad thing to do.”
Draco blinked, trying to process the information. “So? I use charms all the time when I can’t sleep. We all do…”
“No,” Harry amended, realizing he had phrased things wrong. “I used my wand. I cast a sleep charm on myself.”
Draco gaped. Without warning, he reached over and punched Harry in the arm. “Are you out of your mind? You could have killed yourself! If I had tried to wake you and didn’t know it, I could have ended up dead too! Everyone knows—!”
Harry grabbed Draco’s fists before the boy could swing again. “I didn’t. Muggle raised. I never even cast one before. Ron usually did it for me. I didn’t know there was a problem with a simple spell like that.”
Draco snapped his mouth shut, relaxing his grip so Harry would let him go. Draco then punched his friend again, Harry swearing at the obvious sham. “Potter, if this had happened three days ago, Father could have walked in on both of us starved while asleep. You need to think before you act. Ignorance is no fucking excuse.”
Harry knew from experience that three days was not long enough to starve, but it didn’t seem the right time to bring up the fact. “I will never do it again, I promise. I didn’t know. Now I do. I’m more concerned your father is calling to have me admitted for trying to off myself like a nutter.”
Draco shook his head at the words. “He knows you’re an idiot—At least, that’s what he’s always telling me. I doubt he thinks that it was on purpose.”
Harry was not so certain. “He thinks everything I do is on purpose. Like it’s my life’s goal to bother him. I’m sure this is just another in the long list. Get this—He apologized to me about burning my clothes.”
“No he didn’t,” Draco said flatly, wondering if maybe Harry was losing his mind.
“Yeah, he did. Told me the new clothes were to be taken as an apology. He must think I’m off my rocker, saying something like that to me.”
Draco blinked wearily a few times and then sprawled back on Harry’s bed. His life was going to shit. All he wanted to do was have his friend over for the summer so Harry would be safe and he could have company. How did it get so complicated?
Draco knew it was the drawbacks of being friends with Harry; it always had been. The boy was a Gryffindor—The worst offense. He was also an absolute troublemaker, always dragging Draco into so much danger at school just to get them out of it almost as quickly. And of course, he was such a mental headcase, like crazy emotional mess when it came to anything more complicated than holding hands. That Lucius had gotten sucked in was just one more casualty to the wild war that was Harry Potter.
Lucius had apologized. Draco wasn’t certain exactly what it meant, but it was bad. Very fucking bad. Life changing, earth shattering, his father was losing his shit bad. And then he had gotten angry and broken something. Draco was going to be an orphan. Worse, he was going to be Longbottom, having two parents that were so out of their minds they couldn’t do a damn thing. He was turning into Neville.
Harry watched his friend sigh with deep angst and emotion, not sure what to do. “I swear, Draco. I wouldn’t put you at risk like that. I really didn’t know.”
Draco sighed again, covering his eyes with his hands. “Potter, shut up for a second.”
Harry did, scratching the back of his head.
After a few minutes Draco sat up, resolved to face the day. “He’s a grown man. He can take care of himself. Let’s get you into some clothes already and get out of the house. I’ll leave a note, just in case Father comes back.” Draco said it all very deliberately, as if they were planning a military strategy, and not an outing for fun. Harry nodded, not about to disagree.
Lucius was feeling like a rabid wolf, foaming and confused, and wanting to strike out. So it was no surprise to him when he found himself in the Silver Forest of Zasu, quite literally his old hunting grounds. He used to come out here when he was in his twenties to hone his accuracy and release his frustrations. The sleek and beautiful Basial, no larger than a bobcat with their speed and dangerous claws, had been Lucius’s favorite prey, to the point that he would not kill them for he respected the creatures too much. He would, however, stalk them down and stun the hell out of them.
He was not prepared. No water or weapons beyond his wand. As a wizard, his magic was everything. It could sustain him with summoning liquid, striking down enemies, and even apparating far away if he came across a foe too dangerous. But the intense focus needed for such actions was beyond Lucius right now. He was angry. He wanted to fight something. And he wanted to get hurt doing it.
Beneath his anger was a feeling. It burned his veins. Twisted his stomach. Stole the moisture from his mouth. It compelled him to do crazy, irrational things—Like apologize. Lucius did not want to have this feeling. It had left him after his third lashing, along with the boy he had protected, and Lucius had promised he would never let it in again. He was not some flighty child that could afford such emotion. Even as a young man his father had proven to Lucius he could not afford such weakness.
He stilled, the forest strange around him, different than moments ago. He was not being quiet enough. All small prey had fled with each ill-controlled step he took. There was a thin, soft carpet of leaves beneath his feet, hard packed earth of the old trail peeking through. Trees rose up tall around him, their canopy so thick that the mid day light left dark shadows on the ground, dazzling spots of blinding sun bouncing up at Lucius’s eyes. In one of those large shadows was something… Something too big to be a Basial.
That giddy feeling in his kitchen should have warned him away but he had been foolish. After so many years, he had been confident that nothing could rouse his heart again. Mostly because he had half wondered if it had been damaged the way his body had. For every scar Lucius hid on his body, his heart echoed.
The dragon was small, not fully grown. It was not sleeping, but may have been moments ago. Its tail, slithering over the texture of the underbrush, had caught Lucius’s attention. The stillness of the forest, warning him away from the pile of scrubby brush and broken twigs that on closer inspection were bones, kept Lucius from making the wrong move. His anger drained, to replace with adrenaline. He had come looking for a fight, but a massacre was less of interest.
Lucius knew Harry was powerful. Draco used to come home summers, raving with clear jealousy that the boy-who-lived had exploded another thing, sometimes another person. But he was also so fragile. Something right beneath the surface, fluttering desperate for attention, while at the same time begging to never be exposed. Lucius recognized it. The desperate, helpless cry for affection, even while brusquely telling himself that it was a weakness. The want for protection, even though as a wizard nothing should ever physically hurt again.
Lucius stopped his edging steps away. The dragon swished in its dwelling, puffing dark smoke, warning him that to continue to stand there was to risk more than just claw and fang. Lucius stood his ground.
What was the worst that could happen? The boy could find him too old? Too dull? Perhaps he wouldn’t, not right away. Maybe it would be the rest of summer, only to have Harry go back to school and never think of him again. While something inside Lucius might hurt… Might even break and never heal again. Was that the very worst thing?
The brush gave a shudder as the hiding beast roared, more smoke rising, roiling a dark cloud of scalding steam around them. Lucius cast a spell over his eyes, allowing him to see through the ash. It was lumbering up, long neck twisting, leathery wings unfurling as they cracked through the brambles and thorns of its nest.
Was a burn worth the dazzle of fire up close? Wasn’t that always the consequence? Everyone knew that to stand before a dragon was the surest way to get burned. What about hellfire? The demonic, green-eyed trickster, likely tearing up his house at that very moment, was full of hellfire. What would that burn like if Lucius stayed to find out?
Harry had never worn clothes that felt as good as the ones Mr. Adler produced. Even if some of them made him look like a preppy, stuck up poof, they all felt amazing on his skin. He had never expected that with expensive clothes. He had assumed they would be so formal and uncomfortable that all he would do was itch—Like church clothing. It was a new experience, one purely thanks to Lucius and his messed up behavior.
Harry was wearing a pair of silky dark green pajamas, not made to look particularly spectacular, but somehow managing to look just that, while also whispering over his skin like a caress with every movement. It made Harry think of Lucius’s hands moving over him, firm and warm, sometimes just brushing gently when seeking out holes. But then he started wondering where Lucius’s hands were at that very moment and on whose body. Likely on someone with clothing that had never been owned long enough to see a hole. It was a terrible feeling and Harry ducked his head and huffed.
Harry had been sitting in the kitchen for an hour and forty-five minutes after his latest nightmare. Lucius had not come back again and Harry had been left ruminating on where the man went when not at home or at work. And then he had been stuck brooding on why he had to care so much. Lucius was a bother, a total pain, and he couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Had he fallen for Lucius like some idiotic, love-crazed, hormonal teenager? Shit, Pansy wasn’t even this bad and she’d been obsessed with the man for years.
How the hell had Lucius gotten to him? Harry had so many defenses in place to avoid ever getting close—Or even desiring to get close. People hurt him. Especially people that got under his guard. Harry knew the ways Draco would hurt him, and had accepted that as part of their friendship, the same with Ron and Hermione. Lucius had somehow gotten closer, digging in with his cruel comments and offhanded compliments, making Harry so confused, he had lost his mind and dropped all his barriers without even knowing it.
There was a thud down the hall, Harry listening intently. It was the arrival chamber, the sound of bags banging through the floo. Harry was not surprised when Lucius appeared minutes later, slipping through the kitchen door since the man hated floo travel.
Harry observed Lucius silently as he stepped in, wishing he wasn’t so damn happy and angry to see the man. Then he sat up straight, jumping to his feet in a hurry. “You’re bleeding!”
Lucius grunted, eyes narrowing when he caught sight of Harry. The shoulder of his white undershirt was burnt black and torn, revealing bloodied flesh beneath it. “Potter, why are you always haunting my kitchen?”
Concern lodging in his throat, Harry glared instead. He reached across the table, picking up a still sealed cannister of Floral Delights orange and cinnamon passionflower blend tea. He dropped it into Lucius’s grasp. “I’m sorry I messed with your tea. This has a sealing charm on it, so it’s always fresh.”
Lucius glanced at the canister, a strange smirk twisting his lips for a moment. “It’s looseleaf.”
“Yeah. The saleslady said it’s more potent when you can… What?” Harry sighed at the bemused expression pointed his way.
“I don’t have anything to brew looseleaf tea with.”
“Oh, well, sorry. I can go buy something to—”
“You can’t seem to get anything right.” Lucius cut him off, placing the tea down on the counter and hissing as his shoulder pulled.
Jolting as if struck, Harry really hoped Lucius’s shoulder hurt more than it looked. “Right, so I’m going to go anywhere else but here right now,” Harry grumbled, turning away to leave.
“Everyone else in the house always hated tea,” Lucius continued, hand falling on Harry’s shoulder and holding him still. “It’s very difficult to indulge oneself when you have people nattering about just how dreary your enjoyments are. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Harry glanced to the side. Lucius sounded conversational instead of how he had initially thought insulting. “I enjoy the tea,” he said after a moment, still wary.
“Even though it’s herbal and doesn’t give you a jump in the morning.”
“After my nightmares, the last thing I need is a swig of caffeine. And really, who wants to have to rely on a drug just to be able to wake up?” Harry turned halfway, resting his hip on the counter.
“Exactly. They can’t even get themselves moving without their addiction. I can’t imagine dragging myself out of bed every morning… just hoping for what might be waiting in my kitchen.” Lucius was staring at Harry very peculiarly, his tongue running over his teeth. Harry met the man’s gaze, taking a step back when Lucius grinned wickedly.
“How do you like the new clothes?” Lucius asked, predatory eyes running up and down Harry’s pajama clad form.
Harry blushed and shrugged, biting his lip and taking another step back. He had told himself he wasn’t going to get caught up with Lucius again. That he didn’t want the man to touch him, no matter how nice an idea it might seem at the time. “They’re, uh, soft. Nice on my skin.” Harry flinched internally, hating his brain from bringing up the most superficial aspect of the clothes when Lucius was looking at him that way.
“Are they?” Lucius didn’t step, so much as glide forward until he was trapping Harry into the corner of the counter. He slipped his hand up, running his fingertips over the buttons of Harry’s top.
Harry raised his head, telling himself he wasn’t falling for any of it. “What happened to your shoulder? It looks… Did you get scorched by a dragon?” He carefully touched Lucius’s arm, pulling at the singed fabric, which crumbled beneath his fingertips. “What were you doing?”
“Letting off some steam,” Lucius said simply, unbuttoning the top button of Harry’s shirt.
“You need a healer. I’d do it but with my luck lately you’d end up with another burn.”
“I’m fine.” Lucius pulled another button free, eyes glancing up to the boy’s blushing face. “So you’re keeping the clothes?”
Harry turned his head slightly away, Lucius breathing too close and making him feel hot all over. He was standing only an inch away and Harry could feel the man’s body heat radiating. It was strange having Lucius in short sleeves with his muscles exposed and bulging. Almost indecent after always seeing him in a dress shirt. But Lucius had asked him something… about keeping the clothes…
Harry blushed as the silence stretched. “Yes,” he said awkwardly. “It beats the alternative.”
“Walking around my kitchen nude, right?” Lucius smirked again, lips brushing over Harry’s ear and making his knees shake.
Come on! How did the man do that? Harry ducked away, managing to get under Lucius’s arm and free from the corner. He breathed out shakily, running a hand through his dark locks. “Listen, Lucius. I just need you to know I wasn’t intentionally trying to kill myself… or Draco for that matter, or anything like that.”
“I know,” Lucius said, turning and leaning against the counter and tracking Harry with his gaze. The man was strangely calm. No anger bubbling beneath the surface. Harry actually found it unnerving. At least when Lucius was angry, he knew what to expect. Well, not really—But at least he knew the man was angry. Now he didn’t even know that much.
“I’m serious. I need to make sure you don’t think I was trying to, you know…”
“I do know.” Lucius held his hand out and Harry, for reasons absolutely unknown to him, took it. Lucius pulled him close, wrapping his arms loosely around Harry’s hips, leaving inches again between them. He ran his eyes down the front of the boy’s shirt, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows. “It is the most damnedest thing, you know.”
Harry shook his head, not knowing a thing at the moment, Lucius feeling warm and comforting. This was the feeling he had told himself to avoid. This fuzzy thing that seemed to have less to do with sexual attraction and more with those awful emotions he couldn’t handle.
“You don’t have any holes.”
“I better not. I just got the damn things,” Harry muttered, raising his arm to make sure he hadn’t already torn his new clothes.
“It’s odd,” Lucius said, dipping his head lower, breathing in the scent of Harry’s skin and soft hair. “I think I miss them.”
Harry shivered, fire spreading over his skin. He had suspected as much, Lucius such a neurotic pain that he probably had some secret—or in this case just blatant—kink for his horrible clothes. Maybe now Lucius would leave him alone… Go off and chase his line of wealthy pretty people that would know how to be proper around a man like him. Harry internally scowled at the thought.
Gently pushing at Lucius’s biceps, careful to not harm his injured shoulder, Harry stepped back. “Right, so I just wanted to be clear about that sleeping charm. I won’t ever do anything like that again. And you don’t need to worry.”
“I know.” Lucius kept looking at him, so calm, so intently, and Harry felt like some stupid frozen idiot. He didn’t want to go. He wasn’t angry enough to leave, or angry enough to kiss the man, for that matter. So he was just kind of stuck, resting his back on the kitchen table and holding onto the lip behind him. Lucius mirrored his posture on the counter, eyebrows raised with a small smile quirking his lips.
“Did you want some tea?” Lucius eventually asked.
“Err… looseleaf, remember?” Harry reminded quietly.
“Right, but I also bought some.” Lucius moved, Harry’s eyes following the man’s feet as he stepped around and left the kitchen to grab the bags he had sent through the floo. Harry heard them rustling behind him, Lucius placing bundles on the table. Harry wondered briefly if this was when Lucius would start giving him crap about the tea, and he turned expectantly. His eyes widened, counting quickly while Lucius carefully arranged the boxes in front of him.
“Didn’t want to take any chances,” Lucius murmured when Harry continued to gape. “Anything you take a shine to tends to need quick replacement or you become… lets say, messy,” Lucius drawled, pointing to the cereal coated handprint he had forgotten to clean.
Harry blushed, finding his voice. “I’m not going to drink all of that! You’ve got at least twenty boxes there.”
“Well, that is the hope. That you might be willing to share.”
Harry snapped his eyes up, watching Lucius fight a smile. The prat was mocking him. But not in a mean way… more playful. “What the hell did that dragon do to you?”
“Pardon?” Lucius asked, his smile breaking free.
Harry swore quietly under his breath—Lucius should not be allowed to smile. Not with the morning light turning his gray eyes pale blue, his blond hair fanning soft around his face, and with two days stubble on his jaw. It was very much unfair to his senses. “Do you have a concussion? Fever? Why are you smiling?”
Lucius tried to fight his smile back, but it only worked for a moment, now his perfectly white teeth coming into play. Harry bit his thumb, crushing it against his lips while narrowing his eyes warily. This was a different game from Lucius, and one Harry was not certain he could win.
“I was thinking of something,” Lucius admitted quietly, stepping around the table and snagging Harry’s free wrist. He pulled it up, running his other hand over Harry’s palm, fingers tripping and teasing lightly.
“And what would that be?” Harry asked around his thumb, eyes jumping from his hand to Lucius’s thankfully diminished smile. The full wattage had been nearly blinding.
“Something Draco had said the other morning. About why you were so upset.” Lucius pulled Harry’s wrist up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the narrow flesh.
There couldn’t be any way to turn redder, but he managed. Even though they had a chair between them, Harry felt completely exposed and vulnerable all of a sudden. “Upset?”
“Yes. He had thought you were jealous.” Lucius was smiling again, now against Harry’s wrist. “It was a nice thought, Harry.”
Harry was pretty sure he was going to bite right through his own thumb. Why was it nice? Why was Lucius smiling like that, like someone sweet and caring, and thinking him being jealous was nice? And the way he had just said his name, ‘Harry,’ like it was the best sounding word out there. Like maybe Lucius liked him? Like maybe he might even more than like him… Harry suddenly became aware of his heart racing in his ears, pounding in his chest.
Lucius’s grip on Harry’s wrist tightened, his head tilting slightly, eyes watching as the boy’s breath quickened. “It’s okay.”
Harry shook his head, his lungs feeling tight. “Not… not even.” Fuck, he was having a panic attack. Lucius might actually like him, and his response was to freak out like some weak, crazy idiot, and have a panic attack. Fuck. What the hell was wrong with him?
“Calm down… just focus on breathing.” Lucius stepped around the chair, his smile replaced with concern. Harry stepped back, eyes wide, but Lucius didn’t seem to notice. He pulled Harry’s thumb from the death grip his teeth had on it, and held the boy firmly by the shoulders. “Just breathe. Close your eyes.”
That seemed even more impossible than breathing at the moment, the man’s intense gaze snaring Harry so completely while he struggled to get air in. As if understanding, Lucius gently placed his palm over Harry’s brow and pressed his eyelids down.
“Good. Now just focus on your breathing. Think of how you want to breathe, nice and slow. Try and pull in as much air as you can… Hold it in your lungs as long as you can… And then release it, as slow as possible, making a soft hissing noise.”
Harry wondered how Lucius knew this. Draco had never known anyone to have panic attacks before Harry. He had never told anyone besides Draco, afraid to be made fun of. Afraid if others knew his weakness it would somehow make him even weaker.
“You’re doing fine. I know it’s frightening to not have your breath but it’s right there. It just feels out of reach.”
Lucius was right; it was right there, just hovering out of reach. Harry’s lungs kept moving, spasming like some flopping fish, but he was surrounded by air. He just had to reach for it.
“H-How… do you… know?” Harry gasped.
“My mother. She couldn’t handle my father well… Not many of us could.” Lucius ran his palm over Harry’s back in small, soothing circles. His voice was low, lulling and reassuring. “But when I reminded her she wasn’t alone in those moments, she would eventually calm and breathe again.”
Harry focused on the feeling of warmth moving over his back. The even breaths from Lucius puffing over his cheek, ruffling his hair. The scent of the man, currently charred and tinged with sweat. And the tea, the smell of tea was below it all as the boxes rested on the table.
“There you go.” Lucius didn’t stop rubbing Harry’s back, even as his breathing leveled to something calm and normal. “How do you feel?” He asked, fingers gently pressing to Harry’s cheek until the boy opened his eyes.
“Embarrassed,” Harry admitted, his voice barely a whisper.
Lucius nodded as if it were perfectly okay. “Sometimes our body wants to tell us something so much, it stops everything else until you have to pay attention. Once you realize what yours is trying to say to you, it should stop sending such a loud message.”
Harry looked away, not wanting to think about why he had panicked. “I, um, can smell the tea.”
“Then let’s have some tea.” Lucius turned to put the kettle on, again flinching when he lifted his shoulder too high.
Harry watched him, his mind somehow quiet in the man’s ritual movements. “Tell me what happened to your shoulder.”
“Afraid I burned someone’s luggage?” Lucius teased, glancing behind him to catch Harry’s blush.
“No.” Harry bit his lip, thinking if Lucius had, he’d be really jealous about it. Which was just stupid and crazy. His eyes followed down the muscles of Lucius’s back, catching on the hem of his shirt stained with dirt, belt peeking out below. There was dust and drops of blood, black blood, staining his trousers, the amount increasing the closer to Lucius’s mud covered shoes. This was probably the messiest Harry had ever seen Lucius and he had to admit, he liked it.
Lucius turned, a steaming mug in hand that he handed to Harry to let steep. Harry tried to hold it but still felt weak, and placed it on the table for the moment. There was little room with all the boxes, but he managed.
“Have you ever been hunting?”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t really like guns.”
“No guns, just wands. It’s much easier to catch and release. Although, that is not always the common ideology,” Lucius added with a purse to his lips.
“Was that what you were doing?” Harry scratched the back of his head, taking in the rip on Lucius’s right knee and the tear in the seam of his shirt under his left elbow. Had Lucius been hunting and only managed to get a couple spots of dirt on him? It figured.
“Sometimes you really need to move.” Lucius tried a sip of his tea, blowing lightly while he poked at the teabag bobbing at the top. “Otherwise, you just go mad.”
Nodding, Harry observed the man through lowered lashes. Lucius did seem less mad. “So hunting is good for that? Moving enough to stop being crazy.”
“Sometimes. You’ll find yourself hard pressed to find many sports among wizards that don’t involve a huge team and overly complicated rules. Although flying can help too,” Lucius added, remembering Harry was a seeker in that moment. His eyes lingered on the boy, but still he made no move to do anything but talk. “You haven’t had your tea.”
Harry blinked down, reaching for the mug, his hand unsteady. He could feel Lucius watching him, but the man didn’t comment on his weakness after his panic attack.
“Maybe you’d like to try hunting?” Lucius suggested while Harry fumbled with his cup and finally managed to get a sip of the hot liquid. “It’s much safer with more than one person.”
“Maybe.” The tea was soothing and Harry continued to take long sips from it even though it burned.
“Maybe you’d prefer something indoors?” Lucius continued, his gaze intent on Harry’s face. “With less chance of hazards?”
Harry rolled his eyes, fire rising to his cheeks again. “I’m not going to hurt myself hunting. I’m very good at shooting things that don’t move. I do it all the time, and no one is hurt.”
Lucius smirked, placing his tea down. Harry watched him warily over the top of his mug, but that was also removed by the man’s very steady hands. The boxes were going to get crushed. All that tea smooshed. Harry was having a difficult time caring, anticipation thrumming in him. Lucius pushed Harry back, boxes tumbling to the floor with a dull clatter. Harry gazed up, wondering where his mug had gone even as Lucius pressed ever closer to his face.
“Actually, I was thinking dinner.”
“W-what?” Harry asked, certain he had misheard things. Lucius was inches from his ear, but it was very difficult to hear over the blood rushing in his veins.
“I’d like to take you to dinner. Just the two of us.”
Harry’s mouth felt dry. “Um…”
Lucius was asking him out on a date. The man had gone mad. All this calm was just the beginning of the end because there was no way Lucius could want to date him.
“We could go out or stay in. Whatever you like, Harry.” Lucius had found the buttons to the boy’s shirt again but was ignoring them for the way the material gaped in between. He slipped a finger through the slit of smooth fabric, brushing against Harry’s chest.
“Uh… that is… if you want,” Harry mumbled, eyes fluttering shut at the soft touch.
Lucius pressed his lips to the boy’s ear, then parted them, nipping lightly on the outer curl. Harry breathed out noisily, his shoulders jerking suddenly. “I want to know what you want.”
“Oh.” Eyes blinking open, Harry’s gaze fell to the collar of Lucius’s t-shirt stained with a touch of char and sweat. He reached his hand up, tugging at it lightly, watching with interest when the man swallowed, the hollow of his throat fluttering in response. “What about Draco?”
“He’s not invited.”
“That’s not what—”
“I could send him to live with his mother,” Lucius offered dryly before nipping Harry’s throat.
Harry gasped, then moaned as Lucius’s tongue soothed over the heated mark. “G-Going out might be nice.” So what if Lucius was mad as a hatter? Harry really wanted to go on a date with him.
“Tonight?” Lucius asked, mouth suddenly below Harry’s ear, lightly sucking on the sensitive flesh. “I can reserve us something.”
