Summary: Harry and Draco retaliate against each other.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): kidnapping, dub-con, toy!play (including cock ring, shackles and anal beads), slight breath play, spanking
Epilogue compliant? Set before the epilogue o’ doom
Word Count: 8,624
Author's Notes: Wow, this is the longest fanfiction I’ve ever written. Happy Holidays Morganmuffle, I hope it’s everything you wanted out of it, I tried to get everything I could in there. Great thanks to my beta S and I hope everyone enjoys :D, especially my recipient.
It was dark when Harry opened his emerald green eyes. So dark, in fact, that his eyes couldn’t even adjust. He wondered if this was what the blind felt like. Maybe he was blind. The thought both excited and terrified him. At least he wouldn’t have to see all the people staring at him anymore. Where was he? He could tell he was lying on a small cot, wrapped up in a thin wool blanket. There was a chilly breeze flowing through the room that made him shiver. How did he get here?
He stood, shakily, and immediately collapsed back onto the creaky mattress. A throbbing pain burst through his head, stars flashing before his blinded eyes. A cry of pain escaped his hoarse throat as he clutched at his skull.
“Awake, I see,” a voice whispered. The sound of a match being struck echoed through the room accompanied by a flash of red light as a candle was lit. Instantaneously, several others sparked to life around him. Harry gasped in shock and turned to look at who else was in the room.
It wasn’t just any room, but, in fact, was a cell. Rough stone floors and walls surrounded him, and metal bars separated it from the shadowy corridor. It looked a lot like the dungeons at Hogwarts, but there was something even more ominous about the dark cage he currently resided in.
Draco Malfoy was there, illuminated in the light of the candle – half lying, half sitting on a rich blue love seat on Harry’s side of the dungeon bars, though he did not look like a prisoner himself. In fact, he looked perfectly comfortable, his dark silver eyes watching Harry intently.
“Malfoy,” Harry whispered. He sprang to his feet, about to rush the other man, when a wave of Malfoy’s wand produced heavy shackles around Harry’s wrists and ankles - attaching not only from wrist to wrist and ankle to ankle, but to the floor as well, effectively allowing Harry only a foot or so to move around in.
“What the fuck are you doing, Malfoy?!” Harry ground out between clenched teeth, trying to free himself from the cumbersome metal bonds without any luck.
“I thought that fairly obvious, Potter. I’ve kidnapped you.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed and he tried to remember what had happened before he had awoken here - wherever “here” was. His head was still pounding, but he drew in a deep breath, forcing himself to remember.
The war was over – barely a month had passed and Harry had spent as much time as he could in solitude, a difficult feat when he had just defeated the most terrifying wizard of the age. Every moment seemed to move in slow motion since then, and Harry felt trapped – more than he ever had in the years he had fought against Voldemort. The last thing he could remember was the party at the Ministry – to celebrate Kingsley Shacklebolt’s instatement as the Minister of Magic. Harry couldn’t count how many times he had been to the Ministry since the final battle, but being there again had made him want to scream with frustration. Ron and Hermione had been dancing, Ginny hadn’t spoken to him in days, no, probably a week or more – not that he really minded. He couldn’t be around people and function properly anymore. He had snuck out to the alley as soon as he could for some fresh air. He had just downed the last of his firewhiskey when there had been a sound around the building. He had gone to check it out and…everything had gone black.
“Why?” Harry asked, wanting to rush Malfoy again, but he could hardly move.
“You honestly thought it would be all over, Potter, just because the Dark Lord is gone? Dozens of Death Eaters loose or identities unknown and you thought you could just slip through? Ha!” Malfoy gave a soft chuckle and took a deep drink from a glass of red wine. “You should be thankful it was me that got a hold of you, and not one of the others.” Another chuckle. Malfoy shook his head as he obviously thought about the horrors the other Death Eaters would have had in store for the famous Harry Potter.
“But…But…” Harry stuttered. “I thought you had switched sides.”
Malfoy gave a hearty laugh and stood. “Oh, please. You certainly don’t give me enough credit, Potter. All acts. You really think me so weak?”
Harry was about to snap back but Malfoy interrupted him, “Of course you did. That was the plan. Who would truly suspect me of being capable of kidnapping you? And of course, if they had, I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish it.
“You’re a tough man to access, Potter. But luckily for me, you’ve been such a recluse lately, it became easier and easier by the day.” He smiled and Harry knew he was reveling at his own genius.
Harry glared at Malfoy. Fucking traitor. He had been naïve to think that this man could ever change his ways - even after watching his father go down this same path and fail. But Voldemort was dead. What could he hope to gain?
Malfoy clicked his tongue. “Now, now, Potter, you really think I would have gotten this far without a few tricks up my sleeve?” Malfoy sauntered forward. It was mesmerizing the way he moved - it always had been. There was something about him that always drew Harry’s eye. Harry raised an eyebrow at Malfoy’s taunt.
“I can read your mind, Potter.”
Both eyebrows shot up at the statement and a cool smile passed over Malfoy’s lips. Fuck. Malfoy knew Legilimency. Harry suddenly wished he had gotten the hang of Occlumency. Malfoy took another drink of his wine and cocked his head to the side, watching Harry.
