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“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.
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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A Stepfather/Son Novella
Exclusive Library
Ethan never expected to fall for his mother’s new love interest. He had never thought he’d ever look at a man that way at all. There’s just something about his caring but controlling stepfather that has everything upside down for the eighteen year old, his crush only getting worse the longer they share space.
Jeff has been doing everything he can to avoid his new stepson. Ethan is sweet, lonely, and absolutely beautiful. And worse, Jeff can’t help but want to protect the boy, especially when Ethan insists on dressing in provocative, hot ways. His stepson might just be trying to bait him, but for what he’s not sure.
When the two finally realize their attraction is mutual, Jeff knows he must leave to keep from crossing the line. Heartbroken, Ethan comes up with a plan. He’s just not sure it will be enough to convince his stepdaddy to stay.
18+ This novella contains explicit m/m sexual content, graphic language, and themes of bondage and discipline between adult men. Over 35,000 words long.
35,000+ wrds, Published August 27, 2016.
Heat level: X
The book is written well but I wouldn’t expect any less from Sadie Sins.
Arghh, good, so good! This was kinda tame for Sadie, with the stepfather spending most of the book being a dang upstanding and respectable man *grumbles* I really wish this book had been longer, if for no other reason than to have lots more steamy Daddy kink scenes :p I loved both characters a lot! (cont…)
“Damn, kid, don’t you ever go to school?”
Ethan blinked up from his phone screen as his stepfather came into the kitchen, his eyes lingering for a moment on the man’s tattooed arms. “Summer vaca,” Ethan mumbled, ducking his head back down and hiding behind his box of cereal as the man made his way to the stove top and began cooking up a late breakfast. “Don’t you have work?” He asked, not really expecting an answer. Jeff didn’t talk much. The guy had moved in six months ago after a whirlwind engagement and besides hanging out in the adjoining garage painting all day, Ethan rarely saw the man outside of the occasional times Jeff would try and catch up with him.
He was kind of glad the guy was so busy. Jeff unsettled the fuck out of him.
“I’ve actually been up since dawn. Just grabbing something to eat before I get back to the canvas. Got that gallery showing in a week and I need to get some last minute touchups done before framing.”
Ethan nodded to himself, having a bite of his now soggy cereal while sneaking a peek at the man. Jeff was still in his pajamas, wearing a pair of black flannel night pants and a black wifebeater that was flecked with spots of paint. He wasn’t wearing shoes—the man rarely did while around the house. Both of his arms were covered from shoulder to wrist in tattoo’s, his tanned skin colored in elaborate, geometric patterns in blue, gold, and black ink. It was apparently inspired by one of Jeff’s own paintings. A badass painting if he was to go by the man’s bulging biceps.
Ethan’s new stepfather was a lot of eye candy. With his piercing blue eyes and brown, shoulder-length wavy hair, the guy could have been a model. He had the body for it—tall, lean, and buff—as well as the not giving a fuck attitude. Jeff always looked like he was two days late to shave, a light fuzz prickling at his jaw and neck, and he rarely dressed up beyond jeans and a t-shirt. He was also one of those health nuts, having filled their refrigerator with tons of fresh, organic produce when he moved in, his blender heard before any of the alarm clocks went off.
“You looking for a job?”
Ethan ducked his head back down, shaking it silently when the man glanced over at him from the stove. He tried to lose himself in his video game but couldn’t stop from being distracted by Jeff’s presence across the room. The thing was, Ethan didn’t like guys. He was pretty fucking sure. But it was really hard to look away from Jeff whenever the man was around. There was just something about the guy that drew his eye and kept him looking. Like his colorful biceps. Or the way the man’s thin pants clung to his sculpted ass.
It was unsettling. Confusing. Ethan just couldn’t stop getting hot whenever around his stepfather and it had been going on for months now.
“You need a job, kid. An internship. Something. You going to waste your life hanging around the fucking house all the time?”
Ethan looked up when his cereal box was suddenly taken away, watching as Jeff placed a plate with an omelet in front of him, the man nudging his bowl of cereal aside on the kitchen island to make room. “You also need to start eating some actual food. There is no way there are enough calories in that sugary shit to even get you out of your chair. I don’t know how the hell you get through your soccer games on this shit.”
Jeff was damn near intimidating when up close, the man’s face predatorial and eyes stunning as they met his. He was also bisexual, something Ethan’s mom had mentioned in passing and now he couldn’t stop thinking about. Ethan nearly dropped his phone, quickly grabbing the fork that was pushed his way to hide his tremor.
“Your mother ever teach you how to cook?” Jeff asked, cocking his hip and leaning against the island while he waited for Ethan to try the food. The hem of the man’s shirt was stretched over his hips in a way that revealed a flash of tanned abs and a sparse trail of hair leading beneath his pants. It was very distracting.
Ethan really wished the guy would look somewhere else so he could fucking breathe and stop feeling like an idiot already. He shook his head silently, finally giving in to his stepfather and scooping some food onto his fork. “Shit—I mean, this is really good. Uh, sir. T-Thank you.”
Jeff raised a brow at the stuttering boy, silently mouthing the word ‘sir’ to himself. His gaze slid down to where the blond had just nearly dropped his fork. “Well?”
Ethan jolted, looking up, the utensil now caught between his lips. “Um…?”
“Did Leah ever show you how to cook?” Jeff repeated, a slight smile curling the edges of his lips when Ethan began to flush.
“My mom’s not… She doesn’t cook,” Ethan mumbled, reaching for his phone with his other hand in the hopes of ending this absolutely alarming conversation where his stepfather looked at him and kept asking him about stuff.
“You wanna learn how?” Jeff prompted, watching as the blond boy tried to hide behind the small cell phone screen and eat another bite of food at the same time. “Seeing as you’re going to be around all day, and I do try to make it a point to eat.”
Ethan shrugged, grunting something noncommittal.
Jeff was not deterred, the man’s fingers curling around the boy’s wrist to guide his hand away from his face. When Ethan looked up, only blushing brighter now, he added, “And while I’m showing you how to cook, you can fill out some job applications.”
The man’s words sinking in, Ethan scowled, pulling his hand away to rest it on the table instead. His wrist felt like it was tingling where Jeff had touched it, an annoying distraction as he tried to state his case for not needing any job now that he had gotten his last year of high school out of the way.
“I don’t want a job. I’m starting college in a couple of months and I just want to chill for a bit before all that.”
“What, are you ancient? Decrepit? Eat your omelet.” Jeff turned away, going back to the stove and cracking more eggs into a bowl and whisking them with a fork. “You’re going to want money, right? You’re going to want to hang out with your friends. Gas cost money, kid. Concerts, food, the mall—Believe me, you’re going to want a job.”
“Really, I’m not,” Ethan muttered, glaring at his plate. He had only just started to feel the freedom of being out of school. All he wanted to do was hang out with his friends and maybe his house. “My mom will pay for all that shit.”
Jeff snorted, the trash bin rattling as he threw the eggshells into the wastebasket. “Like fuck, she will. Leah does enough without needing to pay for your lazy ass.”
“I’m not lazy,” Ethan said with a growl.