“Okay… just nothing too stuffy,” Harry added, panting softly. “I get nervous around fancy things.”
“And then you break them. I am well aware,” Lucius purred.
Harry’s eyes widened, hands suddenly clinging to the man’s back when Lucius wrapped an arm around his hips and pushed their lower bodies together. “Hell—Not on purpose.”
“Of course,” Lucius agreed unconvincingly, his mouth opening wider, tongue laving Harry’s neck in a long swipe. “You are extremely well behaved.”
Harry groaned, his head falling back to crush a box of tea. “I am,” he insisted weakly.
Lucius found another spot to suck on Harry’s throat, pulling a heated moan from the boy. “I’m not disagreeing.”
“You are… you jerk.” Harry knew sarcasm, especially Lucius’s special brand of it even when kissed into his flesh. More boxes suddenly thumped to the ground, along with the metallic ring of a spoon, Harry’s retort lost when Lucius pushed him further towards the center of the table.
Hips holding Harry in place, Lucius raised himself enough to finally get the rest of the boy’s buttons. He carefully spread the dark green fabric aside, revealing Harry’s warm honey flesh flushed with want. Harry watched, feeling almost in a dream when Lucius bent his head and ran his tongue over one of his dusky nipples, pulling the nub into his mouth and sucking.
“Oh… oh god,” Harry gasped, his brows furrowed, breathing strained. He wrapped his hands in Lucius’s hair, running fingers through. The table gave a warning groan and Harry whimpered, pulling to get the man’s attention. “Lucius.”
“I know.” Lucius didn’t stop what he was doing, gently biting and tugging at Harry’s sore bud.
“The table’s going to…” Harry tried again, another moan stealing his train of thought.
“You just can’t help yourself,” Lucius said with a sigh, moving to give the other nipple the same treatment.
Harry gaped, his hips jolting up to rub against the man’s hard body. “Damn—Oh hell… oh… You’re heavier than me.”
Lucius hummed into Harry’s chest, tongue moving in languid trails. “I’ve had this table for ten years. Now, all of a sudden, it’s breaking. I’m pretty sure this is your doing, Potter.”
Harry gave an indignant growl, only to cry out, clutching Lucius tight as the table shuddered, the last of the boxes tumbling to the floor as one of the legs snapped. Lucius kept Harry from following, his arm still wrapped around the boy’s hips. He pulled Harry to his feet, Harry feeling dizzy, face full of heat from the change in position.
“You are a troublesome thing,” Lucius murmured, mouth attached to the brunette’s neck once again, bristle tingling and prickling Harry’s smooth flesh. “I’m going to have to ward the entire house against you.”
Eyes closing and body moving into the touch, Harry gave a small shrug. “It couldn’t hurt.”
Lucius growled, pulling Harry closer, hands moving more heatedly as they found the small of the boy’s back beneath his open shirt. “If I kiss you, will you panic?” He asked, Harry noticing it wasn’t quite a joke this time.
“I don’t know.”
Lucius ran his lips over Harry’s face, touching down ever so softly against his cheeks, bridge of his nose, chin, and pausing to hover above his mouth. “You’re still shaking.”
“So? I’m not afraid,” Harry whispered. “You don’t frighten me.” It was true. Even when yelling, Lucius didn’t frighten him.
“But you still panicked,” Lucius reminded gently, hand reaching up to touch Harry’s cheek.
Harry still wasn’t sure why he had done that, not wanting to think about it. Lucius smelled so good, and was warm and close to him. He was also being extraordinarily nice, having gone completely mental, and Harry aimed to enjoy it. “Yeah… but I still want a kiss… A lot of kisses.”
It was convincing enough for a kiss, Lucius only hesitating a moment before descending the last inch to Harry’s lips. Harry felt himself melt, Lucius’s mouth that hot, lips sinking against his, tongue slowly flicking against the boy’s parted moan. The world spun again, refrigerator magnets digging into Harry’s back, something thumping to the ground that could have been a pile of potholders from the counter. Then Harry’s shirt was being pulled from him, Lucius’s warm hands possessively running over every bare inch of him.
“Lucius, I…” Harry trailed off with a groan, the man’s leg pushing between his thighs and rubbing against his hard, silk covered bulge. Harry was certain he was going to be suffocated by Lucius, by his heat and clothing, and strong, firm flesh pressing into him at every spot it could. But Harry could breathe damn fine through it, and had no complaints.
“I want to taste you. Will you let me do that?” Lucius asked, tongue and teeth moving over Harry’s neck until the brunette’s head lolled to the side to give more access. “I want to feel you on my lips, dripping down my tongue.” He rocked against Harry, his hardness tight against the boy’s hip.
Harry smirked uncontrollably, his eyes mere slits of emerald beneath his heavy lashes. “Like I’m going to say no to that?”
Lucius caught the heated look, his hand grabbing the back of Harry’s neck and holding tightly. He kissed the boy hard, demanding until Harry began to grab at his shirt and tried to tear it from him. Only to accidentally hit the man’s burn, both of them flinching at the same time from it.
“We need to heal that,” Harry insisted but Lucius only grunted and surged forward to kiss him again.
Harry resisted, not so much for the wound, but because the magnets were sticking painfully in his back, and he had caught sight of the clock. “It’s almost ten. He’ll be up.”
“Then I’ll have to be content with not savoring,” Lucius said with a lascivious smile that made Harry turn completely red, and if imaginable, grow harder.
“But what if we get caught—Oh… And you’re on your knees again,” Harry groaned weakly, Lucius’s hands already pulling down his waistband while the man licked across his flat stomach. How did he always end up without clothes on in the strangest places of Malfoy Manor?
Lucius’s breath felt unimaginably hot as the blond teased lower, dragging across the thin trail of hair from Harry’s belly button down to where it thickened over taut muscle and parted for Harry’s straining cock. Breath moved teasingly over Harry’s flushed tip while Lucius pinned the boy’s hips in place with his large hands. Harry forced his head forward, refusing to miss anything even if his eyes kept wanting to shut.
Silver eyes blazed up at Harry. His breath caught in his throat, Harry watched transfixed as Lucius parted his swollen lips and licked a firm path up the underside of his dick. “Oh hell,” Harry yelped, hands flying to the top of Lucius’s head and tangling in his hair.
“Quiet now… You don’t want to wake anyone,” Lucius reminded, his voice already a little hoarse, as if just thinking about sucking Harry off could do that to him. He kissed up the side of Harry’s swaying length, tongue flicking out, drawing small wet circles as he went. Harry did his best to be quiet, swallowing down the whine threatening to break free. It wasn’t working and he gave into quiet swears, hoping it wouldn’t draw too much notice if Draco was awake and walking around already.
“Shit… oh shit… Lucius, that’s… oh hell.” Harry, eyes wide, could only stare dumbfounded when Lucius suddenly opened his mouth wide and swallowed him down deep. Harry knew he was pulling too tight on the man’s silky hair, but couldn’t stop himself, feeling almost paralyzed by the intense wet heat wrapping his length. Lucius was dripping saliva, groaning softly, trying to take him even deeper in while bobbing his head. Harry’s knees felt weak from the very sight, never mind feel. “Fucking beautiful…” he rasped out, not sure how long he could last with Lucius looking like that.
Suddenly Harry couldn’t see at all, a finger pressing against his hole making him jolt, the back of his head slamming into the refrigerator. “Oh fuck… Lucius, please… Please.” Lucius must have known what he needed because that finger was working its way deeper in, twisting through Harry’s tight, clenching muscles, seeking something. All Harry could do was squirm while Lucius plunged in and out of him while also sucking him down. His head thrashed fitfully, fire rushing over his skin, and leaving him feeling crazed and demented.
Lucius gave a particularly strong pull of suction, then engulfed Harry down again, deep into his throat. Harry fought back a scream when that taunting finger found something inside him and touched. His entire body tensed, back arching, Lucius’s hand barely keeping him from choking the man with his spurting cock. Harry moaned loudly, able to feel Lucius’s throat swallow around him, over and over again with each jerk his body made of release.
“God… I can’t believe… Oh hell.” Harry really had nothing proper to say at all, not with Lucius still thrusting his finger inside him a few final times, making sure he drank down every drop of cum he might still have inside. The man was amazing… Freaking amazing.
Lucius slowly pulled away, licking his red lips, cheeks flushed with arousal, normally sharp eyes a hazy pale blue. Harry stared down at him in awe, his hands gently soothing over Lucius’s cheeks, brushing bristle and silky strands of bright hair. God, he had liked that… He had liked that, and Lucius had known he would… Had touched him in a way that—Harry closed his eyes, his body shivering.
He had liked it, a lot. And he wanted to know what more would feel like.
“Harry, you are delicious… fresh and wild… The things you do to me.” Lucius pressed the side of his head against Harry’s stomach, eyes closing slowly. “The things I want to do to you.” His voice was a dark, deep purr, hoarse and strained, and absolutely devastating to Harry’s senses.
Harry swallowed hard, slowly sinking down so that he was sitting before the kneeling man. “What do you want to do to me?”
Lucius smirked, reaching down to find the band to Harry’s pajama pants and pull them up the boy’s legs and over his narrow hips. “Everything. Every sinful thing one can do with a young man as beautiful as you.” He found the green shirt, helping to fold Harry’s shaking arms into the sleeves. He then began to button him up, leaving the top two open to peek flesh. “Now come on. Off to your room.”
Confused, Harry made a more than obvious stare at the tent in Lucius’s pants. “I thought you wanted to do things to me?” Harry was only a little nervous at the idea of what those things might be, hand reaching out to tentatively brush across the hard flesh hidden beneath the man’s slacks. Lucius had yet to do anything to him that hurt or frightened him, and even that… Even doing that with the man would probably be nice.
“I do,” Lucius said a little breathlessly, eyes widening as he pushed his straining cock against Harry’s hand for a moment. “But we’ve run out of time.”
As if to prove his point, Draco cursed outside the door, muttering about boxes.
“Crap,” Harry hissed, scrambling to his feet and looking around in dismay. The kitchen was a disaster, boxes of tea all over the floor joined with silverware, paper bags, and Harry’s mug, which had been placed out of the way by the sink but still managed to be knocked over. The puddle had reached the potholders, turning everything a soggy brown. Not to mention the kitchen table was severely lopsided, one placemat still managing to hang on the surface but nothing else. The broken leg had splintered off, the fallen piece dejected and crooked on the floor.
Maybe Harry did destroy the house a lot.
Lucius had gotten to his feet and was reaching for a towel to clean up the spilled tea when Draco stumbled in bleary eyed. He walked past the two of them and straight to the coffee maker, accidentally kicking the mug on the floor across into the wall. He began pulling out canisters and whatever magic was needed to brew a cup of coffee, all of it foreign to Harry since he had never bothered to learn.
“He’s like the living dead in the morning,” Lucius commented dryly. He gave his son an amused look and then made a shooing motion at Harry.
Harry felt very bad for leaving Lucius with such a mess to clean on his own, but he also didn’t want to get caught by an angry Draco once the boy finally woke up. He exited swiftly, but not before Lucius followed, kissed him hard against the hallway wall a final heated time, and let him escape on wobbling knees.
Draco was the one to answer the door, waiting for Harry at the foot of the stairs while his friend found the Frisbee he had insisted on showing off. It was right after lunch, Lucius joining for a few moments to steal all the potato chips with a taunting look towards Harry that had made Draco shake his head and bite his cheek to stop from smiling. His father seemed more like himself, if not much more relaxed than Draco had seen him in a long while. He didn’t bother asking why, just glad Lucius didn’t seem to be going the way of Narcissa at the moment.
“Sir?” Draco blinked, staring up in confusion. The light was bright outside, backlighting Albus Dumbledore and making it difficult to see his headmaster’s expression. “Is this about school?”
“Good afternoon, Draco. I was hoping to speak with your father.” If Dumbledore was twinkling, Draco couldn’t tell. Feeling nervous, he stepped back, welcoming the older man in. He was in full robes, ignoring the summer heat for whatever formalities Dumbledore felt must be needed when speaking with Lucius. Draco’s unease grew and he turned, spotting his father down the hall.
Lucius greeted Dumbledore politely, but Draco could see that he was also confused as to what the headmaster was doing there. “Albus, we weren’t expecting you. Is this concerning the upcoming year for Draco?”
Dumbledore held his hand up. “This is something of importance, Lucius. It took some time, but I was able to trace your magical signature. Is he well? Unharmed? I must see him.”
Draco and Lucius exchanged looks. Harry had said he had owled Dumbledore. It must have been another one of those tricky little lies that Harry had twisted in his mind just right to get past them.
“He’s coming down soon,” Draco said. “Just looking for something.”
“Can I offer you anything, Albus? Drink? Chair? The weather is sweltering and you look as though you’ve been in the sun awhile.”
“Thank you, no. There can be no delay. Time is—There he is.” Piercing blue eyes lit at the top of the stairs. Lucius and Draco both turned. Harry was oblivious, staring at a round plastic disk in his hand, flipping it lightly on his fingertips while he descended the staircase. Only to stop cold, head snapping up when he caught sight of Dumbledore in the hall.
Draco inhaled sharply, watching as Harry took a step back as if considering to flee. What had he done? Some prank gone wrong?
“S-Sir,” Harry croaked out, refusing to cross the distance to the group. “He threw me out.”
“I’ve spoken with your Aunt. You are still family to her. It is still your home.”
Harry shook his head weakly, his shoulders slumping forward. “It’s not… Not ever.”
Dumbledore stood taller, reaching his hand out. “Come now, Harry. It’s time to get you back to the Dursleys.”
“Albus, I must have misheard you.” Lucius stepped between Harry and Dumbledore, voice unnaturally calm. “You can’t possibly be considering sending him back to those muggles. They threw him out in the middle of the night. Abandon him on the side of the road like a bag of trash with little more than rags on his back.”
Dumbledore ignored Lucius, his gaze fixed on Harry. “You know what will happen if you leave those wards. They need to recharge. There is no other place that can protect you from the Dark Lord.”
Harry felt frozen, numbing bursts of fear sucking him down, darkness closing in and tightening his stomach until he thought he might throw up. He had to go back to the wards. He had to be around Aunt Petunia so the blood wards would renew and keep Voldemort from breaking down the door. No one had seen the Dark Lord in years, had assumed him dead forever. Except Dumbledore, that was. He had set up protections for Harry to make sure he would be safe from the crazed wizard and his followers that had tried to kill the boy so many years ago. What his headmaster didn’t understand was that Harry had yet to be harmed by a wizard, only by a muggle. One muggle. The one living at Privet Drive.
“The Dark Lord? Albus, you’re out of your mind.”
Dumbledore finally turned from Harry. “Am I, Lucius? You, of all people, should know better than to underestimate him.” Harry was taut with fear but he fought it down. Maybe there was still hope? Maybe Lucius could convince the man to let him stay?
Nostrils flaring, Lucius glanced at Harry, his expression unreadable. Lucius began unbuttoning his dress shirt, pulling the material away from his t-shirt with a crisp rustle. His shoulder was bandaged, but that was not where he directed Dumbledore to look. Instead, the blond turned the inside of his arm outwards and held the muscle there to reveal an almost completely faded tattoo. “I would know, Albus. It would be impossible for me not to know if Riddle had returned.”
Harry stepped forward hesitantly, wanting to see the dark mark. Lucius shifted at his approach, holding his arm out to Harry, his expression blank. It was very faded, almost as pale as Lucius’s skin, like a dark bruise that refused to fully heal. Harry touched it hesitantly, wondering somehow if it would burn. But it was just a tattoo, old and without magic anymore.
“That it exists at all is reason to be cautious,” Dumbledore said sternly. “You represent the demented number of men and women that would see Harry dead, just because You-Know-Who failed.”
Lucius stiffened, Draco gaping like he had been struck. Harry met Lucius’s gaze, his fingers slowly curling from the man’s warm skin. Face still otherwise a mask, Lucius raised an eyebrow. Harry nearly burst out laughing.
“It’s okay, Sir. Lucius doesn’t think I have enough fashion sense for murdering.”
Harrumphing, Dumbledore combed fingers through his beard. “You have been too long from the house. The wards are weakened and will not sustain the school year. We must keep them strong as long as possible.”
Draco, still angry at his father being accused of wanting to harm Harry when everyone knew his mother was the mad one, refused to be silent any longer. “So Harry is supposed to live there after he’s done with school? Like, for the rest of his life?”
Dumbledore nodded. “I see your point, but while he has no protection away from Hogwarts, he must have something. Nothing is stronger than those wards. That home is a complete safe house from Voldemort, and will continue to be as long as Harry is welcome there.”
“But he’s not welcome! Don’t you understand what that man does—!”
“Don’t,” Harry snapped, stepping away and glaring at his friend. “There’s no point.”
“Harry, he’ll have to let you stay if he knows,” Draco pleaded quietly, his eyes frantic and slightly watery. “You can’t go back there. You can’t.”
Harry shook his head even as Lucius placed a hand on his shoulder. “Albus, you are running from ghosts. The boy is old enough to make his own decisions.”
“Actually, I’m not,” Harry said flatly, meeting Dumbledore’s heavy gaze. “My Aunt has legal guardianship over me until I turn eighteen.”
“Still,” Draco insisted. “Still, you can’t be expected to go back to a place where you’re hurt like that. Just tell him, and he’ll—”
“He already knows!” Harry hissed. He had told Dumbledore last year. Had written and begged the man to let him come to school early—Anything, just so long as he didn’t have to stay with Vernon. Harry had never gotten a reply. Dumbledore had completely ignored him, even when he returned to school. That was when Harry realized he had to deal with everything on his own. That he had to endure in silence because no one fucking cared.
“You should collect your things,” Dumbledore said but Harry shook his head.
“I don’t want any of my things there with them. Draco, will you take care of Hedwig? Just throw everything else in my trunk and I’ll grab it on the train.”
Draco was gaping at him, very much at a loss of what to do. “Why didn’t you tell me? You always tell me everything.”
Harry shrugged, purposely ignoring Lucius’s searing gaze as well. It had hurt too much and he hadn’t wanted it to be real. Harry didn’t tell many of those things to Draco because speaking them aloud only made everything so much worse. “What good would it have done? It was bad enough I bothered you as long as I did. Sorry for that—Sorry, Lucius.” Harry backed away, hand reaching behind him for the door. There would be no date that night. Probably none ever. It wasn’t like Lucius would wait around for someone like him.
“Wait. This is ridiculous,” Lucius spoke up, his voice full of barely restrained anger. “Albus, you cannot knowingly send him into danger because you want to feed your obsession over a wizard long gone. The muggles gave the boy up and we took him in. No harm will come to him here. Certainly the same cannot be said of that place.”
“If it were that simple, Lucius, I would not be here,” Dumbledore said, sounding almost tired, but still full of conviction. “She is his guardian, and he must stay with her. There are only a few more weeks left. Heaven help if the boy has to stay extra, just to make up for his absence already.”
Harry paled at that, Lucius seeing and stiffening. Before the man could say something else, Harry held his hand up, waving slightly. “I’ll see you at the train station, right? Both of you. There’s nothing to worry about, so… yeah. Just a few weeks.” Harry slipped the door open and escaped out into the burning sun before the two Malfoys could think to follow him.
He could hear them arguing with Dumbledore, trying to make the wizard see reason. Harry knew better. The possibility of Voldemort had always taken precedence over the reality of his situation. Harry sometimes wondered if Dumbledore wasn’t disappointed that Voldemort hadn’t returned and tried to kill him. Maybe it would have justified each year of leaving him with the Dursleys.
Wizards just couldn’t see that muggles could do damage, even when it was right in front of their noses. Harry knew muggles and wizards were all the same, just people. Some people used power responsibly. Some people used it to hurt others. Vernon never needed magic. He was larger, stronger and owned the house, the food and the clothes Harry needed. That was all the power someone needed over another to hurt them.
“Harry, don’t go with him! Don’t go back there!” Draco had run around the house while Dumbledore and his father argued, pulling at Harry’s arm as if to whisk him away. “We can run. Father will understand. He might even help once he realizes what we’ve done.”
“You’ll only get in trouble,” Harry whispered, staring at the front door of the manor, his mind racing. Could he run away? He had been considering living on his own when afraid he had worn out his welcome at the manor. Maybe he could run and just… What?
“Where would we even go? Dumbledore would find us eventually. He was able to trace your father’s magic all the way from the Dursleys,” Harry reminded Draco with a sigh.
“Who cares? It’s a huge world, and you’ve got plenty of money.”
“Not muggle money, though. Everyone knows me in the wizarding world. Once word gets out that Dumbledore is looking for me…” Harry trailed off, biting his lip. “I’d never be allowed back in school. I’d miss my last year. He might expel you too, for helping me.”
“Fuck it!” Draco snapped, his eyes flashing angrily as he pulled more persistent on Harry’s arm. “We’ll make up the NEWTs—Hell, Father might be able to get us in somewhere else. Or a personal tutor. You have options, Harry. He’s not the damn boss of you.”
But that was where Draco was wrong. Dumbledore was the boss of him. He had been from the very beginning, when the headmaster had dangled a new life in front of him with the contingency that Harry would be the Golden Boy he was expected to be. Harry owed Dumbledore too much even if what the man was doing now was terrible. Dumbledore had the right intentions, Harry was fairly certain. It was just the execution that was all messed up.
He carefully untangled his arm from his friend’s grasp. “Draco, I couldn’t bear if I messed up your future over something like this. Or Lucius’s. Going against Dumbledore will only get you both hurt and your family has been through enough already. Considering your dad’s an ex-Death Eater, I think we’re both lucky Dumbledore didn’t come in here hexing. It’s only a couple of weeks.”
Draco growled, clutching his fists at his side. “That was when he hurt you the most last summer,” he hissed lowly. “That was when I healed you on the damn train, and had to find you fucking food, you were that dizzy, and made sure you got your trunk because you couldn’t lift your bloody arms.”
Harry stepped back but Draco grabbed both his hands, eyes pleading for him to listen to reason. “He threw you out. What the hell is going to happen when you walk back in!”
“Just stop,” Harry whispered hollowly. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m a wizard and I’ll be fine.” The door slammed open, Draco and Harry jumping at the noise. Dumbledore walked out stiffly but it was Lucius, looking like fury incarnate, that had opened the door. Harry had never seen Lucius so angry, not even when bitching about messes in the house and him nearly sleeping to death.
“Harry, it’s time to go,” Dumbledore said, holding up a portkey.
Draco looked near tears again and Harry felt sorry for his friend. “Harry, I’ll write. You should take the owl, so you can get messages out—Damn it! Don’t do this. Please.”
Harry smiled halfheartedly for Draco’s benefit, taking a step back. “I’ll see you soon. It’ll be a breeze, that’s how fast time will fly. Say hi to Blaise and Pansy for me, ‘kay?”
“Potter, I’ll be by to check up on you,” Lucius practically boomed from the top of the stairs, anger radiating off of him in waves.
Harry pursed his lips, his heart beating wildly once caught in that searing gaze. He wanted to run to Lucius. Let the man tell Dumbledore to fuck off. They could all go somewhere far away and never care about any of this. But that was a child’s dream and Harry had to face reality. “You shouldn’t visit. If you come around, it will just make him angrier. Same with letters. He doesn’t like reminders… Don’t make it worse.”
Harry didn’t say goodbye. He reached out and touched the portkey, letting the illusion of safety jerk away in a whirl of color and plummet of stomach.
Aunt Petunia was afraid. Harry noticed it the moment she opened the door, Dumbledore ushering Harry into 4 Privet Drive before she could think to shut it. The thing was, she wasn’t afraid of Harry or Dumbledore, so much as the presence of the man currently missing.
The house on Privet Drive felt so much smaller and darker than the last time he had been there. It had only been weeks, but the manor had done something to him. Everything seemed so ugly in the cramped space, especially the people.
Dudley was watching TV even though it was the middle of the day, turning his head to glare at Harry with beady eyes hidden within rolls of fat. The boy had gotten even larger, as if the meager scraps Harry had used to eat had somehow fueled Dudley to greater grotesque girths and rolls. His fingers were sausages now, of an almost purple color, and Harry wondered if the boy might be at risk of a heart attack.
Dumbledore and Petunia had a terse conversation where the headmaster promised Harry would behave himself and keep from using magic at all times. Harry tucked his wand into the inside band of his new jeans, knowing if Vernon were to ever find it, the man would destroy it. Ignoring Dudley’s sneer, he walked upstairs to see what had happened to the second bedroom.