“What exactly is it that you want from me, Malfoy?” Harry snapped. Malfoy looked far too calm, too in control.
“Seven years and you still don’t get it?” Malfoy looked aghast.
“Get what?” Harry couldn’t figure out what he meant. Did he mean Voldemort? Was it really Malfoy’s plan to bring him here and punish him for killing the Dark Lord? Harry doubted it. No, his gut told him, something else was going on here. Sure, Malfoy had joined the ranks of the Death Eaters at the end, and had always been a prick, but killing wasn’t his style – and Harry knew he had gotten his fair share of chances. Not just with Dumbledore, but with Harry himself. Not to mention, Malfoy was a selfish creature. Nothing would come from killing Harry now. There had to be something in it for him.
“What do you think it’s all been for, Harry?” Harry was taken aback at Malfoy calling him by his first name. “It’s never been about taking over the wizarding or Muggle worlds to me. It’s always been about one thing…” Malfoy paused and two heartbeats thundered in the momentary silence. “You.”
Harry furrowed his brow, and Malfoy finished his wine.
“What do you mean, ‘It’s always been about me’?” Harry broke the silence.
Malfoy chuckled and closed the distance between them. Harry forgot about attacking him in his curiosity. The glass in Malfoy’s hand vanished, to reappear on the table next to the loveseat, and Malfoy smiled as he ran a single finger down the side of Harry’s face, temple to jaw.
Malfoy looked thoughtful as he continued, as though he were reliving the memories. “Seven years of trying to get your attention. From the moment I first saw you in Madam Malkin's Robes, I knew there was something about you. I was drawn to you, like a moth to a flame. Even before I knew you were Harry Potter. And I vowed the moment I realized you were going to Hogwarts, that I had to be a part of your life. Any way I could.” Malfoy was ranting now, but Harry couldn’t look away. Something about Malfoy like this, so passionate and desperate looking held Harry like nothing else ever had. “I tried friendship,” Malfoy began again, “but you brushed me off for the Weasel and then, eventually, Granger. It felt as though I had been struck. And so, I decided to get you back, and fulfill the vow that I would be a part of your life, at the same time.”
They both remembered the uncountable fights, the duels, the tattling to teachers. Harry realized, as he thought back upon those moments, that neither of them had ever felt so alive. Even thinking about it sent blood surging through Harry’s veins in excitement. Malfoy had started pacing sometime during his speech and was now flushed with animation.
“I did everything to get you to even glance at me. Hagrid’s dragon, Longbottom’s Rememberall, every Quidditch match, every angry word. You couldn’t see me as a friend, or...” Malfoy paused, as though he were about to say more, but caught himself. “So I would make you see me as an enemy.” He abruptly stopped pacing and turned to face Harry. His cheeks were reddened and his silver eyes were filled with life. “I even became a Death Eater.” Another pause. “If there was one thing I knew you could never ignore – it would be the Dark Lord,” Malfoy shivered, “and his followers.”
They were silent for what seemed like a lifetime. The only sound was the occasional rattle of Harry’s binds, their breathing, and their heartbeats in the stillness. Harry tried desperately to understand what Malfoy had been telling him but all he could think about was how alive he felt. How alive Malfoy looked. It seemed as though for weeks, maybe longer, much longer, Harry had been empty inside. Like he had been a robot, set to do only one thing – destroy Voldemort, and after his mission had been fulfilled, no one had reset him. But suddenly, his heart was beating, his pulse rushing, and his lungs felt too tight to function properly.
“I have waited for this moment…” Malfoy said offhand, almost as though he were saying it to himself. “And then that fire…” Malfoy closed his eyes and Harry knew he was remembering. “You saved me. And as we flew on that broomstick, and I got to have my arms around you and I felt your pulse beneath my palm and your hair against my face…” Malfoy shuddered and it seemed to bring him out of his reverie. He stood, looking at Harry, and Harry stared back, wide-eyed, mouth agape, wondering why he had never seen it before. He had been obsessed with Malfoy for years. It was logical for Malfoy to feel, at the very least, the same intensity.
Something inside Harry was screaming at him to get away. But, something deeper, told him to stay. He shifted, not knowing what to say, or do, and Malfoy seemed to remember what exactly was going on.
“So,” Malfoy said, and he tried to force his voice back to sounding calm, “does it all make sense now?”
A lump seemed to form in Harry’s throat because he couldn’t speak. He swallowed hard and nodded once. Malfoy – his sworn enemy for just over seven years had done everything just for Harry’s attention. What did that mean though, now, in this situation?
“Malfoy, I…” Harry tried to come up with some response, to say anything. But he didn’t know how to take this, let alone what to say about it.
“Just shut up, Potter,” Malfoy’s eyes had lost their fire. That slashing silver had returned and he had regained control of both his body and voice. “Seven FUCKING years, Potter! And now I’m going to make you understand.” A tremble ran down Harry’s spine at these last words. Make him understand how?
“What are you going to do?” Harry almost stuttered in response. In all his time knowing Draco Malfoy, he had never truly feared him – until now. Something had changed since the final battle at Hogwarts, where they had last seen each other. A smirk spread across the young man’s pale features, and suddenly he was right there, his body just inches from Harry’s. In surprise, Harry tried to take a step back, his knees hit the edge of the cot, and he stumbled, falling back onto the squeaking, protesting mattress.
