hd_hols (hd_hols) wrote in hd_holidays,

Happy Holidays ellie_nor

Author: son_of_darkness
Recipient: ellie_nor
Title: Cry For Me.
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco… shockingly.
Summary: Harry discovers that the old phrase, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it", really does hold true.
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): BDSM, D/s (of the loving variety), bondage, public spanking, bottom!Draco… does that count as a warning?
Word Count: 10,356
Author's Notes: ellie_nor asked for Dom/sub, bondage, loving S&M, emotionally hot smut and a protective/possessive relationship. I hope I captured all that for ya'. :) Happy H/D Hols, Flame. ♥

Harry watched him. It excited him to watch Draco like this; obedient and totally submissive. He noted his posture, the straightness of his back and shoulders, the high tilt of his chin. Pride obvious in every line of his body. Nearly three hours had passed since Draco's punishment had started and Harry couldn't help but thrill at the sheer strength of will and determination Draco was demonstrating in order not to let him down. Harry didn’t think he'd be able to bear it.

He looked at the clock on the far wall, pushed himself to his feet and walked slowly over to the corner in which Draco sat. "Your three hours are up. You can stand up, now."

He watched, again, as Draco painfully pushed himself up from his knees and used the wall to raise himself to full height. Harry was sure Draco's legs must have been aching, having just spent the past three hours resting all his weight on them, heels digging into his already hot and previously well-spanked arse.

"Thank you, Harry," Draco said, quietly, keeping his eyes on Harry's collarbone. Harry took a moment to look Draco over, making sure that his aching knees were the extent of his obvious discomfort and nothing more. He didn't want to damage him, after all.

"You understand why I had to punish you, Draco, don't you?" Harry asked, voice very calm and even. The punishment was over, so he didn't want to come across as too stern, but he needed to be firm until he felt sure Draco understood his reasoning. If a punishment was not understood, then it was essentially a waste of time and effort.

Draco nodded, eyes still fixed on Harry's collarbone, cheeks flushed, out of either shame or embarrassment. Harry hoped it was a bit of both. "Yes, Harry."

"Then explain it to me. And look at me when you talk to me, Draco. I haven't demanded you avert your gaze, have I?"

"No, sorry." Draco looked up, his pink tongue poking out somewhat nervously to moisten his lips. "You had to punish me because I deliberately antagonised you tonight at the bar."

Harry nodded. "By doing what?"

"By… flirting with Adrian until he offered to buy me a drink."

"That's right. And why did you want to antagonise me?"

There was a silence for a while, and as Harry watched Draco's face, he could see the faintest hint of a smirk tug surreptitiously at the corners of Draco's mouth.

There was no answer, but Harry didn't need one. He knew it, already. He turned and made his way towards the kitchen. "You can sleep on the floor by my side of the bed, tonight. And for however many nights I see fit to keep you down there. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Harry."

Harry grinned as he opened the kitchen door. "Good boy."

* * *

The party started at seven o'clock. Draco was still getting dressed at ten past. Harry had been ready for a good twenty minutes and he was getting impatient.

"What's taking so long, Draco? The party started ten minutes ago and it takes us nearly half an hour to get there, anyway." He kept looking at his watch, as if glowering at it would eventually scare it into slowing down. There was no reply. "Draco!"

After several moments, the door creaked open and Draco stepped out of the bedroom, wiping some invisible lint off his left sleeve. A gesture Harry thought was quite obviously for show, as Draco's suits were always immaculately clean. Almost unnaturally so. Harry frowned. "You realise we're going to be late?"

Draco nodded. "It's called making an entrance."

"No, Draco, it's called being rude. I promised we'd be there by seven and now you've made me a liar."

"They won't mind if you're a little late," Draco said, slightly less assuredly this time. "And if you're really worried, we can just Apparate."

"You're missing the point, Draco. Look at the time," Harry replied, pointing to the clock. "Even if we Apparate, we're still ten minutes late. You do this every time. If you know it's going to take you that extra ten minutes to get ready, then you should start getting ready ten minutes earlier."

Draco bit his lip and lowered his eyes. Harry could always tell when Draco felt guilty, but he hated it when Draco looked away from him. "Look at me," he said firmly, and Draco did as he was told. "We're going to have to Apparate, now… it's too late to get a cab, but I want you to apologise to Phillip when we get there for being late. Understood?"

"Yes, Harry," Draco replied quietly. Harry grabbed their coats and handed Draco's to him before they both Apparated with a loud crack onto Crestfield Grounds.

The grass was wet and Harry was none too happy that the hems of his trousers were now damp. He frowned as he made his way purposefully up the hill and finally onto the gravel path leading to the entrance. He could see the footman on the door, clearly curious as to why he hadn't seen them come in through the gates, but he didn't particularly fancy trying to find an explanation. Just let the man think he was going a bit senile in his old age.

He nodded to the man and walked through with Draco into the dining room.

"Ah, you two," came Phillip Crestfield's voice from somewhere behind them as they entered the room. They both turned and smiled as Phillip strode towards them, hand already extended to be shaken. Harry shook hands first, firmly, as always, giving the man a friendly smile. They were not amazingly close, but he'd learned, through both trial and error and, of course, Draco, that pleasantries needed to be observed. If someone had told Harry five years ago that he'd be attending fancy dinner parties in luxurious rural mansions on a semi-regular basis, he'd have laughed at them, but Draco had been quite insistent, and Harry did have this terrible habit of spoiling him.

Draco shook his hand next and Harry noted the slight flush to Phillip's cheeks as they made eye contact. There was a moment's pause, then Phillip stepped back and smiled widely at both of them. "Dinner will be ready in roughly twenty minutes if you want to have a wander round and a chit chat. Gregory McCloud was asking after you not too long go, Harry. I think he wants to tell you about his new business venture."

Harry could feel his brain shutting down already, but he smiled and nodded. "Great," he said, hoping it didn't sound too feigned. "I'd love to talk to him. Where is he?"

"Oh, around…" Phillip replied, waving his hand vaguely in some general direction or other.