It was full of Dudley’s things again. Not even in order, just full to the brim with toys, electronics and boxes of Dudley’s winter attire and gym equipment. Harry’s room had barely been larger than a closet—although bigger than a cupboard—and it was now being used as a closet. Harry heard Dudley come up the stairs. He couldn’t help but notice with the way the boy was wheezing, the stairs creaking warnings under his heavy weight.
“Hey, ya freak. Don’t think you’re getting my room back.” Dudley smelled of Slim Jims and Fritos, and something sour with a sickly sweet undertone like rotting teeth and soda. “Just wait till dad comes home. He’s going to fucking flip when he finds out.”
Harry turned to face Dudley, glaring up. Anxiety was twisting in the pit of his stomach. “What do you mean? Doesn’t he know I’m back?”
“Do you think you’d be in the fucking door? He’d have been on the steps with a shot gun.” Sneering, Dudley went to punch Harry in the arm, only to stop, inches away, uncertainty flickering on his too wide face. “Don’t touch my things, you shit eating freak.”
Harry stepped away, Dudley pushing into the small cluttered room and sitting his bulk in the middle like a territorial, blob shaped dog. For all Harry knew, the boy would start pissing on everything just to mark his space. Harry wouldn’t put it past his crude cousin. He walked back to the kitchen but Dumbledore had already left without saying goodbye. Petunia was hunched, grabbing the back of a kitchen chair as if holding it to keep from falling. She snapped upright when she caught sight of Harry, her eyes narrowing in on him.
“You shouldn’t have come back!” She hissed viciously, knuckles turning white. “Disrupting everything again. He had the priests over—It was finally getting quiet! You’ve ruined everything.”
Harry glared, trying not to flinch at the unfair words. “I didn’t want to come back. You’re the one that agreed. You should have told Dumbledore no.”
“What, and have him kill me stone dead? Do you think we’re allowed to say no to creatures like them? Like you?” Her eyes tore into Harry and he took a step back. “Anyone that is touched by that evilness ends up dead or ruined. Even my own sister. I will do what I can to keep my family safe even if it means taking you in. You will leave for school and never come back here again, boy. Never.”
Harry didn’t want to come back. He didn’t want to be there now. “Why haven’t you told Vernon yet?”
“Because I don’t know how,” Petunia snapped, releasing the chair to have it clatter against the floor. She had been holding it so tightly she had lifted it.
“Well, you better figure it out. Him walking in here with me sitting at the dinner table is not going to work.” Harry wished it was anger compelling him then, but it was the cold pit of terror ever growing in his stomach. He could feel his breath threatening to slip away and leave him gasping. He held control of himself, knowing it would do no good to panic now. He was in the middle of it and had to deal moment to moment if he was going to make it through.
“It’s Saturday,” Petunia said grimly, her eyes glancing once to Harry and then away. She went to the stove, arranging items idly, her hands in constant motion to hide the shaking.
Harry gaped. He had forgotten. He hadn’t had to worry about the days of the week for a month. Had been so blown over by suddenly being torn from the beautiful fantasy of Malfoy Manor and dumped into the horrors of the Privet Drive so abruptly, he had forgotten how things worked. Harry had woken up without a bed again, without clothing, or food, or a space of his own. On a fucking Saturday.
“Maybe he won’t come home,” Harry whispered, wrapping his arms around his body.
Petunia shook her head sharply, sponging down the counter top with brisk, cutting movements. “He doesn’t know you’re here and I can’t reach him on the cell. He’ll be home. He’ll be drunk.”
Hissing under his breath, Harry stepped around her, heading out the kitchen door into the backyard. He never should have come back here. Never should have listened to Dumbledore. But what choice did he have? Really? He was underage. Wasn’t even allowed to use magic outside of school or without the supervision of a wizarding household. Harry had no rights for another year and Dumbledore had been happy to exploit it.
Maybe Lucius would come anyways? Maybe he would ignore his very reasonable request to stay away and come and save him before everything went to shit? Harry shook his head even as the thought hit him, immediately dismissing it. He was such a child. Such a weak, damn child waiting for someone to fix it all for him. God—He wanted someone to fix it!
It was easier, still in the shadow of the manor, to tell Draco he didn’t need help. Harry had felt stronger there, protected by magic he was allowed to use and the support of two amazing men. Harry had felt like a real person there, allowed to speak his mind and for the worst receive an annoying snark back. God help him, he had thought maybe he had even felt love there, as maddening a delusion as that must have been. Because he was not to be loved. The Dursleys reminded him of that every day.
Here, Harry was not a full person. He lost his voice in the house on Privet Drive. He lost his power. He lost his rights to exist as he was made to be, angry voices insisting he be something else. And whatever it was they wanted, Harry was never even allowed to be that either. He had tried to twist and change into whatever it was they wanted, and still, he was a freak to them.
Harry sat in the yard until it got dark and then he continued to sit. Aunt Petunia didn’t offer him dinner, and he wouldn’t have wanted it anyways. His stomach was in knots. His breath kept slipping, lungs giving random spasms while he fought to keep the panic at bay. The later it got, the more drink Vernon had a chance to get down. The darker it was, the more money Vernon would piss away, Petunia counting the hours in twenties and fifties, the paycheck for the week. That too was Harry’s fault. Vernon never would have turned to booze if the freak had never graced his doorstep all those years ago.
Harry could hear the television, Dudley watching something violent and loud and laughing in discord. Harry began to pace, unable to sit still any longer. He shouldn’t have come here. Nothing could be worse than this. His lungs gave another gasping squeeze and he whimpered and prayed Vernon would not return.
Of course, he did. Eleven thirty, dull and stumbling up the drive. The taxi barely glowed as it slipped away with a hum. Harry froze beneath the shadow of the maple tree hanging over from the neighbor’s yard. He listened. He waited.
Harry counted his breaths and told himself to stay calm.
He lost his breath before Vernon even touched him. Dudley was laughing from the couch, no longer at the television but at the show of Harry gasping for air while Vernon lumbered down the hall and threw him into the living room. Harry blinked up dizzily from the floor, black spots floating and fuzzing his already blurred vision, his glasses lost somewhere. Dudley sneered down, poking a fat finger painfully into Harry’s chest.
“Fucking told ya, freak.” Beady eyes glinting in the dim light, Dudley grimaced down and ran his thumb across his bloated throat menacingly. Harry would have rolled his eyes at the theatrics but was too busy trying to breathe.
“Vernon, please calm down. It’s only for a few weeks. I was assured this was the last—”
“No! I want him OUT OF HERE!” Vernon roared, his voice thickly slurred and dripping spittle and hate. “I kicked him out—I WARNED HIM what would happen if he came back here! That fucking freak, ruining everything. Ruining good people and good families and just…”
Harry tried to push himself off the ground, chest heaving painfully. Vernon was getting into his ‘Harry was the devil’ tirade. It was the worst one and he needed to get the fuck out if he wanted to ever breathe again. He grabbed at the couch weakly, his body swaying. Vernon turned from where he was arguing with Petunia, red face snarling purple once he caught sight of the boy.
“What did I fucking tell you? You were never to come back here! NEVER! Or I’d make you suffer!” He pushed Harry back, thick, ham-sized hands bright red as they slammed into the boy’s chest and forced what little air he had managed to get into his lungs out. Harry’s hand clawed at the couch but only wretched his fingers painfully as he went flying back, tripping over the ledge by the fireplace and smashing his head against the wall.
Shit… He could barely see… Darkness was encroaching on his vision, either from the fall or lack of oxygen. He couldn’t tell. What was wrong with him? Had the softness of Malfoy Manor taken away his ability to endure what he had always endured before? Wouldn’t resting have made him more resistant and not just so pathetically weak? Harry’s lungs burned for air and he grabbed at his throat, trying with all his might to fight the strange haze and breathe.
“Rotting us away until there was nothing good left—YOU DID THIS, BOY! You SICK, twisted hell-spawn, RUINING everything from the inside out! You ruined us! RUINED!” Vernon was stumbling, the overwhelming smell of beer, sweat, and piss abating for a moment.
“D-dad, what are you doing with that?”
Harry struggled to sit up from his sideways sprawl on the brick wall, eyes seeking out Dudley’s frightened face. He could barely find him feet away, everything caustic bright and shadows in the blue light flashing from the television.
Petunia was backlit in the kitchen entrance, turned away. “Vernon, please. Please, not in front of our son.”
Harry’s lungs had stopped fighting for air, his body now just shaking as everything grew darker and more fuzzy. He was going to suffocate to death. Whatever it was that Vernon had holding in his fist was not going to kill him. His fucking panic attack was.
Harry smiled weakly, head dropping forward against his shuddering chest. He felt like he was sparking, each gasp of broken breath a jolt of sputtering electricity. What had Lucius called it…? A message his body was trying to send his brain… He was afraid. That was the fucking message. What other fucking message was there to say?
Harry could barely hear them now, his Uncle sounding far away. “You’re not right… You’re not right and you need to be stopped… For my family, you see… Set you right…”
“Vernon, stop!”
Harry could see it now, swinging at the man’s hip as he approached. A frying pan. Like Harry had woken up in a poorly lit cartoon, and his face would leave an imprint and he’d bounce away. Maybe he would? He was a wizard, after all.
Harry sparked again, a sudden breath hiccuping through him. The darkness faded for a small instant and again he wondered what his body was trying to tell him.
Vernon saw the spark, his face twisting in a rage. “DON’T DO THAT! Don’t bring that fucking sickness in my house!”
Harry had no idea what he was doing but Vernon seemed afraid to test out his frying pan, so it must be good. Another bigger spark, green this time, and the darkness cleared again, Harry almost getting a half of breath in. He wheezed, his chest contracting and pushing air out as quickly as it had come. He tried to raise himself to his feet, hoping if Vernon would just be scared of him a little longer he might make it out the door.
It was the wrong action, Vernon perceiving Harry moving to be more dangerous than sitting. Bellowing in rage, Vernon raised the fist clutching the frying pan and swung it down as hard as he could. All Harry could do was spark back in defense.
“I don’t care! We can’t just leave him there!” Draco had stopped his silent crying minutes ago, bursting free of the room Harry had been sleeping in to seek his father out and argue all over again.
Lucius let him, knowing it was all his son had at the moment.
“His uncle hurt him. Bad! Things that didn’t scar. Things that broke inside and made it so Harry couldn’t fucking walk straight afterwards. Even now, he keeps knocking into shit, misjudging things around him. It’s because of that terrible man!”
Sitting in his study, Lucius poured two small drinks, pushing one over to Draco when the boy ran out of steam for a moment and looked about ready to cry again. Draco took the glass with trembling hands, sipping slowly and screwing his face up from the taste. “You didn’t see him last year, Father. Didn’t see him on the train, fucking broken. He wouldn’t tell me what happened. Said it was an accident—And he refused to go to the medi witch. Like it had been something shameful, instead of just a terrible act of violence inflicted upon him. That man made him think he deserved it, and that’s why he never fought back.”
Draco gulped the rest of his drink in one swallow, leaving the glass on the desk. “What’s going to happen to him? He has no one there… No one cares about him there.”
“I do not know.”
“He has no right!” Draco suddenly shouted, fist slamming down on the desk. “Fucking Dumbledore—That he knew! Fucking knew! And still made Harry go back. He’s not Harry’s guardian. He’s fucking nobody. I don’t know why Harry listens to him. He lets that man manipulate him.”
Lucius nodded in agreement. “Albus is the closest thing to a father that boy has. Harry wants the man to be proud of him even if it’s just by staying quiet about how he was hurt.”
“It’s wrong. Bloody wrong and I want to do something!” The tears again, just glinting at the edge of the boy’s eyes. Draco had not been one for crying, not for years now. It had always confused Lucius to see young people cry, but then, he had created an environment where his son would not be punished for such displays.
“He asked us to stay away,” Lucius reminded stiffly, his heart still clenching at the memory.
“That’s because he doesn’t want us hurt!” Draco snarled, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand furiously. “That’s how he always fucking is—He’ll take every goddamn pain in the world, just as long as no one else has to ever feel bad. He’s a fucking martyr, through and through, the idiot.”
It made Harry feel stronger to protect people when he was so helpless. Lucius knew because he had been the same way. Then he had learned how strong it felt to hurt people when feeling helpless, and that had been even better.
“Please, Father. Please fix this,” Draco whispered, eyes large and red rimmed. “You always fix everything. Use all that power and influence and fix this.”
Lucius considered his options idly, having already gone down this road a million times in his head. “I have no leverage against Albus except the situation at hand. Harry would never turn on him, Draco. He would never tell an inquiry that his mentor left him in such danger. He didn’t even tell you. It would mean dozens of aurors and wizards walking through that house, upsetting his uncle for hours on end. And then Harry would still be forced to stay.”
“Then we take him away! We can run away!”
Lucius shook his head. “Remember who he is. No one might think twice about the boy-who-lived ending up with a few bruises, but when he doesn’t show up for school because of an ex-Death Eater—And Albus will surely let that slip. We will be hunted down. Our name ruined. Our assets frozen.”
“I don’t care! Just kill them, Father!” Draco shouted, both hands now slamming on Lucius’s desk.
Lucius finally reached for his drink, swallowing it down with a quick motion. If he was shocked that his son had so little value for life, it was only because he knew how much Draco cared for his friend.
“Dumbledore knows that I’ve been there. The wards might actually work in a way to keep me out. And then what? Harry still can’t run. Eventually someone will notice that his relatives aren’t showing up for work and the authorities will be called. Harry might be arrested by the muggles. Incarcerated.”
Draco made a whining noise in the back of throat, frustration and anxiety warring on his face. “You’re doing this on purpose!”
“Draco…”
“No! He never meant anything to you!” Draco hissed vindictively, pulling away before Lucius’s hand could reach his wrist. “You just wanted to fuck him. And now that you’ve had your fill, you’re going to leave him to be beaten by those terrible monsters! If you cared about him at all—”
“I do care,” Lucius said softly.
Draco shook his head, unbelieving. “Then fix it!” He slammed the door as he left, Lucius raising a brow as a picture fell off the mantel from the force.
Lucius sat in his study till dawn, listening to the clock tick while ruminating. He should mind his own bloody business. He had no legal stock in anything to do with Potter. Maybe Sirius, being godfather to the boy. But Black had escaped when Bellatrix had, and Black had not stayed around to tempt the aurors. Even then, the convict’s parental rights would be a question, given he was supposed to be in jail.
Potter had told him to stay away. He didn’t want things to be worse than they already were.
Lucius had told a young man that once, a lifetime ago. He had glared, and spat, and cruelly spurned his lover away after the third and final lashing of his flesh. It was much easier to blame his heart—his weak, pathetic heart—than face his father, a man so powerful Lucius used to tremble just to think of him. There had been a time when he had been grateful to be under the protective arm of Voldemort. There had been power to gain there, knowledge to learn so that he could finally break free of his father permanently. Lucius had gloried in the horrors he had committed because, for once, they were not being inflicted on him.
But Riddle had been even more demented than Lucius’s father. It wasn’t pride and the need to control that had driven Riddle. It had been a sick hurt, worse than anything Lucius had allowed to fester in his own still living heart. While he had finally faced his demons, Riddle had become one, tearing through anyone and thing that reminded him of what had been done to him. He had been pure hate, maddened and desperate for more. And of all the lines Voldemort had crossed, injuring Harry Potter had been the one the apathetic gods had finally struck him down for.
The boy. The maddening, beautiful boy. Alone. Surrounded by those that saw him as nothing more than a monster. Monsters begot monsters. Lucius knew. He had done everything to grow a soul before Draco was born. He had promised to never do what his father had done.
But he was allowing it by the hands of another, lesser man than he. On a boy so beautiful, so pure, the angels must weep at every blow.
Silence was what allowed the Vernon Dursleys of the world the power they had. The uncle was not a strong man, by any means. He had no great wealth. No amazing talent that set him above the rest. He had bred, like most animals did, and worked to provide—From what Lucius had heard that had not been a success. Vernon had been given an amazing gift. A child of unimaginable power with the ability to love had been placed on his doorstep. And Vernon had detested him. He had thrown so much hate upon him, the boy had become quiet and small. And when that wasn’t enough, when still Harry had insisted on existing, the man had raised his fist.
Maybe he would write a letter… Something to the Minister of Magic. Did Fudge know what was happening to his Golden Boy? Fudge hated Dumbledore with a passion. Lucius had no leverage but maybe the Minister did.
Decided, Lucius opened the top drawer to his desk. He froze, eyes catching on something inside. Fingers twitching, he carefully picked up the teabag sitting innocently on the top of his papers. Harry had drawn a little cartoon of a tooth… or maybe a blob. The boy was a terrible artist. Lucius sighed deeply, flicking the paper tag over, again and again, the string curling tighter and tighter in mirror to his nerves.
Need was a terrible feeling. While want could be pursued, and desire would always find its way, need… need was merciless. Need demanded sacrifice, if not in action, than in spirit. When you thought you had given all it would ask—as Lucius had hoped while sitting in his study, giving up the pretty young man that would only bring chaos to his life—that was when need demanded again. Lucius would not survive this need. It was too deep, too integral, too reminiscent of his past and revealing of just how stagnant his current existence was. If he did not give in to this need, he would fade away, dull and dusty, without anything left inside.
Harry needed someone. Someone powerful. Compassionate. Brave. Lucius was a coward. He had always done everything in his power to preserve himself. Even his acts of courage had been to stay alive, stay whole.
It was good that Lucius needed so deeply. He knew he would not be able to sacrifice otherwise.
He stood abruptly, going to the hallway to pull out his black cloak from the closet. Draco was in the kitchen, hunched over the repaired table, holding something in his hand. It was Lucius’s mask. Huffing in annoyance, he plucked it from the boy’s grasp. “This is not a toy. Nothing you should ever wear.”
“It wasn’t for me,” Draco muttered, glancing up at his father, his eyes still rimmed in red.
Lucius sighed, banishing the skull away. “This is not something one does in the shadows. It is not a crime to help him. But I will be punished for it still.”
“But you are going to help?” Draco asked with a sniff, sitting up straighter.
Lucius nodded once, his eyes moving over the kitchen idly. It was strange to be up so early without Harry there, terrible colors and sipping tea. He had not realized how familiar it had become until fearing it would be gone forever.
“Your mother is ill, Draco. She didn’t want me to tell you until you had finished school. But now…” Lucius looked down at his son, Draco blinking back in surprise. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s still very much hateful when it comes to the classes, and I fear she has been out hurting people. But she left because she did not want you to watch her die. She loves you very much. As much as she is capable of, with her being so confused.”
Draco licked his lips, studying his hands quietly. He thought maybe the boy wanted to say something, but Draco never did, and Lucius eventually left.
Narcissa had been allowed her insanity. She had paid her dues as society had demanded of her. She had married a wealthy, albeit gay, man, produced an heir, and had even contributed to the strengthening of her community in the only way she had been taught. By torturing muggles. She had stayed with her gay husband, raising their son and accepted Lucius’s new, if be it backwards, desire to allow muggles within their society as long as the right precautions were placed. And then she had been diagnosed with cancer and had decided it was time to take her life for herself. Lucius had not fought her once.
Lucius did not desire to be insane. But he did need one impossible thing. Hopefully, he would be allowed it.
Lucius camped outside the Dursleys around seven a.m. Sunday morning, waiting for the family to go to church before approaching and checking on Harry. It wasn’t until ten that he started to suspect that something was wrong, dread growing in terrible weight on his shoulders.
Privet Drive was a strange experiment in ordered lives. It wasn’t one neighbor going out to jog, it was all neighbors. If at eight o’clock you hadn’t watered the flowers in front of the picket fences and around the mailboxes, than you mustn’t have flowers at all. Every family, in every shining car, left at nine forty-five to get to their ten o’clock mass at the parish down the lane.
Petunia Dursley did not join in the joggers passing on the street. There was no child Dursley going out to water the neglected flowers by their mailbox. The man Lucius intended to kill if things did not go his way did not lead his family out the door and into his new car. The curtains were pulled tight on all the windows of 4 Privet Drive and Lucius felt dread.
The house was deathly still compared to the neighbors. Children let out from school for the summer were running around, jumping rope, shrieking as they sprayed each other with squirt guns, and went slamming into their houses demanding first lunch, and then dinner as the hours crawled by. Lucius would not approach the house until the Dursleys were out or darkness had settled thick enough that he would not be noticed.
He wondered if the house was empty. Had the Dursleys up and left in the middle of the night? Dragging an unwilling Harry behind… Or leaving him here, hurt… maybe worse? Maybe dead? The anxiety within grew and Lucius knew he did not approach because of this fear. It was not the light and the muggles surrounding him. It was the fear of what he would find if he dared to enter the house.
Lucius growled inwardly, shaking his head at the absurd notion. Harry was a powerful young man. He might be weak in knowledge and confidence, but surely no muggle could get the better of him. The boy had survived Voldemort. Lucius was just being paranoid, having grown frightened by Draco’s stories and reminded of his own past. Vernon was a muggle, nothing more. Harry was so much more.
The streetlights came on but still Lucius hesitated. Why wasn’t anyone moving? The neighbors bustled in their houses, dinner dishes being washed, soft laughing chatter coming out the windows while televisions flashed and radios hummed. But number four was still. Silent. Nothing moving, no curtain twitch, no dinner dish. Nothing.
Around ten p.m. a light went on. It was upstairs at the back of the house. The bathroom, the curtains drawn but lacy enough for light to be seen. Lucius took a deep breath, counting slowly. The light went out. The house went still.
Lucius unfurled from his crouch, his legs stiff, muscles protesting. He let the blood return to his limbs, listening, alert. Most of the neighbors had slipped away to bed, only a few televisions left to hum. Lucius walked up the front walk, keeping to the shadows, his wand in hand. He stood at the door, listening for sounds of activity inside. Nothing. Hesitating a long, frozen moment, he pressed the doorbell.
When Harry had left he had been wearing new clothes, possibly for the first time ever. His jeans had been a dark navy blue, fitting well with enough room in his legs that he didn’t feel uncomfortable. His shirt had been a soothing tan color t-shirt, a swirling design of skulls and artistic flourishes teenagers were drawn to in the current style. His socks were even new along with the sneakers, black and white puma’s. It had only been a day but Harry had managed to destroy them.
There weren’t many holes, but there was one large tear, slicing down the front of Harry’s chest as if someone had grabbed him there and pulled too hard. The blood was the worst of it, splatters on the back of his neck and all over his jeans, the white of his shoes now a black rust. Lucius stood a good five minutes staring at those jeans. Harry, broken glasses taped and situated on his face, leaned on the door frame heavily and let him.
“I asked you to stay away,” Harry finally whispered, a cut splitting his bottom lip and running down his chin.
“I tried. Are you okay?” Lucius reached for his face but Harry jerked away the same time as something flared across the door. It was the wards, repelling non-permitted visitors away.
Harry sighed, staring where the ripple had occurred. “You wouldn’t have been able to help… What a fucking sick joke.” Harry looked behind him, revealing the back of his head matted with blood. “I have to go.”
“No, you don’t.” Lucius said quickly. “Come with me. Right now.”
Harry glanced back, his eyes not glowing the way they used to when in the manor. “I’m tired. I’ve been… cleaning,” he said with a curl of his upper lip. “I just want to sleep.”
Lucius fell silent, afraid what that might mean. There was no way the boy had sleeping charms in that muggle house. “You promised…”
It took Harry a moment to understand, but he only shrugged once he did. “Was any of that even real? It had felt so… perfect. Like a dream.”
“I burned all your clothes and you managed to break your mouth on my pool. You almost killed yourself just trying to take a nap. It was hardly perfect,” Lucius muttered. It had not been some flimsy fantasy. It had been real. It had been their life and Harry needed to come back to it.
Harry slumped. “I’m going to go sleep, Lucius.”
“Let me in.”
“No.”
Harry shut the door in his face, Lucius left standing alone in the dark.
Lucius knocked on the back door. It was hours later, dawn threatening. The bathroom light had popped on, then off. When Lucius listened, he could hear the sound of a kettle. Harry took a long time to answer. Lucius almost knocked again but then the door swung open.
Harry did not invite him in, instead holding an empty mug up questioningly. The boy’s eyes were a bit sharper than before, but he was still drawn looking, face too pale, eyes too lifeless. Lucius fished through the pocket of his cloak, holding up his prize and letting it spin by the tag. Harry bit his lip when seeing the familiar teabag but didn’t take it. Instead he walked back into the kitchen and poured water into a mug, which he then handed to Lucius. While Lucius floated the bag into the chipped mug—apparently everything Harry came in contact with became dilapidated—Harry went and poured his own tea, something sharp and foul smelling.