“First,” Malfoy nearly whispered, crawling after Harry. His knees were on either side of Harry’s body, effectively pinning him beneath his own. Heat rushed through Harry, but it wasn’t just the compromising position, or the smile on Malfoy’s face. He didn’t want to admit, refused to confess, even to himself, that the blush that had rushed to his cheeks, and the shaking that took hold of his hands, was from the other boy’s touch. No, it must be from nerves, fear, and anger of being attacked. Malfoy’s long, pale fingers were on Harry’s shirt buttons, popping them through their individual holes – one by one.
Air refused to be pushed through Harry’s lungs and he felt light-headed. He almost wished he would pass out – almost. And yet, the darker side of him, the one that had obsessed over Malfoy’s every move, every breath, every thought, cried out with excitement.
His breath may have been failing him, but his blood was determined to make up for it tenfold. It sped through him until he was sure his heart would explode from beating so fast. Noises seemed to be drowned out by the sound of it, mixed along with the steadiness of the inhale and exhale of Malfoy’s own breaths. How the fuck could he be so calm?!
Harry didn’t move. He just stared up at the stone ceiling, praying to make sense of what was going on. Draco Malfoy – bully, Death Eater, selfish prat, was on top of him, with the determination to make him understand…what exactly? He wanted Harry’s attention. Hadn’t he achieved that? So much time in his Hogwarts years had been dedicated to the blond Slytherin. But what had Malfoy been saying? Harry wondered where exactly the other boy was going with this.
Harry’s shirt was completely undone now. The sides open, exposing his toned abdomen, smooth, except the dark-haired trail beneath his belly button, which disappeared below the waist line of his trousers. Malfoy wasn’t moving, just watching the fast rise and fall of Harry’s chest.
Malfoy had tried to be Harry’s friend before any of this. He had vowed to be a part of Harry’s life any way possible. And now Harry lay in a very compromising position below him.
Something clicked in his head. And it seemed so obvious that Harry wanted to slap himself for his own naivety. Malfoy wanted him. And not just in the sense that he had just wanted Harry’s attention, but in a physical and emotional sense...
“Seven years, Potter,” Malfoy said slowly, breaking Harry’s thoughts, and Harry knew Malfoy had been in his head. He knew Harry had finally figured out what he had been trying to convey to him from the start.
“Draco…” It was the first time Harry had ever said the name without disdain. He decided it really did fit the other boy quite well. He almost liked the way it sounded on his tongue.
Lips, passionate and fierce, were on Harry’s in a breath. Wild and abandoned, Malfoy had flung himself at Harry at the sound of his name spoken so softly, escaped passed his adolescent nemesis’ lips. He never thought anything but anger would ever be directed at him from the dark-haired boy. Emotions exploded through Harry so fast he could barely identify each one.
First and foremost, surprise. He stared up at Malfoy, seeing his softly closed eyes, the gentle strands of hair that had escaped from behind his ears. What was his reaction supposed to be? He figured, slowly, that it should probably be to throw Malfoy off of him, in furious outrage, and his chains were loose enough that he probably could. But, once again, something inside of him stilled the urge to freak out and find some way to run from the situation.
Maybe it would end up being one of the worst mistakes of Harry’s life, but he just lay there, as Malfoy’s soft lips pressed against his own chapped ones, and a moist tongue slid along sensually. Harry shivered and Malfoy stilled, but didn’t remove himself. He had suddenly realized what exactly was happening, but did not want it to end.
“Harry,” Malfoy whispered it against the trembling lips of the Boy-Who-Lived, and hesitated in his plan for half a second. Until the boy beneath him shifted and the movement was like that of a cat, a smooth graceful rubbing of body on body, and a surge of desire spiraled through Malfoy. Damn it all to Hell, Malfoy would get what he wanted whether or not Harry consented.
His fingers were on Harry again, teasing hot trails from his cool skin. Harry was gasping for breath as Malfoy worked his way down his bare chest, inch by slow inch. He was nearly shaking as Malfoy reached the waist band of his trousers. The blond man had no trouble undoing the clasp and zipper, but didn’t continue to undress Harry fully. Instead, he stood and stared down at Harry with a smirk on his face. Though behind the confident mask, he wondered why exactly Harry wasn’t fighting back.
He grabbed his wand from the stand, where the wine glass still stood, and pointed it at a long wooden table, covered by a white cloth Harry hadn’t noticed before. The cloth flew off to reveal a plethora of shiny sliver torturous delights, with an accompaniment of rope, and leather. Every muscle in Harry’s body stiffened at the sight of the toys and he struggled to make any part of his body move, or function properly – his legs wouldn’t run, his arms wouldn’t lash out at his captor, and his throat wouldn’t scream. Not even his brain would allow him to believe where this was headed.
“Seven years, Potter,” Malfoy said once again. It had become his mantra, his reasoning behind his actions, and he moved to touch the first item in his line of sex toys – some of which Harry had never seen before. This was saying something, being that he was the number one investor in Weasley Whizarding Wheezes, which had just set out its newest endeavor of a production of a large selection of sex toys.