“Oh, did you pay for that $600 phone your face is always glued to? What about the nearly $100 a month it costs so that you can text your friends your every riveting thought as you have them? The motorcycle you’re driving or the insurance that allows you to do so?” Jeff turned, pointing the spatula at him when Ethan stood, the boy getting ready to escape. “What about rent? All that cardboard food you keep eating? Just where do you think the money for all that comes from? Not your schooling.”
Pursing his lips, Ethan crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not lazy. I’m just a kid.”
Jeff scoffed. “Not anymore, you aren’t. I don’t get why Leah didn’t have you working through summers. It’s time to grow the fuck up and start contributing. I’m not painting every day to keep your ass in designer jeans, kid.”
Glaring, a million scathing retorts swirling in his head, Ethan opened his mouth but nothing came out. Jeff’s eyes were blazing, the man unblinking and deceptively calm as he just stared him down. “No one asked you to buy me anything,” Ethan finally muttered, unable to meet the man’s glare any longer. He liked it, though. A part of him liked that Jeff cared enough to lend him money for things. His mother was never around but Jeff was, even if the guy didn’t talk to him as much as he’d like. Ethan had never had a dad before and Jeff was the closest thing to perfect in a lot of ways when it came to things like that.
“Hm.” His eyes narrowed, Jeff turned back to the stove, flipping his omelet before it started browning. “Don’t go running off until you eat. I don’t think you’ve had more than pizza and Cheetos this entire week.”
Sighing in exasperation, Ethan sat, glaring at the man’s back. Only to have his eyes inadvertently slide down, his gaze caught on Jeff’s ass when the man leaned over to grab the salt and pepper shakers. It was a decidedly interesting ass; firm, symmetrical and muscular. He hadn’t really known that he liked muscular asses but he definitely liked Jeff’s.
“You interested in anything in particular?”
Ethan jumped, his eyes snapping up. But the brunette was only looking at the pan, poking it with his spatula. “What?”
“For work. You have anything in mind you’d like to do?”
Ugh. “Play video games,” Ethan said flippantly.
“Cute. I’m sure people just hand you money for that shit.”
“Coming from the artist,” he muttered, stabbing at his omelet. That it was about the best thing he had tasted in as long as he could remember didn’t help his mood at all. “People pay you to hang out around the house painting pictures.”
“Not exactly.” Plating his food, Jeff turned the stove top off and poured himself a glass of fresh juice before sitting across from Ethan at the kitchen island.
“People buy a product from me. Now some pay for a service if they want to hire me to paint as a demonstration, or to design a mural, tattoo, whatever. But for the most part, I create something and people buy a print or the original. That’s how I can get away with hanging around the house all day; I’m selling even when I’m asleep. That doesn’t mean I don’t have to work it for clients at galleries and meetings that get my art on walls where people can see. Renting out one of my paintings to a business requires me to do more than just paint, but it’s worth the money that comes in. Half my income this month was just on rented paintings. They’re not even new pieces but they can pay the bills if you know what you’re doing.”
Ethan really didn’t want to care just how Jeff made his money. Unfortunately, he was finding it interesting and he sighed again, daring to look up at the man. Jeff’s head was ducked, a long lock of wavy hair brushing over one of his eyes, his mouth open as he took a bite of his breakfast. The man had ridiculously lush lips, full and red. Combined with his sharp features and strong jaw, he really was just the epitome of male beauty. Ethan idly wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips. They probably weren’t as soft as they looked. With Jeff’s bristle, it might even be prickly, a little rough.
Glancing up, Jeff caught Ethan staring at him, the boy immediately looking away. “You pick a major yet?”
Ethan shook his head weakly, hating how flustered he felt. “Mom said she was going to help.”
“Yeah, well waiting for Leah to pull herself from her work is like watching paint dry.” Jeff smiled grimly. “I can help you if you want. I’m surprisingly good at that kind of shit.”
Glancing his way a moment, Ethan shrugged. “Okay. Um, maybe tonight? Once I get back from hanging with my friends. I was thinking of something business oriented.”
He couldn’t help but wonder how quickly it had taken for Jeff to figure out just how unavailable his mother really was. It would probably still take the man a good year to realize she wasn’t going to change. And seeing as he married her, he might even stick it out longer trying to make it work. He was young still; he might think it was worth putting the effort in.
Ethan hoped he would. Not because he wanted to see Jeff break his heart but because he really liked having the man as a stepfather. Jeff was cool. Scary, but cool. Ethan had never had anyone actually care about him and even though Jeff breezed in and out most of the day between painting, the man was always saying and doing stuff that made it clear he gave a fuck. He was a calming presence. Sturdy and reliable. Ethan wasn’t used to having something like that and he’d be really pissed if his mother ruined it for him.
His mother had tried this time, he knew that much. Jeff was very different from what Leah usually dated. He was self-driven and had interests outside of just their relationship—Really important seeing as Ethan’s mother lived for her work and her last three relationships had failed because she couldn’t put enough time or energy into them. She was always at the office and when she was home, her head was at the office, planning new ideas, designing new rooms and buildings.
Leah Walde was an architect, a highly sought after one, and she had started her own firm ten years ago. Jeff had actually been commissioned to create a portrait of one of her more famous buildings and that was how they had met. That Jeff could balance his creativity with business savvy had been a good fit for Leah, even if Jeff didn’t have much interest in doing much beyond supporting himself so that he could continue his painting. It was still a step up from the last guy who had thought he was going to be some sort of jobless house husband.
“Any thoughts on what you want to learn how to cook for tonight?” Jeff asked, having a sip of his juice.
Ethan couldn’t help but stare; a droplet of moisture dripping from his stepfather’s mouth to trickle down his chin. God, what was wrong with him? He blinked, finding Jeff staring at him with a raised brow, the man waiting patiently for an answer. Ethan really didn’t have one. “Um, whatever you feel like eating, I guess.”
Grinning wickedly, Jeff put his glass down, leaning close and crooking his finger. “Careful there. I don’t think you could stomach half the things I eat, kid.”
His breath curling hot around his ear, Ethan’s breath hitched. He glanced Jeff’s way, feeling stupid as fuck when he caught the man still smiling. His eyes were sparkling at him, flashing with some hidden laughter that was making him feel hot inside. For a frozen eternity, he was certain the man was flirting with him and he had no idea how to respond.
Thankfully, Jeff seemed oblivious to his panic, the man reaching over and patting Ethan’s shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry, kid, I won’t make you eat anything too healthy and green. Seeing the diet you’re coming from, I wouldn’t want to overwhelm your system with anything of substance.”
“Oh.” Gnawing on his bottom lip, Ethan slowly sank back in his seat, hoping his cheeks would stop burning soon. He had a sip of his soda, his gaze inadvertently drawn to his stepfather again. “Um… So, like, when did you know you were bi?” Ethan asked daringly, his heart feeling trapped in his throat once he got the question out.
Moving in a way that seemed just a little too casual, Jeff placed his fork down. “Young. Younger than you are.” He met Ethan’s curious gaze, his head tilting slightly. “Why? Does my sexuality make you uncomfortable?”
“Jesus, only when you say it like that,” Ethan muttered, covering his face with his hand for a moment. He peeked out, combing his fingers through his short blond locks. “Just… Did you know at the same time? Or was it, like, you liked one and then realized you liked the other later?”