Harry sat, folding himself in the doorway so he was resting his mug on his raised knees. Watching him, Lucius sank to the concrete patio, legs bent Indian style. Their tea steeped in silence, the warm kitchen light bathing them in yellow and turning the shadows inky.
Harry had washed his hands, the black rust no longer staining under his fingernails. His glasses had gained another layer of tape, the edge curling up and wavering whenever the boy blew on his tea. Harry grimaced at every sip he took but did not complain.
“Harry, you don’t—”
“How many people have you killed?” Harry asked, effectively cutting Lucius off.
Lucius exhaled slowly, watching Harry’s eyes skitter over him and then back to his tea. “Twelve… possibly thirteen.” One individual had been hit by so many spells, no one could claim to truly have been the deciding blow.
Harry nodded at the number, resting his cut lip on the side of his mug and breathing the steam in. “Were they all on purpose?”
“I do not consider accidents to be murder, nor does the law,” Lucius said carefully. “I am too controlled to have such accidents.”
“Which one… What’s the worst thing you’ve done? Were you… Was it for Voldemort?” Harry asked haltingly, his eyes again glancing dull green his way.
Lucius had a sip of his tea, the familiar taste doing nothing to change the fact that they were in the middle of some suburban muggle town, dawn peeking on the horizon, and Harry covered in blood and broken inside. “It is difficult to say… There are acts that I did that were certainly terrible in and of themselves to the individuals I inflicted them on. And then there were acts that were that, and also tore the humanity I was trying to preserve into a million shredded pieces. The second type hurt me the most, but were likely not the worst that I had done. The ones that wounded me were things I had done as a Death Eater.”
“Because you did them on purpose?” Harry asked, fingers drifting down to the bloodstains on his jeans, running over the dried splotches that flaked at his touch.
“No. Because only half of me wanted to do them.” Lucius shrugged. “I thought that was reason enough, but the other half, that part that didn’t want to, kept breaking, kept fighting. For some reason, that part eventually won and I stopped.”
Harry flaked more blood and then brushed it brusquely away. “Tell me about the worst one you did. That you wanted to do. All of you. Without hesitation.”
There had been a few, but one always burned the brightest, the angriest, and at the same time sweetest. “My father.”
Harry held his mug in two hands, tilting and staring at the liquid as if debating whether to drink more or spill it on the ground. “Tell me how you killed your father.”
Giving himself a moment, Lucius relaxed into the memory. He smiled faintly, meeting Harry’s curious glance. He had never told anyone this. Rarely spoke of murder at all, except in hushed tones with those that had helped. But this one had been very much secret, never owned to except in his heart. There was something intimate about being able to speak the words. Maybe the demonic glow, still flickering deep, just hidden in Harry’s eyes.
“It happened too fast. I was still very much afraid, you see. Actually, I don’t think I ever stopped being afraid until he was finally dead.” Lucius’s smile grew. “I rushed it. I had planned for months—Years, if I’m really honest about it. All the mental trappings I learned, just to make sure he would never know I aimed to kill him. In some ways, it was all I was those many years. Just the desire for revenge and freedom.”
Harry placed his mug on the kitchen floor, reaching for Lucius’s barely touched tea. To Lucius it was more, the urge to be closer, to let him in a little more. Lucius handed his cup over after another sip, watching the boy’s hands carefully. One was bruised and swollen, the fingers darker than they should be.
“Did you feel bad after?” Harry asked, sighing into the mug and then drinking deep.
“No, not really. Afraid for a moment. That he might get back up and prove just what a fool I was for thinking I could ever be free. Afraid someone might find out and then I’d be locked away in a different prison. Afraid my mother, already dead by his scourge, would somehow haunt me for not making amends,” Lucius mused softly, feeling Harry’s gaze slip over him again. “But I never felt bad about it. And I never felt bad that I didn’t feel bad. I had felt bad over other deaths, many I had done, and far more that I had seen done. But not him.” Lucius smirked again. He had felt alive. Empowered. Free.
“How did you—”
“Killing curse. Short and sweet. Too short… But still, very sweet. There were so many things I wanted to tell that bastard. But I rushed it. Better to rush in and live.” Lucius paused and frowned. He had forgotten that. Had nearly lost Harry because he had forgotten to act with certainty at a time when it was most needed.
“You had said something. About my body trying to tell me something.” Harry struggled to his feet, grabbing the door to keep from falling. Lucius got up slower, just in case Harry fell outside and he could grab him. Steal him away. Keep him from disappearing back into whatever was in that house.
Harry swayed unsteadily, then slipped two fingers down the front of his jeans and wiggled the slender wand loose he had hidden there. He tapped the magical ward over the door and the barrier glowed bright and welcoming.
“Come on, then,” the brunette beckoned, walking further into the kitchen and into the hall. Lucius, glancing briefly outside into the beginning of dawn, hesitantly stepped in and closed the door behind him.
The kitchen was spotless. Harry had cleaned up the shattered glassware and plates of leftovers that had been left for his uncle’s return. He had washed up the fallen food from the floor, cleaned up what Aunt Petunia had left on the stove in her agitation, and then scrubbed the floor and cabinet surfaces multiple times until they no longer had an orange tinge. He watched Lucius from the hallway door, the man’s eyes skimming through, trying to read a story Harry had yet to tell. Maybe a story Lucius had seen before in his own bloodied past.
Harry waited, stepping to the side when Lucius crossed the distance, letting the man into the hall but blocking him from the living room. Harry had cleaned as best he could in there, but without magic he was limited. Lucius sniffed quietly, Harry knowing the air smelled of ozone and bleach.
“It couldn’t be helped,” Harry said after a moment when Lucius turned his piercing gaze to him.
“How so?”
Harry shifted from foot to foot, glancing away again. “I couldn’t be set right.”
Lucius reached for him but Harry flinched back, eyes wide. He didn’t want Lucius to touch him. Didn’t want the man to feel just how wrong he was on the inside. Harry knew now. He knew what his body had been very loudly trying to tell him.
He stepped back into the living room, eyes glancing unseeingly over his relatives as they sat around the broken television. Harry had arranged them the best he could, given the damage. His power had exploded out when Vernon had gone to strike him. The force had torn the defenseless muggles apart, broken and twisted their bones, shredded their clothing, destroyed the furniture. Harry, knocked out from the power, had woken up too late to save anyone. He had cleaned up as best as he could, but there was no question what had happened.
It was too difficult to look at them, so Harry looked at Lucius. The man was probably the most beautiful thing that had ever stepped into that horrible house. He didn’t even look shocked. He didn’t even look disgusted. But Harry knew how well Lucius could hide himself and the truth of his emotions. There would be no kindness from the man again. Not when Lucius finally saw what he was.
Still, Harry had to show him.
“Something inside me didn’t want to be hurt anymore,” Harry said softly, Lucius walking carefully around the swept floors and furniture chunks. The blond looked up when Harry spoke but then went back to his inspection of the broken family. “I was having a panic attack and I kept thinking; what is my body trying to say? And then I figured it out. Really fucking quick.”
He pointed next to Lucius, where Harry had been when it happened. The carpet had pulled up and the floor boards torn apart where he had stood. He had put the frying pan back, the massive dent still in it where it had been thrown away by his magic.
Lucius remained silent, looking at him expectantly. Harry pursed his lips and then raised his shoulders. “My body said to kill them. All of them. And then I’ll never have to worry again.”
“You lost control,” Lucius finally spoke, taking a step around the twisted legs of Petunia Dursley.
“No.” Harry shook his head, turning towards the stairs. “I found my control.”
“Harry, this type of magical outburst doesn’t work that way.”
He paused, glancing back. Lucius had sounded kind. Almost caring. “Maybe for normal people. But believe me, Lucius, I’m a fucking freak.”
Lucius growled, tripping over half a chair in his haste to get to Harry. “You’re not—”
“He used to think I did things on purpose too. Little things to piss him off. Big things to ruin his life. He thought I had come into his home to destroy the goodness in his very world. It was just the way I was. I couldn’t be anything else… It’s just who I am, and no matter how many times I said sorry, it was still him thinking I was trying to hurt him. Well this time… this time it was on purpose. And I’m not sorry. Not for him. Not for him or her either.”
Lucius caught his arm and Harry flinched, trying to pull away. Lucius wouldn’t let him, turning the boy harshly, glaring molten silver down at him. “You are.”
“I’m not!” Harry raised his chin defiantly. “I’m glad they’re dead. Glad I was able to finally stand up for myself. Glad that I didn’t need anyone to—Damn it, stop looking at me like that!”
“You are lying to me, Potter,” Lucius snarled, grabbing Harry around the waist when he tried to break free.
“Fuck you! You don’t know a god fucking damn thing about me!” Harry shouted, pushing harder on Lucius’s shoulders and chest.
“What was the message?” Lucius demanded, grabbing the hand that was about to slam into the bandaged wound on his shoulder.
“I told you—To kill them!”
“You’re lying.” Harry must have been very weak because it took nothing for Lucius to grab the back of his neck and hold him still. His head hurt, especially the back of his skull. Dully, he remembered he had been hurt last night.
“Tell me, Potter. Tell me, and I’ll leave you alone.”
Harry stilled, licking his dry lips. “I told you.”
“No, you didn’t. You told me what you wanted the message to be,” Lucius said with a low growl. “Tell me what it actually was.”
“How do you know that? How can you even know that?” Harry hissed back, again trying to push the man away. Lucius was too strong or he was too weak. The result was the same.
“I know,” Lucius said softly. “Now tell me. Please.”
Harry broke away from the piercing gaze, studying the dim stairway instead. “There was no message. Just… just nothing.”
“There is always a message.”
Harry snapped his gaze back, anger and agony glowing bright in his eyes. “Not for me! Just fear. Just telling me I was afraid. My body was afraid and didn’t want to be anymore!” He glared at Lucius, at the bastard that had managed to make him feel weak and strong at the same time. Even in this. Harry hated it. Hated these feelings burning and tumbling inside.
“Good.” Lucius said after a moment, loosening his unyielding grip on the boy.
“Good?” Harry gaped at him in disbelief. “My body knew I was weak—So pathetic I couldn’t even defend myself from a damn powerless muggle. It had to do it for me. How crazy is that? My body had to do what I refused, and in doing so, killed them all!”
“You will learn control now,” Lucius said, hand coming up to touch the wound on Harry’s lips. Harry stumbled back from the gentleness, shaking his head.
“I’m going to jail. I’m going to sit in this house until Dumbledore shows up, or the neighbors’ smell them rotting and call the cops.” Harry took a step up the stairs. “Get the hell out of here, Lucius. No point me ruining your life too.”
Harry had taken everything in Dudley’s second bedroom and thrown it in his cousin’s first, piling stuff on the floor. The bed was still small and cramped, more so since Harry kept growing, but it was better than the carpet, or sleeping in the beds of the deceased. Harry lay in a ball, arms around his knees, fighting back the emptiness inside and the sting of tears. A gasping feeling kept rising up his throat. Not panic, but sorrow. He wanted to sleep. Wanted the numbness to settle fully and let him drift away.
But Harry couldn’t sleep. His mind still whirled with what had happened. Vernon. The explosion. The terrible, terrible cleaning. He had to clean. It was wrong to leave Petunia’s spotless home a mess like that. The woman had been obsessed with things being orderly and Harry had ruined it all with one defensive action.
Lucius hadn’t left. Harry could hear him moving around downstairs. Maybe cleaning. Maybe collecting evidence to prove his guilt. Harry had no idea at this point. Why hadn’t Lucius just let him lie? Why had he needed him to tell him he had been so scared? It didn’t make what he did any better. It made it worse. His fear had won and people had died. Harry never had to fear from Vernon again, but he now had a lifetime left to fear himself.
He never should have opened the door. Hope had flared so strong for an instant, seeing Lucius through the curtain out front. Why, he didn’t know, because Lucius couldn’t turn back time. There was no way to erase what he had done. And really, it shouldn’t be erased. Three lives had been snuffed out. Needlessly. Because he hadn’t walked out the backyard and run far away when Petunia had called him in last night. No, he had done as he was told. He had gone in to greet Vernon. And then everyone had died.
Harry glanced up, the floorboards outside the open door squeaking. Lucius stared in at him, again unreadable. As if having an expression would break whatever was left of Harry’s tenuous control. Maybe it would. Maybe a blank Lucius was safer than what he had last met in the manor kitchen, smiling so bright and caring that Harry had panicked.
“It’s time to go.”
Harry couldn’t help but snort. God, Lucius just thought he could walk in here and sweep him away. “I can’t sleep. Cast me asleep so I don’t have to be awake anymore.”
Lucius stepped into the dusty bedroom, kneeling beside Harry’s bed. He smoothed down the ragged bedspread, holding back from actually touching the brunette’s tense form. “Come home with me, Harry.”
Harry’s breath caught. The man couldn’t still want him. Not after all this. Harry didn’t deserve that. He shook his head slowly, another sob clutching at his throat. “I did something bad, Lucius. I don’t get to be around people after that.”
Lucius reached his hand up, Harry cringing slightly. The man waited and then carefully touched Harry’s cheek, fingers spreading and contouring to his flesh. It was warm. Grounding. “Some mistakes are worse than others. You committed an action. But you did not create the situation where the action was demanded of you.”
“I am responsible for my actions,” Harry said tightly, wanting it not to be true. Wanting it to be easy to blame everyone but his terrible self. “I have to be. We all have to be.”
Lucius nodded, his thumb caressing over Harry’s lip. “Yes. But there are also consequences to actions, Harry. What you did was a consequence to the actions of a long line of people that hurt you and ignored your pain. Your uncle’s brutal actions. Your headmaster’s selfish actions. My cowardly actions.”
“You weren’t—”
“I was,” Lucius said evenly. “I didn’t want to upset my life by facing down Dumbledore and bodily keeping you safe with me. And because of that, I left you defenseless. It was very wrong of me and now you are hurting because of it.”
“You’re not responsible for me. I’m not… I’m not anything…” Harry trailed off, hating that this too was true.
“If things had gone another way, you could have died. And even though your uncle and headmaster would have held blame, so too would have I. We are all to blame in this, Harry. Not just you.” Lucius ran his fingers carefully to the back of Harry’s neck, finding the blood that had dried. “I am here because you are everything to me. I know that is difficult for you to hear, never mind understand. But that is how it is, and how it shall remain. Now kindly sit up so that I can heal your head.”
Harry sat up slowly, eyes widening slightly while he bit his lip. “You don’t mean that…” Lucius might like him a little, but there was no way he could mean so much to the man. He ran his eyes over the blond’s face but Lucius’s expression was still shuttered even if his voice held warmth.
“Oh, have you become the great authority on what I mean?” Lucius asked with a raised brow. “You who can’t even get through a day without destroying your clothes?”
Harry blinked, looking down and seeing himself truly for the first time. “Oh… oh crap. Gross. How can you even sit so close right now?”
“Turn your head,” Lucius ordered lightly. Harry did so after a moment, sitting up straighter so that he could turn on the bed. The man’s fingers gently probed at the painful gash on Harry’s skull, the boy hissing softly each time.
Harry closed his eyes, wondering if this was the last time Lucius would ever touch him. The man was very good at lying. Had always been… but… Harry wasn’t sure if Lucius had ever lied to him. Lucius told him stuff, personal stuff, and he listened when he dared to share the same. He made sure that what Harry shared was honest too.
“How does it feel?” Lucius asked somewhere around his ear.
“Er…” Harry blinked his eyes open, glancing to the side where Lucius was peering with eyebrow raised expectantly and expression still blank. “My headache is gone. No more… no more dull, red pain.” He wondered how the man could look so lovely while inside the Dursleys’ ugly, mundane house. It was almost like Lucius brought the manor with him, just around wherever he was. Just enough to feel safe again.
“Good. Now let me see your hand.” Harry was surprised when Lucius reached for his fingers, not realizing until touched that he was in pain and hurting. He watched as Lucius healed him, the darkness fading from his hand and the digits thinning back to their normal, slender size. Lucius noticed things about him that he didn’t. Maybe he had missed something that still made him okay inside…
Lucius ran his hand over Harry’s, covering his and sliding fingers between to hold him.
Harry clasped around the warm digits, grasping tight and staring at their entwined hands. “How do I learn control? How can I ever stop from doing something like this again?” Harry asked, his voice so quiet he wasn’t sure if Lucius could even hear him.
“You need to acknowledge what your body is trying to tell you. When you hide from yourself, that’s when your body takes over. You can’t hide.” Lucius’s voice was a soft rumble in Harry’s ear, warm and comforting as the man rested against his back.
“Oh.” Harry had spent a lot of time pretending he wasn’t as frightened as he truly was. Not just with Vernon. With the future. With who he was… If he was anything at all. Afraid of the things he really wanted. The happy things that made him feel like he was something and nothing, all at once.
“I think… I think I could sleep now.” Harry wiggled his fingers, waiting for Lucius to let go.
Lucius didn’t, instead wrapping his other arm around Harry’s waist and holding him tight. “Sleep when we’re home.”
“I can’t—”
“You can,” Lucius purred into Harry’s ear, warm and compelling, lips brushing lightly against his sticky neck. “Ask your body what it really wants. Clear away that busy, tangled mind of yours, and just ask your body.”
Harry closed his eyes, sighing softly. And then again, a heavier sigh as he leaned back against Lucius’s sturdy form. He felt so safe like this… Maybe even loved. Harry swallowed another rising sob at the thought. He liked this feeling. Didn’t want it to ever stop. If he could sink into Lucius and stay in his arms forever, maybe things would finally be okay.
“What does it say?” Lucius asked, his bristle rasping ever so lightly against Harry’s cheek.
Harry waited, fighting tears, not sure if he could speak it. If he should. Surely, somehow, he would be punished for voicing what he truly wanted.
“I… I want to go to the manor.”
Lucius kissed the side of Harry’s face gently and released him, standing fluidly. “Then let’s go home.”
Harry turned, shoes catching on the sheets. He got his legs over the bed and stood as well, his vision swimming strangely. Lucius caught him, giving him a concerned look that Harry tried to dismiss. “What about…?” He tilted his head towards the door and terrible things waiting downstairs.
“I’ve dealt with it,” Lucius said simply. He held his arm out and Harry took it hesitantly, feeling a bit ridiculous to be hanging off of Lucius Malfoy’s arm like some silly girl. But he was injured after all, and Lucius was very handsome.
“People will wonder where they’ve gone.” Harry hoped people would wonder. It was wrong for people to disappear and not have anyone care. Harry had almost disappeared and if it hadn’t been for the Malfoys, maybe no one would have noticed.
“That will also be taken care of once I’ve dealt with Dumbledore.”
“Oh.” Harry felt the niggling of fear again in the pit of his stomach. Dumbledore had high expectation for him. He had not, well, reached many, if any of them.
“It’s nothing to concern yourself with,” Lucius said, pausing on the stairs to catch his eye. “He will understand his guilt in the events that transpired here and he will relent. You will be safe.”
Harry nodded because there really wasn’t much else to do. Dumbledore had yet to see reason and he wasn’t sure he would, even in this. If it was reason and not Harry wanting something more than what he deserved. But at least he could admit to wanting it now. A life away from the Dursleys. Away from Dumbledore. A life for him with people that cared.
The living room was empty, the curtains pulled back to let in the morning light. The floor had been repaired, the drywall fixed, no blood, or grim, or dust, or broken anything. No Dursleys. Harry held Lucius’s arm tighter, the two of them walking through the spotless kitchen.
The frying pan still had a dent. Harry bit his lip and let Lucius pull him outside. He shut the door behind them and then together they popped away.
Draco was waiting, exhausted as he sat on the bottom step of the main staircase. When Harry and Lucius finally stepped through the front door, he got to his feet and practically ran, crashing into Harry with a huge hug. “Thank god, you’re okay! It was ages… I didn’t know…” Draco pulled back, waving his stray tears away and looking Harry over. “Is this…?”
“It’s not his,” Lucius supplied, Harry’s eyes wide with worry that he would have to explain all the blood.
“Fine, that’s fine then,” Draco said with relief, hugging Harry again, much to Harry’s chagrin and happiness. Harry patted his friend’s back only with a little awkwardness but Draco didn’t care. He never did. “Harry, did you need anything? Uh, maybe a bath?” Draco added, scrunching his nose once realizing the brunette was actually quite filthy.
“Yeah, I’ll uh, go.” Harry gave Lucius a questioning look, the man dispelling him away with a smooth gesture.
Lucius turned to his son, Draco staring after Harry worriedly once seeing the blood in his hair. “It he okay? Really?”
“Physically, yes. Emotionally… Well, we’ll see.”
“So did you…?” Draco raised his eyebrows, tilting his head questioningly.
Lucius cleared his throat. He knew Draco would respect Harry’s privacy better than anyone else. “There was an… accident. Harry killed his relatives the other night. Considering the arrangement of the blast and the damage done, the uncle was right on top of him when his magic exploded out in defense. The other two didn’t survive the force. As you can imagine, he blames himself.”
Draco, who had gone silent at the news of Harry having hurt anyone, scowled. “It serves the damn monsters right. Dumbledore never should have brought Harry back there. There were only two ways that was going to end. I was sitting here all night worried you were burying him!”
“I waited too long. I was afraid… I don’t know. I shouldn’t have waited,” Lucius admitted with a mutter. “What’s done is done. I’m going to see that he hasn’t fallen. He’s been unsteady at best.”
Draco nodded, yawning deeply. “I’m going to bed. Thanks for…” Draco stopped, throwing his arms around Lucius and hugging him tight. “Thanks for bringing him back home.”
Lucius smiled down, hugging Draco back until the boy was finally willing to let go. “I think we all need some sleep. I’m going to call out from work for tomorrow and deal with what needs to be dealt with a little later.”
Draco stepped away, clasping his hands anxiously. “Is he… Is he in trouble? Normally, kids that are known for magical explosions are watched all the time. Never allowed near muggles either. He didn’t have anyone with power to help keep him from having accidents.”
Lucius nodded, shrugging his cloak from his shoulders. “It will be fine. I’m going to disclose the right information to a few key people, and nothing will be said of it again. Go along now. You look exhausted.”
Draco did, beaming relief at his father before shuffling up the stairs and into bed.
Lucius lingered downstairs, pacing his study. He wanted to go upstairs—Every fiber of his being needed to be upstairs with Harry. He was fighting it as hard as he could.
His worry had built the entire day. He had been consumed by fear of Harry’s death. The relief to find the boy alive and having merely killed his relatives had been short lived. Lucius had a new worry. He had finally seen the boy through all his little holes, Harry’s scraps of guarded defenses pulled away completely in that ugly house. Harry was fragile. The boy had nearly broken—That was how magic exploded. The user had to be on the verge of breaking. And seeing Harry fragile made Lucius feel.
Madness. The boy brought madness out in him. Burning, smoldering madness. Lucius wanted to go upstairs, wrap Harry in his arms, and swear his life to him.
The muggles had been a twisted char of flesh and bone. Divine sacrifice Lucius had not seen in many years. It brought the darkness back to the forefront of his being, the damn moods that haunted him still. Such perfect destruction. Elegant and beautiful in its utterly wild, remorseless execution. That the boy had done it—Still pure, somehow. Harry was fragile and tender, yet full of such terrible power. Lucius felt lost in its heady pull.
He remembered the last time he had come across such power. His father had forced him down, Riddle’s dark eyes absorbing all light in the room until there was nowhere else to look but into the yawning abyss. But Harry’s eyes glowed out of the darkness. They pulled and lit sparks that made Lucius burn. There was no one pushing him down, yet he was always on his knees when he touched the boy. Paying worship like some ravenous supplicant.
Could the little demon even understand? He had gained so much power over Lucius. Harry had learned his secrets, compelled them so easily from the man by just asking. When had he ever given something away of his past? Why had he? For a connection? Understanding? How had he become so twisted around this creature’s shaking, unsteady fingers?
Delicate, sweet, pure… Lucius wanted to be a monster so Harry would never fear it in himself again. He wanted to destroy any enemy that might think to step into his home and steal the boy away. He wanted to hunt down all before they even thought to cross him. There should be no one alive to think Harry belonged anywhere else. Lucius wanted to burn things, and people, and lay them at the demon’s feet in offering.
And still, he needed.
He was walking up the stairs before he fully realized what he was doing. Lucius had to make sure the boy was well, even now, even with Harry mere rooms away and in complete safety. He had to see. Had to touch, and taste, and know. The boy was fragile. Powerful and fragile. Broken and breaking everything in Lucius’s quiet life.