Harry realized that he probably should have struggled, done something at least. Those toys, though meant for pleasure, were also meant for pain. And Harry had only had sex once – with Ginny, the night after he had destroyed Voldemort, because he had thought that it had been the right way to celebrate. Not to mention it was obvious what Ginny had wanted from him. But, even by then he had slipped into his emotionless state, and the entire time he had just gone through the motions. That had been the first time Ginny and him had fought. He refused to talk to her about what had happened and after a while, she had given up talking to him at all.
Something was different now, something he hadn’t felt in months. He felt awake, aware of what was going on around him. The problem was he didn’t know how to respond. Not only was this another boy, but it was Draco Malfoy – his sworn enemy. How do you go from one extreme to the other? How is it that Malfoy was able to keep this from not only Harry, but everybody, for so long?
Malfoy picked up a dazzling silver hoop, polished to perfection, which had several adjustments to change its diameter. He brought it up closer to his face to examine it in the dim candlelight; it flickered off the light as though it, itself, was a flame. “I know you’ve never used one of these before, but do you have any idea what it is?” Malfoy asked quietly of his prisoner, twisting it slightly to catch the glittering light.
Harry shook his head.
“It’s a cock ring,” Malfoy replied with no hesitation. Harry had heard about these from Fred and George and a rush flushed his cheeks at the thought. Wow, he really was a prude, he thought. “Ha,” Malfoy scoffed, “I see you at least recognize the name.”
Another flick of Malfoy’s wand and Harry’s clothes were gone, reappearing in a pile several feel away, much as the wine glass had.
Exposed. Harry Potter was completely naked, alone, with his foe. A yelp escaped him and he used his hands to cover himself as best he could. The shackles were frigid against the bareness of his thigh. “Tsk, tsk, Potter, none of that.” The chains tightened and Harry cried out as they pinched sensitive skin. “Move them.” The chains loosened enough for Harry to comply, reluctantly, dropping his hands to his sides, tight fists making his knuckles white and the muscles, sinew, and veins contract and bulge.
Malfoy moved forward with the toy and kneeled at Harry’s feet. Harry watched suspiciously as the blond boy smiled at the exposed flesh before him. He had never seen Harry fully naked before, and the sight of it made him want to skip all of his carefully planned playing, and jump to the end. But he forced himself to remember it would be better this way. Harry was flaccid, but obviously endowed nonetheless. Malfoy took a breath and Harry squirmed as it traveled along his length.
Instincts finally seemed to kick in as Malfoy moved toward his most personal area and his hands went up to block him. Malfoy was ready though, and the shackles, once again, tightened around the sensitive skin of his wrists. The chain connecting them to each other contracted this time as well, and his hands were forced together with a clang of metal against metal. “I warned you,” Malfoy said, shaking his head.
With a moan of pain, Harry moved his injured hands. Malfoy didn’t hesitate this time, but slid the dazzling silver cock ring in place. “You’re so eager to touch yourself, Potter, here’s your chance.” Malfoy nodded toward Harry’s member and smiled wickedly. “I want you so hard you’re throbbing with it.”
Harry stared, mouth open at Malfoy for a moment, wondering if he was really serious, before remembering exactly the situation he was in. Of course he was serious. Harry wanted to refuse, to tell Malfoy to bugger off, but where would that get him? His wrists still ached from the wicked pinches; gods knew what Malfoy would do if Harry tried to really defy him. The chains had loosened a few inches, but they hadn’t relinquished the length they had had previously. Who knew what other tricks Malfoy had up his sleeve? “Now,” came the captor’s voice demanding, and Harry closed his eyes as he slowly touched himself.
He had never had a cock ring on before, and the sensation of it was stimulating with each motion he made. One hand wrapped around the base, a few quick strokes, a few slow. The other hand sneaked down to the velvet skin around his balls, which he stimulated as well. Harry almost wished he hadn’t retaliated and lost the few extra inches of chain. Now his motions were restricted and he couldn’t get in a terribly comfortable position.
He wondered why he was doing this. Why didn’t he resist the absurd demands Malfoy was making of him? Perhaps it was because he hadn’t been able to get it up since the night after Voldemort’s defeat, let alone become so erect it nearly hurt, like he was steadily becoming, as he pumped himself faster. He snuck a glance at the boy holding him prisoner and instantly dropped his gaze. He was staring at him – watching Harry intently as he brought himself to hardness. But that look was enough to make Harry whimper, and he would have come had it not been for, the now restricting, silver handcuff around him.
Harry was panting when Malfoy whispered, “Stop.” Harry immediately ceased his excursion, but couldn’t quite bring himself to remove his hands from their positions. “Very good, Harry.” Malfoy had said his name again, and a shiver rushed down his spine at the sensuous way it slid passed Malfoy’s lips.
Malfoy was at the table again, his long pale fingers gently brushing across the instruments. There was a gleam in his eyes that made Harry whimper again. But this noise wasn’t purely sexual. There was an undercurrent of fear this time. He knew Malfoy was taking his time picking his next toy in order to intimidate him, frighten him. And while it was certainly working, Harry was mesmerized, and couldn’t draw his eyes away.
When Malfoy’s hand moved, Harry sucked in his breath unconsciously. Waiting. Malfoy smirked, and picked up his next toy. Harry recognized this one. Anal Beads.