"Right," Harry nodded. "I'll go and see if I can find him, then. Draco… you stay here and talk to Phillip." He gave Draco a knowing smile, squeezed his shoulder and made his way round the room. He wasn't particularly looking for Mr. McCloud, as nice as the man was, he just didn't seem to understand that Harry knew nothing about real estate. Harry tried, he really did, to seem interested, to ask questions he thought sounded intelligent, and even offer opinions when asked, but he always walked away from the conversation feeling really quite dense and more than slightly confused.

He looked over at Draco and Phillip and saw them talking to each other quite amiably, which was good. Harry was sure Phillip wouldn't have cared a fig if they'd been forty minutes late, but Draco had to learn and this was the only way he could think of to teach him. He lingered by the back of the room, taking a glass of white wine from a passing tray and sipping on it occasionally as he watched them across the way.

Draco always had such a way with people, Harry thought, noticing the familiar way Draco touched Phillip's arm when they spoke and his shoulder when they laughed. Harry never would have considered coming to one of these parties if Draco hadn't insisted and whined so much about it. He felt so out of place here, though he tried his very best to hide it, for Draco's sake. They had both made compromises in this relationship; Draco had been made to make nice with Harry's friends -- though Harry could still feel the venom oozing from Draco's pores every time Harry mentioned their names – and in return, Harry had agreed to attend these ridiculously over-elaborate dinner parties that Draco seemed so very fond of.

That's what being in love was. Compromise, cuddles, and great sex.

Harry watched as Draco took a seat next to Phillip at the head of the table and they began to whisper things to each other, leaning over the table and laughing every so often at something Harry could only guess at. He felt his brow furrow and he made to make his way towards them, when…

"Ah, Harry, there you are."

Gregory McCloud had finally caught him. Harry froze for a moment, then drained his drink and turned to face the old man, smiling as genuine a smile as he could muster. "Mr. McCloud… uh… hello. How are you this evening?"

"Oh fine, my dear boy, just fine. And yourself? It's been a while, hasn't it? I have so much to tell you."

Harry nodded and swallowed thickly. "Oh… good…"

* * *

At Mr. McCloud's insistence, arrangements were made for Harry to sit by him and his wife, Bette, during dinner. Harry was less than thrilled, but there was little he could do about it. He tucked into his starter, attempting to look surreptitiously over at Draco and Phillip as they chatted with increasing familiarity across from him, while at the same time trying his hardest to sound interested in Mr. McCloud's new investment in land over in Croatia.

"You see," Mr. McCloud said importantly, "it's all about getting in on the ground level. Real estate is a booming industry now, Harry, and everyone wants a piece of it. The thing is…"

Harry could actually feel his brain melting inside his skull. He nodded politely at McCloud, smiling encouragingly every now and then, throwing in the odd "Mmhmm" and "Uh-huh" when appropriate, and just generally trying to keep the man happy. Harry was sure he was probably a really fun guy to talk to when one could steer the topic of conversation away from business-related matters. He crunched the last of his salad as he chanced another glance across the table. Draco smiling at Phillip as Phillip poured him another drink. Harry hadn't been counting, but he was sure that was at least four drinks, now.

Starters were cleared and the second course arrived. Then the main. Harry didn't eat much of either. Truth be told, he was waiting for dessert, but also, he was not so much in the mood for eating while Draco and Phillip sat, at the head of the table, obviously flirting right in front of him. He picked around his plate, eyes narrowed and focused on the two men as McCloud's voice turned into incoherent warbling somewhere in the back of his conscious mind. He could feel something knot in his stomach when Phillip offered Draco a piece of pheasant from his own fork, and even more so when Draco took it.

He dug his fork almost violently into his duck and carved at it with his knife in frustration.

"Are you alright, old boy?" McCloud questioned, leaning over and whispering into Harry's ear. Harry realised what he must look like and promptly stopped what he was doing to smile at the old men.

"Yeah. Sorry, was somewhere else."

Main course was cleared from the table and people were given several minutes to digest their food, before silver platters and elaborate carved glass plates were brought out from the kitchen, laden with more varieties of cakes, trifles and gateaux than Harry had ever seen in his life. The Chardonnay was cleared away and snifters of sweet sherry were placed strategically about the table. Harry helped himself to a small slice of black forest gateau, and graciously accepted a glass of sherry when Mr. McCloud offered, but he didn't take his eyes off Draco.

Again, Phillip offered Draco some cake from his fork, Draco accepted, and then did the same. A little bit of jam smeared the corner of Phillip's mouth and Harry's entire body stiffened as he watched Draco lean over with a napkin and very deliberately wide it off. Harry felt like he was going to explode; he hadn't even touched his gateau, but he didn't think he could manage it, now. There was something angry bubbling away inside of him, and just when he thought it couldn't get any worse… Draco turned to him and smirked.

Harry's rage boiled to a blinding red hot peak, then settled, and he suddenly felt very calm. He politely excused himself from the table, placing the napkin that had been clumsily draped across his lap onto the table, and walked over to Phillip at the head of the table. He smiled at their host politely and turned to Draco. "Excuse me, sorry to interrupt your conversation, but could I talk to you outside for a moment?"

Draco looked at Harry, then to Phillip, then back to Harry, again, before nodding and pushing back his seat. "I'll be back in a minute," he said to Phillip, who smiled and nodded and raised a glass cheerily to them as Harry made his way from the room with Draco close behind.

"Get your coat, Draco," Harry said plainly, voice calm but unmistakably clipped. He took his own from the unnecessarily elaborately carved coat stand and stalked towards the door, assuming Draco would do as directed. He did. Harry made his way outside and bid the doorman a goodnight before striding down to the front gates and down a dimly lit side-street. Draco was no more than a few short feet behind him and as soon as Harry stopped, he took Draco by the wrist and Apparated both of them home.

There was a moment's silence; the only sound that penetrated the tense lack of voice was the hollow wooden thud of the clock as its small brass pendulum hit repeatedly against its polished wooden casing.

"Take off your clothes, Draco," Harry ordered, voice still calm and evenly balanced, despite the fire running through his veins.

Draco was still for a brief moment, then did exactly as he was told. He removed his coat and placed it back on its hook by the door. He slipped off his waistcoat and slid out of his shirt and trousers, folding them neatly and placing them quite precisely over the back of the settee, before standing to face Harry, head held high, eyes level and arms hanging straight by his sides. Harry noted it all, revelling in it, this act of proud submission. So sleek and elegant - and all his.

