Title: Burning Day (Part 2/2)
The argument that ensued, given that he was behind a locked door, was in my own head and involved at least three--maybe four--different points of view. It went something like this:
What an unbelievable little wanker he is!
Him? What about you? You're the one who told him he was lower than shit on the rubbish scale.
Look, is the goal really to help him? Just tell him he can stay as long as he needs and sorry for the outburst, but part of you still hates his guts, right? So there's no point in...
You know, we're both intelligent, consenting adults, and Hogwarts was a long time ago. There's no reason we can't start with a blank slate...
But what an unbelievable little wanker...!
Wash, rinse, repeat.
I went out for a walk in the drizzle, I put away a lot of unshelved books in the library, I cleaned out the refrigerator. At some point I ate some lunch--that might have been what prompted me to clean out the refrigerator. Draco did not appear, though I checked and found the door still closed.
I wondered, vaguely, if he might be suicidal, and if perhaps letting him lock himself up wasn't wise. The way he'd slumped on the bed after setting it afire...? But his magic wouldn't come to life to protect him just to let him kill himself, would it? Having an overbearing rapist for a lover may have been self-destructive in some measure, but I don't think one could call it a death wish.
I thought about him lying there in that circle of flames. Maybe they would never have touched him.
I'm not sure how long I sat there on the floor of the library, two books in my lap unseen while I just thought about the half-naked body, glowing in the flames. What reaching for him and taking him would feel like, the sounds he would make... One of my feet had gone to sleep, to give you an idea how long it was.
It was getting dark outside already, thanks to the rain and overcast. I wondered whether I should get takeaway for dinner and if I should make sure he ate something. Then I was suddenly seized with the irrational fear that he had left, sneaked out during my reverie.
I bounded up the stairs to find the door ajar. I burst into the room expecting him to be gone and was brought up short.
He was kneeling on the bed. Feet tucked under him, hands on his thighs, head down. Naked. And across his knees, the heavy leather paddle I kept in the bottom drawer of my wardrobe. I swallowed. How long had he been like this? Did he have time to get into position when he heard me coming? He must have been undressed already, the paddle within easy reach...
My cock twitched in frustration at having been denied him thus far. There was no mistaking his intent this time, though. His own cock was soft on its nest of golden curls and he looked peaceful, like a statue in a church or temple.
"Draco," I said, drawn to the bed as if by a spell. He looked up at that, grey eyes meeting mine. "I have rules, you know."
Doubt flickered through his eyes.
"One of them," I went on, warming to my role, "is you don't meet my eyes unless given permission."
"We haven't started yet," he retorted, giving himself the appearance of confidence with his vehemence.
"Are you sure we haven't?" I asked, sliding onto the bed next to him. "You're naked in my bed. I'd say we're pretty far along."
The blush that spread across his cheeks as he dropped his eyes was as gorgeous as any sunrise.
"Very good," I said, and reached out to stroke his hair. For the record, yes, it was as silky as I'd always suspected. "The other rule is that if I ask you something, or ask you to do something, you always have two choices. One is to be completely honest with me, and do as I say, and the other is to walk out. No hard feelings."
"All right," he said, trembling a little under my fingertips and closing his eyes to keep from looking at me. "What if I..." he paused. "Am I allowed to ask questions?"
I didn't point out that he was asking one even now. "Yes. You're always allowed to speak unless I say specifically you can't."
"Yes. Now what was the question you were going to ask?" I moved my hand from his hair to his face, caressing his cheek.
"What if I can't do something? Will you throw me out?"
I forced myself to slow down. Inflamed as all my senses were, screaming at me to throw him down, paddle him within an inch of his life and then fuck him senseless, if I didn't have the self-discipline to slow myself down, I sure as hell couldn't discipline someone else. "No," I said softly. "If you try, really try, to do as I say, even if you fail..." I stopped, realizing I was missing the concept I wanted to convey. "You walk out if you refuse. That's the only real way to fail here."
He nodded. "And, what should I call you? Isn't there a-a form of address?"
His nervousness was giving me energy. Slow down. "First question, have you ever done this before?"