Apparently, Malfoy recognized the look in Harry’s eyes, or read it in his mind, because the smile on his face definitely widened a bit. “Oh good, I’m glad I’m not going to have to explain this one to you.” He stepped forward, and Harry realized that there was a bottle of lubricant in his other hand.
“Wait…” Harry finally managed to whisper. He was surprised when Malfoy actually stopped. He was less than a foot away, and Harry stared up at him from the mattress, eyes wide. Fear had finally kicked in. Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “I…I can’t…” Harry stuttered, which was stupid. It didn’t matter if he could or couldn’t. He was a prisoner, and Malfoy would make him do what he wanted. But seeing the length of increasingly larger black rubber balls, Harry’s stomach had fallen away and he had blanched at the very thought.
“Well, I was wondering when you would finally try to stop me, but I figured it would involve kicking and screaming,” Malfoy admitted. A slight smirk crossed his lips, and a look flashed through his eyes that Harry didn’t recognize. Harry wondered if Malfoy was actually going to stop, but then he took another step forward, and closed the small distance between them.
Harry squirmed, trying to get away from the man in front of him and the menacing “toy” in his hands. His hope was to wriggle enough to make penetration impossible, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind he regretted it. He had forgotten that Malfoy was there, inside his head, and suddenly the wool blanket that had covered him in his sleep not long ago, transfigured, wrapping itself around Harry and the bed, and became cold and unbreakable – an iron shackle around his body. The chains around his ankles shortened too, effectively pinning his feet to the floor. He couldn’t move.
A whimper escaped Harry as Malfoy, once again, lowered himself to his knees. The sound of the lubricant being popped open seemed almost deafening in the dim cell, and echoed like a cry around the cell walls. Harry gulped and watched as best as he could as Malfoy went to work oiling the black balls. It didn’t take him long and as soon as he had finished they caught each others eyes, and neither of them looked away.
Harry felt like the world had shifted, and slowed to a crawl as he waited for Malfoy to enter him. He felt a heat behind his eyes like he was about to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come, and a burning in his throat that felt like a scream but it was stuck.
He gasped loudly as a cool weight pressed against his anus. “If you don’t relax it’s going to hurt more,” Malfoy whispered, and once again that hot breath caressed over his hard cock and he nearly moaned aloud at the feel of it. Gasping for breath, Harry tried to relax, but he was petrified.
Then, with a push, the first and tiniest bulb passed his entrance and Harry cried out. More out of shock then actual pain, though a dull ache was definitely there. Malfoy paused momentarily, and Harry tried to take a breath, to relax like he had been told but when he shifted tiny gasps were brought to his lips again.
Harry bit his lip when the second, slightly larger ball was pressed into him. That dull ache was worsening every time he clenched his muscles. But, on top of that he could feel the pressure in his lower abdomen building, and the orgasm waiting for release. “Malfoy…I…” but he didn’t know what he would have finished the sentence with because another sphere joined it’s smaller comrades inside him and he cried out with the sensations rushing through him. He clenched his muscles again and a whimper of pain followed the howl.
Malfoy didn’t insert another ball, he stroked Harry’s thigh lightly with his fingers, and each time he touched him, Harry shivered. With them in this position the breath play continued, tormenting Harry every time Malfoy exhaled. He wanted to scream out, moan out, come. But he couldn’t let Malfoy have the satisfaction. This went on for several minutes, and Harry was gasping when the lithe fingers left the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.
Malfoy’s fingers moved back to the string of anal beads. Harry took a deep breath and waited for him to push another inside of him. A cry overcame him, and his body tried to writhe as Malfoy tugged and the largest of the three balls exited him. He groaned at the feeling of relief, and moaned when the second and third followed in quick succession. Malfoy stood slowly.
The blond boy loomed over him with the fire filled eyes that Harry had seen during the rant, instead of the hate-filled slashing orbs that reminded Harry so much of Malfoy’s father. Harry shuddered when Malfoy leaned in to brush a single strained of hair from Harry’s forehead.
Tears were streaming down Harry’s cheeks now but he made no noise as he watched Malfoy walk back to the table. ‘Not more…’ Harry thought, terror filling him. He had never been so uncomfortable or vulnerable, and that was saying something, considering the situations he had been in. He wondered how much farther this would go and if Malfoy was going to use all the toys on the table or if he would stop if he got a certain reaction out of Harry.
Harry gasped when the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth and he realized he had been biting his lip. His tongue flicked out to assess the extent of the wound he had inflicted on himself and realized it was pretty deep. He would definitely have a fat lip, once it stopped bleeding. He stifled the tears as best he could, though he was in pain, burning pain, he set his face to glaring at Malfoy. He had lived through Voldemort, this boy wasn’t going to break him so easily.
Malfoy’s smile widened and he turned his head to look at Harry, even as his hand moved to grab his next device. “I’m not trying to break you, Harry. Quite the contrary,” his voice was quiet and Harry watched him pick up his wand. “I’m trying to show you what it would have been like had you not scorned my friendship – pleasure and pain, a beautiful, perfect harmony.” A swish filled the room, and Harry gasped when the iron constraint across his abdomen fell away, transfiguring back to the thin wool blanket. Then a clicking noise reverberated throughout the cell as the chains fell away from his wrists and ankles and clanked to the floor. Harry stared wide-eyed up at Malfoy.
