Greetings all! This fic is anti-Ron, so if you are a devotee of him then I suggest you leave now, this has rough sex, Book 5 spoilers and has words from the song "Pictures" by Sheryl Crowe and Kid Rock. Read, review and enjoy! Oh and my website now has a new URL: www.draconis-carpe-noctem.com. Please check it out. The site is currently down due to the fact that Tripod sucks but I am moving to a new server so it should be back up and running in 3 days tops! Please check it out and let me know what you think. I am accepting any and all fanfics on it, any pairing if you want to email me. Please review this story. No flames please, thank you. This is slash so if you don't like it, don't read it. Standard disclaimers. I don't own the characters or the song.
Bloodshot eyes framed a pale face as Draco Malfoy glared at the curtains that blocked the sun. He lived in hell, his soul slowly dying, a different girl every night in his bed. His current fling had kept him in bed for three days before finally leaving. He debated whether or not to have coffee or whiskey and finally chose the whiskey – it dulled the pain. He didn't want to think about all he had done or who he had done it to. Confused and bewildered by the feelings he had said cruel and hateful things to the one person who had never demanded anything from him. In the drawer at his bedside, a picture lay face down. He couldn't look at that loving and trusting face while he debauched himself with any woman who caught his eye.
Merlin what had he done? How had he gotten this way? How had he changed from the undisputed, unrivalled and unchallenged to die for Sex God of Slytherin House to a hung-over, cheating bastard. He felt every one of his twenty four years as he flopped back onto the bed. He knew where his life had gone wrong, and it all began when he had fallen in love. Not original he'd grant you, but love caused far more problems and complications than any other emotion.
His father had been adamant about several things in life. 1. Malfoy's never show weakness. 2. Malfoy's serve the strongest power. 3. Malfoy Pride took precedence over anything else. 4. Malfoy honour must always remain intact. 5. Malfoy's, under no circumstances fall in love. 6. Malfoy's are not homosexual.
Draco had problems with the last two, though even now, after having been with his lover for almost three years he still had trouble considering himself homosexual. He had been so sure he had been straight, absolutely drop dead certain of it, until he had been into an accident – one he hadn't survived. And the accident's name was Harry.
It had been during the height of the Second War – one that had raged far longer and bloodier than the first. Draco had renounced being a Death Eater and declared himself neutral.
"I refuse Father. I will not maim myself for a madman carrying on a futile cause that I can never make myself believe in!"
"Are you turning your back on Family Duty? Have I taught you nothing you worthless cur?"
"I will not do it! I believe in Family Duty, but I cannot follow another power."
"Then my son is truly dead. Get out of my sight."
He neither believed in Voldemort's lunacy nor wanted to follow it. Ergo, he didn't believe in the Order either.
"I bend knee to no one Dumbledore, not even you."
"Draco my boy, you would be a valuable asset."
"I don't care. I will not serve the Dark, neither will I serve the light. I am neutral. You want a pawn, get a Gryffindor and sod off."
"Draco…"
"Good day to you sir." Draco said curtly, dismissing him.
Voldemort upheld several valid points in Draco's opinion, pureblood pride and superiority over Muggles – but he didn't believe in cold blooded slaughter. He did not agree with treasuring and honouring Muggles and placing them above wizards. He had an interest in Dark Arts, but that did not make him a Death Eater.
He should have known, been aware of it, but he had dropped his guard. The attack had caught him off guard and was sudden. In a sterile hospital bed at St. Mungos, he was visited by a haggard looking Harry Potter. There were no insults thrown, just silence as their eyes met. Harry had aged years since Draco had last seen him. In his eyes was a pained knowledge that gave Draco pause. Draco asked where his constant sidekicks were and Harry's face closed even more. Hermione was in the mental ward, having been driven to insanity by Cruciatus Curse. Ron was dead – by Harry's own hand. The latter made Draco blink in surprise. Harry gave no details, just told him to get better soon. The entire encounter had taken no more than two minutes, but Draco had plenty to think on.
The next day Harry returned, again he said nothing and Draco did not engage him in conversation. For weeks they followed the same pattern: Harry's visits getting longer. The day Draco was released; the mediwitch passed him a note: 4 Privet Drive.