Harry was patting his hair off with one of the many fluffy white towels that littered the manor’s many bathrooms when Lucius strode in without knocking. Harry didn’t have the strength to bitch about the lack of privacy, actually happy to see the man. Alone, he thought too much. About what had happened. About how he didn’t deserve to feel good and live somewhere nice after what he had done. About how a part of him hadn’t fully been untruthful, and he was glad the Dursleys were dead and that he had killed them.
Lucius helped Harry to stop thinking, especially when the man gave a disdainful sniff at his pile of discarded clothes and immediately set them on fire.
“Hey! I was wearing those!” Harry yelped, stumbling back before the purple flames could catch on the towel he was holding.
“I know. This was to prevent you from trying to wear them again,” Lucius said with a drawl, pulling a towel off from the counter and wrapping it around Harry in a quick movement. Harry gaped, going red while Lucius looked down at him, the man’s handsome face expressionless.
“I wouldn’t have… They were covered in blood.”
“Yes, you would have,” Lucius said with such conviction that Harry had to believe him. He would wear pretty much anything as long as it wasn’t white.
“How do you feel?” Lucius asked, pulling Harry closer with the towel until they were pressed together, Harry’s body nude where it touched Lucius’s clothed front.
“B-better… The shaking has stopped.” Of course, the moment Lucius started touching him, a different shaking started in Harry and it seemed a moot point.
“Good.” Lucius suddenly stepped back, wrapping the towel all the way around the boy. “I fixed your glasses and I forgot to bring them.”
Harry trailed after the man, peeking towards Draco’s closed door down the hall. Lucius caught him, eyebrow raised in question. “Do you think you’ll be doing something my son will not approve of? We’re just getting your glasses.” Lucius pushed his bedroom door open, Harry blushing further.
“Whatever. If he yells, it’s your fault,” Harry mumbled, stepping in the room. Lucius closed the door slowly behind him and then stood absolutely still. Harry raised his eyes, wondering what was wrong, only to find the man looking him over, silver eyes raking his towel wrapped form heatedly. Feeling like he had just stumbled into a trap, Harry took a step back, Lucius smirking when his shoulders hit the door behind him.
“Lock the door,” Lucius said hoarsely, his hand reaching up to work the buttons of his collar.
Fire tingled down Harry’s spine at the words. Everything Lucius did was sensual, even when saying three simple, somehow naughty words. Harry searched for the handle behind him, eventually getting the bolt to click. “I thought we were just getting my glasses,” Harry said weakly, Lucius having finished his buttons to throw his dress shirt on the floor. The man then pulled off his t-shirt, stretching the white fabric over his head to reveal toned alabaster flesh and hard muscle.
“How do we know they work, unless you have something to look at?” Lucius asked, making no move to get Harry’s glasses anytime soon. Instead he stepped forward, Harry gulping as the man pushed him firmly against the door.
“Er… that is…” Damn it, sentences! How did Lucius do this to him, every time? A shirtless Lucius was even more distracting than a fully dressed one. Pale smooth skin with golden tufts of fur, muscles rippling easily, with only the small square of bandage on his shoulder to mar the sight. Harry furrowed his brow, hand brushing where he knew a scar was hidden underneath.
“I want to see them… All of you,” Harry said, fingers brushing slowly up where he knew one line wrapped perfectly around the man’s torso. “Please. You see mine.” Lucius gently caught his fingers, then used his wand to remove the glamours concealing his scars. Harry smirked lightly; he had remembered the exact location. He pulled his hand from the man’s grasp so he could touch the white mark again, thumb tracing slowly.
“I was worried about you,” Lucius confessed into Harry’s ear, his hands carefully unwrapping the towel from the boy and pulling it free. Harry gasped, once again naked and exposed in front of the immaculate man. His skin tingled, the blond’s heat warm against him. Lucius ran his mouth gently over Harry’s, lips slowly pulling a moan from the brunette. “I had thought they might have killed you… Was certain I had waited too long.”
Harry shrugged uncomfortably, a shiver running through him from the emotion in Lucius’s voice. “Well… he almost did, actually. He had this frying pan, and he… Okay… We really don’t have to talk about that right now,” Harry mumbled, the blond pulling him closer, arms moving down his body and cupping his ass tight.
Lucius kissed Harry harder than before, so demanding and desperate that it took the younger man’s breath away. He held Harry by the back of the neck, keeping him from escaping while he tasted every hot, wet plane of his mouth. Harry groaned, head and shoulders falling back against the door, Lucius pressing down against him so that he could barely move. Lucius’s tongue ravaged Harry’s, his teeth pulling at the boy’s firm lip and drawing blood from the cut still swollen there.
Harry cried out, Lucius grabbing his wrists and pinning them to either side of his head while lapping slowly down his chin. Then back up to plunge through his lips again, nipping and sucking the red pout.
“Lucius… you’re… oh hell.” Harry shuddered, the man rubbing his powerful body against him, showing just how hard he was and ready to have him. They shouldn’t be doing this. Harry had done a terrible thing and Lucius should not want to touch him after that.
“You’re never leaving my sight again,” Lucius hissed between kisses, moving down Harry’s throat to suck a red and violet welt. “I will kill anyone that tries to take you out of here. Aurors… Dumbledore… muggles… You will never be hurt like that again.”
“Oh fuck,” Harry gasped, Lucius’s erection moving down to find his, the cloth covered bulge rocking with slow, hard thrusts against his bare, silken flesh. “Lucius, you’re losing it.”
“I need you,” Lucius growled, sinking his teeth into Harry’s shoulder, the boy crying out, entire body jerking from the burning, delicious agony. Harry panted for air, Lucius releasing his teeth to move his head up and meet his gaze. What Harry saw left him speechless, something akin to emptiness and fullness clenching at his heart and making it race. Lucius had apparently lost it a while ago.
Lucius Malfoy was more naked than Harry at the moment. There was a wildness in the pale blue-gray eyes, an overwhelming of emotion when Lucius traced over the boy’s features. He was afraid, so afraid that Harry was about to disappear again, fearing someone with just a little more power and cunning would be able to steal him away. And Lucius was afraid because he helplessly needed him. Why, Harry could not understand. Just that Lucius needed him so badly that he was either going to weep, or bolt and chain the doors to keep the world away.
Harry felt sluggish, drugged by so much emotion directed at him. He had a feeling Lucius must have understood—Had even tried to hide it at the Dursleys, afraid he would run. Harry could barely handle his own emotions. But this… It was riveting to see the man like this. For him. Just for him.
Swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat, Harry pulled at one of his hands until Lucius reluctantly released his grip. Harry ran his fingers carefully over the man’s cheek, sliding up to press his thumb across his eyebrow. Lucius closed his eyes at the touch, breathing out harshly, trying to hold himself back from something Harry wasn’t sure needed to be held back. He continued his exploration, moving down Lucius’s nose, feeling the strong edge and then tripping slowly over the swell of the man’s mouth and lingering. Lucius’s lips parted, teeth gently catching Harry’s finger, holding him still.
There was a tension in the bite, Lucius’s muscles tight, the man’s breath rough and uneven. Lucius opened his eyes, the same madness burning in them revealed again. It sent strange flutters through Harry as if he was sparking again, but just on the inside. Just from the emotion in the man’s eyes. The desire for Harry to never leave.
“I’m safe now,” Harry said softly, his other fingers touching down around his trapped one, brushing the man’s lips, thumb moving over the coarse skin of the blond’s chin in short swipes.
“You’re home,” Lucius rasped, his voice almost inhuman, the emotion was so thick in it, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.
Harry nodded, feeling the sting in his own eyes from the revelation of Lucius, raw and vulnerable. This man was not unafraid. No, he was just very well masked to appear so. As much as Lucius dressed in layers, poised and immaculate, so too did he hide himself. But he had stripped that away for Harry and it was very much a terribly beautiful gift.
Lucius was not weak, but he still held fear. And maybe, one day, Harry would not feel weak with his fear either.
“Lucius, I need you to do something,” Harry said suddenly, not sure if he was quite right. He felt so crazed inside all of a sudden. He pulled the blond’s face closer, resting the man’s forehead to his. “Just one thing. Promise.”
“Ask it.” Lucius’s eyes blazed.
“I-I know I don’t really have the right to… but… but could you not see anyone else? Just for a while?” Harry asked, worrying at his bottom lip. “I can’t bear the idea… I just can’t. I… I don’t like sharing.”
“I will never touch another soul as long as you want me,” Lucius promised swiftly, the palm of his hand cupping the side of Harry’s face.
“You don’t need to—That is…” Harry trailed off, really wishing he could shut up and let himself have this. He didn’t want to share Lucius. Ever. Even though they were probably far too different and a strange match in age and many other reasons Harry couldn’t be arsed to care about. He wanted to keep the man.
“Whether you had asked it of me or not, Harry, that was how it was going to be,” Lucius explained, lips brushing carefully over the side of the boy’s face. The tension was growing in the man, a restrained force revealed in every word, every halting breath, every twitch of finger.
Harry closed his eyes a moment, relief pooling through him. “Thank you. I just really… oh.” Lucius kissed him hard, fingertips digging ever so slightly into his cheekbone. Harry opened readily, releasing a heated moan when Lucius’s other hand suddenly grabbed his waist and moved over his side, touching him in a way he had not expected. Possessively, desperately, but still holding back, as if Harry was too fragile, too important to risk breaking. It made him burn inside to have Lucius want him this way.
Harry turned his head the next time Lucius gave him a moment to breathe, his mouth seeking out the palm resting on his cheek. He kissed the man’s hand, tongue flicking out, mouth widening so that he could scrape teeth against the flesh. Lucius hissed, watching intently, the hand on Harry’s waist tightening until he knew if he were to look the knuckles would be white. Harry shuddered, gasping as he licked between Lucius’s fingers, his tongue trembling to taste the man’s skin, to have his scent engulfing him so completely.
“Harry.” It was half a warning, half a plea. Lucius had lost all his pretty words. He could barely seem to move anymore except to twitch his fingers and tense his muscles while he watched Harry with pure need in his blazing eyes.
Harry met the man’s gaze and continued what he was doing, tongue and teeth moving up the man’s fingers. He felt very hot, feverish with those eyes on him, daring him to do terrible, teasing things. When Harry opened his mouth to take two fingers in, Lucius gave a low growl, moving his other hand down to Harry’s hip and slamming him hard against the door. Harry gaped, his eyes fluttering shut, tongue reaching out and brushing softly against the pads of Lucius’s fingertips.
The next time Harry opened his eyes, Lucius was sinking to his knees. The man was beautiful on his knees, staring up at him with such intensity. The hand Harry had been devouring was slowly pulled down his throat, tweaking his nipples in passing, brushing wet heat over his taut stomach and landing on Harry’s hip. The blond kissed Harry’s bobbing cock softly, teasing pressure on the beading tip and licking away his precum. Lucius looked up at him hungrily, Harry’s heart hammering in his chest. And then it all went white, Lucius whirling him, pushing him face first against the door and holding him in place.
It took Harry a moment to understand. Once he felt scalding breath moving down his crack, over his cheeks and lower, it was a revealing of desire so strong Harry’s legs began to tremble in anticipation. The first touch of tongue swiping, delving between his cheeks, and he knew he would only think of this whenever the man was on his knees again. “Oh god… Lucius.”
Lucius pushed Harry harder against the door, pulling his hips back, running his palms over Harry’s firm, tight globes. Lucius’s thumbs moved slowly, pressing into his yielding flesh and then firmly prying his cheeks apart, exposing him to the man’s gaze. Harry whimpered, his hands clenching into fists on the door, face resting heavily, eyes blankly staring at the painted woodgrain. Warm breath teased towards Harry’s twitching hole and he groaned, gritting his teeth. His body felt so tight, muscles clenched rock hard as he waited expectant, sweat dripping down his neck and back.
Slick, hot, Lucius’s tongue traced tentative over Harry’s hole. He howled, Harry’s entire body jerking fitfully. He heard Lucius growl loudly, reverberating through his thighs, and then the man was plunging into him, tasting him, tormenting. Each fiery thrust jolted Harry, his hole opening to the wet, thick assault and urging more. Harry spread his legs wider, tilting his hips down, whining low in his throat, needing more—Needing just more, and not knowing how to ask. Lucius’s tongue dripped saliva into him, hot fluids spilling over his balls, trickling down his thighs to cool in streaks.
“Lucius… I’m falling,” Harry warned, his voice breathless and everything hazy. One of his quivering knees had knocked forward suddenly and thudded into the door. His other began to shake harder while he struggle to remain upright. Lucius steadied Harry by the hips, slowly rubbing his body up the boy’s back as he stood. He pulled Harry tight against him, his still covered erection pressing against the brunette’s ass. Harry listened as the man kicked his shoes off and then he was being turned, Lucius’s stunning, flushed face coming into view. He looked even more wild than before, silver eyes hazy, long hair tousled and sexy, wet streaks at the corner of his mouth and down his chin. Debauched and hungry.
“I need you,” Lucius growled, tangling a hand in Harry’s hair and kissing him. He traced over the boy’s open lips with the tip of his tongue, Harry feeling weak and dizzy, and certain he was going to burst into flames at any moment. “I need to be inside you, Harry. Will you let me? I need to feel you around me, taking my cock, sucking in my seed.” Lucius shuddered, Harry’s body responding by thrusting forward.
“Yes,” Harry said desperately, too loud and not caring. “I want to, so bad… God, I can imagine it.”
“Yes.” Lucius leaned Harry on the door again, his fingers sliding down to the boy’s crack and seeking out his entrance. “How do you imagine it?”
Harry breathed out in a hard blast, a thick finger breaching him, worming its way inside, pushing boldly at his muscles. “It’s this ache inside… this ache that finally stops… When you push inside me, the craziness—Oh, oh god… oh,” Harry gave a sudden sob, his mouth latching onto Lucius’s shoulder as fire lanced through him.
Lucius groaned, not stopping his stretching, his hips giving an answering thrust as he tried to control himself. “Don’t stop, Harry. Tell me… Tell me everything… I want to know everything.”
Harry nodded, swallowing down another cry, his legs useless for anything but leaning as they trembled sweat. “It.. it burns, for a short while… But you’re big… so big… When you push inside me, it’s going to be like… like you belong there,” Harry whispered hoarsely, his face flushing at the thought. When he allowed himself to imagine Lucius inside him, the man very much belonged.
Suddenly Lucius was lifting Harry, pulling him roughly from the door and carrying him to the bed with sure steps. Harry blinked up from the comforter, panting while Lucius tore at his belt, the man’s hands surprisingly unsteady as they fought with his trousers. Harry gulped, Lucius winning against the material and pushing the slacks down his long, strong legs and stepping out. He wore briefs clinging to every hard muscle of hip, ass, and top of thigh, his large erection tenting almost obscenely. Harry had been right with his first assessment; Lucius was an Adonis.
“L-let me,” Harry asked haltingly, pushing himself up on the bed. Lucius made a low, dark sound in the back of his throat when the brunette touched fingers to his hips. Harry’s eyes widened, glancing up at the man’s face. Lucius looked strained with his jaw tense, pupils wide as he stared down, lips panting loud breaths. “I think you’re going to start burning things again,” Harry remarked breathlessly, licking his lips and slipping his fingers into the band of the man’s underwear.
Lucius made another broken noise when the boy’s thumbs brushed lightly over his swaying erection while pulling his briefs down. Harry realized it was the sound of his restraint cracking. He was suddenly thrown backwards, Lucius pinning him to the bed while kissing him ferociously. A laugh bubbled out of Harry, a hand grazing just the right spot on his stomach. Lucius only growled louder in response, biting down Harry’s neck repeatedly while the boy moaned and squirmed against his heavier form.
“You’re beautiful,” Lucius whispered fiercely, getting his arm around Harry enough to press two fingers slick with lube against his hole. Harry gasped in response, a groan escaping him when Lucius sunk the digits in, filling him and stretching. “Maddening… You are very much a demon… My demon.”
Harry shook his head, only to cry out, Lucius plunging his fingers in and out in a smooth rhythm. Harry raised his knees, wrapping his legs around the man’s hips, head thrown back as he gave in to the sensation.
“Sent to torment me… Drive me insane with want of you… I need you, Harry. I need you so much.”
Harry didn’t know how Lucius could say things similar to the terrible accusations Vernon had made, and yet make him feel so good, powerful and desired. Harry held the man’s silky blond hair, petting hands over the hard feel of his skull and down to his muscular neck. Lucius groaned, mouth sucking welts over his narrow collarbone.
“Have you ever put anything inside yourself?” Lucius asked, tongue moving up Harry’s neck while he plunged a third finger into the boy.
Harry could not answer right away, his entire body tensing from the feel of the thick knot of flesh moving into him, growing larger as it pushed deep. “Oh god… oh… N-never…”
Lucius groaned again, hot in Harry’s ear, tongue laving slowly. “It will hurt a little… You will be… so tight.” Lucius kissed Harry’s cheek hard and then licked him again. “But you must stay calm… The more you can relax… the sooner you will be in rapture.”
Harry wanted to nod, do something to explain he understood, but he kept moaning, the fingers inside him jolting again and again. He wanted more. Wanted to feel Lucius stretching him wide, making the ache stop like he was certain it would, if only the man would push into him.
“I can have you like this…” Lucius growled in his ear, Harry shuddering at the implication. “Or the other way… You won’t see me, but it will be easier the first time.”
“Want to see you,” Harry chose, turning his head to meet Lucius’s gaze. The man’s jaw was likely going to break, a vein throbbing in his neck while he looked Harry over savagely. Lucius carefully pressed his lips to his, almost chastely, tension so tight in his body, Harry wondered if he was just going to snap in half. Trembles began to run through Harry in earnest, saliva rising in his mouth that he swallowed down as Lucius glared hot desire at him.
Lucius removed his fingers, unhooking Harry’s ankles from around his waist and kneeling. He pulled him up his inclined thighs, palms spreading the boy’s knees wide. Holding Harry’s gaze, Lucius slid his hands down over his slender legs. He caressed the muscles there with summoned oil, paying special attention to Harry’s inner thighs and how tense they were, downy hair shimmering under the man’s massaging touch. Harry took a slow breath in, feeling Lucius’s cock settle between his thighs, the length brushing against his flesh, hot and slick with oil and sweat.
He was going to fuck him. Lucius was going to push into him, sink deep, and fuck him. Harry bit his lip, feeling a momentary flutter of anxiety. Lucius would be so close. Inside. Harry would be completely exposed and it made his stomach tighten in fear and anticipation all at once. Lucius wanted to do this with him. Needed to. And he… Harry really wanted to be needed.
Lucius ran his hand over Harry’s sack, tugging lightly, Harry mumbling a moan in response. His knees were spread wider, pushed higher. Harry forced his eyes back open, mouth going dry at Lucius’s expression. This man was going to eat him alive. Devour him whole. Burn him so hot, for so long, there would be nothing left of him but ash. Just like his clothes.
“Relax,” Lucius rasped. Harry choked on a laugh—Like hell! Hand gripping Harry’s hip, Lucius’s other guided his cock to the boy’s aching entrance. Lucius pressed against his hole, Harry jerking at the feel of it.
His cock was hot. So much firmer and wide than the fingers had been. Oh, and it was pressing in… so slowly… So impossibly wide… Filling… “Oh… oh no… s-stop,” Harry pleaded, his body tight, and hot, and too full.
Lucius panted in Harry’s ear, his restraining grip painful on the boy’s bony hip. Harry knew he was holding back, knew that this could have been even more overwhelming—God, it was so much. Too much… “You’re big… It’s really…”
“I know… I’m going to go slow… I promise, Harry… Just relax.” Lucius’s neck had flushed, Harry staring at it unseeing. His body had stopped trying to push the man out, now just clenching once in a while, agonizing, tight pulls that had them both groaning. Harry relaxed enough to allow his head to fall back, not realizing how tight he had been holding himself. And then he relaxed the muscles of his abdomen and then his thighs, his knees shaking and feeling too heavy for his legs while bent up in the air.
Lucius began to sink further into the boy, Harry gaping silent, feet pushing into the mattress and tangling the sheets, toes flexing. It was so big, stretching his flesh wide each burning inch Lucius lodged into him. Deeper with each breath. Slowly, surging thrusts, deep, until Harry was filled completely and Lucius was growling in his ear.
“Oh god… oh hell… Lucius—I can’t… I can’t,” Harry moaned, barely coherent, his head thrashing back, legs moving with jerks. The ache had not lessened. No, it was definitely worse, filled so tight, body burning from the inside out with Lucius’s deep inside. Belonging—But fuck, aching.
Lucius cupped Harry’s ass, holding his shaking body. As deep as he could already go, he pushed in harder, groaning at the feel of Harry clenching so tight around him. “You’re doing… fine… So fine… Just hold on.” He breathed over Harry’s mouth, the boy’s eyes squeezed tight, face bright red. “Harry… Harry, open your eyes.”
Harry shook his head, somehow more afraid to meet the man’s gaze at that moment than ever before. Surely Lucius would see him then, in that instant truly, and the man would be disgusted at every level.
“Harry, I want to see you… I need to see that you’re okay,” Lucius murmured soothingly, a hand rising up to rub the boy’s neck in smooth strokes. “It’s okay… Just for a moment.”
Harry whined, biting his lip. The burning was changing, more a warm, dripping ache inside that flared each time Lucius moved too much. “J-Just a moment,” he agreed, but still did not open his eyes.
“Come on, beautiful. Do not deny me your eyes.” Lucius pressed a kiss to Harry’s trembling lips, his tongue reaching out, teasing within and delving softly. “I could die in those eyes… That exact shade of green… I’m sure I’ve seen many die in that green.”
Harry gasped. Without consent, his lashes flew open, having to know if the man was joking. “That’s not—Oh! Oh… that’s terrible, Lucius,” Harry said breathlessly.
The blond was very serious, his pale eyes searing into Harry’s and reading everything he could find within him. There was no disgust. Lucius thought his eyes looked like the killing curse. And he liked it. A shiver worked its way down Harry’s spine but it wasn’t of fear. Instead he ached to realize that Lucius could think something so fucked up about him and worship him for it at the same time.
“I don’t care,” Lucius said huskily, his hand reaching up to tangle at the back of Harry’s skull, twisting his dark locks and holding his gaze. “I am a terrible man that has done horrible things. And I am never going to let you go.” He rocked his hips forward, Harry groaning, breath catching, eyes wide. “I know what you’ve done to me, Potter… With your pretty, red pout… and deadly, green eyes.”
“Lucius,” Harry whimpered, feeling the man shift inside him, pull slowly back and then surge forward hard. “Hell!” He cried out, white flashing in his vision for an instant, fire bursting through his veins.
Lucius hissed, hands moving over the boy while Harry moaned. “Yes… hell… you tormenting, delicious hell-spawn… Spread your legs wider… Open up to me.”
“You’re fucking… crazy,” Harry groaned, pulling at Lucius’s hair until the man kissed him.
“You’re going to scream now, little demon,” Lucius promised into Harry’s mouth. He held the boy’s hips, pushing Harry’s back flat to the bed again. Then he pulled nearly out all the way, Harry whimpering from the feel of the fullness receding. This time when Lucius slammed back in, he hit the spot inside him that made him scream, fire and color bursting behind his eyes.
Harry sobbed at the next thrusts, head back, arms nearly slack as each hit of Lucius’s large cock found his prostate. He grabbed at the sheets weakly, back arching, hips moving up every time Lucius slammed down. “Oh fuck… holy fuck.”
“You’re close.” Lucius sunk his teeth into Harry’s shoulder, biting hard, the boy’s entire body spasming uncontrollably from the pain. The man surged forward again, air escaping him in a blast. Harry clenched down when Lucius settled deep inside him, holding the man there as long and tight as he could. Where he belonged. Lucius gave an approving groan, hips rocking, grinding deep within Harry’s tight heat.
He was so close, could feel it—Oh, and Lucius! He was swelling inside, if that were even possible, somehow bigger… Or Harry was just growing tighter, caressing the thick length inside him, clenching again and again, urging it to jet deep within.
“My god,” Lucius groaned, his fingers digging into Harry’s flesh, knuckles turning white. He found the boy’s mouth again, kissing him hard, sloppy, his tongue demanding. Harry moaned and leaked saliva down his chin, sweat slipping over his torso, and precum dripping onto his tense stomach. He dug his feet into the mattress, pulling himself further onto Lucius, the man grinding, shallow thrusts slowing in fury for one imperceptibly long, agonizing eternity of bliss.