“What…?” Harry ask hesitantly as he sat up, rubbing his wrists. Malfoy took a step toward him and Harry paled.
Malfoy took another slow step forward, and Harry made an involuntary movement away from him. He stopped for a moment then took another step forward. Harry froze and then suddenly he was there, right in front of Harry. Before he could move away, Malfoy was leaning down, then his cool lips were on Harry’s. It was more gentle then the last time they had kissed, but still with enough pressure to make him hiss at the sharp pain, as the lips pressed against the cut on Harry’s bottom lip. Harry was about to pull away, but Malfoy’s hand was on the back of his head, the long fingers digging into his messy black hair.
Malfoy’s tongue slid along his lip so sensuously Harry moaned, and the pain actually subsided. “See?” it was the softest of whispers, said against Harry’s lips but butterflies fluttered in his stomach. Harry caught his breath when the fingers brushed along his still hardened, pulsing cock. And Harry heard the click, and the almost relief of having the cock ring removed.
The other boys body slid over Harry, pushing him back down, so he was lying fully on the bed. He was pinning him again, but gently, so that if Harry tried he could have easily pushed Malfoy off him. Long fingers were teasing over his length, and Harry was so close to coming he was gasping. “That’s right, Harry,” the voice said, and Harry had never heard it so gentle, so welcoming.
Harry moaned and it barely took any coaxing before he was coming, shooting his seed into Malfoy’s hand. The smile above him surprised him. It wasn’t the smirk he was so used to, it was a genuine, happy smile. He had never seen Malfoy truly smile, and it was strange to see it. It was beautiful. It lit up his eyes in the same way that their fighting did. Harry stared up at him as long as he could.
His mind didn’t seem to be functioning. His body was totally content, and any time he tried to think about what had just happened it rejected any thought. He just lay on the cot, waiting for his breathing to return to normal, while Malfoy watched him.
He was free now, no longer chained to the floor, or himself, surely if he fought Malfoy he would win, and escape. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He was totally comfortable where he was.
Immediately, when Malfoy moved off the bed, Harry’s head snapped to watch him. Malfoy moved to the table of toys, several still unused. But it was his wand that he picked up. Harry raised his eyebrow when that evil sneer spread across Malfoy’s face again. After seeing the rare smile, he decided this look truly did not become the blonde. “You’re a fool Harry Potter,” Malfoy said coolly. “A naïve idiot. You’ll believe anything! Anyone!” A small chuckle escaped his pale lips and Harry shifted to leaning on his elbows.
He was very confused. Again.
Malfoy picked something up off the table that Harry hadn’t seen earlier, too terrified and distracted with the toys in front of it. It was a muggle video camera. “You’re complete, humiliating performance, Potter, all here on tape, for the entire world to see. The fact that you didn’t even try to fight me, that you willingly accepted my torture of you. Ha! The fact that the Boy-Who-Lived actually enjoyed it!”
Something in Harry clicked and he glared at Malfoy, trying to decided which would be the best way to attack him. That lying sack of shit! Malfoy was right, he had enjoyed it. He had felt alive again, like a person instead of just Harry-fucking-Potter. He wanted to kick himself, scold himself for hours, cry, but mostly he wanted to hurt Draco Malfoy.
Malfoy laughed, and Harry realized that he was reading his thoughts again. “You won’t get that chance I’m afraid,” and the wand whipped up and the same spell that had hit him the night of the party smashed into him and he fell unconscious.
Harry awoke to a bright light burning his eyes behind his eyelids. When he cautiously opened them he realized he was in a hospital, Saint Mungo’s by the look of it, with fluorescent lights on above his bed. He groaned and immediately someone sprang out of a chair from near-by and made it to his bedside in one bound. The bouncy mess of brown hair, and concerned face of Hermione Granger was immediately starring down at him. “Oh, Harry!” she cried. He realized that this seemed to be a favorite phrase of hers.
“How long have I been out?” Harry groaned.
“Um…we’re not sure, Harry,” she answered and her face looked full of worry. “But the party at the Ministry when you disappeared was four days ago, and we only found you yesterday evening,” she almost looked scared to tell him. Like she had the summer between fourth and fifth year when she had been so scared of him yelling at her. He had, but he wasn’t going to now. He remembered what had happened. And he was determined to find and kill Malfoy.
He tried to push himself up, but he only managed to get to a sitting position before the woozy feeling overwhelmed him. “I’ll go get the doctor,” Hermione whispered and sprinted from the room.
After the police had questioned him, and he had insisted that he couldn’t remember anything of his days missing, he didn’t want them to get to Malfoy before he could, Harry wanted desperately to get out of the hospital, but they wanted to keep him over night for observation. He had tried everything to get out, but they had been insistent. So, he spent the evening contemplating ways to find and confront Malfoy.
He thought about going to Malfoy Manor, but figured the security there would keep him out if he was refused an audience. He could confront him at the Ministry, they had crossed paths there numerous times since the war ended but the many people who worked there would definitely see the fight and break it up. He spent the night pacing across the cool tile of the hospital room, figuring if he should really kill the bastard or just kick the shit out of him, perhaps embarrass and humiliate him as much as he had done to Harry.