"I..." I could see him trying to decide what "this" was.
I helped him out. "Submitted willingly. What did you call it? Hardcore S-and-M."
"No," he breathed. "I've read a couple of magazines. One of my previous lovers liked to spank me but he wasn't... formal about it."
As I'd thought. "All right." I licked my lips--he couldn't see it--and Summoned my wand. I'd never had a partner I could use magic with and suddenly I could not wait any longer. "Form of address, right," I said, taking the paddle from his knees and centering myself on the bed in front of him. "You should call me... Harry."
His eyes flew open, then he caught himself and looked down. "All right, H-Harry."
"Very good," I said, brushing my fingertips along his cheek and watching him suffuse with color again, not sure if it was in embarrassment at having slipped or in pleasure at being praised. I'm not sure which I would have preferred--it was beautiful either way. "I'm going to push you, Draco. Everything I ask won't be easy."
He tipped his face up, his eyes closed, to answer. "Whatever you like," he said, breathless, the conviction in his voice as much to convince him as me. "I'll do anything you ask."
My grin was probably too wide, too ecstatic for the role I played, but I didn't care. "Yes, you will." I was liking this business with the eyes. I normally didn't make that rule, but was afraid I'd get caught staring into them if I let him look up.
And of course, I never let them call me Harry. But I knew it would be a test for him, to call me by my given name. Because I wasn't just some Muggle sugar daddy to him, and I wanted him to remember that. There would be no hiding behind anonymous titles tonight.
I set the paddle aside. "Keep your eyes closed, and undress me. Completely," I said.
His hands shook in the most enticing manner as he felt for the edges of my shirt. It was a T-shirt, almost too small for me I'd washed and shrunk it so many times, the cotton soft and worn thin. His fingers grasped the hem and then he slid his hands up my torso inside the shirt to push at the shoulders. I almost forgot he was undressing me, his hands felt so good on my skin. But then he backed away on his knees, inverting the shirt with his arms and pulling it off of me.
"Just set it aside," I prompted, then lay on my side, my head propped on one elbow, to see how he dealt with my jeans.
He crawled toward me then, patting one hand in front of him as he drew close, trying to find me, then laying his hand directly upon my crotch, then making a soft sound in his throat as he realized what part of me he was touching. I had a blindfold, but this was more interesting, watching him keep himself in the dark by force of will. His fingers worked at the button of the fly then, rolling me onto my back and tugging downward on my pants, too, lifting carefully over my erection and then pulling the rest down to my knees. He climbed carefully from the bed then, one hand on my shin all the while, and stripped them the rest of the way, taking off my socks at last.
Then he stood, his hands folded, naked, his eyes still closed and waited. I let the silence stretch a bit more and then got up from the bed. He heard it creak and followed me with his ears as I lit the candles in the room with my wand, one at a time. When they were all burning, I realized there were more of them than I thought. I extinguished the electric lights and then stood close to him. Not touching but close enough that he could feel my body's heat, and I his.
"I don't think I want to paw you like he did," I said, climbing back onto the bed. "But tell me, do you like to be manhandled, Draco?"
He bit his lip. "What happened between me and..."
"I know you're allowed to talk, but just answer the question."
He nodded. "It can be... exciting. In the right circumstances."
I piled up the pillows against the headboard and leaned against them. I folded my hands behind my head, enjoying the glow of the candlelight on his skin and my own interview technique. "Did you get hard in the bookstore? Did he let you come?"
I did not raise my voice, kept it quiet but firm. "You sucked him off in the bookstore. I was there, remember? Well?"
"I... I did get hard. While I was sucking him. But it didn't last. And no." Here I was sure he blushed as he turned his head slightly to the side, though the candlelight did not allow me to see it the way the harsher light had. "I didn't come."
"He wouldn't let you?"
"He didn't tell me when to come and when not to."
"You're not using the form of address I requested."
He ducked his head. "I'm sorry, Harry."
"If it's too difficult for you, we could stop, just get takeaway..."
"No! Harry, I'm sorry. I'll try to do better."