Harry shouted, his cry swallowed by Lucius’s devouring mouth, hips jolting forward uncontrollably when he came. And then he cried again, Lucius suddenly slamming into him, seed searing deep inside his tight passage, long spurts matching Harry’s as the boy’s cum shot over his stomach.
Harry couldn’t stop the moans. With each gasping breath he released another low, aching sound of disbelief and release. Lucius, sweating and shaking, began to kiss across his face, soothing, hoarse sounds to calm the boy’s heated senses.
“Hush… it’s okay… My god, you’re beautiful… so divine.”
“No, don’t—Stay inside,” Harry pleaded, grasping the man’s shoulder’s when it seemed he would withdraw. Lucius grunted, his chest heaving as he pulled Harry to him closer, rolling them together so that the brunette lay across him on the bed. The man remained buried deep inside, Harry held tight in Lucius’s muscular arms. The air was cool on his heated flesh, sweat prickling and drying on his trembling skin. Lucius ran his hands languidly over him, seeking trails of scars and soothing each with soft pads of his fingers.
Harry, face resting against the man’s throat, breathed in his scent, white blond hair tickling his nose, salty sweat tingling his lips. Everything tingled. His whole body. His skin was some sort of entity all its own, each cell moving with new energy. Lucius had filled him. With cum. With energy. With terrible, terrible need and emotion Harry did not know how to bear fully. But the madness that followed, the insanity that made them tear at each other’s flesh, drink each other’s noises and juices, and join their bodies as one—He was willing to face such emotion for that madness.
“Are you alright?” Lucius asked, his breathing back to something normal. He ran his mouth against Harry’s tips of hair, ruffling the dark locks lightly.
Harry nodded slowly, pulling his heavy head up so he could see the man. Lucius was beautiful, serene with a smile in his eyes, if not quite on his lips. “I… I like this. Feeling you inside me. Knowing that you n-need me…” He stumbled on the word need, not sure if it wasn’t something Lucius had said in the heat of it all.
Hands reached up to cup Harry’s face and Lucius’s thumb ran over his bottom lip. “I need you. I dare not think what my days would be like without you. My house would be clean, my senses hardly offended—”
“Lucius,” Harry groaned, rolling his eyes even as he smiled.
“I would not feel much of anything, Harry,” Lucius added, his expression growing serious. “I had not realized just how little I was feeling these last years until you started needling and burrowing your way under my skin. I am glad you are a hellion. Anything less would have escaped my attention completely.”
Harry bit his lips, not sure if he was being insulted or complimented. It still sounded pretty enough when falling from Lucius’s swollen lips, so he would take it as positive for now. He yawned suddenly, blushing as it rocked the softened flesh still buried deep inside him.
Lucius pulled Harry down against him, arms wrapping around him tight. He continued his languid exploration of his back while the boy closed his eyes, sleep eventually pulling him down. Safe and engulfed, Harry’s dreams were peaceful.
Lucius had spent a lifetime making terrible things disappear. They were only muggles. No one of importance would have even known of their existence if not for Albus Dumbledore seeking them out and using them for his personal means. That was usually how muggles were discovered if ever. As victims.
Lucius suggested an automobile crash. The Dursleys were mangled and there was little point assembling them. A car connecting with the ground after a tumble off a cliff would be appropriate enough. Muggles put themselves in such danger every day when they got into their racing vehicles, thinking they were immortal when they had no power to even protect themselves from a collision.
He brought the bodies to Dumbledore’s domain, gracing the great castle nearly empty while students rejoined families for the summer. Albus was quiet. The headmaster had also spent a lifetime making terrible things disappear. The men understood each other well in that regard. The question was, of course, the terms.
Lucius had been clear what he would do if his demands weren’t met.
Dumbledore had created the blood wards that protected number four on Privet Drive. It was not something one could hide; magic was a signature. He had placed himself as a power of authority for a boy that could not control himself, allowed that boy to be abused, and then left him with the abuser. The math was stark. Dumbledore had not monitored Harry’s condition to make sure his explosive magic was contained. And he had not monitored the boy to prevent him being harmed—A crime to Lucius, but not so much to the rest of the wizarding world.
He would go after the school. Full charges would be pressed, questions asked as to why Harry’s condition wasn’t noticed. And then Lucius would use Harry’s memories against the headmaster, showing the letter he had written for help, the time he had gone to Dumbledore and had been turned away because ‘protection from Voldemort was top priority.’ Muggles and muggleborns would become villains once again, the great Savior of the Wizarding World attacked by simple common folk. Even if the school could distance from Dumbledore, they would not be able to distance from that.
Lucius would make sure. He would destroy the equality the school tried to foster just to break the man that had allowed Harry to be hurt. Or Dumbledore could bend to his will.
Albus had acquiesced. Harry was no longer his responsibility in any sense. No longer his tool to manipulate. No longer welcome at Hogwarts.
The Dursleys would be forgotten in the pages of a newspaper and Harry would never be questioned. The muggles barely knew he existed. His relatives had spoken about him as if the boy had been a hardened criminal, distancing themselves at every turn. Harry slipping away, far from Privet Drive to be soothed between Lucius’s sheets, would go completely unnoticed.
Lucius hadn’t even had to raise his voice.
“I was a pleasure to see you again, Albus.” Lucius lifted his cane and dipped his head graciously.
Dumbledore nodded in reply, his back particularly stiff as he walked around the prone forms of what was left of the Dursleys and got the door for Lucius. “As it was you, Lucius. Draco will be looking forward to the upcoming year. The seventh year spells are always the most exciting for the students.”
“I remember,” Lucius agreed, pausing in the doorway. “I expect Harry’s records will be available within the week. I want everything in order before the school year.”
“I will see to it,” Dumbledore said with only a slight tension to his mouth. The man did not like to lose, Lucius knew that well. But he had and would not make a fuss over it.
“Good day, Albus,” Lucius said, stepping out into the stone hallway.
Dumbledore gave him a final piercing glare. “Of course.”
Lucius had left once Draco was up and rested well enough to watch over Harry. He did not fully trust that Harry was balanced about what had happened. It would not be wise to leave him alone for long. Certainly not among a school full of students. Especially a school where the teachers had well proven they could not be trusted to protect the boy.
Lucius did not go straight home. He returned to Privet Drive, the wards still open to him. With intent, he went through the tiny muggle house, seeking out the adults’ bedroom and riffling for anything related to Harry. He found the boy’s record of birth, as well as photos of his parents and letters in a bundle hidden in a shoe box in the closet. It was so cliché he wanted to groan. Such ordinary people. They probably hid their valuables in the underwear drawer.
There was no greatness here. It was amazing Harry had grown as much as he had, stifled in such mundane organization. Lucius would have to think of something to challenge the young man. A tutor, most definitely. But also something to get him out of the manor and seeing the world more. The boy seemed content to be confined in dark, cramped spaces. Seeing Privet Drive and the cupboard, he felt it was time to change that.
It would be good for Lucius too. He had grown complacent in his routines. Work, home, work again. Even when Narcissa had been living there, the routine had been the same for years. Summers were actually a relief, Draco home to brighten things and interrupt a bit.
Harry… The boy had his routines, but in a different, more energizing way. He did not wake up, but jumped up, usually shouting from nightmares. Even the simple act of wearing clothing had been caustic to the senses. He ate as if he had never truly known a meal and expected to lose it if he looked away. The boy appreciated things, more things than Lucius took notice of everyday. It would be good to see the world like that while around him.
Lucius gave a final look around the dim, squalid house that Harry had called home for almost seventeen years. There were no traces left of the incident that happened here. Except the magical aura, but little could be done of that. Anyone with magical sensitivity would always find the place ‘wrong’ or ‘creepy.’ Not just from the explosion Harry had wrought, but the violence that had occurred for many years. Houses held onto their humans’ emotions. They rotted, twisted and decayed just like the beings that went about their day, filling their home with their own negativity.
Vernon could blame Harry all he liked for ‘ruining’ his family, but without the Dursleys, Harry was a positive, bright being. The Dursleys, on the other hand, had been twisted even with Harry gone each school term.
Harry woke with a gasp, his heart racing, pounding in his chest. Vernon had been… No…
No, Vernon was dead. He had killed him.
Harry sat up slowly, staring at his hands while waiting for his heart to calm. God, were the nightmares just going to be worse now? How much more final could you get beyond stone cold dead?
“Pipsqueak made you something to eat.”
Harry yelped, jolting at the sound of Draco’s voice.
“Shit, you’re jumpier than a cat.” Draco handed Harry his glasses, Harry slipping them on in time to see his friend glare calculatingly. “So I can’t help but notice you’re naked and in my father’s bed.”
“Oh, crap…” Harry flinched, eying his friend as he hid himself further under the sheets and tried to come up with a plausible excuse. “Er… I got lost?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Relax. I’m not going to kill you… Yet.” He pushed a tray of food next to Harry and sat down on the side of the bed. “I need to wait until you get your strength back.”
Harry bit his lip, avoiding Draco’s gaze. “I didn’t… that is… I didn’t do it to upset you.”
“Geez, I hope not. That would just be super weird. And it’s already super weird.” Draco huffed, folding his arms over his chest. Harry hesitantly grabbed half a sandwich off the plate, seeing as Draco didn’t seem to be in a hexing mood. The moment it hit his tongue he was salivating, wolfing the food down with less chewing than was probably required. Harry kept eating, pulling the tray over and drinking down a large glass of juice.
“So, which one are you?”
Harry glanced up, in the middle of biting a large chunk out of an apple.
“Top or bottom?”
Harry choked, coughing loudly as his face turned red. Draco watched with a satisfied smirk, grabbing Harry’s glass before it could fall and spill the last drops of liquid.
“Don’t actually tell me. It’s just funny to watch you squirm. And don’t ever show me, at that. I may be able to handle this as long as I never have to see or hear any of it.”
Trying not to die, Harry wiped at the tears that had come to his eyes, his face flushed red. He eventually got his coughing under control. “Shit… So you’re not going to kill me?”
Draco shrugged, giving Harry a long side glance as he stole a bite of the remaining sandwich. “You’d be surprised what I’m willing to put up with. As long as you’re not suffering with those muggles and Father isn’t burning the house down. He… he likes you, Harry. A lot. More than I thought he could like anyone, actually… Hence the burning, breaking, yelling and stuff,” Draco added thoughtfully. “I’m not going to fuck that up for him.”
Bitting his lip, Harry felt extremely uncomfortable when Draco suddenly glared at him and continued, saying, “So you better not be just messing around with him. Got it?”
“I’m not,” Harry said a little hoarsely, not a hundred percent certain what he was doing with Lucius, but knowing it wasn’t messing around. Not after earlier and seeing the man so raw and open like that. It had wounded him in a way, and he was having difficulty handling even the memory of it.
Draco nodded at his answer, looking satisfied for the moment. “Alright, so how about a swim? Something to get you out of the house. Maybe distract a bit?”
“Yeah, okay. That would be nice.” Harry went to get out of bed, then stopped, realizing he had nothing on and no clothes in sight.
“You know, I could leave you here to suffer, but I’d only be hurting myself having to see your scrawny ass running through the house,” Draco muttered, getting up to get Harry his bathing suit. Harry just smirked, fairly certain his ass wasn’t scrawny at all.
He looked around idly, wondering where Lucius had gone to. He hadn’t felt the man leave. And considering how they had fallen asleep, that was a task all its own. Harry flushed, eyes closing involuntarily as he felt an ache between his cheeks, his body wonderfully sore and intent on reminding him just what he had done with Lucius.
Was it wrong of him, enjoying himself so much? Harry was only hours away from the destruction of the muggle family he had grown up with. Lucius hardly seemed to care… But he wasn’t Lucius and was never going to be. Lucius had done things, intentionally, to gain his existence. Harry had just reacted to things being done to him, and was still reacting. He sighed, running his hands over the sheets thoughtlessly.
He was going to have to make a decision soon. About how he was going to feel about it all. He couldn’t just keep reacting forever. One of these days, he was going to have to own his feelings, not just perceive them as independent entities that clung to him. Just… not today.
“Father, finally.”
Lucius paused as he walked in the door, Draco waiting for him with worry on his face. “What?”
“He’s cleaning. With his hands.” Draco said sharply, pacing two steps in agitation. “I told him I could just spell it away, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Lucius sighed internally. “Where is he?”
Draco pointed down the hall, grabbing the door before Lucius could shut it. “Call me if you need me. Otherwise, just keep it down.” Raising his brows at Draco’s turn around on his relationship with Harry, Lucius watched his son escape into the warmth outside.
Harry was in the kitchen, crouched on the floor in a damp bathing suit and no top, scars exposed to the late afternoon light. He was bleeding, naturally, a gash on his ankle from where he had tripped and cut himself on the vintage brass table in the hallway. From what Lucius could tell, he was desperately trying to clean up the spots of blood with his hands, following the trail back, only to drip more in the process.
“Did you lose something?” Lucius asked dryly, Harry only glancing towards his legs briefly in acknowledgement.
“Is this when you say my mind?” Harry grumbled, rubbing his palm roughly on the kitchen tile, streaking red that quickly turned orange and then faded gone.
Realizing he was at least lucid and not as mad as Draco had made Harry out to be, Lucius relaxed and leaned against the counter. “Oh, I was going to say your wand, or healing charm, or a bandage… Even a towel would be preferable to this.”
“I’m having trouble doing things,” Harry said tightly, eyes again glancing towards Lucius’s leather boots. “Tripping. Vision keeps getting dark.”
“You’ve been through a shock. It sounds like your blood pressure is low.” Lucius raised a brow at the boy, eyes running over the curve of his back and the muscles moving there. “When was the last time you ate?”
Harry paused, slowly raking his teeth over his bottom lip. “Couple of hours ago.”
“Time enough for a meal.”
Nodding silently, Harry stared at what his hands were doing, eventually sitting back on the floor, head bowed forward. He pressed at the cut on his ankle, fingers trying to stop the flow of blood with little success.
Lucius couldn’t help but notice that the boy had started to skitter again in his presence, stunning green eyes touching his way tentatively only to run and hide beneath his dark lashes. He wasn’t sure what one was supposed to do in a situation like this. Lucius knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to shake the little brat until Harry finally realized there was nothing to worry about, he did truly care, and no one was ever, ever, ever going to hurt him again.
Eyes raking over the boy, Lucius amended his previous thought, changing shaking to something more delectable, such as kissing, and tasting, and all around pawing. But he wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do in this situation either. He had lost his control earlier that day, just so relieved to have Harry back and in one piece. That he could have actually been damaged—No, dead. Nearly dead.
But that was done. A blip of less than a weekend. Harry was back, bleeding on his floor, skittering and uncertain. Why wasn’t he certain? Had he pushed too fast? Read the signals wrong? Was he supposed to be… paternal or something? Lucius did not want to be Harry’s parent.
“Potter, stop bleeding on my floor,” Lucius said heavily, his head spinning with all his annoying thoughts.
Harry glanced up at him, brows furrowed. “You were just angry I was cleaning it.”
Lucius ran his tongue over his teeth, relishing the sensation as those very green eyes lingered a little too long on him, sliding down his form instead of immediately glancing away. “I wonder sometimes… Is this your way of marking your space?”
“What?” Harry asked, forced again to look up at Lucius.
“Getting your blood everywhere,” Lucius said silkily. “Do you think if you get enough on my floor—not to mention what you did to the bathroom wall the other week when you failed at shaving—that you’ll stake your claim?”
Harry blushed, pulling his ankle towards his body, blood dripping out between his fingers where he held the wound. “That’s crazy talk,” he muttered, refusing to look up. Lucius watched him, eyebrow twitching when the little hellion slowly lifted his hand from his ankle and looked at it questioningly. Harry then proceeded to wipe his hand on the kitchen floor, deliberately streaking the white tile with his blood. “You, Sir, are a crazy person.”
Lucius was pretty certain whatever Harry needed from him, it was never going to be paternal. A father—at least a proper one—would not wish to fuck the prat out of such a devilish young man. Inhaling sharply, Lucius walked over and crouched behind Harry, looking down at the boy’s bowed head and shoulders. “You’re going to clean that, correct?”
Harry shrugged noncommittally, rubbing the side of his finger onto the tile and adding another blob of red. “Don’t have anything to clean with.”
Lucius grabbed Harry’s hand, the boy stilling his motions. Was he afraid? Upset about something?
Wondering why Harry was still flinching and skittering around him, Lucius slowly licked one of the red fingers, tasting copper and flesh. Harry made a strained, choking noise, trying to pull his hand away. Lucius wouldn’t let him, lapping in slow, thorough movements until his hand was completely clean.
“W-Where did you go?” Harry asked, voice higher than normal. “I woke up and you… you weren’t…”
Realization dawning, Lucius rested his other hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I was dealing with the Albus situation. Did you think I wasn’t coming back?”
Harry didn’t say anything for a long moment, rocking his sticky ankle back and forth on the floor. “When I’m alone… I forget who I am. In a day, just one day, my life flipped crazy and I lost myself. Now, it feels like whenever I’m alone, I’m going to get sucked right back there. Even though it’s gone. Even though he’s dead. Somehow I feel it’s waiting for me when there is no one around to remind me otherwise.”
Lucius kneaded Harry’s neck, the boy giving a sigh and relaxing. “Draco was here. He wants to help you.”
“I can’t… He wouldn’t understand this.” Harry glanced over his shoulder, uncertainty on his face. “It’s good he doesn’t understand. No one has ever hurt him. He’s never hurt anyone. But I can’t talk to him.”
“I told him what happened. He’s not ignorant, Harry. He knows some of the dark deeds his mother and I have committed. He won’t reject you—If I hadn’t gone for you, I know he would have eventually.”
Harry rolled his shoulders, Lucius wondering if the boy was trying to push him away. He stilled his hand but Harry didn’t repeat the motion. “It would have been too late, anyways.”
“You didn’t tell us how bad it was,” Lucius pointed out. “Draco had suspicions, but not enough to come to me before you were first kicked out. Silence is not the answer in these sorts of situations even when it feels like the only thing.”
“What, like you would have done anything a year ago?” Harry asked, disbelief and anger mixing in his voice. “Dumbledore didn’t. You didn’t even know me then—Hell, do you even know me now?”
Frowning, Lucius sat fully, pulling the huffing boy back into his arms. He rested his chin on the top of Harry’s head, hands following down his narrow arms to clasp lightly. “How well, exactly, does anyone know another? At what point can you just relent and accept that I enjoy your company? Must I crawl inside your head, learn everything there could ever be to know? There are millions that enjoy time together that don’t have such requirements. Why do you demand it for someone to like you?”
“I dunno.” Harry ducked his head further, his hair tickling across Lucius’s chin. “I just… I don’t understand why anyone would like me.”
Lucius sighed, not sure if verbalizing just what made Harry so appealing to him would actually be good for the boy to hear. Compliments seemed to have the opposite effect when Harry was in this mood. “Because you are there. You do not need to be special, or morale, or perfect—Or fashionable and neat, in your case,” he teased softly. “Shall you try to put into words why you like me beyond the superficial things one always thinks of when with a lover?”
Harry huffed again, resting heavier against Lucius. “I like you because… well, because. You listen. And you understand me… sometimes. And you’re strong. Powerful… I feel safe around you… And you’re a crazy person—I mean, you did burn all my clothes.”
“And you like me.”
“Yes,” Harry nodded, twining his fingers with Lucius’s.
“Even though you know very well I have done terrible things for flimsy justifications at best.”
Harry shifted, tilting his head until he was rubbing his cheek against the man’s raspy jaw. “I probably shouldn’t, huh? I mean, a proper person would think that was horrible and not want to be around you.”
Lucius raised a brow, smirking slightly. “You are anything but proper. Terror, comes to mind. Hellion. Demon.”
Harry scoffed, turning and nearly smacking his head into Lucius’s nose. “I am a very nice person. I am polite, and respectful, and bloody nice!”
“That’s not what my son tells me.” Lucius watched Harry blush, the boy’s annoyance fizzled by his embarrassment.
“You can’t count what I do at school. I’m talking about here, at the manor, where I’m a perfect guest and you have a vendetta against me.” He paused, glaring slightly. “Wasn’t I brooding about something?”
“Not that I recall. I’m pretty sure you’ve been sitting here the entire time, trying to stain my kitchen floor with your blood in the hopes that I will relent and give you the room permanently.”
“You know, instead of complaining, you could have healed me ages ago,” Harry shot back, a small grin crossing his face.
“I could have, but then I would have missed you becoming woozy from blood loss and susceptible to my many charms.” Lucius moved his warm hands up Harry’s bare arms, the boy shivering in response. “I believe this is the first time I’ve seen you without a shirt intentionally.”
Harry turned forward again, one of his hands running over Lucius’s raised knee and then down, pulling up his pant leg to examine his expensive boot. “I was swimming and it was just Draco. I thought maybe you would have come back…”
“And then you broke yourself and decided to paint my floor.” Harry’s neck flushed and Lucius smirked. Turning Harry red was becoming his favorite hobby. “What did you want now that you’ve found me?”
If possible, Harry turned redder, now his shoulders coming in to play. Lucius couldn’t hear his answer, leaning forward when the boy ducked his head and mumbled something. “What was that?” Lucius asked, running his hand down the center of Harry’s stomach, feeling the muscles twitch in response.
“N-nothing,” Harry gasped.
“Oh, it was something, you little hell-spawn.” He flicked his tongue out, teasing a trail down below Harry’s ear. “Something rude and inappropriate that you just can’t help yourself to say.”
“Was not,” Harry insisted weakly. “I had… I had missed you.” He peeked to the side, catching Lucius’s eye. “By your account, enough to bleed all over your floor to lure you back.”
Lucius gave a hungry growl, running his hands down the boy’s sides and slipping fingers beneath his waistband. “Did you enjoy yourself earlier? Spread wide… full.”
“God, yes,” Harry whispered heatedly and Lucius had no doubt now that the brunette had been waiting for him to come back to do it again. Maybe he had even grown insecure when Lucius had taken as long as he had to return.
“Tell me what you liked about it,” Lucius asked with a purr, fingers moving teasing, taunting beneath the boy’s bathing suit, brushing soft touches of fire.
Harry gave a choked laugh, hips jolting, foot nearly smacking into the refrigerator. “All of it. Every freaking thing.”
“Oh, I think something must have stood out as better… Tell me the things you like best,” Lucius insisted, wanting to know. He kissed Harry’s neck, pulling the boy’s hips closer.
Harry gave a weak moan as he thought, head rolling to the side. “That thing… when you knelt… That was amazing.”
“Yes, you did seem to enjoy that. Which works out, since I really enjoy doing that. What else do you really like?”
“Damn… okay, the other day. In the bathroom,” Harry said hesitantly, bottom lip caught between his teeth.
“Yes?” Lucius prodded when Harry seemed unable to finish the thought.
That it was easy to turn the boy scarlet did not make it any less delicious to see. Lucius smirked as Harry gave a shiver, voice raising in pitch. “You had… okay… all over me,” Harry muttered barely above a whisper, swaying when Lucius suddenly nipped at his neck.
“You liked it when I covered you in my cum,” Lucius said lowly, watching Harry react to the words as if they were a touch. The boy arched back, head falling on the man’s shoulder heavily as he panted up. “What about today? When I came inside you?” He ran one of his hands up, thumb moving over Harry’s nipple and squeezing.
Harry groaned, his hips jolting, legs stretching out and then bending back up. “I could feel it… god, dripping out… Inside me… That was really good.”
Lucius growled at the answer, knowing he was losing control and having a hard time caring at the moment. “Yes, it was… You were so tight… What else, Harry? What else do you like?”
Wiggling back against the bulge growing in Lucius’s pants, Harry answered readily, his embarrassment slipping away as he grew more aroused. “I want to suck you. I want to know… god, what it’s like to feel you in my mouth.”
Lucius could really not think of any good reason Harry’s beautiful red pout should not be stretched around his hard cock. He had imagined it so many times before, in so many different way. “Upstairs, Potter,” he ordered roughly, his hands already helping to push Harry to his feet.
Harry hesitated, watching Lucius rise, eyes hooded in lust. “Or maybe… down the hall? Your study?” He asked, wagging his eyebrows slightly. “You know… because I’m pretty sure I’ve only been in there with clothes on.”
Lucius inhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing as he thought. “I like my study.”
Harry smirked, stepping back towards the door. “I do too. It smells nice in there. And it’s always cool and quiet.”
“You’re still bleeding. Actually the last time you were in my study…”
“Wasn’t bleeding. You had fixed that in the other room.” Harry reminded, his grin growing. “You think I’m going to ruin your office.”