Considering the question a moment, Jeff finally answered after having another drink of his juice. “Both. I had at least half a dozen crushes back then and it was pretty easy for me to see that gender was not a barrier for my attraction.”
“So bi people, they all know, like, at the same time, then? Like, if you’re going to be bi, you’re definitely going to know when you start getting crushes. It doesn’t, like, change?” Ethan asked nervously, his fingers twisting at his placemat.
“I’m not sure that would be the way I’d word it,” Jeff said carefully, studying his stepson’s face while Ethan bit his lip and looked at the table. “I think attraction is based on more than just a body, and sometimes when all the right elements come together, you might just find yourself looking at someone you weren’t expecting to be looking at.”
His brows furrowing at the answer, Ethan forced himself to look the man in the eye. “I’m not talking about love or shit. I’m not saying people can’t, like, fall in love and overcome gender or what have you. I just want to know if, you know, you can suddenly be attracted to…” He trailed off, waving his hand nervously.
“Are you worried you’re going to wake up wanting to suck cock?” Jeff asked blandly.
“Now you’re just being an asshole.” Scowling and beyond embarrassed, Ethan stood, more than ready to get away from this man that flustered the fuck out of him on so many different levels. “I don’t think there is anything wrong with gay people. That’s not what I was—”
“Sit your ass down, brat,” Jeff ordered quietly. “Did I say there was anything actually wrong with sucking cock?”
Ethan paused and glared at the man, his brain unfortunately now stuck on the question of if his stepfather had ever sucked cock and what that might look like. A beat later and he sat back down, his leg bouncing nervously. “I just want to know if you can, well… Like a…” He couldn’t say it and was only feeling more upset by the fact because it was Jeff he was trying to explain it to.
“Can you suddenly like someone of the same gender and still like the opposite sex as well?” Jeff supplied when Ethan seemed unable to continue on.
Pursing his lips, Ethan nodded sharply. “But more, can you just, like, suddenly like someone of the same gender. When you never did before. Not ever.”
“Not ever?” Jeff repeated, his eyebrows rising in disbelief.
“Not ever,” Ethan repeated sternly, daring him to call him a liar.
“Well, I’ve only ever had my own experiences to compare to, but if this has happened to someone, I’m pretty sure it’s not the end of the world.” He flashed the boy a comforting smile, placing his elbow on the table so he could lean his chin on his hand. “It’s not like this person would have to act on anything just because he felt something new. People get crushes all the time and don’t act on them.”
Ethan nodded, fairly certain Jeff had no idea just who he was crushing on by the casual air the man was giving off. “But it’s, like, normal?”
“As normal as the huge range of human sexuality can get.”
“But is it bi?” Ethan added, his expression again growing tense.
“It’s whatever that person wants it to be. A fluke. A one-time attraction… Or maybe it’s bi, and they’re just finding out.” Jeff’s smile had only grown, his eyes sparkling, and Ethan was feeling decidedly uncomfortable with just how nice the man looked with his perfectly white teeth.
“Stop smiling at me like that. I never said it was me,” he grumbled, grabbing his plate and jumping up to rinse it in the sink.
“Did I say I thought it was you?” Jeff asked, his smile now beaming. “Shit, are you going to start calling me dad now?”
“Fuck off,” Ethan snapped, grinning despite himself. “You’re lucky I call you sir.”
“Yeah, could you not do that? It’s weird—Children of the Corn weird. That would be a movie you’ve never heard of, by the way.” Jeff stood as well, stepping up behind Ethan at the sink with his empty plate in hand. “Just call me Jeff. ‘Hey you,’ if you’re feeling lazy.”
Ethan was having trouble focusing, Jeff standing far too close for him to notice anything else. God, it might be ‘normal’ but it was still really annoying to feel so fucking hot over someone. “Here, just…” He turned, taking the plate and fork from the man, nearly dropping both when their fingers brushed accidentally. Spinning back, he quickly washed them and put them in the dryer rack, his heart racing too fast in his chest. God, he hated this. Fucking hated it.
Jeff had stepped around the island and was drinking the last of his juice when Ethan finally got up the nerve to turn around. The faucet off, he crossed the kitchen to grab his phone.
“I start cooking around 6:30,” Jeff said, Ethan pausing mid-stride.
“Right. Um, I’m going to meet my friends tonight. Like, eightish.”
“Alright. It’s a plan.”
Nodding, Ethan edged to the door, slipping through with a quick backward glance. Jeff was staring back at him and for a frozen moment their eyes met, Ethan’s heart racing in response.
God, he really needed to get over this thing.
***
Son of a bitch. Bi? Was the kid bi now? Why did Ethan have to tell him he thought he might be bi? What was he trying to do to him?
Groaning inwardly, Jeff pressed both his hands on the kitchen island, leaning heavily over the countertop as he willed his erection down. One fumbling touch from the kid’s hand on his and he had gotten hard. Not good. Really not good.
Talking to Ethan had been a terrible, terrible idea. Sure, he had known he was being too antisocial and that he was worried the kid would start thinking he hated him. Leah hadn’t been around in forever, and he was pretty sure the kid had no adult supervision in his life but fuck… Fuck.
The things he would do to Ethan Walde if he hadn’t married the boy’s mother.
He was too young for him, didn’t know shit about life—And only ten minutes ago, decidedly straight. Many very good reasons Jeff had focused on whenever he found himself in the same room as the young man. But Ethan was also fucking delicious. He had soft, golden hair and wide, clear, green eyes, flawless skin and his average height was already filled out with muscle from his competitive soccer playing. That summer vacation had started and Ethan seemed content to haunt the kitchen and living room most hours of the day, half the time without a shirt on, had become a special type of hell for Jeff.
Cooking lessons? The kid needed to learn how to cook—to eat—but shit, why the fuck had he suggested cooking lessons? Knives and fire and the two of them in the somewhat cramped kitchen? Alone.
Dumb. Really fucking dumb.
He needed to get laid. That was all. He had gone into this thing with Leah with a predefined understanding that he needed sex more than she did and that she was more than happy to let him go out and get it as long as he was safe about it and he was home for the weekends to do family stuff. Of course, it had turned out that he had no problem being home on the weekends while Leah couldn’t seem to find her own house. Jeff hadn’t gotten around to checking out his options in the area. He had moved to a new town for Leah and although he was enjoying his large art studio, he hadn’t done much outside of the house besides grocery shop and jog in the morning. Something that was going to have to change if his sexy-ass stepson was hanging around all summer. And now bi.
The kid needed a job. Like yesterday.
Jeff could only hope that whatever reason Ethan had been looking at him strangely the last few weeks had to do with that conversation and would finally stop. The staring had been the icing on the shit cake of this insane situation. Ethan was probably just curious about the bi thing. More than a few guys were curious about the bi thing. It used to be the quickest way for Jeff to get a straight guy into bed—Just tell him he was bi and let him ask a million questions until he explained how much easier it was just to show than tell.
Not something he could do with Ethan. Not something he should even be fucking thinking about doing with the kid. Stepson. Young, naive, and very much off-limits for anything.
Hot, though. Really fucking hot. He had great nipples, the perfect size, pink spots just begging to be kissed, licked and then nipped sore. And his neck—he wanted to coat the boy’s long throat with his cum until it dripped down his toned torso like a pearly, dirty river. And if Ethan wanted to call him daddy while he was doing it, well, that would be more than fine with him.