Curiosity piqued, Draco went to Surrey, to the home of Harry Potter. Harry said nothing when he opened the door, just led Draco to an empty bedroom. After two days, Draco walked into the kitchen, poured some coffee and faced Harry. "You're an empty shell Potter, you know that?"
"What do you care?" Harry asked bitterly.
"I don't really." Draco shrugged. "I am however curious to the reasons why."
"That's none of your damn business. Where's your Father and why aren't you licking Voldemort's boots with him?" Harry snapped.
"I've been disowned if you haven't already heard. I thought everybody knew. I bend knee to no one." Draco replied coolly. "If I'm not mistaken, this used to be a muggle house. What happened to them?"
"They're dead." Harry replied curtly.
Draco switched tactics. "So…you killed the Weasel. I didn't think you had it in you."
"What do you know?" Harry snarled. "You're nothing but a coward, refusing to fight!"
"I have my own self preservation to think of first Potter. I was in Slytherin House after all."
Harry shook his head. "Why did you come here?"
"Why did you invite me?"
Harry picked up his mug and headed to the coffee pot. "Ron turned to the dark. He became a Death Eater, tortured 'Mione, killed Ginny his sister, wounded Snape and Lupin then came after me. Guess he wanted to make a name for himself on his own. I killed him." He recounted grimly.
"You enjoyed it." Draco said, eyeing Harry shrewdly.
Harry slammed his hand against the counter top. "So what if I did? The bastard deserved it for all he did and all the people he betrayed."
"You don't need to justify yourself to me." Draco smirked. "It's intoxicating, isn't it? To kill?"
"What would you know about it?"
"More than you think." Draco rose from the table. "You want to suffer in silence, that's your choice. I don't have time for the 'Tortured Boy Who Lived.'"
Harry turned from Draco, closing his eyes. "This war is so draining. I'm sure you heard the prophecy by now?"
"Who hasn't?"
"I almost want him to win Draco, just to end this façade of living. I thought nothing would be harder than living through Sirius' death. I was wrong."
"Don't look to me for sympathy Potter. I have my own problems."
"I know."
"So, why did you choose me?" Draco persisted. The answer was coming, it was so close…
Harry shrugged. "I guess it's easier to talk to someone who isn't so perfect themselves." He sighed.
Draco said nothing and left the next day. He headed to Malfoy Manor, encountered his Father, had tea with him – rather surprised he hadn't tried to kill him and after a few hours he left, the Manor ablaze behind him, his dear Father dead from the poison Draco had slipped him. Seizing control of the family fortune, he vanished into obscurity.
It was six months after Harry and Voldemort had their final battle, the greatest and most horrifying the world had ever known. Every wizard globally felt the strain on magic as Harry triumphed. One morning Draco went to get his morning newspaper and saw Harry sitting on his doorstep. He didn't ask how he had found him, how he was doing, just let him in.
That night Harry had come to his bed. He lay next to Draco and slept, not talking and not touching. Draco wasn't homosexual and went out of his way to sleep with as many women as possible. The feelings he got when saw Harry made his chest tight.
Their first kiss was an accident, and afterwards Draco slept with three different girls in one day trying to get the same feeling he had when Harry had kissed him.
"Harry, what are you doing?"
"Shut up Malfoy. If I think about this…" Harry muttered.
"You're drunk."
"I couldn't do this if I was sober." Harry agreed, pinning his body to the bed.
"Let me go."
"Another part of your anatomy is saying no." Harry smirked. "I've always wanted to know what it was like to kiss you Draco. I've never been kissed you know."
"I don't know why that doesn't surprise me." Draco said sarcastically.
Harry didn't rise to the bait, just lowered his lips to Draco's and settled in for the longest snog of Draco's life. Lips and tongues intertwined as they tasted and explored the deepest caverns and recesses of the other. "Do you like that?" a whisper in the dark.
Dawn came as a shock to both of them.
As the kisses grew more frequent, the touches grew more lingering, grew bolder. Draco resisted his feelings, leaving Harry alone in his flat for days in search of heterosexual company. He never asked Harry how he knew or why he chose him.
"Draco, I want you to touch me."
"I am touching you bollock brain."
"Not there." Harry reached for his hand and repositioned it on his shaft. "Here."
Draco's eyes widened. "Harry if I touch you there…I can't promise that I'll stop myself."
"I don't want you to." Harry said quietly. "Make love to me Draco."