Lucius took a step forward, Harry gulping and sliding his foot backwards. “I know you’re going to ruin my study. That’s what you do.”
Harry shrugged, his cheeks flushed. “But the last time we were in there together—”
“Because you’ve been in there without me,” Lucius growled, remembering the teabag in a completely different light all of a sudden.
“Ha… ah… It’s nice and quiet in there… and it smells like you… and leather.” Harry had managed to find and nearly knock over a large vase of fresh flowers sitting in the hall as he backed away from the growling man. “I’m trying to remind you of the last time—Actually, kind of first time. When you were fixing my tooth…”
“I am very protective of my study.” Lucius watched as Harry barely dodged around another narrow table in the hall, eyes falling to his foot. “And you’re still bleeding.”
Biting his lip, Harry stopped, holding his ankle up and trying not to sway. “Well, fix it already. And then we can… you know…” He blushed, fidgeting as he stared at Lucius expectantly.
“What? Ruin my study? I think not.” Lucius took another step and when Harry realized the man was not going to heal him, he stumbled back, eyes wide.
“You know what? I know how to fix this,” Harry said, his voice full of breath as he watched Lucius cautiously from beneath lowered lashes. “It’s going to be my study.”
Lucius froze, trying to figure out what the boy was getting at. “What?”
“Well, if the bathroom is mine, and the kitchen—And you had not problem doing stuff there with me…” Harry’s grin turned wicked right before he turned and ran down the hall. Lucius stared after him, trying to figure out what the boy was implying. Then he noticed the blood on the hardwood floor and it all clicked.
The damn terror was going to bleed all over his study.
“Oh god, I’m sorry… Hell, promise… fuck… please, Lucius… Please.”
“Not until you’ve cleaned it all,” Lucius growled.
Harry moaned, Lucius pushing him down into the leather chair that felt like butter, head falling back. “But I’m so hard!”
“That is the point,” Lucius said with a purr, “Otherwise it’s not a punishment.”
“But it’s not a punishment—”
“Oh, it is, you little brat. Give it some time and you’ll see what kind of suffering you’re in for.” Lucius had taken the initiative to close the curtains and silence the room just in case his poor son had decided to swim to distract from the torture he was going to be inflicting on Harry. His little lover had managed to bleed out on most of his study floor and had just been raising his ankle to smear his desk when he had finally gotten into the room. He had promptly bound the boy’s wrists with a spell, something the two of them had quickly discovered Harry liked. A lot.
Green eyes hazy, red lips panting loud gasps of air, Harry stared up at Lucius with his hands tied behind his back, his thin bathing suit tenting from his needy erection. Lucius found himself kneeling between the boy’s spread legs, fingers lighting ever so softly on Harry’s knees. “I am going to heal you, so that you will stop bleeding on my things,” Lucius murmured, watching Harry’s eyes widen with each word. “Then you are going to clean up your mess.”
“H-How? I don’t… my hands…” Harry whimpered, pulling at his bonds again, his back arching and nipples peaking under Lucius’s gaze. “Oh god, you keep looking at me like… ha…” He trailed off, eyelids lowering as he fell silent under the man’s intense stare.
Lucius pulled the boy’s leg up, gripping him by the ankle and tugging it roughly to his broad shoulder. “You will have to make do,” he said huskily, attention straying to the streams of crimson decorating the boy’s olive toned flesh, paler where his ankle flared to his foot. “You are a very resourceful young man.” He reached his tongue out, hovering above the heat of Harry’s skin.
“Please,” Harry whispered when Lucius hesitated. Silver eyes snapped to his and he gasped, very much staring at a predator about to eat him alive. “Please,” he repeated more insistent, trying not to squirm. Lucius touched his tongue to his foot and Harry moaned, hips jerking, body slipping down the chair.
“This is how you’re going to clean my floor,” Lucius breathed out slowly, lapping another long swipe over Harry’s foot. “All of it. Every drop. On your knees with your hands bound.” He reached up, tugging at the hem of Harry’s bathing suit. “Naked.”
Making a noise between a laugh and a gasp, Harry let his head sink deeper against the chair, eyes fixed on Lucius’s red tongue. “Okay… That seems, er… fair,” he whispered weakly, his cheeks turning red. Lucius continued to lick up his ankle, looking like some pale, beautiful vampire. “I still get to… that is…” Harry licked his lips, waiting for the man to look at him again. “I still want to suck you.”
“After,” Lucius promised, smiling wickedly. “Once your jaw is aching and your tongue raw. After your senses are full of blood and dust. Maybe your lips will be splintered… maybe chapped and bleeding. Only then can you have a taste of me, you little hellion.”
Eyes wide, Harry gaped at the man, his hips jolting forward. “Holy crap… you’re crazy—Hell!” He yelped, Lucius tugging him closer by his foot, bending his leg and letting it slip over his shoulder. Harry didn’t dare tell the man he was getting blood on his shirt. He did not want to give Lucius another excuse to be crazy.
Harry bit back a wild smile, trying to draw his eyes away from where a flash of red was now on Lucius’s neck. Maybe if he bled on the man a little, Lucius would be his, just like the kitchen, bathroom, and undoubtedly study. “Uh, hey, Lucius?”
“What?” Lucius ran his lips lightly over Harry’s, hands now free to find the waist of his bathing suit.
“What if I just said I was really sorry?” Harry asked, pressing forward and trying to get a proper kiss. Lucius skirted away, keeping the pressure barely there. “Come on… I’m really, really sorry,” Harry said sincerely.
“You are not even remotely sorry,” Lucius replied gruffly, hands caressing down Harry’s smooth ass and thighs as he pulled his bathing suit down. He lifted the boy’s hips up, freeing the material from the chair. “You’re a destructive little hell-spawn that is intent on destroying everything I own.”
Harry couldn’t help but smirk. “You’re a wizard. You can just fix it all.”
Lucius growled, pulling away with a glare. He released Harry’s legs and removed the boy’s shorts in a quick motion. “Get on the floor, you brat. Put that rude mouth of yours to something useful for a change.”
Harry stared at the man disbelieving. He was serious. Lucius actually expected him to lick the damn floor. Harry let his gaze stray to the gleaming hardwood. A dozen small red spots sprinkled foot length apart and one rather large spot splotched by Lucius’s desk where he had dug his fingernail in, trying to get enough to—Alright, maybe he deserved this, just a little. But only a little.
Harry wiggled down off the chair, bracing himself on his feet while trying not to fall without his arms for balance. His shoulder blades pulled back deliciously, his nipples hardening each time, along with his already hard length. He glared at Lucius, the man just raising a brow, lips pursed. “Hey, heal me already!” Harry held up his ankle, nearly falling over when he lost his balance.
Lucius caught him, the man’s clothing making Harry’s skin jolt with fire. Blushing, Harry watched as Lucius bent down his leg, wand pointing to his ankle to heal him. The man was nearly on his knees and it made him think of all the good things that happened whenever Lucius was on his knees. As if reading his mind, Lucius licked a small patch over Harry’s sharp hipbone, free hand coming up to cup his ass and squeeze. Harry moaned, pressing his hips forward, hoping the man would get the hint and just suck him.
“Hurry up, Potter. Before it starts staining my floor.” Lucius pulled away from Harry and stood once again. Harry let out a disappointed moan, feeling very unsteady without the man to hold him upright.
“Fine,” he huffed, bare feet slapping on the floor. He glared back, but Lucius did not look sorry in the least to be doing this to him. Harry deliberately turned his back to the man, growling as he carefully sunk to his knees and tried not to fall on his face. It was just a stupid spot of blood—He was hardly going to freak out over it. He was halfway bending towards the floor, tongue outreached, when he began to have an inkling of ulterior motive in this particular punishment.
Bending forward with his arms tied back made his stomach muscles clench, keeping him from breathing deep. Harry’s shoulders pulled back, neck tight and heavy, nipples tingling. His thighs spread wider for balance, muscles tight, hard cock bobbing with each movement, knees digging painful into the hard floor. Through the heat suddenly rising in him, Harry realized Lucius had a good view of his ass. Very good, if the man’s approving hum had anything to say about it.
Face flushing with just how aroused he was suddenly feeling, Harry bent forward as far as he could, sinking down between his spread knees. Sweat began to trickle down his back and neck, his breath coming out in harsh pants. Had Lucius known this was going to happen? Or was there just something very wrong with him, liking to be tied up and forced to lick the floor? Groaning at the very idea, Harry reached his tongue out, eyes half closed as he managed to finally touch his tongue to the ground.
“Slowly… go slow,” Lucius said, his voice sounding low and rough in the quiet room.
Harry exhaled sharply, eyes closing, body clenching with need. He lapped his tongue out again, the floor polished smooth against his skin, feeling hard and only a little dusty. Harry went slow, tracing his tongue over the bumps and nooks, small drinks of tangy sweet red filling his senses. Lucius watched him the entire time, hissing softly, eventually crouching down to make sure Harry got every bit.
“Right here,” Lucius whispered, pressing Harry’s face to the side by his chin. Harry tried to lick the man’s fingers but Lucius pulled away, tsking softly. “Bad… Don’t make me put something else there for you to clean.”
Harry whimpered, having a fair idea what that something else might be. God, he was so hard. He let Lucius lead him by the chin, lapping slow, long swats along the floor, moaning at each soft touch of fingers and hard feel of floor. Harry was gasping by the time he had gotten it all, sweat slicking his hair to his face and dripping down his stomach. He was so hard he was certain he was going to come any second. Neck aching from holding it at the awkward angle, he rested his head on the floor, cheek sticking slightly from his own saliva.
“You’re not done, brat,” Lucius said huskily, running his hand through Harry’s wet hair. “Do you see all those spots you missed? I want you to get them all. Slowly. Moving on your knees.”
Hell. Lucius made everything sound fucking sexy. Harry nodded weakly, licking his swollen lips. His jaw was aching but no splinters just yet. Whimpering, he struggled to get himself back onto his knees, rocking on his shoulder, his legs sore, thighs tight and cramped from the position. Damn, why was this so hot? Lucius was inches from him, watching everything he did, fingers brushing the softest of touches to his back and legs. Every little whisper of contact startled Harry and made him want so much more.
Harry tried to make his way over to the nearest cluster of red, his knees slipping on the floor from all his sweat. He tipped forward, nearly smacking his forehead on the ground, but Lucius caught him by the shoulder. “Oh, fuck,” Harry gasped, Lucius suddenly settling behind him, body heat and fabric ghosting over his entire back, trapped arms, ass and thighs, hovering but not pressing. Lucius’s long hair brushed silkily down his neck and shoulders, the man whispering in his ear lowly.
“Shall I show mercy, my little hellion?”
Harry shuddered, wondering if it was possible to come just from someone purring in your ear. It would be so easy for Lucius to fuck him like this. Bent over. Tied up. “Lucius… My god, I’m aching… I’m so hard.”
Breathing deeply, the man pressed a slow, chaste kiss to Harry’s neck. “I told you, didn’t I? Suffering.”
Harry groaned loudly, arching his head back, willing Lucius to nip, and suck, and lick like he was good at. The man didn’t, stubbornly pressing another soft kiss to his flesh. “Please… please touch me,” Harry begged, his entire body trembling at the very thought.
“That sounds like a reward,” Lucius drawled, his voice strained. “I don’t think you’ve earned a reward.”
“Okay… Shit, okay… How do I—Hell, how are you doing this to me?” Harry whimpered, trying to figure out how the man had switched things around so quickly. Less than twenty minutes ago Lucius was giving him shit for cleaning the kitchen floor with his hands. Now Harry was doing his best not to cum all over the study floor because he was certain he’d be forced to lick that up too. Harry groaned, putting his weight on his forehead, hips jerking forward. God, he’d probably like it.
“Sit up straight,” Lucius ordered, sitting back. “Turn around.”
Anticipation building, Harry sat up unsteadily, his legs burning from holding the cramped position. He bit down on his lip hard when Lucius finally came into view, the man’s expression intense and consuming. “How do I earn a reward?” Harry asked, wanting it so badly he didn’t care what he said as long as Lucius touched him.
“I’ve been watching you,” Lucius said, eyes moving over Harry hungrily. “Licking my floor like some degenerate. You’re not sorry at all for what you’ve done.”
Harry couldn’t help it; he was grinning like a loon and he knew it. “Oh, I’m totally sorry.”
Lucius shook his head, lips parting, tongue wetting slowly. “I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson, Potter.”
Harry shuddered, his entire body rocketing. Lucius was fucked. Harry had a feeling he’d be bleeding all over this study every goddamn day if it got Lucius to say sexy, messed up things like that to him. He wiggled closer on the floor, his bare knees just touching against Lucius’s clothed ones. “Tell me what I have to do,” he rasped out, not sure he’d refuse anything at that moment.
Ghosting his fingers ever so lightly over Harry’s face, Lucius suddenly gripped his jaw firmly. Eyes widening, Harry did not fight when he was forcefully pulled down, body bent forward, knees sliding further apart until the top of his head was pressing into Lucius’s crisp white shirt and hard stomach. The sound of the man’s zipper was the loudest thing Harry had ever heard in his entire life.
“Oh my god…” Harry whispered breathlessly.
Lucius pushed aside the fabric of his slacks and then underwear. Harry groaned when his erection came into view; large, thick and inches from his face. There was just the faintest of beading of precum on the dusky red tip. Harry stretched his tongue, whimpering when he realized he couldn’t quite reach.
“Go slow,” Lucius ordered, fingers lighting ever so gently on the back of Harry’s neck.
Harry rubbed his head against Lucius’s flat stomach, bracing himself as best he could while sinking lower, shoulders and chest resting on the man’s strong thighs. The divided zipper was sharp against Harry’s chin, fabric rough on his neck and face. The silken flesh of Lucius’s cock was hot and slightly damp as it brushed against his lips. Lucius made a soft rumble when Harry began to kiss the hard flesh and taste lightly with his tongue. “Yes… Just like that.”
Letting his cheek rest on the pant clad thigh, Harry began to trace his tongue out, trembling up over the smooth column of flesh, seeking out every flowing contour, rough ridge. He was drawn up, seeking the tasty little bead of wet in the center of Lucius’s slit. Rising up, Harry fixated on the tight indent, wiggling his tongue, pulling the flushed head up against his swollen lips and sucking, urging more leaking drops of precum to flow. Lucius suddenly grabbed him by the hair, pulling him back and hissing lowly. Harry moaned, watching the man’s cock twitch, wondering just how close Lucius was to coming all over him.
“I said slow, you little demon.” Lucius relaxed his grip, Harry looking up and meeting the man’s gaze. Lucius had a familiar, near breaking look in his burning eyes that made Harry weak. It made him want to do nasty, naughty things just to get Lucius to lose all control and fuck him. Harry reached his tongue out, Lucius growling with molten eyes still fixed on his. Slowly he connected with Lucius’s swaying length, lapping a long line up to the very tip, tongue immediately dipping into the sensitive slit and seeking the fluid leaking there. “Harry.” Lucius groaned, expression pained, breath suddenly coming out in harsh pants.
Harry had to close his eyes, afraid seeing Lucius so undone was going to keep him from his goal of tormenting the man. He opened his sore jaw wide and took his thick cock into his mouth. He felt the weight of it, the ridges on his slick lips, the thrum of blood running through the underside when he pressed his tongue in caressing strokes. His neck ached from having to hold himself up but Harry didn’t stop, opening wider, feeling the hard flesh touch the roof of his mouth, then back against his tonsils. Saliva was building, gravity pulling it down to glisten and stream clear fluid around Lucius’s hard dick and disappear into his blond pubic hair and briefs pulled only inches below.
Harry rocked, bobbing the straining head against his tonsils in rhythmic jolts, gasping for breath around the thick length. His nipples were raw, zapping from the friction of fabric as he braced himself on Lucius’s lap and took more of the man’s length into his mouth, daring to swallow further. Harry felt so hot, so wild knowing Lucius was hard just because of him. He wanted to make the man come, wanted to feel the large flesh swell and spurt into his hot mouth.
It was getting too hard to breathe and Harry had to pull away before he choked on his own saliva. Groaning, he tried to push himself up, breathing heavily, his muscles shaking from the exertion of not having his arms to help. Lucius’s large hands were suddenly pulling him up and forward, dragging Harry into a wild, forceful kiss. There was a snap and Harry’s wrists were loose, aching and tingling. Feeling heavy limbed and sore, Harry didn’t resist when Lucius pulled him into his lap, wrapping him around the man like a limp rag-doll while suffocating his already overwhelmed form with persistent, hot kisses over his face and neck.
Harry whimpered, feeling a rush of magic zipping through his entrance and deep into his passage. Lucius’s fingers quickly followed, plunging in mercilessly, stretching his lubricated hole with two wide digits. Gaping silent, Harry clung to the man, his body jerking with need. “Oh hell…” God, Lucius was going to fuck him again. Sink into him and fill him so deep.
Harry grasped shaking fingers into the man’s shirt, tearing at it, wanting the connection of sweaty skin. The buttons flew off, a loud ripping sound tearing that Lucius echoed with a growl in his ear. Harry quickly pushed Lucius’s undershirt up, hands pulling roughly at the man’s pale flesh, catching on scars that hadn’t been hidden away this time. He bit Lucius’s neck, growling when the blond hissed and jerked from the pain, fingers stopping their torment of Harry’s entrance to hold him steady. Harry clung tighter, wrapping his thighs around the twitching muscles of Lucius’s waist, wanting to climb the powerful man and press together until there was no space left between the two of them.
Lucius fell backwards with a snarl. Elbows knocking on the floor, he turned them both and pinned Harry flat on his back beneath his larger body, Harry’s slender wrists caught between his strong fingers. Dazed, Harry gaped up at him. “Fuck.” Death, destruction and absolute need glared down at him. All for him. Harry wet his lips slowly, watching Lucius’s eyes follow the movement like a white tiger watching a teasing mouse. Breathing deep, he ran his leg higher, catching Lucius’s slacks by the pocket with his foot and pushing them down the man’s muscular thighs.
“Come on, you fucking crazy, sexy man.” Harry whispered, swallowing hard. “Punish me.”
Burning silver eyes narrowing, Harry was given no other warning, suddenly twisted face first on the floor, ass and thighs pushed up and eclipsed by Lucius’s hot, hard body. “Oh fuck—Lucius!” He cried out, the man plunging the head of his cock into his entrance, holding there while Harry gaped and heaved for air. “Oh my god… oh god, don’t stop,” Harry pleaded when Lucius continued to hold still. “It’s good—Really, really good!”
Lucius, muscles tight with restraint, shifted forward achingly slow, mouth finding Harry’s ear. “Do you regret it yet?”
Harry, eyes squeezed shut, breath coming out in blasts, had no idea what the man was asking. “W-What?”
“Bleeding… on my study floor,” Lucius prompted breathlessly, jolting forward while holding Harry’s hips and sinking in another agonizing inch.
It took everything Harry had not to laugh. The man was out of his mind. “Punish me some more… and I’ll tell you,” he promised, pushing back against Lucius’s hot weight. Lucius growled, surging forward the rest of the way inside Harry’s clenching flesh, burying himself in deep and pulling a loud cry from the boy.
Moaning lowly, Harry relaxed against the hard floor, Lucius’s weight grounding and electric all at the same time. He was stretched so wide, his hole feeling warm, like he was dripping with honey on the inside. “Oh god… yes… do it,” he pleaded, feeling Lucius shift, getting ready to move. Tongue licking over Harry’s neck, teeth nipping sharply, Lucius teased him with slow, gentle pumps of his hips. He rocked aching, smooth thrusts into Harry’s hot flesh, filling the boy deep, pulling back and doing it again. It was maddeningly slow, gentleness tempered only by the pain in Harry’s forearms, hips and knees as he was fucked hot and sweaty into the unyielding hardwood floor of the study.
“Suffering… remember?” Lucius panted roughly in Harry’s ear, nipping him again and leaving the brunette’s skin tingling. Harry would have laughed between his cries, but he was suffering. His entire body was aching for completion, feeling no more than a puddle of want, he was that completely overwhelmed by Lucius’s heavy form and thick cock. Lucius’s powerful body moved over him, muscles rippling against Harry’s sweat-soak back and thighs as he delved into him with sure, long strokes. Pinned beneath the man and unbearably full, Harry released aching moans, all his focus given to the hot friction on his channel walls and between his tight cheeks as Lucius’s thick flesh moved relentlessly inside him.
“Please… god, Lucius… please,” Harry mumbled, barely able to form thoughts, never mind sentences anymore.
“What do you want, brat?” Lucius asked, mouth pressed to Harry’s ear while he breathed. “Harder?”
“Yes,” Harry begged, moaning again, Lucius burying deep.
“Faster?” Lucius continued, as if Harry hadn’t answered desperately already.
“God, yes… Lucius please,” Harry groaned, mouth falling open, head slumping forward on the floor.
Lucius pumped slower. “More, little hellion? Did you want more?” Lucius taunted, teeth again nipping into Harry’s throat. “Do you deserve more… after bleeding on my floor?”
Moaning loudly, Harry realized the man’s game too late. “Oh hell… have some fucking mercy.”
Lucius chuckled, a low dark rumbled against Harry’s shoulders and back. “No.”
Harry whined low in his throat, his entire body tingling with the realization that Lucius was more than happy to let him suffer. The man was a monster… A fucking tormenting, delicious monster that made him so hard he couldn’t think straight… “Oh fuck… Fine… I’m sorry,” he muttered between gasping cries. “S-Sorry.”
“Oh, I can tell… I just don’t know if I care,” Lucius whispered, lips pressing lightly to Harry’s shoulder, tongue flicking out to lap the salty flavor of his flesh. He thrust into the boy again, grunting at how tight Harry clenched around him. “You beg so nicely… Cries so sweet… I love to hear you suffer… I should tie you back up… and have you beg me to fuck you harder.”
Harry gaped, his vision going dim for a moment. “My god, that’s hot… You are… a very bad man.”
Lucius smirked into Harry’s skin, teeth sinking in soon after. “Beg me, demon. Beg me to let you come.”
Harry half laughed, half moaned, his body shaking uncontrollably. “Please, Lucius… Fucking please let me come.”
Lucius hummed softly, sucking a small welt into Harry’s neck. “I’ll think about it.”
“Fucking… damn!” Harry cried in frustration. God, he was so close. So fucking hard for too long, and close, and he just needed that last aching bit to get there. “Oh… oh god… okay… you just do that,” he mumbled, Lucius suddenly pulling them both up, Harry forced onto his knees, head still firmly on the floor. Lucius drove forward hard, Harry sobbing as his prostate was slammed into. “Fuck!”
Lucius growled in agreement, repeating the motion and burying in as deep as he could go. He curled around the boy’s back, Harry clenching, trying to keep him in, trying to hold him still. “Hell, Harry,” he groaned, pushing forward while Harry pressed back, the boy making whimpering, desperate cries, so close he was quivering inside and out. Taking mercy on the hellion, Lucius wrapped his hand around the boy’s achingly hard length and pumped firmly.
Harry came with an explosion of breath, his orgasm tearing through him so powerfully it was almost painful. He shuddered as spasm after spasm rocked his body, his cum splattering the floor in long, white streams. “Hell… oh hell.” He closed his eyes, Lucius grunting in his ear, the man releasing into his clenching passage almost silently.
Insane… Lucius was going to drive him insane.
Harry collapsed back on the floor, face tilted to the side, eyes open and unseeing while he panted. Lucius settled carefully on top of him, rubbing in slow thrusts against his tight rear, placing soft kisses to his shaking flesh while they both calmed and cooled their heated flesh.
The blood was still spotting the floor but Lucius didn’t seem very interested in it. He had sprawled out next to Harry on the hardwood floor, arm over the boy’s back, leg hooking over his knees. ‘Punishing’ Harry had knocked the man out, not that Harry had faired much better. Half dressed, a complete mess, and utterly satisfied, Harry was certain the man had never been more attractive.
He glanced up when Lucius kissed his cheek, meeting the slightly hazy gray eyes. “Did I do okay?” Harry asked weakly, eyebrows wagging in question. Lucius gave him a look that suggested he was going to start ranting about his study floor again, so Harry added quickly, “The blowjob. Was I any good?”
Blinking, Lucius suddenly broke out into a eye-blindingly bright smile and kissed Harry’s cheek again. Heart pounding in his ears, Harry did his best not to blush to death. “You were amazing,” Lucius murmured, tongue tickling down Harry’s jaw. “Eager… shameless… extremely sexy… You have a wonderful mouth.” He licked Harry’s lips, anxious to show him how wonderful it was.