"Stand in the centre of the room and wait there until I tell you otherwise." Harry's voice was not harsh, but firm and unquestionable. He watched as Draco moved to the centre of the room, back still straight, chin still raised, and he smiled to himself as he made his way into the bedroom to gather his implements. He knew he could easily have cast Accio on them and not have moved a muscle, but there was something about walking away and coming back to something that stood just as you had left it that was always immensely satisfying to Harry. He picked out several lengths of soft cotton rope – soft, but undeniably sturdy -- a long metal spreader bar, a plaited leather flogger and a thin, wispy bamboo cane. He smirked to himself as he flicked the cane through the air, and listened to the faint, ghostly whoosh that went with it. Draco didn't like the cane, and that, for tonight, suited his purposes quite nicely.

With everything he needed in hand, he made his way back into the living room and stood to watch Draco from the doorway for several moments. Draco hadn't moved, and even now, as Harry watched him, sure that Draco could feel his eyes burning holes onto his skin, he remained perfectly still. After a few moments of his silent vigil, Harry made his way over to Draco and placed everything but the rope down on the floor at Draco's feet. "Hold out your hands," he instructed, coiling a length of rope around the pale, fragile-looking wrists when Draco obeyed. Four coils, not overlapping, a tight cinch in the middle and a simple double knot to hold it in place. The black rope looked good against Draco's pale skin, Harry ran his fingers over it before picking up a second length of rope, tying one end to Draco's bound wrists and the other to the small metal hook protruding from the ceiling. He left some slack in the rope, knowing he'd need it, as he crouched down and slid two more lengths through the drilled holes at each end of the spreader bar and tied each length tightly round each of Draco's ankles. The slack in the rope holding Draco's arms to the ceiling instantly tautened as Draco's spread legs pulled him farther from it, and Harry briefly stopped to watch the way Draco's stretched chest moved as he breathed.

"Now," Harry began, moving to pick up the remaining items from the floor. "Before I start, I want to be sure that you understand what it is you're being punished for. So tell me."

Draco hesitated for several moments, then Harry saw the pink of his tongue dart out to moisten his lips. "Because I was flirting with Phillip," Draco said simply, keeping his voice low, as if trying – rather in vain - to hide the slight tremor of excitement that laced it.

Harry nodded, placing the cane on the back of the couch before running his fingers through the flogger's thin leather strands. "Good. And how many strokes do you think that's worth?"

Draco hesitated, as Harry knew he would. He understood perfectly how uncomfortable that question made him and he liked to make him squirm. "I asked you a question, Draco."

"I… I don't…"

Harry sighed, picked up the cane from the back of the couch and gave Draco's left arse cheek a sound thwack with it, smirking as Draco flinched and almost squealed in response. "Now answer me," he said, firmly. "How many strokes do you think this infraction is worth?"

"Thirty?" Draco replied, tentatively, trying to look back over his shoulder. Harry tapped him on the shoulder blade with the cane and he turned back to face front again, like a well-trained puppy.

"Thirty? Is that all?"


"Are you asking me or telling me?"

Again, there was no reply, and Harry planted the cane just as hard on the other cheek, watching as a bright red welt rose almost instantly on the pale skin. Draco jumped and hissed through clenched teeth before replying. "Telling," he said in a breath, shifting just slightly where he stood.

"Right, then. Forty strokes it is." Harry smirked and placed the cane back down on the couch. "I want you to count them off for me. If you lose count, Draco, we start again from the beginning. Clear?"

Draco nodded, "Yes, Harry," and Harry saw Draco's hands clench into tight, sweaty fists above his head.

He raised the flogger and brought it down hard on Draco's already cane-striped bum and suppressed a pleasant little shudder as Draco jumped and grunted.

"One," he gasped, hips moving forward of their own accord, as if moving away from the source of pain would make it cease. But it lasted only a moment before he corrected himself and moved back; a simple gesture, but a significant one.

Harry brought the flogger down again, in the same place.


Already the skin was starting to blush a pale shade of pink, and as Harry brought the flogger down a third time…


… he could see it already starting to darken. Two more strokes and the skin had turned light red. Six more, and a rich crimson was now painting its way across Draco's heated flesh.

Harry kept going, the sound of leather against skin echoing off the walls and making the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand on end. It was matched only by the sound of Draco's cries, which grew progressively louder with every blow, and the satisfyingly strained-voiced count that Draco obediently kept track of.

"Thirteen. Fourteen. F-fifteen…" All delivered in quick succession. Harry could see Draco's legs tremble slightly and he smiled. He delivered the next four in a steady rhythm and stopped just before he reached the half-way mark. Draco counted twenty before the blow fell and Harry frowned. He delivered the twentieth stroke and picked up the cane once again. With a quick, but well practiced flick of his wrist, he'd landed another hard thwack against Draco's now red and extremely sore-looking arse cheek. Draco jumped and Harry could hear him stifle a swear word under his breath.

"That's for pre-empting me."

Draco took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sorry, Harry."

Harry smirked and cupped the heated flesh in his hand as he moved round to stand by Draco's side. Draco's eyes were downcast, but Harry didn't mind that in this circumstance. He was intimidated, and that's what Harry wanted right now. He gave the cheek a squeeze and watched as Draco's eyes shut tight, teeth clenched in pain; Harry liked that. Reaching down with his free hand, he took hold of Draco's already semi-erect cock and began to stroke it slowly, watching as the pain on Draco's face melted away almost instantly. Draco's eyes opened and for a moment or two he looked genuinely confused, but he knew better than to question it. Harry could see the look of restraint on his face.

"Do you like that?" Harry asked softly, almost tenderly, and Draco nodded, hips once again moving of their own accord. Harry watched his face, the way his eyes were fixed on his own cock, the colour rising in his cheeks, the way he licked his lips – he was intoxicating. After several moments Harry stopped stroking and removed his hand, much to Draco's obvious, however silent, disappointment. Moving back round, he took up the flogger again and positioned himself by Draco's other cheek. Raising his arm, he swung hard and brought the heavy leather strands down on Draco's relatively un-marked left buttock.