"That's all I ask," I said, trying to make my voice a caress, though I don't know if I managed it. He didn't know me well enough yet for that. "You deserve a little pleasure for trying. Will you make yourself hard for me?"
"Yes, Harry." He circled his cock loosely with finger and thumb, pulling at the flaccid flesh, which did not remain so for long. Not at all. I'd say by his second stroke it was giving him some resistance, and by the fourth and fifth, he was loosely slipping his foreskin up and down a rather nicely-formed prick.
I let him stroke himself a few more times before I spoke again. "Put your hands behind your back."
His hand was reluctant to leave his cock, but he complied, and I crawled across the bed near where he stood.
"Good. He might not have told you when to come and when not to, but I will." I took hold of his cock then myself, and stroked him a few times, slow and light, until his body trembled and my own cock twitched in sympathy. "There are people who say bondage isn't about sex." I conjured a length of cord from my wand, smooth and beautiful and unbreakable. Fitting. I began wrapping it around the base of his cock and balls, then cats-cradled it back and forth, separating his balls and watching them purple. I sealed the bundle with a charm--God, this was so much easier with magic--and then held the remaining loose end while I considered.
I could think better with his nipple between my teeth, I decided, and suckled one hard, trapping it between my teeth and my tongue and lapping at it. The hiss he gave sounded appreciative, so I repeated the treatment with the other nipple.
When I pulled back, they were standing out proudly. I ran my thumbs over them and was pleased to see how responsive he was. Some men don't have much sensitivity there. I wondered how he would look with a ring through each one. Then I would have somewhere to loop this cord. Hmm. Piercing him was probably a bit further than I wanted to push him. But that did give me two more ideas.
I conjured a band of leather for each ankle, each one fitted with a metal ring. "Step back," I said, holding the cord. He stepped back until the cord pulled against his package and then whimpered. "Yes, stop."
I looped the cord through the ring on one side, then the other, then drew it back up to his balls and sealed it there with another charm. There were perhaps eight inches between his ankles. "Look down," I told him. He did, admiring the shiny, pink-tinged cord I'd conjured and the predicament I'd made for him when my next command was, "Follow me."
I crossed the room to the tall wardrobe and opened the doors, looking back to see his progress. He quickly determined he had to take very small steps or risk a painful tug on his balls. When he reached me, I massaged his cock in appreciation. "Good, very good."
Then I took out a belt and his eyes widened.
"It's not for what you think," I said, buckling it around his waist. I then pointed my wand at it, Transfiguring it so that it became a tight leather cincher, running from the top of his hip bones to just the exact height of his nipples. He gasped as it formed around him, then again as I tapped the buckle and it tightened, slimming his waist. His figure was too boyish for it to look truly feminine, but the dark leather was a gorgeous contrast to his skin, and the stiff top edge rubbed against his nipples each time he moved. Or breathed.
They would be sore beyond belief quite soon, and I would hardly have done a thing.
I twirled my wand in my fingers. Playing with him using magic was infinitely easier than using the implements I had stashed in the drawer. But that reminded me. "Go and get that paddle you posed so nicely with, and bring it to me."
I sat in the chair I used to put my shoes on. He made his slow way across the room to the bed, retrieved the paddle, and then made his way back.
"You're being awfully quiet," I remarked as I took the paddle from him.
"Do you want me to talk more?" He looked panicked for a second. Obedience he could do, it seemed. But improvisation?
"I understand. You're afraid to say the wrong thing." I patted my lap. "Lie across here." I guided him so that his tied cock and balls sat against mine. "Brace your hands on the chest."
He took hold of the edge of the heavy thing. I had bought it because it had been made by the company that had once been in this building, and I found it useful for keeping extra blankets and pillows in. In the winter, the high ceilings were difficult to heat and the spacious rooms were draughty, even with the carpeting I'd put in.
I rubbed his arse with the paddle experimentally, watching him tense. "A little spanking, but he wasn't formal about it, you said."
"Um, yeah. Yes, Harry."
"Well, I guess I'm more formal then. Can't just spank you for the sake of spanking you. This spanking is for going through my things."