Draco licked his lips. "Are you sure?"
"Don't get soft on me now Malfoy, I don't need tenderness. I need your prick buried inside me. I need you to be your bastard self, I need you to be fast and rough. I have no place for gentle love, I thought you knew that."
"I didn't think I'd hear you admit it."
Harry spoke in a voice so soft that Draco almost didn't hear him. "I trust you."
Draco felt that peculiar tightening in his chest and shook his head. "Shagging you want, shagging you will get. Spread your legs Potter."
Harry smiled and complied. Draco didn't prepare him, didn't give him any warning, just thrust inside the dry virgin hole. Harry screamed in pain, tears welling up in his eyes and froze, his fingers gouging wounds in Draco's shoulders. "More." He spat through gritted teeth.
Draco complied, closing his eyes and giving in to his own pleasure, to the beast within him. He thrust harder and faster, his lip curling in a sneer as sweat beaded on his body. He grasped Harry's thick length and caressed it, revelling in his half-tortured yet pleased moans. "Harder Draco, harder." Harry begged as the only sound in the room was flesh on flesh. Fast. Hard. Hot. The way Draco liked it, the way it was meant to be. Stars began to dance in front of his eyes as he came and pulled out to spurt the rest on Harry's stomach, he saw Harry mussed in blood, sweat and Draco's release streaming from his arse. Bruises and scratch marks covered every inch of their bodies and inexplicable, something inside them healed, reached for each other and rested. In that one moment Draco was closer to saying the words than he had ever been before. As Draco fell beside him, he heard the words – "Love you."
No, no, no, no. His eyes flew open as he held himself rigid. There was no kindness or sympathy or love in his relationship with Potter. He wasn't even gay! This had all gone very, very wrong and he had to make amends for it.
After he and Harry had made love – Draco had left altogether, and now, here he was.
Harry sighed as he turned from the window in Draco's flat. "What do you want Seamus. You don't even live around here."
Seamus gave him a half-hearted smile, letting Harry know something was up. "Want to know where he was last night?"
"Well it seems everyone knows, doesn't it?" he said crisply.
"What is going on between you two? Are you…?"
"Your guess is as good as mine Seamus." Harry said curtly. "I came to him because I sensed a kindred spirit. Someone else who has pain and scars to bear."
"When will he be back?"
"I'm not sure. I haven't heard from him in three nights."
"I notice there are no pictures of him out." Seamus commented casually.
"I put them away." Harry said tartly. "After three years…" he shook his head in disgust. "Where has he been?"
Seamus said nothing as he walked to Harry. "Don't think about it." He whispered hotly as he kissed Harry firmly. Falling to the floor, Harry was glad there were no pictures of Draco. He couldn't look at those enigmatic, mysterious yet loving eyes while he was lying next to Seamus. Draco cheated on him, and somehow Harry knew he wouldn't come back this time, so why not do what Draco did?
Seamus was a gentle and considerate lover, it was tender and sweet. When he entered Seamus, he felt a guilt that sent a searing pang through his heart. As Seamus snuggled close to him, Harry remembered how this had come about.
Visiting Hermione was always depressing. A once powerful and promising witch reduced to nothing because her friend, in a jealous rage had tortured her. Ron, unable to cope with Hermione's relationship with Viktor, had toyed with them for days before killing Viktor. By the time the Aurors found them, Ron was gone and Hermione destroyed. Dutifully he visited her every day, hoping, praying that some part of the vivacious know-it-all brainiac would show itself. It never did.
As he wandered aimlessly through St. Mungos, seeing the wounded, he paused outside Draco Malfoy's door. What caused him to stop, he couldn't say. What brought him back he didn't know. Why he left him his address he had no idea. They hardly spoke, but an understanding was forged in the silence. After he confessed to Draco and he had left – he was empty. When Draco was with him, for some strange reason he was normal, he felt alive. Draco offered him no sympathies, no false pity, no leniency because of a stupid scar. He cut him no slack, made him work for everything he got and sugar coated nothing with sweetness. Harry needed that more than anything else. No hero-worship from Draco. As he constantly told him, he had his own problems and if he was looking for bravery and self sacrifice, look to the Gryffindors.