"Twenty one…" Draco panted and strained against the ropes binding his wrists to the ceiling.

Harry swung hard and fast until Draco reached thirty five on his count, then paused, taking a step back to regain his own breath. He could see Draco's entire body trembling by now, the tension in his spread legs taking its toll. Draco's calf muscles were twitching and he kept trying to reposition himself, as if to get a better purchase. Harry watched him struggle, delighting in the sounds of discomfort and whimpers of pain that issued almost unwittingly from Draco's throat. He could tell the blond was close to tears, and he wanted to make sure he got him there. Raising his arm and pulling it back once again, he swung with all his strength and landed the flogger with a smack so loud it sounded like a small sonic boom. Draco screamed and Harry heard the first proper sob escape, followed by a small, cracking "Thirty six…"

Harry felt his chest expand with pride that Draco had remembered to count. He raised his arm again and brought it down just as hard, eliciting another scream and strangled sob. "Thirty s-seven…"

Draco's back heaved and shuddered as he cried, his feet still shifting his weight uncomfortably, and his knees starting to buckle under the strain.

The flogger fell again.

"Thirty eight…"

And again.

"Thirty nine…"

And the last one was aimed at both abused and red-coloured cheeks, all but knocking Draco off his feet as he slumped slightly in the restraints, as if trying to curl in on himself.

Harry put the flogger down and walked back round in front and took hold of Draco's flagging erection. "Do you want me to stroke you again, Draco?" he asked, running his thumb teasingly over the head. Draco nodded and sniffed, whimpering and looking up into Harry's eyes almost pleadingly.

Harry did, keeping eye contact with Draco as he moved his hand firmly up and down the shaft, feeling it harden again under his touch. He loved the way he reflected in Draco's tears as they brimmed in his eyes, he could watch Draco cry all day. He was so beautiful when he cried. He looked down to his lips, parted slightly as his breathing grew heavier and more rapid. His skin was hotly flushed and his silvery fringe clung to his sweat-soaked forehead as he rocked steadily into Harry's hand. Slowly, Draco's sobs turned into quiet moans and his hips moved faster and more erratically as Harry increased the speed and pressure of his strokes. He could see the measure of Draco's endurance waning on his face.

"Don't you dare come," Harry warned, almost whispering the words into Draco's ear. "Not without my permission."

Draco didn't protest or whimper, just bit his lip and closed his eyes. Harry could feel Draco trying to steady his own hips, to control himself and, inwardly, he smirked. He could feel Draco was close, teetering on the brink, and he kept up his stroking for several further moments, before simply stopping and letting go.

Draco's eyes instantly snapped open and he looked up at Harry in desperation. "Harry, please…" he whispered, and Harry heard his voice crack slightly, the tears welling once again in his eyes.

Harry shook his head. "Not today, Draco," he said, reaching up to wipe a tear away from Draco's jaw. "You understand why, don't you?"

Draco closed his eyes, forcing a new batch of tears to trickle down his face, and nodded. "Yes…" It was quiet, hoarse… barely audible, but absolute and unquestioning.

"Good boy." Harry smiled, catching one of the fresh tears on his thumb as it dripped off Draco's chin. "Tell me who you belong to, Draco."

There was no pause, no hesitation. Draco looked up at Harry and whispered "You," and smiled despite his tears.

Harry kissed him and released him from his bonds.

Draco fell asleep on the couch that night, head resting in Harry's lap.

* * *

The following two weeks were quiet. Draco cancelled another dinner party per Harry's request, and the two of them stayed indoors and played with ropes and chains, instead. They went shopping on Saturday, Draco smiled at the checkout guy, and Harry scowled all the way home. Draco was made to eat his dinner out of a dog bowl, that night.

Then finally, after a more or less uneventful week, Friday, once again, rolled round.

Harry watched Draco from the doorway, unable to conceal a grin as Draco turned and examined himself in the mirror. This level of vanity, on anybody else, Harry thought, would have been highly unattractive, but on Draco… Harry could help but find it completely adorable. And justified, really. He stood and watched for a good ten minutes, not even caring that they were, once again, running late; this was no formal do, and nobody was waiting for them.

"If we didn't have anywhere to be, how long do you think you'd be standing there looking at yourself?" Harry asked after a while, amused, stepping into the room proper.

Draco didn't remove his eyes from his reflection once. "Until I got bored."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "So you'd starve to death, then?"

"Oh, don't be silly," Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. Then he smirked. "You could bring me food."

Harry laughed. He wasn't sure why vanity seemed to suit Draco so well, but he'd be missing something without it. He walked over to Draco and placed his hands on the other boy's slim waist, pressing his lips to the back of Draco's neck. "Well, as much fun as I'm sure you'd have trying to out-pose your reflection, we have to get going."

Draco sighed and Harry felt his waist expand under his hands. "Am I wearing my collar?"

"Of course," Harry nodded, moving back and giving Draco a small pat on his vinyl-clad bum. "Go and fetch it for me, love." He smiled watching Draco move to the bedside table, before he turned and headed through to the living room to collect their coats. Club nights happened only once every couple of months, and it was Harry who had first made the decision to seek them out. It had started as a way for them both, or more importantly, Harry, to learn more about the scene and gain valuable first-hand experience. When Draco had first suggested Harry hit him, he'd been horrified, and assured Draco he'd never do a thing to hurt him. It had taken Draco weeks to convince him that not only did he want Harry to hurt him - he needed it. Club nights had become a regular thing after that, and now it was no longer a learning experience, but something altogether much more enjoyable.

Harry laid the coats over the back of the settee just as Draco emerged from the bedroom, carrying a thin, black leather collar in one hand, and a chain lead in the other. Harry smiled and took both items from him. "Good boy," he said. "Turn around." He slipped the collar artfully around Draco's throat and buckled it tightly, padlocking it in place and giving the nape of Draco's neck a quick kiss, as he placed the lead safely in his pocket.