"You could have charmed the drawer shut, you know," he pointed out reasonably.
"As I recall, it was actually locked..." He had no answer for that. "You picked this toy out for a reason. Care to tell me why?" I rubbed in slow circles, the leather cool and smooth, hissing softly as it ran over his skin.
"I guess I... thought it wouldn't hurt too much," he said, voice full of chagrin. "It looked like I could take it."
I let out an evil chuckle. That seemed so like the Draco Malfoy I'd known as a schoolboy, trying to engineer his own fate down to the last detail. "Well, you should have picked one of the floggers then. This is going to hurt, Draco. But I don't think it will be too much. I think you can take it. Remember, though, if it is, you can always walk away."
He hung his head in acquiescence more eloquent than any words.
I swapped the paddle to my left hand and spanked him once with my bare hand. He gave a yelp, to which I said, "Good. I've got no neighbors to worry about, by the way."
And with that I spanked him three times, twice on one cheek, once on the other. Then paused. Then three more, again varying where they hit. "How does that feel."
"Like you're hitting me," he said neutrally.
I laughed at that and began to spank in a steadier rhythm. Three and pause. Three and pause. Making the slaps gradually harder as his bottom reddened. Then hitting him with more force, two and pause, two and pause. He was now grunting on each strike, tensing for each blow, meaning that my hand was connecting with rock hard arsecheeks each time. My palm stung.
This is why the paddle was invented. I took it in hand finally, saying mildly, "Now that you are warmed up..." and then laying it on him, one hard smack.
That drew a gasp, and a rocking of his body as he struggled to process the pain, including the additional pain of having his balls crushed against my leg by the force of the smack. I let him reset completely and ready himself before the next one.
The sound of the paddle was loud off the brick walls, the high ceiling, but although his sob was nowhere near as loud, I heard it much more keenly. I hadn't pegged him as a crier; he didn't cry when Charles had been forcing him, after all. The third blow was followed by another sob, though, loud and clear.
Who was I to deny him the urge to cry? I began to lay the blows on fast and thick, and in no time he was bawling freely, tears flowing and uninhibited wails coming from his throat. I had never seen him cry...
No, I realized, that wasn't true. I had seen him cry. I'd seen him cry so hard I barely understood at the time what he was doing. That time in Sixth Year, in Myrtle's bathroom. The time I had cut him with that hex of Snape's.
I let the paddle fall, and then slid down to the floor myself, taking him with me and cradling him in my lap. I conjured a hankie when I felt he was ready for it, and he cried a bit more quietly after that, while I stroked his hair and rocked him because really, what else could I do? It sounded like years of pain were coming out in his sobs, and they probably were.
He eventually slowed to a trickle, chest still heaving and tormenting his nipples with every breath, but silent.
"Hey," I said, turning his face to look at me. "Can you tell me what that was all about?"
I was expecting either nothing, or perhaps a convoluted tale of inner angst that it would take me time to pry out. I was not expecting his face to crumple again and for him, hoarse though he was to say quite clearly, "I feel your magic, Harry. All... all over me. Your magic."
It was a good thing he hid his face in my neck then, because I teared up and nearly lost it at that point. They might as well have taken his soul. "It's all right," I said, to myself as much as to him. I Summoned my wand just for the sake of feeling it in my palm then. I'd lived without this for how long? Why?
"Do you need to rest a bit?" I asked him. "Or would you like a reviving charm?"
His head snapped up. "Oh, God, please yes, Harry."
I laughed. When was the last time one of those pathetic wannabe slaveboys made me laugh so much? "If you weren't already strainingly hard, this would do it, you know." I cast the charm and he shivered deliciously in my arms. I checked his balls and cock with my hand--he could go a little longer without me worrying about damaging him. Then I recalled I could heal him if I had to, as well.
"Make me come, Draco."
He jerked upright again. "Um, how?"
Hm. Good with obedience, not so good with improvising. "Quickly," I answered. "Oh, don't worry. This isn't the end. I want to insure that I take my time plundering your arse. Because I know you won't be satisfied, and neither will I, until I do."