The memory of it still made him incredibly frustrated with himself, because he hadn’t fought back. He had let the bastard take control, and he had liked it. More than anything he had felt in years. As the images filled his head he could feel the burning heat of tears behind his eyes. He bit his lip to stop himself from crying and hissed – it was still tender.
He got barely any sleep that night, images and ideas running through his head, each more far-fetched or ridiculous than the last. But he knew he couldn’t let this go un-retaliated. He would fight back against Malfoy, just as he had in school. And he had always won when it came to their school boy fights – and this time wouldn’t be any different.
When he was finally released from the hospital, he Apperated back to his loft just outside of London. After the war he had decided to get a place a bit away from everything, though still close enough if he was needed. He had been living here just a few short weeks, though he already considered it home. And though he would be returning to Hogwarts for a 4 month long accelerated “seventh year”, so he could get his diploma, in just over a week, for the first time, he was not looking forward to it.
It was as he showered though, still contemplating the ways to get back at the Ferret, the perfect idea came to him – he would wait until Hogwarts, and face Malfoy.
The week passed by quickly, what with all the packing and getting ready, but it also moved very slowly with his anxiety to get back at Malfoy. He packed, over and over again. He had also been practicing Occlumency and Legilimency, though it was difficult since he rarely saw anyone. But he was determined not to be so caught off guard this time. September first came and Harry was already waiting by the front door when Ron, Hermione and Hestia Jones, the order member who had been a part of the “Seven Harrys” plan, came to pick him up. Because of security, especially after Harry's mysterious disappearance, they were Apperating to Hogsmead before heading to the castle instead of taking the train. It was an uneventful trip and Harry was glad to reach the castle before the rest of the students did. It would give him a chance to get used to being there without the chance of being caught upset.
The Great Hall was the worst. Though it looked exactly as it had every year for the Welcoming Feast, Harry couldn’t get the images out of his head – the bodies of all the dead strewn out in rows on the floor – Lupin, Tonks, Fred. So many feelings filled him, overwhelmed him. He brushed the back of his hands over his eyes, wiped away the tears, and headed back upstairs to unpack.
Harry was surprised at how different the Great Hall felt with so many people in it. People he knew, first and second years that he didn’t. It completely transformed the feel of the room and Harry was surprised at how calm he was when he entered it for dinner. Of course there was still some tension, especially within most of the older students, but everyone was so relieved to be back without the fears of the last several years, and Harry nearly smiled.
Then his eyes locked onto those slashing silver orbs from the across the room and his breath caught. Harry glared back at those eyes and the different plans he had been contemplating ran through his head – though he was sure to block his thoughts from the Slytherin. He had gotten very good at this part, at least, during his time at home. It was very easy to practice as he packed. Malfoy watched him for some time and Harry knew he was trying to read his mind. A flash of anger filled Malfoy’s eyes, and Harry smiled before moving to the Gryffindor table. Oh yes, his plan would work.
Harry hadn’t used the Marauder’s Map so much since his sixth year, nearly two years ago, when he was trying to find out Malfoy’s secret in the Room of Requirement. But as soon as he was done with dinner that first night, he began using it fixedly, determined to get Malfoy alone long enough to confront him. It seemed however that the other boy was well aware of his intentions because he never seemed to be alone. This didn’t really surprise Harry, but he was just as determined and stubborn as Malfoy. He would find the opportunity.
It took a shockingly long time for that chance to arrive. Harry figured the escorts might subside if nothing happened – if he let Malfoy alone, maybe he wouldn’t feel it necessary to have Goyle by his side all the time, but they didn’t. Days passed, a week. Two. A month. And still Harry couldn’t get a single moment to fulfill his dark plan. Of course, Malfoy couldn’t avoid him completely, and when they ran into each other in the hallways, or in a classroom, just like old times they would either ignore each other completely, or one of their infamous fights would break out.
Harry waited as patiently as he could, but even more time passed and he began to get restless. Two months, and not only did Harry know Malfoy’s schedule like his own but he realized he was obsessing over the other boy. The maps folding lines were beginning to fray, and he felt anxious if he didn’t check often enough – which was turning out to be at least once an hour. He would follow Malfoy, even if they would have been going in completely different directions. He would creep around corners of the corridors, or hide behind books in the library. He had dreams about him – about his time in the cell, or what Harry was going to do once he actually got Malfoy alone. He realized, as he had nearly two years before when he had stalked the Room of Requirement, that he was obsessing over Draco Malfoy. Hermione and Ron didn’t ask questions anymore, and Harry thanked whatever it was that was keeping them from doing so. Though he was pretty sure it was because he was still being extremely exclusive, hardly talking to them and spending as much time alone as he could.
On top of following Malfoy, he used his free time to practice Occlumency and Legilimency, and was, in fact, becoming very skilled at it. Voldemort hadn’t been enough to motivate him into learning the talent, but apparently, getting back at Malfoy was. He practiced every moment he could, when he wasn’t staring at the Map: during his boring classes, at lunch, and before he slept.
It was Halloween night when Harry’s moment finally arrived. Dinner was over, and dessert had just appeared when Malfoy stood from his seat on the other side of the enormous room, alone, and walked out the doors.
Almost immediately, Harry excused himself and slipped out of the dining room, being as inconspicuous as possible, he pulled the map out and watched the ink feet with the small intricate hand writing stating ‘Draco Malfoy’.