They Apparated into a disused toilet cubicle in the club's bathroom and Harry could see the sneer creeping across Draco's face. Harry knew it wasn't nearly as classy an entrance as Draco would have liked, but it was the cheapest and fastest way to travel, and Harry was impatient. He opened the door and let Draco out first, sensing his frustration and desire to spend no more time in this room than was strictly necessary. Harry pulled the lead from his pocket and hooked it onto the ring at the front of Draco's collar, giving it a slight tug, just to make sure he was paying attention. "What are my rules, Draco?"

Draco licked his lips. "Not to talk to anyone else unless instructed to do so by you first."

"Good," Harry nodded. "And what if someone talks to you first?"

"I wait until you give me permission before I answer."

Harry grinned and gave Draco's lead another little tug. "Right," he said, and made his way from the room, leading Draco along behind him.

The club was packed, as usual, people were dancing and drinking, the bar was busy and, as far as Harry could see, most of the settees were taken. He walked with Draco across the dance floor to the far wall, looking around until he spotted a free settee by the railings near the back of the room. The chain in his hand was slack from Draco keeping so close, and Harry couldn't help but feel a little smug that his Draco had been so well trained. Harry sank into the sofa as they sat and spent a few minutes just looking around. He liked to watch other people at play, he found it fascinating the way so many people could be so accepting of such an unusual lifestyle. And not only accept it, but embrace it. Sometimes, when he thought about it, it seemed so weird and unhealthy, and he couldn't really describe what it was about it that had drawn him in so fully, but then other times, he just had to look into Draco's eyes to understand why.

Draco shifted beside him on the couch, and Harry dug his hand into his pocket and handed Draco some money. "Get me a vodka and coke. No ice." He didn't need to ask here, they both understood the dynamics and Harry could tell Draco liked obeying orders, anyway. It was the way he smirked when he thought Harry couldn't see. He watched as Draco made his way over to the bar, keeping an eye on him until he disappeared into the crowd. Despite his position, whenever Harry found himself on his own in a club, he couldn't help but feel highly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and sank back into his seat slightly, waiting patiently for Draco to return with his drink.

It was almost ten minutes later that Draco finally emerged from the crowd, holding Harry's vodka and coke in one hand, and a second, slightly more purple drink in the other. Harry watched silently as Draco placed both drinks on the table and sat back down, leaning forward to sip at his purple drink through a long straw.

"Where did that come from?" Harry asked, more confused than anything. He'd only given Draco enough money for one drink.

Oh," Draco replied, sitting back and taking his drink with him. "A guy at the bar bought it or me."

Harry blinked. Draco's casual manner irritated him, slightly. "And why did he do that?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. He was standing next to me at the bar and he bought me a drink. Said I had a nice smile."

Harry was silent for a while, trying to sort things out in his head. He could feel himself frowning and his temper rising. He hadn't even given Draco permission to get himself a drink. "So, you smiled at him? Did you talk to him?" he was trying to disguise the tremor of anger in his voice, through he could tell he was failing quite miserably.

Draco put his drink back down and turned to Harry, obviously now aware that he'd crossed a line. "Only to say thank you," he replied. "I didn't start a conversation with him or anything."

Harry narrowed his eyes, then turned back to face he dance floor, sipping from his own drink in silence. They'd been in the club all of fifteen minutes and Draco had already broken a rule. This was a new record. He could feel Draco move beside him, and he could see him out of the corner of his eyes.

"Harry… I didn't me-"

"Draco, shut up. You are not to speak to me for the rest of the night unless spoken to, understood?"

Draco was still for a while, then nodded. "Yes, Harry."

"Good." He took hold of Draco's lead and pulled him down out of his seat and onto the floor. "You'll sit here until I tell you otherwise. If you need to go to the bathroom, you may request permission by squeezing my hand, other than that, you don't move until I tell you."

Draco nodded again and the look of utter subservience he saw in his eyes was enough to dampen Harry's anger, slightly. He let out a slow sigh and went back to sipping his drink. Placing speech restrictions on Draco was not Harry's favourite punishment, as it not only limited Draco's interactions, but Harry's, too. However, he felt it was fitting of the crime, and he had to go through with it, lest Draco think he'd got away with breaking the rules. However, this now left Harry with nobody to talk to. He sat, and he watched, sipping his drink and occasionally checking on Draco, who was leaning gently against his leg. He ran his fingers absent-mindedly through Draco's hair, enjoying the feel of it between his fingers, and just allowed himself to get lost in other people's play.

Currently, he was watching a beautiful woman caning a man, quite severely, who was easily old enough to be her grandfather. Again, he found himself wondering at the weirdness of it all, and grinning to himself as the old man thanked the woman profusely, and scrabbled to pull his trousers back up. He was just about to mention the brutal caning the man had received to Draco, and ask what he thought of it, but stopped dead in his tracks when he looked down and saw Draco smiling, quite obviously, at a man sitting just several feet away on a large padded armchair.

Harry's blood boiled and he grabbed Draco by the hair and hauled him to his feet. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he growled, furiously, pulling Draco's face in close to his own. Draco looked at a complete loss and Harry let go of his hair and dragged him round to the back of the couch on a very taut lead. "Bend over, Draco," he ordered, pushing him up against sofa's hard back. Draco did as he was told, and Harry could see the deep crimson blush spread across his face as he stared purposefully into the worn brown leather. He unbuttoned Draco's trousers and pulled them down to his knees, not caring that there might be people watching, and delivered a hard smack to Draco's backside.

Draco gasped and Harry saw his whole body tense before bringing his hand down again on the opposite cheek, harder than before. He didn't wait for a reaction the second time, and another smack fell, and another, until Draco's arse was bright pink and Harry could see his legs trembling. His hand stung, now, but he kept going, ignoring the eyes concentrated on him and his Draco, until, finally, he heard a small muffled sob escape into the padded leather. He stopped, took a deep breath and pulled Draco back up by the padlock attached to the back of his collar. He wouldn't humiliate Draco by letting others see him cry, not like this. He turned Draco round and pulled him close, still frowning. "Don't you dare cry," he said, keeping his voice low and gruff. "Not yet. Your tears are for me, only, is that clear?"

Draco sniffed and nodded and Harry stepped back. It was about time they were leaving, he thought. "Pull your trousers back up, then. We're going home."