"True enough," he whispered, remembering to drop his eyes and then putting a hand tentatively on my balls. "Could we move to the bed?"
I nodded. "You go first." It was another opportunity to watch him walk ridiculously, his reddened arsecheeks flexing with each tiny step, like a geisha or something, framed by the black edge of the cincher I'd created for him. It took me but a moment to catch up to him and then to climb ahead of him onto the bed. I watched as he contemplated how to get onto the bed without separating his legs more than eight inches. He was more deft than I would have been, sitting on the edge, scooting back using his hands, and then swinging both legs to the side.
He rolled onto his stomach then and came to me without further ado. That he was an absolute artiste at sucking cock did not surprise me one bit. Every part of his mouth and throat, tongue, cheek, palate, you name it, came into play to give me one of the most intense orgasms from a blow job I have ever had.
"Very good," I said, when I could speak again, which was longer than one might think.
He wiped his lips with a satisfied air. "And to think, that was without any teasing or anything."
"I might have to keep you around," I replied. "Now up."
I guided him to the wardrobe. From the drawer he'd found the paddle in, I pulled a shiny, chrome buttplug and a bottle of lube. "Hands behind your back."
He crossed them, the right holding the left in cupped fingers. I bound them with a charm, then ran the loose end of the cord up to the ceiling and stuck it there, shortening it until he was bent near double. I encouraged him to spread his legs until there was a nice bit of tension pulling his package as well.
"And now," I said, lubing up one finger and knowing it to be one of the cruelest commands I could give: "Relax." I swiped his arsehole with it and knew that relaxing was far from any possibility for him right now. I inserted my finger then, slowly, and felt him strain against the intrusion. "Relax," I repeated. "It's just my finger. Though in a moment, I'm going to swap to the plug, which is much less forgiving."
He whimpered, but did not protest.
"You're beautiful like this you know," I found myself saying as I probed inside him. "I guess I had to leave the Wizarding world to learn that."
I pulled my finger free then, and swapped the plug into place, just nosing the tapered tip into him. "It's metal," I said, as if he hadn't noticed. "It'll feel cold, until your body warms it. And it's got no give. You have to do all the... yielding."
I worked it slowly back and forth, fucking him with it, each time letting it go just a hair further inside him, opening him and stretching him bit by bit. His breathing was soon ragged and needy. "This isn't even a very big one, you know," I told him. "That's not the point. The point is to get you stretched and ready for me, so that when I want to take you, I won't have to wait."
The words spilled out of him. "God, Harry, soon, please?" I think we were both surprised by them.
I chuckled. "You just made me come, did you forget that? I won't be ready for another go for a half hour at least." With that I slid the plug completely into place and stepped back. He moaned, utterly trapped by the position and yet precarious at the same time. I cast two silent charms, one to cushion his fall should he give out, and one to release the cords if he did. He sighed, just feeling the spells in the air without knowing what they were.
"I'll be back as soon as I'm hard enough to fuck you," I said, giving him a kiss on the cheek and then leaving the room.
I went to the library and lay down on the couch. Then I pulled out my wand, Transfigured the couch into a magnificent four-poster bed with curtains and satin bedcovers, and lay down again looking at my wand.
My same old wand, holly, eleven inches, phoenix feather. The wand that removed Voldemort from the world.
The world I'd removed myself from and which Draco had been forcibly exiled from. But at least I still had my magic.
My magic. Which had made him cry with longing and grief.
Well, to be sure, Draco did still have his own magic, too, just locked inside him. If it was still there, there had to be a way of releasing it. They did it with a spell, he had said. Not a potion. The application of magical will. Well, perhaps there was a spell to undo it. Perhaps my will...
Submissives must always wonder what dominants are doing when they leave them tied up and alone. Honestly, I'd never done it before. I'd been taught by men I respected that one never, ever left a submissive in bondage. It's too dangerous. You could tie them up and make them think you'd left the room. But you never actually left them unattended.
But they were Muggles, with Muggle partners. If anything happened to Draco, I'd know.