“Oh good,” Harry said breathlessly, rocking his hips back and enjoying how his muscles ached. “I want to be good at that… I want you to… you know… not grow tired of me.”
Lucius raised a brow, resting his head on the floor so that they were eye to eye. “You might tire me out, Harry, but I doubt I’ll grow tired of you.”
Harry blushed, shrugging self-consciously. “I dunno… I’m sure you’ve had plenty of experienced lovers and all.”
“I do believe you think I’m a rogue,” Lucius teased, running his thumb over the boy’s lips. “Just some caddish knave that would be under the next hideous, hole riddled shirt I see. Apparently I have not made any sort of honorable impression on you at all.” Lucius gave another beautiful smile, Harry forced to gape and stare, face turning completely red now.
“You’re a funny guy, Lucius. Crazy,” Harry whispered, “but pretty damn funny at times.”
Lucius tilted his head in mild agreement, eyes running over Harry’s face thoughtfully. Harry couldn’t help but return the gaze, trying to memorize the man in that moment, normally soft hair slick with sweat, pale eyes tinted slightly blue, lips just on the edge of another searing, stomach tightening smile. Lucius was gorgeous. And Harry felt safe to be himself around him, even when he didn’t always feel safe to be himself alone.
“I wanted to tell you something,” Lucius said suddenly, his voice low. “Or, at least, offer you something. An option.”
Harry waited, rocking his shoulder for a better position on the floor.
“I was hoping you’d stay with me at the manor… But if not, I was going to offer to help you find a place…” Lucius trailed off, looking uncertain.
Brows furrowed, Harry continued to wait. He had never seen Lucius skitter before, eyes glancing over to him and then down, but it was decidedly interesting to watch.
“You’re going to need a tutor. Because Albus has…”
Ah. “Kicked out?” Harry asked quietly.
Lucius nodded, trying to read Harry’s expression. “But there are plenty of superb, private educators, and I thought I might take some initiative in your education. If you agreed.”
“Yeah, okay,” Harry said after a moment, stretching and trying not to feel disappointed that he would never see Hogwarts again. “I mean, it could have been a lot worse, right? Jail… maybe even Azkaban… A tutor seems, well, a bit too good for what I’ve done.”
“It’s not,” Lucius said sincerely. “I know you don’t agree, but you deserve every good thing that comes your way. After today, you are exempt from everything that has happened at your relatives, with the only consequence being that Dumbledore will no longer allow you to complete your education at Hogwarts. Most assuredly from my interference and demand that he relent his hold on you, than anything you have done. No one knows what happened but the few of us, and it will remain so. To reveal this secret would be to destroy Albus. It will not be done.”
Biting his lip, Harry eventually nodded. He didn’t believe he should be so easily released from the consequences of his actions. But he also knew Lucius was a powerful force, one that seemed very determined to make sure he had some sort of life. Even though he had done an unspeakable thing.
“And I was hoping… Hoping you would stay here. With me. For as long as you wanted.” Harry blinked, focusing back on the man that had apparently still been talking.
“Really?” Harry asked, his throat feeling tight all of a sudden.
“Yes. There’s plenty of room.” Lucius leaned closer, fingers tangling in Harry’s hair. “I still have work, of course, but your days would be full anyways with studies… But we could share our mornings together, and our evenings… Share our days… And there is always the weekends… I would really enjoy taking you on that date we had planned, and many more.”
Harry let his eyes close, Lucius’s voice washing over him like a calming purr. This was very much a dream. A perfect dream following a terrible nightmare. Harry would wait to see if he woke up, gasping in the dark, possibly back in the cupboard once again. But for now he was determined to enjoy this very amazing dream.
“I’d like that, Lucius. I’d like to stay here with you.” Harry opened his eyes just in time for another breathtaking smile from the handsome blond. His heart tripped dangerously but it was nothing Harry couldn’t handle. Instead he returned Lucius’s broad smile with one of his own, leaned the rest of the way forward and kissed the man. The kiss was sweet and full of promise. It was very solid in that moment, giving Harry hope that he was actually awake and would remain so.
“Tell them my headaches have just gotten worse.”
“I’m not telling them that. They’ll think you’re hearing voices or something,” Draco snapped.
Harry shrugged. “They already think I’m nuts. It would be more believable than me living at your place the school term.”
“Owl them! They’re your friends,” Draco said with a frustrated growl. “I don’t want to be hounded all year with questions.”
“No one is going to care,” Harry said flatly, leaning back on Draco’s bed, propped on his arms. “I don’t care what you tell them. Hell—Tell them I killed my relatives. Why the hell not?”
Glaring, Draco considered shoving his stubborn friend, then thought better of it. “You should come to the station. They’ll want to see you. Blaise and Pansy have been asking about you, and I’m sure all your Gryffindor idiots have missed you too.”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t have anything to say to anyone. Just go already.”
Draco sighed, folding his arms. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I won’t be seeing you till winter break and I’m not leaving you here to mope the whole damn time.”
Harry rolled his eyes but didn’t interrupt.
“Your relatives brought it on themselves—Quiet!” Draco glared warningly when Harry opened his mouth to loudly disagree. “No, they didn’t deserve to die, especially in such a terrible way. But they brought it on themselves. When you disrespect the basic laws of power, you get burned. First damn thing we learned in school.”
“They were muggles,” Harry muttered. “They would have never learned anything like that.”
Draco wasn’t impressed. “This isn’t a magic rule, this is a life rule. You don’t play with fire. Don’t go swimming with sharks. Don’t go walking out in the dark when you know monsters are hunting. They knew enough about what you are to be terrified, but they didn’t listen to that fear. They attacked you and lost. They ignored the laws of power and didn’t survive the consequences. Not the first and not the last fools to do it, but it’s always the same end result. Stop holding onto it.”
Harry didn’t say anything, staring up at the ceiling instead. He didn’t want to feel better about what he had done. Somehow it belittled the Dursley’s lives. Weeks later, he had decided that he would try to move forward as best he could after the Dursleys’ deaths. That involved throwing himself into his studies and figuring out what he wanted to do once he graduated. Part of that agreement with himself was that he could never forget the Dursleys and what he had done. So he would never do it again. So the family lived still, if only in his memory.
“Tell them I got expelled for turning Snape’s hair pink,” Harry said eventually.
Draco huffed. He had said what he wanted to say and Harry, as usual, had ignored him. “Write me. All the bloody time. You have no excuse, seeing as there’s no one here to bother… Quiet.” Draco grumbled when Harry gave him a rakish grin. “Gross. Freak’n hate you. Do not write me about my father, understand?”
“Not a problem. Now go before you miss the train,” Harry said, getting up and letting Draco hug him goodbye.
“You’re going to miss me,” Draco said knowingly. Harry shrugged. He probably would. Studying all day alone would likely be boring, tutor or not.
“Hot pink. Neon hot pink hair. Don’t forget.” If Harry wasn’t going back, it should be for something infamous.
Smirking, Draco nodded, turning to go. He paused, eyes narrowing as he looked back over his shoulder. “What’s with the baseball bat?”
Harry looked down, staring at the wooden bat he was holding loosely in his hand. He raised a brow, his wicked grin returning. “Pretty sure you don’t want to know.”
Draco scrunched his nose, shaking his head in disgust. “You two are depraved.” He escaped, Harry snickering behind him.
The platform for the Hogwarts Express was just starting to clear of the roaming students and clinging parents when Lucius, Draco saying his final farewells, noticed Narcissa. She was standing just out of sight, waiting expectantly as if she hadn’t off and disappeared one afternoon with a succinct note and all her things. Lucius felt Draco stiffen, knowing the boy had found her as well.
“She hasn’t seen you in months,” Lucius said calmly, Draco rocking on his heels in indecision. “You must have something to say to each other.”
Biting his lip, Draco nodded, making his way over to his mother to talk. Lucius watched, eyes straying through the train station, making sure Bellatrix wasn’t hiding around some dark corner looking to make his life a living hell. Everything looked innocent enough, Narcissa a bit stiff as she talked with her son—Not completely new. She had struggled to bond with her only child. Likely the side effect of an arranged marriage and her own detached parents.
Draco gave Lucius a brief parting wave before getting on the train, his white blond hair disappearing from view. Narcissa remained, petite and stiff, looking the same as ever, if not a bit tired. Lucius waited, wondering how long it would take her to get up the nerve. A good four minutes, it turned out, Narcissa eventually sighing and walking up, standing at his side as if she had just been off with friends for a moment and not months away.
“I thought it would be good to see him off. It’s his last year and I’ve never missed a turn seeing him away to school.” Narcissa spoke softly, her voice lighter than Lucius remembered.
Lucius nodded, remaining silent. He was hardly going to argue her rights in seeing Draco off to school. As for more extended contact, Lucius had a lot to say, but he did not think Narcissa was interested in gaining custody of their son.
“You look nice, Lucius. Almost… informal,” Narcissa said carefully, her thin eyebrow raised as she took in Lucius’s casual attire. Leather boots, formfitting pants, collarless shirt, hair loose; Lucius was probably the most under-dressed he had ever been walking outside his manor. Harry had been insistent, wanting the man to be relaxed at home and not always in work mode. The mix of envious and lustful looks sent his way that day had only confirmed that his young lover’s tastes were shared. Poor Pansy had nearly fainted when seeing him.
“I thought a change was in order,” Lucius finally said. “That’s why you left, correct? Things just never changed.”
“Yes.” Narcissa sighed, turning to face him, her stance more relaxed. “Here I was worried I had… Oh, I don’t know. My father never would have made it a week without my mother. He was so dependent on her. You were never like him though, were you? Always quick to adapt and come out on top. You shouldered the things that crippled him with ease.”
“We all have our strengths.” Narcissa’s father had been weak through and through, and Lucius had held little respect for the man. “How has your muggle hunting been?” He asked, watching her flinch.
“Eventful… Not as satisfying as I remembered it to be.” Narcissa gave a terse smile. “Bella still has such passion, but it’s difficult to keep up with her. I had thought… I had thought maybe she was hiding him away. Like she knew something the rest of us didn’t and he would rise again.” She shrugged, lips pursed. “Still, it keeps me busy.”
Voldemort was truly gone then, never to bother Harry again. Lucius kept his face schooled, not willing to show his relief. She could be lying but he knew Narcissa wasn’t. They had confided in each other from the very beginning. No boundaries, no lies, less suffering. They had both grown up as pawns to powerful parents. Even if there was no physical love, there had been a level of camaraderie. Narcissa had liked the structure Riddle offered the world. Lucius had seen it as a lie, just the ravings of a madman that could not face his past.
“You look well,” Lucius said, not having much else to say.
Narcissa waved her hand dismissively. “I look ill. Hardly brimming with the healthy glow you’re exuding. I’m glad to see my leaving has helped you, if it has done anything.” Narcissa gave him a calculating look, lips quirking in a small smile. “I do believe you have a laugh line. That was not there when I left.”
Lucius glared at her, completely scandalized. “I do not.”
“Yes, you do. You’ve been smiling.” She frowned, looking away as if the very idea was upsetting. “I wish to send Draco a gift this Christmas. I thought it would be best to ask you first.”
“Nothing questionable, I trust?” Lucius asked, not trusting Narcissa at all that she would be careful with her own son. She had run off without saying a word to him.
“No, of course not. Just some things of my father’s.” She looked sad again and Lucius wondered if she was bothering to fight her illness or had just relented, like Narcissa had done with so many things in her life. “I should be off,” she said softly, stepping away. “It was good to see you, Lucius… Even with your laugh line.”
Lucius scowled as she walked away, running fingers absentmindedly over his face. Smiling… How absurd. He did not smile. Smirk, at most. Laugh? Never.
Mind caught on his brief conversation with Narcissa, Lucius did not notice immediately what was wrong when he stepped into his manor. At first glance everything seemed normal, well except for Harry. The boy was sitting on the main stairs, hunched over, something long laid out at his bare feet. Lucius blinked, covering his eyes with his hands. “What the hell are you wearing?”
“You’re back,” Harry said, standing smoothly.
“Potter… I burned that monstrosity. I know I did.” Lucius dared a glance, quickly squinting as the neon orange shirt from hell filled his vision.
“Actually, you didn’t,” Harry said cheerfully, walking down the steps. “I had lost it, mixed up with a sheet under the bed. Only found it a couple of days ago, and was just waiting for the right moment…”
“To blind me?” Lucius growled. “Drive me insane with the damn glow of it?”
Harry smirked, stopping a few feet from Lucius’s form. “Maybe. You really do dislike this shirt.”
“It’s hideous. It barely fits you, covered in holes—the color is atrocious—”
“Yup. So what are you going to do about it?” Harry asked, smiling brightly while swinging left and right as he stood.
“Do about it?” Lucius asked, wishing the boy would stand still because the bloody shirt was distractingly dizzying while in motion.
Harry smiled wider, tongue running over his teeth for an instant. “Let me rephrase that. What are you going to do to me?” He asked, voice low and suggestive.
Lucius was baffled that the little fool thought he was somehow going to get anything good out of that shirt. He could barely see, the damn thing burning so. Harry had to be mad to think he would want to even look at him while wearing the terrible thing.
Watching Lucius’s thoughts flicker around his pained expression, Harry brought the hand he had been hiding behind his back now in front of him. “This is a baseball bat. Muggle. Simple, dull, basically a slab of wood.”
Lucius glared between his fingers. “I know what a baseball bat is.”
“Good. Then you know what it can do,” Harry said brightly. And with that he walked away, dragging the bat on the floor behind him.
Lucius sighed, Harry’s departure relief for his addled senses. That damn shirt. He needed to burn the thing. That Harry could wear it, the clearly blind, daft pain in the ass, was beyond him. Lucius could barely look at it, especially after having weeks of respite from the horrible—
There was a loud crash, Lucius snapping his head up to glare down the hall. He snarled, Harry and his damn shirt peeking out from the kitchen. “Potter! Stop destroying my house.”
And give up that fucking shirt so I can burn it into a million specks of ash and bury it in the rosebush. No, the backyard—The remains would surely kill the roses.
Harry smirked, wagging his eyebrows. “Make me!” He ducked back into the kitchen, the sound of something heavy slamming into the sound of something delicate and china ringing out.
Harry looked around the kitchen critically, swinging the bat in his careless grip. He knocked over the ceramic canisters—Usually cutesy and animal shaped, but Lucius had managed to find elegant and now very broken ones. He smashed in the faucet next, snickering when it bent downwards and dented into the basin. Eyes bright, Harry turned towards Draco’s coffeemaker. It was shiny, high tech, and had no right being in a damn wizard’s kitchen anyways. He wound the bat to his shoulder, smiling gleefully as he swung. Only to yelp, pulled backwards by his grip, Lucius glaring down at him.
“Calamitous, destructive hell-spawn!” Lucius snarled, taking the bat from Harry’s hand and whipping it across the room. Harry’s gaze followed, watching as the baseball bat took out the glass faced cupboard Lucius kept him more expensive flatware in. Harry hadn’t even thought of that and was very impressed.
“Problem, Mr. Malfoy?” Harry asked innocently while Lucius went through what could only be called his ‘murderous’ expressions. The man had more than a few, all of them quite spectacular on his aristocratic features. “I was looking for the tea. Couldn’t seem to find it. Tea calms you down, right?”
“Nothing is going to—Tea? Tea? You lying, maddening, damn lunatic! I’m going to—”
Harry whirled in Lucius’s arms, pushing the spluttering man up against the wall. “What?” Harry asked breathlessly, eyes gleaming with fire. “Punish me?”
Lucius paused, taking in Harry’s flushed face and hungry eyes. The boy licked his lips, drawing the man’s silver gaze down to the very red pout that absolutely deserved punishment. But then Lucius’s eyes fell lower and he squinted, the damn orange t-shirt blaring at him. “I’m going to burn that monstrous shirt. Possibly you, if you insist on wearing it while I’m burning it.”
Harry reached his hand down to Lucius’s pants, wiggling his fingers until he found the concealed pocket most wizarding clothing had to hold their wand. He slipped Lucius’s wand free, staring the man in the eye while placing the slender instrument in his grasp. “Do it.”
“Do you think I’m bluffing?” Lucius asked, his heart faltering and then beating faster, something in the boy’s expression making him feel wild. Crazy. He tightened his grip on his wand, watching Harry’s eyes follow the tip of it.
“Come on,” Harry whispered, the wand now inches from his shoulder. “Burn my clothes off.”
Hissing, Lucius grabbed the back of Harry’s neck with his free hand, forcing the boy to meet his gaze again. Harry’s brilliant green eyes were glowing, full of lust, anticipation, and consuming hellfire. It was like staring into the abyss, Lucius’s stomach plummeting, mouth going dry, cock hardening. “You’re a maniac,” Lucius rasped, his voice full of awe.
“You’re a crazy person. It works out well.” Harry wrapped his hand around Lucius’s wrist, pulling the wand closer until it was touching his collar. “I bet you could put a hole in my shirt without even burning me.”
Lucius swallowed, not a hundred percent certain he could. The control it would take, the absolute precision to burn fabric but not the flesh it was resting on… “Harry, this is—”
“You know you want to try,” Harry interrupted, lips brushing lightly to the stubble on Lucius’s jaw. “Do I have to beg? Beg you to burn me? Beg you to punish me?”
Lucius wondered dimly if he had damaged the gorgeous young man weeks ago when forcing Harry to lick his floor. He carefully pushed Harry back, the boy staring but making no move to resist. Doing his best to ignore the migraine that was threatening when being faced with the day glow orange nightmare of a shirt, Lucius placed Harry’s arms behind his back and then bound them together with a spell. Harry almost immediately began to pant, back arching, eyelids lowering. The boy was beautiful.
“Do not move,” Lucius warned, Harry whimpering in reply. “Do not breathe. Stay absolutely still.” Giving the boy a moment to get himself under control, Lucius brought his wand up to the center of Harry’s chest. Breathing deeply, he picked a different spot, the shoulder, just in case he ended up burning the little hellion. They both watched, fascinated, as a small tendril of smoke appeared, followed by an ember only slightly brighter than the burning orange material. Black char suddenly circled out, racing over Harry’s shoulder in a smooth ripple, revealing perfect tanned flesh beneath.
Lucius pulled his wand back, touching down to the other sleeve, listening to the boy gasp. “Be still,” he murmured, surprised by the sound of his own voice, his mouth dry, jaw tense. He repeated the spell on Harry’s other shoulder, the short sleeve hanging loose afterwards. The next hole disconnected the collar from the destroyed sleeve. The two holes after that he flowed down the seam on Harry’s side, the hem finally breaking way.
Silently tucking his wand away, Lucius met Harry’s wide eyed gaze. With a brusque motion he tore the shirt from the boy’s form, the shreds hanging off the first shoulder breaking free with a rip. He threw the damn thing to the floor, vowing to destroy it later once he had dealt with the now shirtless, gasping thing in front of him. Just what the hell was he going to do to the damn brat?
“L-Lucius?” Harry whispered, breathless, lips swollen and wet from his constant, nervous gnawing.
“What, demon?” Lucius asked, fingers ghosting ever so softly over the boy’s mouth.
Harry’s eyes drifted down, staring at his hand. “If I… um… got on the floor right now… bent over… w-would you take me?”
Inhaling sharply, Lucius let his gaze wander to the glass and ceramic riddled kitchen floor. He spelled the mess clean, then pulled Harry forward by his chin. “Is that what you want? While you’re still tied up?”
Green eyes searing into him, Harry nodded, pressing closer until his face was resting against Lucius’s neck. “Please.”
Shuddering from the feel of Harry’s breathing such a sweet, yet naughty word into his flesh, Lucius smiled, bright, happy and completely unaware. “I’ll think about it,” he murmured, hands seeking out the boy’s jeans and unbuttoning them.
Lying in bed, Harry peered over to the man breathing evenly beside him. Dawn was filtering in through the windows, tinting everything a cool yellow. He had woken up early, but not from a nightmare. No, Harry woke up early now because he liked to be able to wrap around Lucius while the man still slept, enjoying the warmth of his skin, the comfort of his presence while waiting for the eventuality of the blond’s arms to tighten and hold him closer.
Harry hadn’t had a panic attack since the Dursleys. There had been a moment, once, Lucius smiling ever so brightly at him while they were strolling together the night of their first date. Harry had been certain that his breathing was going off kilter, just on the verge of lost completely. But he had stopped, shut his eyes, and very calmly asked himself what the hell was wrong with him. Apparently liking someone that liked him back was very difficult on his body. Especially when he kept thinking he might more than like Lucius. Maybe actually love. It seemed worth the risk and Harry had been able to calm down and enjoy the rest of their evening, smiles and all.
Wiggling underneath Lucius’s arm, Harry pressed his back to the man’s side, eyes lingering on the dark mark barely visible. The tutors were very good. Harry was probably learning more now than at Hogwarts, no longer competing with a room full of students for attention and focus. He was lonely at times, but he had always been good at entertaining himself. Hermione and Ron had written, and he had given them a very bland and edited account of where he was and less of why. Harry planned to visit the Weasleys Christmas Eve and explain thing properly then.
He was less ashamed of what he had done that night at the Dursleys the more he learned control. The less he feared he might do it again, the more he could accept how he had needed to do it the first time.
Harry didn’t think much of the Dursleys either. He felt safe in Malfoy Manor, safer than he had ever felt anywhere before. Even Hogwarts had held the promise of returning to the Dursleys. But here… Harry was certain Lucius would hex anyone that even suggested he had to leave, if not outright kill. And until Harry was of age, he was more than happy for it. Afterwards, he hoped he wouldn’t depend on the man to be quite so ruthless in his safekeeping. There was something very sexy about it, though, and Harry felt he might not complain.
Burrowing further, eyes still alight on the strange, faded mark on Lucius’s arm, Harry pressed his face into it, smelling the man’s familiar scent. He lapped his tongue out, then latched on, sucking onto Lucius’s flesh until a lovely purple welt formed.
“Biting… little… hellion.”
Harry had not been biting but did so now just so Lucius would not be a liar as well as a crazy person. He smiled when he was suddenly pulled back, wrapped tight and warm in the man’s strong arms, Lucius’s chest pressing against his back. It was Saturday and Lucius was taking him hunting for the first time. Lucius had taunted that Harry would have to take a pack full just of healing charms, but Harry had a feeling he’d be fine. Especially with the blond there.
Eyebrow twitching, Lucius raised his arm up, looking at the hickey Harry had made right on top of the faded tattoo. Glancing Harry’s way, the boy shrugged, fingers touching his fine work.
“Means you’re mine now,” Harry whispered, feeling a little shy under that piercing silver gaze. Especially when the gaze became a familiar glare, Lucius’s nostrils flaring and jaw tightening slightly.
“Oh, really?” Lucius purred, still full of sleep and wonderful raspy goodness. Harry shivered from the sound, turning in the man’s arms so that they were facing each other.
“Well, I did bleed on you,” Harry reminded. He had actually bled on the man a lot of times since then, rarely on purpose. “We both know what it means when I bleed on—” Lucius cut him off with a hard kiss, crushing Harry into the mattress with his weight. Snickering, Harry let him, mouth quick to open to every tongue lashing the man wished to give.
“It seems I own the blue sitting room,” Lucius drawled between kisses to Harry’s neck, “And the west living room—Which I despise for all of my grandmother’s teacups… Oh, and the patio. I still own a patio in my own home.”
“I could probably take care of those teacups for you,” Harry offered, eyebrows wagging playfully.
Smiling brightly, Lucius suddenly got up, leaving Harry to follow with his eyes in dismay, panting heavily on the bed.
“Well?” Lucius said, riffling through his bureau for a pair of pants.
“Well, what?” Harry asked grumpily as he watched the man’s perfectly pale skin become covered in clothes. Yes the clothes were nicer than his work clothes but he had been hoping for sex.
“You’re not going to have enough time if you lie about.”
Sighing at Lucius being a crazy person, Harry sat up, hair sticking up on end. “It’s the weekend. There’s no reason to rush for…” He blinked, Lucius handing him his wand.
“Target practice. I believe you told me you were quite a good shot when things weren’t moving.” Lucius was smiling very brightly and Harry’s heart kept flipping from the sight. “Come on, Potter,” Lucius prodded, pulling the boy up by his arms. “Those teacups won’t break themselves.”
Oh. Harry grinned up at Lucius, taking in the man’s playful smirk. Ohhh…
Wand whirling deftly between his fingers, Harry didn’t bother looking for clothes. Lucius had a thing for him out of clothes just as much as in hideous ones. Harry was sure if he worked things right, he wouldn’t need them anyways.
END
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