Draco did as he was told, and Harry waited until Draco was once again properly dressed, before leading him quickly back to the bathroom and into the nearest cubicle. They Apparated home without another word. When they arrived, Harry released Draco's lead before making his way to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and drank it, standing in the middle of the room for several minutes, before making his way back out into the living room. Draco was standing exactly where Harry had left him.

"You understand why I did that, don't you?" Harry asked.

Draco bit his lip and nodded. Harry could still see the unshed tears in his eyes.

"Tell me why."

There was silence for a while, then Draco took a shaky breath. "I broke a rule."

Harry nodded. "You did. And your punishment for that was to sit at my feet and remain silent. What else did you do?"

Draco said nothing and looked away, his cheeks flushing pink, again.

"You smiled at someone. You flirted with someone. And it wouldn't have been so bad, Draco, if you weren't already being punished at the time."

He was lying, of course. It would have been just as bad. He hated Draco flirting.

Draco still said nothing, and Harry could see the effort with which Draco fought back his tears. Harry watched him for a while, then walked towards him, lifting his chin. "Do you want to cry, Draco?"

Draco nodded. "Yes… please." His voice was strained and hoarse and Harry couldn't resist him. He wanted those tears just as much. He took hold of Draco's lead again and walked him to the back of their own couch and pushed him over it. He pulled down Draco's trousers and removed them completely, flinging them carelessly aside as he turned back to Draco's pink backside. He raised his hand and smacked him again, feeling him tense and begin to shake already. He smacked him again and again and again, feeling his hand tingle, watching as Draco's arse grew darker in shade, until it went from pink to angry red, and Draco finally broke down. He sobbed and his shoulders trembled as he cried. Harry kept going, kept smacking until his hand hurt too much to continue.

He stopped and moved back, breathless, watching Draco for a few moments, before picking up Draco's trousers and rummaging inside each pocket. Sure enough, he found one small tube of lubricant, and smirked to himself, throwing the trousers back down and tearing the end off the tube with his teeth.

He fiddled clumsily with his own fastenings, his free hand working furiously on the buttons until his trousers were loose enough that he could force them, and his boxers, down over his hips and thighs, kicking them off the rest of the way to free himself. He squeezed the lube into his palm and began to stroke himself, coating his already hardening cock as he listened to Draco's muffled sobs. He needed to have him. He needed to claim him; to let him know who he belonged to. He moved back towards Draco and grabbed him by the hips with one hand, using the other to guide himself roughly into Draco's tight, greedy entrance.

He heard Draco's whimper and a tremor of power ran through him, heightening his arousal as he bucked and thrust as hard and as painfully as he could into Draco's willing body. The sound of Draco's crying surrounded Harry as he moved, filling his consciousness completely, until all he could hear was Draco. The sound of Draco's crying; the sound of Draco's pleading… it was a more powerful aphrodisiac than Harry had ever experienced. Already, he could feel himself getting closer to climax, his orgasm catching up with him, fast. He let go of Draco's hip with his right hand and wrapped it around Draco's waist, groping almost blindly in his hazy, bliss-filled state, until he found Draco's own erection, pressed firmly, hot and hard, against his quivering stomach. He stroked in time with his near-frantic thrusts, dropping hot, wet kisses onto Draco's spine, as a wave of sensation engulfed him and brought him, almost screaming, to his climax.

He kept stroking Draco's cock until he felt him shudder and tense, and then finally come all over his hand with another strangled sob. Harry's vision slowly came back into focus, and he lay, panting, against Draco's back for several moments, trying to compose himself. His skin was sweaty and cool, and Draco's back was warm under his chest. He carefully pushed himself up and pulled gently free of Draco's body. He watched Draco's back for a while, the way it shuddered and rose and fell. Slowly, he pulled him back up and turned him round, looking into Draco's eyes while he cried.

Harry practically ached when Draco cried for him. It was one of the single most beautiful things he could have ever given him.

Draco sniffed and smiled at Harry through his tears. "Th-thank you…" he whispered.

Harry pulled Draco into his arms and held him close, whispering soothing words into his ear and rubbing his back gently.

There was no further punishment that night. Harry's anger had been washed away with Draco's tears.

* * *

A car had been sent to collect them this time. Another of Draco's parties, of course, and Harry was very anxious. Draco had helped himself to fruit and drinks from the mini bar, but Harry was much too nervous to think about eating. He spent the entire car ride fixing his tie in the tinted black windows and making sure, again and again, that his hair wasn't being too impertinent. Once they arrived, they were escorted through to the dining area, where Draco greeted the man on the door and gave him their names. Harry felt his whole face burn as their names were announced loudly to the whole room and all eyes turned to face them. This was certainly a new experience.

Draco smiled graciously, and Harry tried to do the same, but his smile, he could tell, was more of a grimace, and certainly not very gracious. They were seated near the head of the table, and Harry pulled out the chair nearest the host for Draco to sit in. He knew, as he moved to slide into his own seat, that he'd probably regret it, but what could he do? He had only met Joshua once, and Draco always seemed to find something interesting to talk about at these parties – unlike Harry. He was just glad Gregory McCloud wasn't here.

There was idle chit chat for a while, in which Harry watched Draco artfully converse with those around him as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him - and it probably was. Harry envied that about Draco. He'd never found it easy to talk to strangers about things of which he knew nothing. Draco seemed to be ale to slip easily into any conversation and make himself fit without any effort whatsoever. He watched and listened to the conversation, nodding and smiling politely whenever Joshua addressed him, wishing that dinner would hurry up and be served.

Thankfully, it didn't take too much longer. Dinner was just as ridiculously over the top as they always were at these sorts of things. Harry nibbled his starter, and his second course, watching as Draco, Joshua and now a couple of others seemed to completely ignore their food in favour of talking about stocks and shares. Harry was confused as to how Draco even knew what stocks and shares were. So far, though, Draco had not flirted once, which Harry was very pleased about.

Main course came, and Harry was astounded to find a whole bird on his plate. Dead, of course. Harry guessed it was probably a pheasant, or a game hen… or whatever it was that posh people ate. Probably something they'd shot. Surrounding the bird were roast potatoes and more varieties of vegetables than Harry even knew existed. He made a vain attempt on the bird, looking around to see how everybody else was eating theirs before diving in and ripping off a leg or something. He cleared his throat and leaned over to Draco, who was still deep in conversation.