No doubt he was wondering what I was doing with myself. Well, I kept him in the dark, and I shall keep you in the dark, too. I went up to the roof. And that is as much as I will say.
When I returned to him I'd had plenty of time to recharge my batteries and re-set my mind. It was time for something a little different.
He looked like he'd closed the distance between his feet an inch or so, but otherwise he had not moved. Not that he could have, bound, corseted, and positioned as he was. Clever Slytherin, though, I thought. I had not explicitly said he could not move his feet, and for just that reason. He knew therefore that he could relieve the pressure on his balls just a little without incurring punishment. I admired his surety.
"Do your arms hurt?" I asked.
"Um, no..." he answered.
"They will when I let you down. But other parts of you need releasing first." I waved my wand and the buckle on the cincher came undone, and then the plain dusky black belt fell to the carpet. I stood in front of him, as erect as I promised I'd be when I returned, and fed my cock into his mouth with my hand. His head and neck were angled badly, for him, for this, but another top shelf blow job was not my goal. I just wanted to reach around him to brush my fingers lightly across those sore, sore nipples, and proximity of his mouth to my cock was too enticing to forgo.
He cried out, or would have, at my soft touch, but he was gagged by my cock. His cry was muffled by my flesh and I almost preferred to take his mouth this way than letting him have his expert way. I suppose both methods had their advantages.
He was so sore, I didn't have to pinch or twist. They were raw, and just the lightest touch was agonizing to him. I tortured his nipples that way for a bit longer, thoroughly enjoying his uninhibited expressions of pain. They were pure and real and shared freely with me. But I had other things in store for him.
I released his cock and balls next, pulling my own cock free and then Vanishing the cord in an instant. He gasped and nearly came, I think, then staggered a half step, putting pressure on his arms. I Vanished those cords as well, and I was there to catch him and let him down to the ground, even as he wailed in pain as his shoulders came forward. "There, there," I said, stroking his hair. "You did very well. I'm very pleased."
I could almost feel the effects of my words on him were like a warming charm. I would have thought his sugar daddies would have been full of praise for him, but I guess not. Maybe they were too full of themselves. Maybe they just wanted a pretty thing to hang on their arm, they didn't have to tell it so.
I almost just took him right there on the carpet, almost abandoned my mission until another night. I could draw it out a little longer, what would be the harm? But I steeled my resolve to stick to the plan.
I levitated him then, onto the bed, placing him face down. I used charms to bind him spread-eagled, and then returned to the drawer for a ball-gag and a blindfold. They matched as a set, made from the same black leather, the same tiny buckles. I took great care in buckling them on, so as not to catch stray hairs in them, and they looked striking against the blondness.
I began to toy with the buttplug. "I know I told you you could speak if you wanted to, and that if anything was too much for you, you could always walk away," I said. "But, well, that was before I gagged you and bound you to the bed. I'm guessing that you think it's going to be easy for you from here on out."
He held still at that, but could not help but press his hips back into the motion of the plug. "You probably think I've trussed you up like this so that I can use your hole for my own pleasure."
He nodded at that. "You'd like that wouldn't you? You can't do a thing, can't participate in any way other than opening your body to my penetration." I heard a needy whimper around the gag. "Such a hungry slut. That's why they sent me to do this job, you know."
I felt the tension go through him as he registered that last sentence as Not Quite Right. "You didn't really think it could just be a coincidence that the moment your magic started to break free, a wizard showed up? Especially your old nemesis? I've been watching you for months, 'Drayton Tonks.' Yeah, that charm that blocks your magic isn't permanent. Not as permanent as we'd like anyway."
I felt the sweat breaking out on him as I talked. "They had some low-level schmuck tailing you for a while, but as your behavior and choice of partners grew more and more questionable, they called for me. Putting yourself in jeopardy the way you have--that's your subconscious trying to create a situation in which your magic can release. I'm sorry you finally did. I was quite enjoying watching you sodomized by that maniac on a regular basis. The wine bottle... wow." I twisted the buttplug as I said this and he actually managed an outraged scream around the gag.