“Jesus, get it the fuck together,” Jeff grunted to himself, his body lighting up with heat and his cock again hardening until it was pressed up against the side of the island.
It was time to start checking out his fucking options in the area. There was a bar within walking distance; some pool joint where he’d seen a mix of ages and sexes go in. He just needed to fuck something—preferably a hot twink that could pass for half his age so he could get this out of his system. Until then, he was going to have to settle for his hand and get the fuck back to work. He had a set of three paintings that Leah had commissioned from him for one of her older clients. It was guaranteed money and a potentially lasting connection if he got it all done in time and kissed ass well enough. That on top of his gallery opening in a week had him completely swamped. He couldn’t be wasting his time fantasizing about fucking his sexy-ass stepson.
The Werewolf, Frey
Exclusive Library
Sage, desperate and confused, goes to his friend Taylor for help to hide last night from his crazy brother. Taylor brings Sage to The Den, a werewolf gang hangout in the hopes of getting the boy’s curse removed. Frey, the werewolf alpha, has an idea what Sage’s problem really is. Unfortunately, werewolves are not immune to Sage’s intense scent.
This serial is 10,000+ words long per episode. It contains graphic language, violence, sexually explicit content between men, and shifter bestiality including tying. 18+ Only<
10,000+ wrds, Published March 11, 2016.
Heat level: XX
This book is nice and different looking forward to finding out why sage smells special. Thanks sadie your uploads on smashwords are way easier to download thsn those on amazon. Keep writing
Sage had managed to get to school without Corey waking up, his brother having stumbled in drunk some time around dawn and promptly falling asleep. School had been difficult, impossible to concentrate with so many thoughts running through his head never mind feelings through his body. The shifter had not been in the alley. Sage had checked. He wasn’t even sure why just that he had to know that Heller was really gone. Whether he wanted the man to still be there or not, Sage still wasn’t sure. His body was aching and he couldn’t stop thinking about the night before.
Taylor was waiting for him after school, soft ash blond hair and bright blue eyes setting him apart from the others. Taylor was a really odd kid, looking very much sweet and weak and even shorter than Sage was. But the boy was vicious when he needed to be, a switch inside his friend that turned Taylor into a wild, angry thing that would defend himself and friends at any cost. That was how they had become friends to begin with.
Sage had seen the boy being picked on and gone to help, only to be as surprised as the bullies to find that Taylor was plain crazy, biting and punching back with a rock in his fist. He had burst out laughing, seeing such a sweet looking kid go nuts and win. Bullies always underestimated him too, and it just seemed right to hang with Taylor after that.
“You get home alright last night?” Taylor asked, slipping in step with Sage, hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans. “I wish you had let me go with you. You know how I worry.”
Sage nodded mutely, not sure what he wanted to tell his friend just yet. He was in trouble, he knew that much. His body was aching, each step he took making his hole throb in memory and unceasing want.
“Sage… you kinda smell, man,” Taylor said, glancing over at him. “And not a garbage smell from the Wastes. Something musky, almost.” He stopped, grabbing the brunette’s hand when the boy tried to walk by him. “What are those marks on your neck?”
Sage ducked away, covering his neck. His flesh had only gotten darker as he slept, bruises blossoming purple in the morning light. “Shit, is it really noticeable?”
“That someone’s been sucking on your neck? Yeah, it fucking is. What the hell happened last night?”
“Oh god, Corey’s going to kill me,” Sage gasped frantically, eyes wide in fear. “Literally kill me. Tayls, I need makeup or some shit. I need to hide this. You know how he gets—He’s going to slice me up so bad, I’ll never move again!”
“Calm down, Sage. Just stop and breathe.” Looking around at the students in the distance, Taylor pulled his friend down the street, heading for his neighborhood. “Start at the beginning and we’ll figure out how to fix it.”
Sage nodded weakly, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Tayls… do werewolves ever… fuck people on the full moon?” He asked quietly, staring at his sneakers.
Taylor stopped walking, scratching the back of his head. “Umm… why do you…?”
Sage ducked his head, edging closer to whisper into the blond’s ear. “When they’re transformed, do they ever… fuck people?” He asked again, blushing brightly.
“I don’t…” Taylor glanced around, speaking quietly. “Yeah, I think so. Not something I’ve seen firsthand, or anything, but they talk about it sometimes. I guess there are some people that really, er, like it.”
“What about shifters?” Sage asked, fidgeting under his friend’s stare.
“Do werewolves fuck shifters?” Taylor asked, looking confused.
“No… damn it.” Sage got right into Taylor’s ear, feeling the blond shiver from his breath. “Do transformed shifters screw a lot of people?”
“Um… maybe? There was this girl once, sister to one of the shifters. The gang had said things about her. About her letting dogs do her and stuff. Why? Did you see something last night?” Taylor stepped back, looking Sage over cautiously. His friend looked different, his already pale skin nearly translucent, lips flushed a deep red, green eyes bright and glowing.
Sage had always been kind of pretty, singled out for his delicate features and slender form. The kid was tough with a terrible brother that kept most bullies away just by existing, but Taylor had taken it on himself to protect Sage as much as he could. The boy was just so nice, stuck in a bad situation with his brother and was the most loyal friend a guy could want. Seeing the brunette now, he had to wonder if maybe Sage might have been getting a different sort of attention looking the way he did.
Glancing around nervously, Sage pulled Taylor into a blind alley, making sure no one was walking by or that any windows were open. “I… I don’t know how to say this,” he mumbled, rocking from foot to foot. “It’s really, really fucked up and… and I don’t know if…”
“Just say it,” Taylor demanded, grabbing Sage by the shoulders. “I don’t care, just tell me. Was it Corey? Did he kill one of them?”
Sage shook his head, fingers tangling in his hair as he tugged his chocolate locks in frustration. “I met a shifter.”
Eyes widening, Taylor pressed his hand over the brunette’s mouth, looking around the alley to make sure that no one was definitely there. “Are you fucking serious? Did he hurt you?”
Sage bit his lip, unable to meet his friend’s concerned gaze. “A little… I don’t think he meant to. There’s something wrong with me, Tayls. I think someone might have, have cursed me or something.”
“Why would you…? Just tell me what happened,” Taylor muttered, ducking his head so his friend could whisper in his ear. Blue eyes widening in shock, Taylor began to curse under his breath as Sage poured out the events of the last night in halting sentences. “Holy fuck, Sage. Shit… Shit! How did you even go to school after that? How are you just fucking standing there and not fucking freaking out or something? He—Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t yell.” Taylor stepped away, kicking the nearest thing he could find, a soda can clattering loudly down the pavement.
Sage continued to tug at his hair agitatedly, watching Taylor’s sneakers as the blond paced. “I gotta find a way to hide the marks, Tayls,” he whispered, flinching when the blond reeled and turned on him.
“You’ve just been fucking raped!” Taylor covered his mouth, glaring at the entrance to the alley. Ducking his head, he whispered furiously into Sage’s ear. “You should go to a doctor. Make sure he didn’t give you something. Who the fuck knows what kinds of diseases shifters have?”
Sage just shook his head, his anxiety growing. “If I go to a doctor, they’ll want to talk to Corey. The shifter is not the issue right now. If Corey finds out, I’m fucking dead!”