When he had faced Voldemort for the final time, he had told no one his dying words. Let the world think whatever the hell they wanted, He never let the world know that Voldemort had his revenge, cursing him for all time, cursing him with life. He had wanted nothing more than to die. Whether he died with Voldemort or he died alone, he didn't care as long as he died. Voldemort cured him before his death. "My curse to you Mr. Potter…life."
Harry had stood amidst the carnage and smoking wreckage caused by their battle, the essence of magic itself slowly eased off from the tense string it had been upon and he wept. More dead than alive he somehow found Draco's hidden flat and sat on the front step until morning when Draco came out. There had been no surprise, no recrimination in those eyes. As Harry had once done for him, he silently gestured him to come inside.
In the quiet of Draco's flat Harry healed. With Draco at his side he resumed some semblance of normality. For three years he didn't demand any more of Draco than he was willing to give. He turned a blind eye to Draco seeking out every available female in an effort to prove to Harry he wasn't gay. He told Harry every day he wasn't gay, and wasn't interested, and every day he kissed him a little firmer.
Harry gave Draco his virginity and Draco left completely, and Harry was alone again – living, but dead.
It had been three months since Draco had walked out. Harry had told Seamus thanks, but no thanks. Seamus had been understanding itself and told Harry to keep in touch and not be such a stranger. No one would know how many nights Harry spent crying over Draco – the one who made him feel alive. Wandering through the market in search of vegetables, he saw a distinctive blond head talking to Blaise Zabini. He paused for a moment as Draco looked up and caught his eye. He gulped and stood his ground as he walked over. "How've you been?" Draco asked without preamble.
"Grand." Harry replied faintly. "I'm looking for a new place to live. I need to get out of that flat, especially since the media found out where it was."
"Good, good." Draco nodded, not wanting to tell Harry that since he'd been gone his world had been dark and grey. Seeing Harry reminded him of days when he had been happy. "Where are you heading right now?"
"I'm just doing some vegetable shopping before church." Harry replied gesturing to the bags he carried.
"Church? Harry Potter found God?" Draco's eyes widened.
"Not so much that I found God as it is I found a quiet place that calms my mind and leaves me in some semblance of peace. Not that you care." Harry paused. "Where are you heading?"
"To a pub. I need to drink some things away." Draco smirked.
"I was cleaning the flat this morning, in preparation for my move and I found your picture." Harry said abruptly.
"What did you do with it?" Draco asked, curious.
Harry wasn't about to admit that he had spent the day thinking about Draco – that was all he had done since he walked out. Would he ever change his ways? Where had Draco been all this time? He couldn't get him off his mind.
Draco looked at Harry, after three months apart was willing to accept the stereotype, was willing to admit that he just might be gay. No woman ever made him feel the way Harry had, complete and accepted and loved. They asked nothing from each other, the other knowing instinctively what to give. If truth be told, he couldn't get Harry off his mind. His eyes haunted him. He had found Harry's picture in his wallet and had sworn privately to change his ways. He was afraid, afraid to open himself up to love Harry. Would he still be able to think of himself first? What would happen to his self preservation? Could he still be a cold hearted bastard, indifferent to all others?
"See you later Draco, I have to get moving." Harry said after a few minutes of silence.
"Bye." Draco nodded, not watching Harry leave.
Harry answered the phone. "Hello? Malfoy residence."
"I want to come back home." Draco's voice said abruptly over the phone.
Harry stood silent for a moment. "I want you to come home too Draco."
"Don't move out yet Harry. I promise, no more cheating."
"Don't say things you won't keep Draco." Harry warned. "Three years…"
"I won't apologize for what I've done. It's who I am and if you can't accept that…" Draco warned.
"I'm not groping for an apology Malfoy." He said curtly. "Why are you calling?"
Draco hesitated. "I just called to say I love you and I want to come back home."
Harry nodded before realizing Draco couldn't see him.. "Draco?"
"Yes?"
"I love you too. Come back home."
Ok, a little strange I know, but I was trying to stay as close to the song as possible. Please review and let me know what you think, no flames please. Thank you. Oh and for those who have emailed me threatening disembowelment, the next chapter of "The Words you Spoke" will be up shortly. I'm currently moving across Canada and writing at night in hotel rooms. I am also writing (by wildly popular request), a sequel to Give up the Grudge and The Man behind the Mask. If you want a sequel to this one, let me know and I'll be thrilled to do it. Review! Review!