"It's my job to re-do the charm that'll bottle your magic up again. Do you remember the charm they used? I bet they didn't let you hear it out loud. Well, the incantation is Copulata, from the Latin copulae or bindings. Or bondage, you might say. Also the word that 'copulate' comes from. So as you know, the charm can just be done with a wave of a wand. But I find it more poetic, more fitting, to copulate with you in bondage while I put your soul in chains."
He was trying to repeat two words over and over. I could only guess that they were either "fuck you" or "you're sick." His face was purple with rage.
"I’m going to fuck you now, Draco Malfoy," I said, pulling the plug free and laying my body atop his. "I've waited so very long for this."
And his scream as I sank myself into him? I felt it vibrate through my chest. I was sorry it had to be this way, after all the build-up. And God, even after the plug had been in there for an hour, he was still tight. He clenched even harder in his anger, I think, and as I fucked him I knew I would not last long, despite the previous orgasm.
I slid my hand under him to grasp his cock. "I see Charles was right. You are hard as a rock. You must really love this, secretly. I want to make you come. I want to make you come so you'll always think of me fucking you when you come." I pumped it hard, in the short strokes I could manage against the bedclothes. "There's no one to save you this time, Draco Malfoy," I went on. I hoped it wouldn't take much longer, as my stamina was questionable and if I came too early, all my hard work would be for naught. "You're mine for as long as I want you. Helpless as a Squib while I take you again and again..."
I was nearly blinded by the fire when it came this time. But my wand was there in my hand. "Copulata!" I shouted, drawing the flame into a whirlwind and then driving it straight through him, my wand tip touching his spine.
The room went dark as even the candles were extinguished. "Lumos!" And then I was tearing the blindfold and gag off him, though I didn't let his limbs go just yet. "Draco?" I held my glowing wand to his face.
He was smiling. "You..." was all he managed to say. But it was clear that it was dawning on him just what I'd done.
"The best fuck is a mindfuck," I whispered into his ear.
He clenched tight around me--my cock was still buried in his arse. "Copula... meaning binding, meaning bondage..."
"To bind your magic back to you," I said.
"How long have you known this?"
"About a half an hour," I admitted. "I did some research when I left you trussed up."
"Sorry, I have to have some secrets. And you've let drop the form of address."
He gasped as I thrust hard as I said that.
"I'm sorry, Harry!" He pressed back against me as best he could in the bindings.
I released them then, with a flick of my wand, pulling him back onto bent knees, his cock hard and full bobbing beneath him.
"May I touch...?"
"No, no, Harry." He laughed. "Your wand. May I touch your wand?"
I slid forward until my hand met his, and he took it in his palm. And then, with a flourish he relit all the candles in the room. "There. Now... now we can finish properly."
"Hmm, well," I said. "I must punish you for forgetting your place there for a bit, and forgetting to use my name. In fact, I'm fairly sure you were calling me some very nasty things with the gag on." And with that, I landed a stinging slap on his arse.
"Oh, God, Harry..."
"Yes, you definitely need more correction, Draco Malfoy." And I spanked him good and hard, alternating hands, as I fucked him slowly, trying to make it last.
In vain. I gave up shortly thereafter and reached around to pull on his cock as I approached orgasm myself. I felt him spurt over my fingers just moments before reaching that peak, and then pounded into him as hard as I could, wringing every ounce of orgasmic power out of both of us.
And then, as most sex ends--whether any bondage or magical cataclysms are involved or not--we fell into a sweaty heap.
I manage to shift so we ended up on our sides, spooned. "So...." I said cautiously. "Does that mean you forgive me?"
"For which thing?" Draco asked, pulling my arm around his chest like a blanket.
I laughed. "Fair enough."
"Seriously, Harry, you have to be more specific."
"All right." I kissed his back and nosed in the hair at the back of his neck. "Do you forgive me for casting Sectumsempra on you in Sixth year?"
He went rigid in my arms for a moment, then snorted. "You do realize, I'm so giddy with post-coital bliss and the insane rush of having my magic returned that I'll agree to nearly anything."