“He wouldn’t—Would he? Is he that fucked up that…” Taylor trailed off, eyes closing. Corey was that fucked up. He wouldn’t care how or why, just that Sage had been tainted by a shifter.
“Please, Tayls, I don’t know what to do,” Sage pleaded softly, watching the emotions swirl on his friend’s face. “There’s something wrong with me. The shifter said I had a scent that made him that way. And Corey smelled me last night and you just did now. I don’t know what to do.”
“Okay. Okay, we’re going to fix this. I just… just have to ask for help.” Taylor looked at his friend warily, again taking in the brunette’s strangely beautiful features. Whatever had changed in his friend, it wasn’t just the odd, musky scent. He looked different too, possibly magically different. “First we’re going to get you a hoodie to cover you up. I got something big at home you can wear. And then… then I’m going to call Jared,” he added under his breath.
“But Jared’s a werewolf,” Sage said fretfully.
“Yes, and werewolves know magic,” Taylor replied as evenly as possible, trying to ignore the feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach. “So if you’ve really been cursed to… to make shifters want to do that… Well, he’ll be able to help.”
Fidgeting, Sage eventually nodded, letting Taylor grasp his arm and lead him towards his house. “Just… we can’t tell Corey. If he finds out that I’m talking to a werewolf… I already get in trouble because you talk to them.”
“I know, Sage, and I’m sorry about that. We’re going to disguise you so no one will know it’s you.”
Taylor’s mom had once had a fling with a werewolf, the man passing through their lives very briefly. But Taylor had been drawn to the lifestyle the werewolves had led while they were dating, never having to worry about anyone preying on his family or trying to cheat his mom out of her hard earned money and house. Taylor had figured if he were a werewolf, maybe he could protect his family the same way.
“He won’t… he won’t think I want to be one, right?” Sage whispered, Taylor unlocking the door to the small house he lived in and quickly jostling the brunette inside.
“I’ll let him know, not that it matters. They have so many damn hoops you have to jump through,” Taylor said bitterly. “Jared says they won’t even consider me until I’m twenty-five—Which is fucking bullshit because I’ve seen way younger than me. But that’s Frey for you. He’s one of the better pack leaders and has rules like that to keep from being totally terrible like the other gangs.”
Taylor left Sage drinking a glass of orange juice in the kitchen while he rustled up a large, black sweatshirt out of his closet. Grabbing a toothpick, he chewed on it mindlessly while looking around his room. His eyes fell on a pair of sunglasses on his bureau and he quickly snatched them, bringing both downstairs to his friend.
Sage dressed while Taylor used his special cellphone to contact Jared. There would be no way the werewolf would come to his house. It just wasn’t smart, even with Ms. Hunt out and working at the hospital. Taylor’s mom was not a fan of what her son had been slowly getting into, having seen firsthand the consequences of the werewolf gangs and the people that tried to cross them.
“Come on. He says he’ll meet us at The Den,” Taylor said abruptly, pocketing his phone. Sighing, he pulled the hood over Sage’s hair. “I know it’s hot out, but you have to stay covered so you won’t be recognized.” Taylor didn’t bother mentioning that he’d run across way too many fucked up werewolves that would think someone as pretty as Sage was fair game. Jared was his sponsor, protecting him from any ill attention even though he wasn’t officially in with Frey’s pack yet. Another perk with joining a proper werewolf pack and not some bunch of fucked up creeps that thought just because they could transform on the full moon they could hurt anyone they liked.
Sage let Taylor pull him out of the house, his head spinning, stomach tight with anxiety as they headed for the bus. He had made a point to avoid the werewolves; after nearly being murdered by one as a child, Sage really didn’t trust any of them. Taylor was the only reason he was even considering this, and mostly because his friend was as street smart as they came. If Taylor thought the werewolves were his only chance to fix whatever had happened to him, then Sage was willing to give it a shot.
Drunk, Blind, Stupid Cupid
Exclusive Library
An angel, a demon and a love-wary teenager walk into a cemetery…
Aiden Fisher hates Valentine’s Day with a passion saved only for holidays and annoying public displays of affection. He’s spent his teenage life trying to be as unapproachable as possible even if his cute face has heads turning. This Valentine’s Day he finds he’s failed his goal; a secret admirer wants to meet him.
Aiden has a lot of reasons to avoid love at all costs, many he can’t seem to remember when he’s approached by two foreign, beautiful boys that say they’re destined to meet. He tries to avoid the alarming feelings welling up, but when they’re attacked and he brings his new friends home, there’s nowhere to run.
Trying to hide as much of his embarrassing home life as he can from these quirky winged boys, Aiden finds himself faced with a choice. Does he wants to suffer in love or suffer alone?
Disclaimer: This slightly dark, sweet novella contains explicit m/m sexual content between multiple partners, graphic language, first time experiences, and hot winged boys and a pretty punked out bottom in a committed threesome relationship. Made specifically for Valentine’s Day, beware of sappiness, sarcasm, angst, and plot. All sexually active characters are 18+.
33,000+ wrds, Published February 12, 2016.
Heat level: XX
on March 16, 2017
Sadie again writes a beautiful erotic story. Human Aiden loathes valentine’s day. When he gets a rose and a request to meet, he’s furious. He goes, but only to tell the giver off. When he gets there, 2 stunningly beautiful boys are waiting. The halfie Damien to translate and the angel Gavril. But Aiden is not gay, or is he, he seems to be the last to know. Craziness goes down and he takes them home and into his heart. Is this relationship even a good idea? Yet, I could not put it down until it was done
The claiming and the fact that Gavriil was drawn to both Aiden and Damian from so far away, maybe even from another world? I just love the pull of fate and destiny type of stories.
Can’t wait to read the next book of this series.
It’s the last Valentine’s Day I’m going to have to endure at school. Somehow it seems to be mocking me, starting from the horrible amount of red and pink everyone’s wearing. Even the other guys are wearing the garish colors while I’ve resolutely dressed in my normal black.
I can’t stand the holidays, Valentine’s Day especially. It has nothing to do with the forgotten religious saint or the fertility festival the damn thing originally represented. No, it’s the way couples just disregard all decency and once again shove their happiness in my face. Like being single means I should automatically be miserable? Like a relationship is the end-all of being a satisfied human being? Fuck them. At least I’ve never had to listen to some girl tell me off for not calling her every hour.
I have no interest in being in a relationship. Seeing everyone acting like it’s the only thing a guy could want is really annoying as fuck.
Dropping my book bag on the floor, I take a seat for my first class of the day, trying to ignore the obnoxious amount of snuggling going around. When exactly did Valentine’s Day become an excuse to ignore all acceptable forms of public displays of affection? I might be running to the bathroom soon to vomit if this keeps up.
“Aiden, you look like someone pissed in your cereal this morning.” Ben, my best friend, sits down next to me, his hands smacking on his desk. He flashes me a toothy grin, clearly not actually caring that I hate today with a passion.
“What are you so happy about?” I finally ask when he insists on smiling at me.
“I got Vanessa a rose. I even wrote her a bitchin love poem.” His smile somehow manages to grow. “If that doesn’t get her to agree to go out with me, nothing will.”