"How many courses are there after this one?" he whispered, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Draco ignored him and carried on talking. Harry frowned, watching Draco for a while, then moving back to his plate. He'd let one slide. Perhaps Draco hadn't heard him. He sliced into his dinner and began to eat, hoping that the next course was dessert. He'd save some room if it was, if it wasn't, however, then he might as well give up now, he thought, looking down at his plate after twenty minutes and noticing that the large majority of the bird was still there.

Draco's bird, however, was almost completely untouched. When Draco stopped to take a bite, Harry leaned in again. "How much of this are we actually expected to eat?" he asked, and blinked when, again, Draco ignored him, and chose, instead to turn to Joshua and start a conversation about horse riding.

Something inside him tensed and he sat back up rigidly, gripping his fork tightly in his hand until his knuckles turned white. It was no accident that time, and this wasn't in the slightest bit cute or funny. Harry took a deep breath and leaned once more over to Draco.

"Draco…" he began, but was cut off, mid-sentence.

"Harry, please, I'm talking."

Harry froze and felt the blood rising in his cheeks as everyone within hearing range turned to cast a quick glance in his direction. Draco stopped, as if suddenly realising exactly who he was talking to and instantly closed his mouth. The room was silent for a bit, then gradually, people went back to their conversations.

Harry cleared his throat and wiped his mouth calmly on his napkin. He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. "Joshua. Thank you very much for inviting me, but I'm afraid I can't stay. I have things I need to get done at home. You understand."

Joshua nodded and stood up, extending a hand and looking more than slightly uncomfortable. "Yes, of course. Sorry you couldn't stay longer, but it was good of you to come. I… guess I'll see you another time."

Harry smiled and nodded, shaking the man's hand. Draco made to stand up, but Harry placed his hands firmly on Draco's shoulders to hold him in his seat. "No, no, Draco," he said, forcing a smile. "You stay until the end of the meal. I'll see you when you get home."

Draco didn't say a word, and Harry gave his shoulders a firm squeeze, before making his way to the car park and Apparating home.

It was only another hour and a half before Harry heard a car pull up outside, and Draco walked cautiously in through the front door. Harry watched him from the settee face expressionless as Draco stood there, looking at a complete loss for what to say.

"Harry… I'm sorry," he managed after a while.

"What are you sorry for?" Harry asked, voice flat and monotone.

"For what I said. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't upset me, Draco. You humiliated me. You know how uncomfortable I am at those parties, but I go because I love you. I do not then expect to be treated as inferior and made to feel three inches tall, just because you want to make an impression."

Draco said nothing and lowered his eyes. Harry supposed he was expecting to be told off, or to be punished, but Harry just wasn't in the mood. His pride had just taken a serious denting, and he wasn't ready to deal with Draco just yet. Not for a while. He stood up and walked through to the bedroom, grabbing a spare pillow and a sheet from the cupboard. Walking back through to the living room, he placed the two items on the couch and stepped back. "I don't want to talk to you for a while. I don't want to sleep with you for a while. You're sleeping out here until I'm ready to talk again." He didn't ask Draco if he understood this time, just assumed that he did. He turned and made his way back to the bedroom.

"Harry, wait…"

But he didn't. He closed the door behind him and turned off the light.

* * *

The distance was as painful for Harry as it was for Draco. More so, because he was the one responsible for creating it. The first night had been bearable, only because Harry's anger had seen him through. The next day was awful. Harry avoided Draco as much as humanly possible. The look in his eyes was gut-wrenching, and Harry couldn't help but feel guilty, even though he knew it was Draco's fault. The bed felt huge and empty, and he spent the third night standing in the doorway, watching Draco as he slept. It had made his insides ache when Draco had made him a cup of tea. He'd wanted so much to smile and accept it, to kiss Draco and thank him for the kind gesture, but he'd ignored it, waited for it to go cold, then poured it away, untouched. He found himself, once again, questioning how healthy this was, especially when he caught Draco's crying in the kitchen on the Saturday morning, face in his hands.

He was still upset at what Draco had done, but he missed him. On the fourth night of Draco's punishment, Harry stood, again, in the bedroom doorway and watched Draco sleep. He'd been standing there for almost an hour, when a cool breeze blew in through the open back window, ruffling Draco's hair and making him shiver and pull the duvet up to his ears. Harry couldn't stand it, anymore. This wasn't only punishment for Draco, but for Harry, too. The only reason he hadn't relented sooner was because he needed Draco to learn; to understand how it felt to be ignored and treated like he didn’t matter. He shook himself, and made his way slowly over to the couch and perched on the edge, looking down at Draco's lightly closed eyelids peeking out from above the duvet. He looked so peaceful, and Harry knew he should let him sleep, but he was lonely, and he wanted his Draco back.

He moved the covers down from Draco's face and kissed his cheek. "Draco," he whispered, giving him a small shake. "Wake up, love."

Draco groaned and frowned, trying to pull the duvet back up. Harry chuckled and blew gently against Draco's ear. "Draco, someone's broken into your Gringotts vault and taken all your money."

Draco's eyes opened. Harry grinned - money always got Draco's attention. Draco didn't move, just blinked several times, and looked up. "Are you talking to me again?" Draco asked, sounding hopeful and sleepy.

Harry nodded and nudged Draco over slightly, so he could lie next to him, on top of the covers. "I am." He knew he should be talking to Draco about behaviour, making sure Draco understood exactly what he had done wrong, but the heat of a familiar body beside him felt too good, and he was tired. "Go back to sleep," he whispered against Draco's temple, as he pulled him closer and ran his fingers through Draco's hair. There was no point making Draco move, now, not when he was already so comfortable and half-asleep. Harry would just stay with him on the couch.

* * *

Draco appeared in the doorway holding a wicker basket. Harry blinked.

"Isn't it brilliant?" Draco asked, opening the lid to reveal the red and white checked cloth lining the inside. Harry wasn't entirely sure what to say.

"It's… well… it's a nice basket," he finally agreed, wondering if there was something else he was meant to be seeing. Draco walked into the kitchen and sat on the chair beside Harry, placing the basket on the table.