"Good. Then say you'll stay."
"Do I look like I'm in any shape to go anywhere?"
"No, I mean... not just the night. Stay with me. Forever."
"Okay, now who's giddy with post-coital bliss..."
"Just say 'yes, Harry.' Please, Draco. It'll make me happy to hear you say it."
"Well, I do enjoy doing that."
"What, making me happy?"
"Yeah. Yes, Harry. Did it work? Are you happy now?"
"Yes. Yes I am."
He picked up my wand, extinguished all the candles with a single word, and I think we were asleep before the light had actually left the room.
I woke on Sunday morning feeling sore and fatigued and hungry for a few moments I could not remember why. I sat up in bed, blinking and reflexively reaching for my glasses. Then I remembered having laser eye surgery at a Muggle clinic. I could hear water running.
Then I remembered Draco. I Summoned my wand and surveyed the room. My belt lay on the floor where we had left it. The buttplug was nowhere in sight. I got off the bed carefully lest I step on it.
It sounded like he had just gotten into the shower. Despite last night's exertions, I had a strong case of morning wood.
I stepped into the bathroom, then into the shower with him. I kissed him good morning in the spray without saying a word, then slid a finger into his arsehole. He pressed back hungrily against it, moaning but still not saying anything. I slicked myself with conditioner and took him there against the tiled wall of the shower, neither of us speaking, as if it were an absolute given that we'd simply fuck at any opportunity. That he would offer and I would take. That I would enter and he would not refuse. We washed each other after that, hair and bodies and private parts, him pressing reverential kisses on my now quiescent cock, me pressing equally reverential kisses against his forehead.
We finally spoke while drying off. He spoke first. "You want me to make coffee again? And how about ham and cheese omelettes?"
"You don't have to..."
"I want to," he said with a smirk.
"All right. I won't stop you," I said, smirking back.
After we'd eaten, I cleaned the dishes with a charm, and then Summoned the newspaper from the front stoop. But I didn't open it. I put it down on the table and then sat, while Draco nursed a second mug of coffee.
"You're using magic again," he pointed out.
"I am," I agreed. "But I'm not going back. To the Wizarding World. I'm staying here."
He nodded. "What you said last night..."
"I want you to stay. With me." I didn't add the word 'forever,' which only sounds believable in love songs and immediately after great sex, but which is implied. "I realize you don't have to..."
"Harry," he said with a touch of exasperation. "Just because I have my magic back, doesn't mean I can do anything with it. I haven't got a wand, and I can't set foot in Diagon Alley. I'd be nabbed before I got ten steps."
"So would I," I said. "We'll order one. By mail. Anonymously. One owl delivery to the bookstore won't incriminate us. I... still have some Galleons."
He nodded. We both seemed quite somber given that it seemed we had just decided to live together as wizards in exile. Or maybe we were both just tired.
"What are you thinking?" I asked him, opening the paper but not yet reading it.
He looked into the dark depths of his coffee. "I'm thinking it really was Fate. It really was the magic inherent in the world that pulled us together. When you were rocking me, when I was crying... you know what I thought?"
I forgot the paper entirely. "What?"
"This is why I was so shocked when you asked if I forgave you for Sectumsempra." He set down the cup and looked into my eyes. "Because as I lay there in your arms, bawling my eyes out, I thought... this was what was supposed to happen in Sixth Year. You were supposed to find me crying in that bathroom, and be my savior. You'd have brought me to Dumbledore, he'd have guaranteed my safety... and all these things would have happened and we would have ended up right here, together. Only at the time I was thinking, except I wouldn't have paid the price of losing my magic. That was the price for trying to use that Unforgivable on you that day instead of asking for help. But Fate has brought us together anyway...."
I smiled. "And in the end, you didn't pay that price. Because Fate did bring you to me." Though which one of us saved the other, I couldn't have said. I wondered vaguely if this was an outcome that Dumbledore would have wanted.
I stood and held out my hand. "Let's get back in bed."
"Yes, Harry," he answered.
The rest you can figure out for yourselves.