Scowling at my terribly happy friend—Seriously, it’s Valentine’s Day; happiness is not welcome today—I pull out my math book and notebook. “What exactly do you mean by ‘bitchin love poem?’ Is this like some modern art thing?”
“Nope, even better. I wrote it myself.”
Nodding slowly, I duck my head so he can’t see me wince. “That sounds… um, bitchin.” Hideous. Seriously repulsive. God, I hate Valentine’s Day.
“Wanna read it?”
I bite my lip, knowing if he so much as shows me anything he’s written that’s supposed to convince anyone he’s in love with Vanessa, I’m going to laugh my ass off. “I’m good. For real.”
Ben smiles obliviously, his hair brushing into his eyes. “So?”
“So?” I repeat, folding my notebook open and wondering when the hell Mr. Jacobs is going to get here so the idiots will finally sit their asses down and stop making out around me.
“So, who did you get a rose for?” Ben asks, sounding even chipper than when he first sat down.
I glare at him sideways. He looks ridiculously young and happy and I sort of hate him right now. “No one. You know I don’t buy into this stupid holiday.”
“Pssh. You’re just mad because you haven’t found your ‘one’ yet,” Ben says with all the conviction of a hormonal eighteen-year-old that hasn’t had a relationship last more than three months. “When you fall in love, you’ll totally love Valentine’s Day.”
I debate whether I want to tear his love theory apart verbally to pass the time. I’m in a terrible mood, but I don’t know if I want to take him with me. He’s got that hopeful puppy-dog look he gets right before his heart is broken—This time by Vanessa, who has been looking at Ryan H. for the last month. Seeing as Ryan has a car, Ben is so outmatched. I settle for grunting noncommittally and scribbling doodles in my notebook.
There’s a commotion at the door and I sigh. Finally, the teacher is here and we can start. Except it’s not Mr. Jacobs, it’s a ridiculously cheerful girl carrying an armful of roses. I glare, realizing I’m going to have to go through the receiving, squealing, and all around vomit inducing lovey-dovey crap that comes along with girls getting flowers from secret and not so secret admirers. Fuck my life.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Ben says, grabbing my arm before I can get up and go hide out in the bathroom.
“What—Why the fuck should I stay around for this shit?” I mutter but sit down. Most of the girls are swarming the doorway anyways—There’s no getting by them to escape.
“Cheer the fuck up, Aiden. It’s just Valentine’s Day. It’s not like people are going out of their way to make you unhappy.”
“Aren’t they?” I snap, pointing at the group of giggling girls. “If I never have to hear that noise again, I’d be happy.”
Ben rolls his eyes. “Nothing makes you happy. Not the many holes in your head, your punk music, or even those funky combat boots. You are determined to be unhappy and you shouldn’t go blaming the rest of the world for your state of being.”
Glowering, I hunch over my desk, deciding to ignore him and the class until the stupidity dies down. Having eyebrow rings and a tattoo on the back of my neck isn’t some statement in being unhappy, it’s just a statement in being me. Ben wouldn’t understand, always wasting his time and energy trying to get with the next pretty, vapid thing he sees instead of figuring out himself.
Something flashes out of the corner of my eye, a red rose landing on my notebook. Blinking, I looked up in disbelief as Callie—super smiley cheerleader—hands me a white card. “Looks like you have a secret admirer, Aiden.”
“What?” I say dumbly, glancing sideways to find nearly everyone in the classroom suddenly looking at me.
She continues as if I hadn’t said anything, the card landing on top of my desk when I refuse to take it from her hand. “You know, you’re the first boy that’s gotten a rose this year. Usually guys send them to girls,” she says with a slightly accusing look.
What the hell is that supposed to mean? Am I not good enough for a rose now? Or… is she saying a guy sent me a rose?
“Hey, just because Aiden’s a guy, doesn’t mean he can’t get a rose,” Ben speaks up before I can actually ask what she’s implying. Throwing her bleach blond hair over her shoulder, Callie gives a bored huff and just steps away to the next person on her list.
“It’s the fucking twenty-first century. Geez,” Ben mutters before pasting another huge smile on and smacking me on the back. “Well, what does it say? Who sent you the rose?”
“What?” Scratching the back of my head, I look at Ben warily. My friend of forever has been acting weird ever since he spent his summer in New York with his cousins. I’m not sure exactly what he’s got in his head all of a sudden when it comes to me, but he’s been saying a lot of stupid shit like how I don’t need a girlfriend if I don’t want one, and he’d never judge me no matter what. It’s been really getting on my nerves but I don’t know if now is the time to bring it up, especially when half the class is trying to snoop over my shoulder to read the stupid card on my desk.
Shaking my head, I flip the plain white notecard open, glancing briefly at the one line before flipping it shut and pocketing it.
“Well?” Ben asks, curiosity clear in his voice.
“Well, what?” I go back to scribbling in my notebook, pointedly ignoring him.
“What did it say?”
Sighing in annoyance, I glance his way, finding two other people looking at me just as curiously. Fuck this stupid shit. “Nothing.”
“Like fuck—They wouldn’t have given you a card if it was blank.” Ben isn’t going to let it go. Actually, he looks about ready to wrestle me to the ground so he can get the thing and read it himself. That I’m only five foot ten, and slender will not stop my taller friend. That I also fight like a crazy bastard and enjoy biting will probably keep him from trying it.
“It’s just a time and place for a meetup. No name,” I finally grunt out, looking down at my desk. “I’m sure they just got me confused with someone else. There are like seven guys named Aiden in the grade below us.”
“Aiden…” Ben just sighs, something else I choose to ignore. He can tell me till he’s blue in the face and I want to beat the fuck out of him that I’m actually a likeable guy, but I know better. I barely tolerate people and people, well, they keep their distance. I might have a cute face but with the right scowl and mean enough piercings, they back the fuck off. It’s how I like it. I don’t want people in my life—My life is difficult enough.
“When is it?” Ben asks when I relax enough to think he’s dropped the subject.
“When’s what?”
“Stop fucking with me. The meetup?”
Grunting, I pull the note from my pocket and hand it to him. He reads it, his brows furrowed as he gives me the card back. “That’s a weird place to meet someone.”
I shrug. “I’m not going.”
“Yes, you are. Someone bothered to write you a card and buy you a rose. You’re fucking going—Stop being such a dick. What if they really like you?”
“Then they’re fucking dumb.” I shove the note back into my pocket, eyes falling on the rose. It’s actually kind of cool looking, the edges of the blood red petals blackened like they’ve been burnt. I reach out, letting my fingers brush over a silky smooth petal. Even the thorns are tipped in black. Do they dye roses now?
I pick it up, pressing my thumb against a thorn. It certainly feels real. Ducking my head, I give it a hesitant sniff, a small smile stealing across my lips.
Fine, it’s a cool rose. Not one of those girly pink ones or I would have tossed it already. But it’s not like you can fuck up a flower. Whoever had the nerve to send me one doesn’t automatically get a meeting with me just because the rose doesn’t suck.
The pack of girls finally leaves the doorway, the sound quieting down as the last of the class trickles in. Observing the way the black edges make a spiral pattern as they wrap around the rose, I’m pulled away by the weight of someone’s stare. It’s the new kid, the foreign transfer that showed up a month ago, currently standing halfway in the room and staring at my rose like he’s never seen one before.