He followed down the corridors, excitement racing through his blood when he realized Malfoy was headed toward the bathroom – a prefect place for their little “chat” to occur. Harry was a couple minutes behind Malfoy, and when he opened the heavy door, and walked in, the blonde was washing his hands.
“What the fuck do you want, Potter?” Malfoy hissed, shutting off the water.
“I thought that fairly obvious, Malfoy,” Harry shot his own words back at him. “You really thought I’d let you get away with what you did to me?” Harry’s hands were shaking ever so slightly, and he felt stupid for not being as confident as Malfoy had appeared to be those months ago.
One perfectly arched blonde eyebrow raised in his direction and he ground his teeth together. “Well, it’s not like you didn’t have the chance. You could have turned me in. But you’re a goody two-shoes Potter, not to mention it would completely ruin your reputation. You really want it getting out that not only do you like men, but being tortured?” Malfoy chuckled.
Harry nearly snarled, took a step toward the other boy, his hands in fists. “Fuck you, Malfoy! You kidnapped and fucked me, and you have the audacity to make fun of me!” Harry’s hands were shaking now, but not from nerves, but from anger! “I’m going to make you pay you son-of-a-bitch!” Harry crossed the space between them in just a few steps, and Malfoy pressed himself against the basin of the sink as Harry’s fist flew out and slammed right into the middle of the mirror behind Malfoy’s head.
A resounding crack echoed through the bathroom as glass shattered. Tiny shards splintered off, clinking into the porcelain sink and onto the floor. Harry’s hand was bleeding, and some ruby speckles dotted the spider-webbed glass. Pain throbbed through his hand and blood trickled down his fingers to splatter on the floor, but Harry stood, unflinching, staring deep into Malfoy’s eyes.
Harry forced himself to remain steady. His hand was throbbing but he was too angry to care. Malfoy was staring at him with wide, almost-scared eyes. Again, a thousand different things passed through Harry’s head, different ways to continue. For weeks he had planned on kicking the shit out him, or completely embarrassing him in front of the student body, but standing here, so close to him, Malfoy’s chest rising and falling so quickly, and his eyes with such heated fire, those thoughts disappeared.
Unbidden, his bleeding fist swung out again, though this time it wasn’t a warning shot. Harry’s fist collided with Malfoy’s hard jaw bone and Malfoy yelled out as his head flung to the side. His hand flew to his wounded face, and when he turned to glare at Harry, moaning with the motion, his lip was bleeding. The look on Malfoy’s face was wild and angry, and Harry felt that life spread like fire through him once again. His breath quickened and his pulse raced.
Harry surprised himself when he flung himself against Malfoy, forcing the other boy back, once again, against the sink basin. A shocked yelp escaped Malfoy’s pastel lips just before Harry’s crashed into them. Fiercely. Harry pressed his whole body against the other one, and kissed Malfoy like he was about to devour him. There was no sex toys, no camera, but Harry was more aroused now than he ever had been, even more than that night.
He forced himself into Malfoy’s mind as he kissed him. Images washed over him – many of Harry over the years. It was so strange seeing himself through this perspective, and he was surprised with the many emotions Malfoy associated with him. Everything from lust to hate, to love. Harry recognized every feeling as it passed over him and groaned against the soft lip’s beneath his. “Draco…” he whispered the name, much as he had those months ago. This seemed to stir something inside the other boy.
Suddenly, cool fingers were wrapping their way around the back of his head and neck, dragging him against the lithe body, desperate almost. Frenzied, they grabbed at each other, pulling desperately at the clothing that covered them. Shirts were tossed carelessly to the floor, pants tugged down haphazardly. Fingers dug into skin to the point of pain, yelps and moans filled the bathroom, only to be soothed with caresses and sweet laps of tongues.
Hands groped, desperate to get at bare flesh, to reach and touch throbbing erections. Harry, to his surprise, found himself, stomach pressed against the cold sink as Malfoy whispered a lubrication spell.
The first push into him made him cry out a sound somewhere between a moan and a scream. But he was grunting after just a moment. Malfoy was both gentle enough not to truly hurt him, but fierce enough to make whimpers and moans escaped with each thrust. Minutes passed and the room was filled with heavy panting, curses and near-animalistic sounds. Each time Harry looked up he saw himself in the fractured mirror, Malfoy behind him, riding him with a smug look on his face.
The tension was building in his stomach again and he could feel himself getting closer to coming with each movement. When a hard SLAP resounded and a stinging pain blossomed across his ass, and he cried out, “DRACO!” Harry nearly came right then. Another smack and Harry bucked against the porcelain. One more and Harry’s ass felt wonderfully raw, swollen. The fourth time, Harry came, all over the floor and sink. Clamping his muscles tight around Malfoy during his orgasm, he was soon to follow, pulling out and coming all over the sink.
Several minutes passed as they regained their breathing, then they cleaned themselves off and pulled back on their clothes. Harry thought about breaking the silence, but he wasn’t sure how, apparently Malfoy had the same idea because he didn’t speak. Harry watched as he crossed to the door, wishing for anything to say.
“Watch that Map, Potter, you’ll find another opportunity tonight,” Malfoy whispered and then disappeared out the door.