"It's like one of those old fashioned picnic baskets they used to have. I thought it would be nice if we… you know… went on a picnic. We can take strawberries and champagne and… whatever else one takes on a picnic. Quiche?"

Harry laughed and shook his head. This was certainly unexpected. He lifted the lid of the basket again and looked inside. It was quite a large basket, although, knowing Draco’s tastes, Harry wasn't at all surprised. "Why do you want to go on a picnic?" he asked, confused at Draco's sudden enthusiasm.

"Because it's summer, and that's what people do in the summer, isn't it? Go on picnics? And I've never been on one before. Plus… the basket was really expensive."

Harry raised a knowing eyebrow and grinned - what a typically Draco-esque thing for Draco to do. But a picnic sounded like a nice idea. "Alright," he said, smiling. "So, strawberries, champagne and quiche it is. Anything else? Chicken? Pasta? Some of that weird blue cheese you insist on keeping in the fridge?"

"It's called Stilton, actually," Draco replied, smirking and making his way to the fridge. "And yes." He opened the fridge and took the cheese from the middle shelf along with a bag of cherry tomatoes, and returned to the table.

"You want to go now?" Harry asked, as he watched Draco place the food into the basket.

"Mmhmm." Draco pulled two boxes of strawberries and a large tub of clotted cream out of his shopping bag, and placed them in the basket, too.

"Draco… it's nearly three o'clock. By the time we get to the park it'll be nearly four."

Draco nodded. "Exactly. We'll catch a few hours of sun, and then we can go and sit by the lake later on and watch the sunset. It'll be romantic."

"You get lots of flies by the lake, you know," Harry grinned – he actually rather liked Draco's idea.

Draco pulled out a box of mini quiches from his bag and placed them in the basket alongside the strawberries. "It will be romantic, Harry."

He seemed quite adamant, and Harry wasn't going to argue. He helped Draco stock the basket full of food and a rather expensive bottle of Krug, and went to get his shoes.

They took a taxi to the park and made their way to the bandstand by the lake, where several dozen other people were sprawled lazily on sheets, next to picnic baskets of their own. Harry allowed Draco to choose where they were sitting and rolled out the sheet in a nice patch of sun by the lake.

"Alright," Draco said, sitting down opposite Harry on the sheet, sunlight reflecting from the water and onto his cheek. "Is there some sort of picnic etiquette I should be aware of?"

Harry looked at him for a while, then nodded, adopted the most serious look he could muster under the circumstances. "Oh yeah. You have to eat your savoury foods with a knife and fork. And… you have to eat them all first. You're not allowed to start your sweet food until all the savoury stuff is gone."

Draco frowned and Harry found it hard to keep a straight face. "That's not true, is it?" he asked, sounding doubtful.

"It might be. Do you want to take the risk?"

Draco turned his nose up indignantly and took one of the boxes of strawberries out of the basket. "What happens if you eat sweet food first?"

"Your nose falls off."

There was a silence, then Harry smiled. "Eat your strawberry."

The strawberries were very well tucked into, followed by the chicken and mini quiches. Draco helped himself to several crackers caked in smelly blue cheese, and finally, as the sun started to set, and most of the other picnickers had packed up and gone home, Draco moved to nestle himself between Harry's legs. Harry wrapped his arms gently round Draco's chest as he rested his chin comfortably on the other boy's shoulder. The park grew quiet as the sky turned from bright blue to pink, then from pink to orange. The ripples on the surface of the lake looked golden as the setting sun reflected onto the bank, and the smell of the lake and Draco's skin filled Harry's nostrils while the wind blew gently around them.

Harry closed his eyes and smiled, rubbing his cheek against Draco's and thrilling at the feel of Draco's back expanding against his chest as he breathed. He thought back to the previous week, Draco's punishment, and once again found himself contemplating their weird relationship. It was an enigma to him, something he often had trouble trying to make sense of. He loosened his grip slightly and Draco turned his head.

"What's wrong?"

Harry pursed his lips, thinking, then leaned back slightly, supporting himself on his elbows. "Do you ever think that what we do is a bit weird?" he asked. "I mean… do you ever resent me for… say… making you sit on the floor? Or saying you can't talk to anyone?"

Draco frowned and shook his head, turning round to face Harry properly. "No. Why? Do you? Find it weird, I mean."

Harry was silent for a while, then tilted his head to one side. "Sometimes I think it is. Sometimes I worry that you hate the things I do. That you give too much of yourself and I take too much from you… does that make sense?"

Draco sighed and grinned. "Look, you take no more from me than I want you to." He looked at Harry for a while, then moved closer to him, wrapping his legs around Harry's waist and pulling Harry back up to eye level by the shoulders. "We work, don't we?" he asked. Harry nodded. "You enjoy what we do, don't you?" Again, Harry nodded. "You like punishing me when I'm bad, don't you? And making me cry?"

Harry nodded, again. "I do," he said, quietly. "But do you like it?"

"Harry. I love it. I was the one who first asked you to hurt me. I was the one who first asked you to tie me up. Begged you, even." He grinned and wrapped his arms around Harry's neck. "There is nothing weird or unhealthy about what we do."

"Even setting up people for you to flirt with in bars and clubs and at parties?" Harry asked.

"You like punishing me for it, don't you?"

Harry smirked. "Of course."

"And I love being punished."

There was another silence, only partially broken by the faint sound of crickets.


"Yes?" Draco asked.

Harry grinned. "There's ants in your strawberries."

* * *

"Draco, we're going to be late," Harry shouted up the stairs, frowning as he looked down at his watch. Harry had promised Christian they'd be there by seven, and it was now going on seven thirty. This was probably the latest they'd been to one of Draco's parties, and Harry was not at all pleased.

"I'll be down in a minute," Draco called from the bathroom. Harry got the coats down from the coat rack and sat down on the couch, tapping his foot impatiently. This was going to be incredibly embarrassing when they strolled in over thirty minutes late; Christian was going to be very disappointed.

Harry looked down at his watch again and smirked. Maybe he'd get Draco to apologise…
Tags: [fic], genre: kinky, rated: nc-17, round: summer 2007

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