Gavriil Strife is a weird one. He has golden blond hair, weird violet eyes and looks like some fucking model out of a magazine. He’s tall, built, and just has this ease about him with his stylish hair and graceful walk. Every girl in the school is chasing him hardcore, his nickname being ‘the golden prince.’ Annoying enough, but he doesn’t talk, like ever. I think I might have heard him say something once when answering a teacher, and his accent was so thick, I didn’t understand a word. No one can understand him but everyone loves him. It’s bullshit.
That he’s staring at me now, those weird eyes rimmed in black piercing into mine is unsettling as fuck and I find myself biting my lip. But I refuse to back down; he’s staring, and it doesn’t matter where he’s from, it’s still rude. Then the jackass grins at me, his expression turning mischievous like he’s got some fucking secret before he looks away and crosses to his seat. He’s seriously annoying. Weird and annoying, and I’ve caught him staring at me before. Like every class we share.
“What was that about?” Ben leans over to whisper in my ear.
“Fucking weirdo,” I mutter flatly, looking again at the rose and trying to fight the urge to glance over and see if Gavriil’s still staring. Maybe he’s pissed his didn’t get a rose, seeing as he’s a total pretty boy… Hell, maybe his ex sent me the flower? Has the kid actually taken any of the swarms of girls up on a date? He doesn’t speak a word of English yet he’s in my English class. I chance a peek, violet eyes meeting mine for a moment before I look away.
Weirdo.
The idea of Gavriil dating anyone is annoying as fuck too, like the weird boy himself, and I huff and turn to another page of my notebook so I can draw myself a maze. I take small joy in adding spikes and pits filled with vipers for any wanderer to get stuck in. It’s a shit day and only promising to get worse.
***
I’ve dodged Ben’s incessant questions throughout the day about if I’m going to the stupid meetup. The only reason I’m even considering it is just because it’s on my way home. If some idiot wants to wait out in the fucking freezing cold in the middle of February after a damn snowstorm, that’s really their problem, not mine. Throwing a $5 rose in my lap doesn’t mean I’m required to freeze my ass off.
I’m actually pretty angry about the whole thing. Seriously, what stupid idiot got me a fucking rose? Who the hell thought that I’d be into some stupid romantic rendezvous on the sappiest fucking day of the year? I was embarrassed during class, everyone keeps looking at me, and the questions will not stop. If I do go, I’m probably going to do it just to tell the person off for making my Valentine’s Day even worse than normal.
Scowling into my locker, I pull my black jacket on, hunching into the heavy material. It has a few holes but layered with my sweatshirt it does the trick for the fifteen-minute walk home. Tugging my slouchy on over my shaggy dark hair, I glare sideways at Ben who is, of course, waiting for me to tell him if I’m going to meet my ‘secret admirer.’
Fuck, even the name annoys the fuck out of me.
“Well?”
“Fuck off.” I slam my locker shut, ducking around him.
“Stop being an ass, Aiden. It’s just one little meeting. Just give the guy a shot—Shit.” Ben stops short as I whirl, his hands held up defensively.
Guy? Glaring at the cringing brunette, I stomp back. “What the fuck do you know?”
“N-Nothing, it just sort of slipped…” Ben sucks at lying, especially to me. I take a quick look around the hall, way too many of my classmates staring at me. Growling, I grab Ben by his collar and haul him into the empty science room.
“Tell me. Now.”
“Really, it’s nothing. A guess…” Ben coughs awkwardly while I stare him down. I’m not buying it and he knows it. “Fuck… Fuck, stop snarling at me.”
“Tell me, you jackass! Who is it!”
Stumbling back, he ends up sitting heavily on the teacher’s desk. I glare as he smiles at me sheepishly. “I don’t know his name. I just… I’m pretty sure it’s a guy.”
“Why?” I growl when he feels the need to stop at that fucking revelation and not explain. Why the fuck would a guy be looking at me? I’m an asshole to everyone, and I’ve never shown an interest in hooking up with anyone, especially guys.
“Well… um… Someone asked me if you’d… might be interested…”
“Oh my god—Fucking whore, Ben! Why? Why would you tell someone that I’d—Fuck.” I whirl, pacing away before I do something uncalled for, like punch the idiot. What the fuck is wrong with him? Why would he do that? Does he hate me or some shit? He’s like my only friend—Do I have to worry about him spreading fucking rumors about me liking dick or something? Fuck.
“Aiden, you have to understand. I just thought, well… Well, I just thought,” Ben finishes lamely, wincing when I turn and glare his way.
“You think I’m gay?”
Looking uncomfortable, he gives a weak shrug. “It could explain a few things.”
And what the fuck is that supposed to mean? “Like what?” I growl, my hands on my hips as I wait expectantly for whatever stupid is going to come out of his mouth. There is nothing remotely gay about me. Fuck, if I’m anything, it’s asexual, but I hate fucking labels so I wouldn’t even say that. I have no interest in being with anyone, period.
“You don’t date,” Ben points out.
“So? You know my fucking home life. You think I want to bring anyone into that shit?”
“Bullshit,” he says, standing up and glaring back at me. “Do you think I’m blind or something? Like I can’t see when you’re checking a guy out? You spent nearly half of last class staring at Chris.”
“He was cheating off of Duley,” I snap, really not liking where this is turning. I do not check out guys.
“Was his ass cheating? Cus that’s where you were staring.”
“Are you shitting me—Did you just seriously accuse me of…?” There are no words. “Ben, I’m not gay!” I yelp in frustration.
“Whatever, jackass,” he mutters, like I’m fucking lying to him or something. “I’m not the only one who thinks it, man. Ever since Gavriil transferred in, everyone has been talking about it.”
Blinking dumbly, I hold up my hand. “What? What the fuck does that weirdo have to do with anything?”
Ben growls in exasperation. “Dude, you stare at him all the time!”
“Only because he keeps staring at me!” I turn away, my hat coming off in my hands as I grab my hair and tug. Stupid Gavriil Strife—Of course that fucker is to blame for all this. The damn pretty-boy came in here acting weird, and the second I glare at him everyone just assumes I have a thing for him because he’s gorgeous. The fucking bastard.
“Who did you tell?” I ask, spinning back to Ben. “Who fucking asked?”
Huffing, he folds his arms over his chest. “I’m not sure.”
“Like fuck you’re not—”
“I never saw the guy before. It was a couple of weeks ago during that football game you left early from.” He gives me a look and I wonder if he’s going to start accusing me of staring at their asses too. “He came up and asked if you were into guys. He had long black hair, green eyes. Tall. Really good looking.”
“Why the fuck do you feel the need to tell me he’s good looking?” I hate him so much right now. “So you just told this absolute stranger that your best friend is into guys?” I say in frustration.
“No,” he snaps back, his jaw squaring defiantly. “I told him it was a possibility. That you’re not the dating type so there was really only one way to know for sure.”
God, my life sucks so much right now. My mom is probably home drinking our fucking food money away, and here I am standing, listening to my best friend explain how I could be gay.
“Did you ever once think to ask me?” I can’t stop my angry growl. He winces and I feel a mild satisfaction that he at least feels guilty. It’s extremely mild.
“Aiden, I watched you eat half a raw potato before you realized it wasn’t an apple.”
“So—What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”
“So, you’re fucking oblivious, man. If I was going to ask someone about you, I’d ask me first because, fuck, I know you better than you know you.”
Scoffing, I glance away. “No, you don’t.”
“Oh yeah? Favorite food—Cheeseburger with extra pickles, but on a grill because you like the burn but still pink in the middle. You’re two homework assignments away from failing Mr. Pincer’s class. You spent all of yesterday with a pink barrette in your hair because you didn’t notice I put a fucking barrette in your hair. Dude, you’re a fucking space case,” he says with a wave of his hands.
I pause at that, remembering vaguely something pulling on my hair yesterday when I took my hat off. Fuck. “Pink? You jackass.”
“Do you even know how many people check you out?” he continues sternly. “Like every fucking day? I have chicks asking all the time if you’re, like, not allowed to date or something. I see guys looking at you all the time, and hell, I’m as straight as they come, but even I can admit you’re totally sexy, man.”
I splutter, glaring at him while my tongue refuses to work. I am not sexy. I am angry and unapproachable, and that is how I want to be.
“Aiden, go meet the fucking guy. For once in your life stop wandering around aimlessly after cleaning up your parents’ mess, and just live a second for yourself. People want to get to know you, so give them a fucking chance already.”
It probably would have been more poignant if my best friend wasn’t trying to send me off because he thinks I like dick. As it is, I’m just more annoyed that there are at least two people on the planet determined to make this day as fucking miserable as possible.
“I’ll go,” I finally growl, glaring him down as he beams in reply. “But only to tell this guy that you were mistaken. Bad enough he’s so retarded he thinks I’m dating material to begin with.” Seriously, you’d have to be a fucking idiot to think I was worth hanging around for any amount of time. I’m pretty sure Ben’s an idiot, and he’s well aware of my opinion on the matter.
“Seriously, dude, if it’s the guy from the game, he’s hot. I’d never do you wrong like that.”
I shake my head. There are really no words for how dumb he is today. Fucking Valentine’s Day.
“Did Vanessa like her rose?” I grunt out, feeling spiteful. Ben gives a heartfelt, woeful sigh. Answer enough. Yeah, he’s a fucking idiot and now I have to go let some really confused gay guy down on Valentine’s Day. Fuck my life.
BOOKS AVAILABLE THROUGH AMAZON AND ON KU
WILD, CRAZY, PARANORMAL MM FUN
PARANORMAL MM NEW ADULT SERIESSHIFTERS, SORCERERS, DEMONS AND PARANORMALS STRUGGLE TO CONTROL THEIR POWERS WHILE FALLING IN LOVE AND STAYING ALIVE FROM THE MONSTERS WHO HUNT THEM
PARANORMAL MM EROTIC ROMANCE SERIESA PRINCELY DEMON CAT SHAPESHIFTER, HUMANS TURNED SEX THRALLS/MATES, DEMONSPAWNS *cough* BABIES, KITTENS, WITCHES, DEMON HUNTERS, AND A WHOLE LOT OF OBSESSIVE LOVE AND FIGHTING TO KEEP ON TOP
THE SERIES BUNDLEDKY DISCOVERS DEMONS, SORCERY AND AN UNDERGROUND SLAVE TRADE AS HE BECOMES CENTER TO A MALE HAREM
CURRENT DEMON BONDED EPISODESIF YOU DON’T WANT TO WAIT FOR THE NEXT SAGA TO BE BUNDLED, YOU CAN READ THE INDIVIDUAL EPISODES HERE
BUNDLE OF PARANORMAL MM EROTIC SHORT STORIESFURRY FULL MOON TRANSFORMATIONS, HORNY SORCERERS, SEXY DEMONS, A CAT SHIFTER IN DISTRESS, THE RARE MINOTAUR, A STALKING VAMPIRE, AND A PACK OF RUDE, TRASH TALKING WEREWOLVES THAT DON’T TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER
TWISTED, CONTEMPORARY MM EROTIC SERIALBEAU IS FORCEFULLY INTRODUCED TO BDSM BY HIS AGGRESSIVE, RICH STUDENT
BOOKS AVAILABLE THROUGH AMAZON AND ON KU
*eventually* FUNDED WRITINGDEMON BONDED was previously written and funded through Patreon. It was an experiment the Patreon site couldn’t handle from the beginning, tagging everything adult and keeping me from being found by search engines before I had posted any content. Now they want my personal info — but only because I create *adult* works, even though by their definition, nothing I make qualifies as adult content.Bluntly, the whole point of Patreon was to try to find a way around the discrimination happening in regards to erotic fiction, and they failed. I have no interest in giving Patreon a cut of donations when their policies lead to doxing and increased danger and financial instability for sex workers, Patreon’s true target. I’ll eventually find another place to put up a tip jar once I get the huge TODO list done that’s waiting for me. I’ll also continue to write Demon Bonded, tip jar or not, I just won’t be releasing chapters the way I was before (you know, when my brain was actually writing.) By the time I’m writing Demon Bonded again, I should find another site for this and go from there.
PARANORMAL MM EROTIC SERIALKY DISCOVERS DEMONS, SORCERY AND AN UNDERGROUND SLAVE TRADE AS HE BECOMES CENTER TO A MALE HAREM
EXCLUSIVE COMPLETED READS FOR SUBSCRIBERS ONLYREADY TO SIN? DISCOVER SEXY, KINKY, TOO HOT FOR AMAZON, AND HARDCORE SINS RANGING FROM PARANORMAL TO CONTEMPORARY. MEMBERS GET EXCLUSIVE ACCESS TO EVERY NAUGHTY FIC.
PARANORMAL SERIESALPHA WOLVES, SHIFTERS, DEMONS AND ANGELS
PARANORMAL MM EROTIC SERIESABDUCTION THEMED EROTICA WITH ALPHA PERSONALITIES AND INTENSE RIVALRY
PARANORMAL MM EROTIC SERIALSAGE WAKES WITH AN OVERWHELMING SEX SCENT AND MUST RUN FROM GANGS OF WEREWOLVES
PARANORMAL MM EROTIC ROMANCE SERIESHAVING A DIFFICULT HOME LIFE IS EASIER THAN THE MESS ANGELS AND DEMON HALFLINGS CAN BRING WHEN THEY CAPTURE YOUR HEART
PARANORMAL MM EROTIC ROMANCE SERIESIN A WORLD OF RUTHLESS SORCERY, THESE DRAGON SHIFTERS ARE HUNTED FOR POWER WHILE THE MEN WHO LOVE THEM TRY TO KEEP THEM SAFE
PARANORMAL MM EROTIC SERIALA GLITTERING HERD OF UNICORN SHIFTERS ENDS UP ON EARTH WHERE THEY STRUGGLE WITH THE RESTRICTIVE SEXUAL CUSTOM OF MONOGAMY
CONTEMPORARY SERIESHOT AND SEXY WITHOUT THE PARANORMAL TWIST
CONTEMPORARY MM EROTIC SERIESAN INTENSE, THRILLING LUST TRIANGLE BETWEEN FATHER, SON AND THE MADMAN OBSESSED WITH BOTH
CONTEMPORARY MM EROTIC SERIALTEDDY, A BEAUTIFUL ORPHAN, STUMBLES INTO A PROSTITUTION RING IN THE SUBURBS
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