Title: Weakness in the Crimson Moonlight
AuthorFlightWriter
Disclaimer: I only own the plot, it's JKR that's making all the money off of these guys.
Date started/finished: Wed, Sept. 5th 2007 - Sun, Sept. 9th 2007
Slightly significant Author Notes that very few people will actually read (well, you're loss, folks.)
-I haven't seen one of these in a while, and something made me write one. Thus, here we are.
-This takes place somewhere during school (no year specifically, use your imagination), without strict dedication to books six and seven. There is some mention, but not overly so.
-Harry and Draco have some history, but not too much, so don't get your shorts in a bunch. Put it this way: they're already on first name terms. (I'll probably wind up writing a prequel to this later. But not now. Hah.)
-It's a little long, but I hope it's worth reading. Let me know.
-Anyway: Boy x boy, self-mutilation, mention of torture, depression…Don't like? I don't care, I'm not making you read. Flames will be laughed at SHAMELESSLY
-In case you haven't noticed, I'm leaving a lot to imagination. I kinda like it. Tell me what you think.
-There is an M rated sex scene at the verrry end, but it will make MUCH more sense if you read the whole thing through. Thankee
-Welcome. We've been waiting for you.
PS: This mayyy be longer, depending on popular demand.
Harry's footsteps echoed soundlessly off the castle walls as he crept about beneath the Invisibility Cloak. Moonlight shone through the high windows, reflecting his mood in his emerald green eyes. He had been brooding all day; or more like all week, to tell the truth. His friends seemed to be growing distant, and he didn't understand why. He supposed they didn't like all the stress about Lord Voldemort. Harry shrugged to no one, crossing his arms. They should have realized that being friends with the Great Harry Potter would come with strings attached, the dolts. He heaved a sigh that seemed to echo around him, and around the corner. Harry stopped, suddenly cautious.
A sigh like that would not have just rounded the corner, it had to have come from someone else. Though he knew no one could see him, he edged an eyeball around the corner, and nearly gasped again in surprise. A pale blonde head was poking out of the top of some robes, piled on the floor beneath a window. Harry hadn't expected to encounter Draco of all people out this late, especially in this state. Silently, he crouched down to sit next to Draco. After a moment, he figured Draco was going to stay put.
"Draco?" Harry said quietly. The blonde hair shone white in the moonlight, but it didn't move at first. Draco sighed again, and after a moment lifted his head up off his arms, looking straight ahead. Of course, he didn't know where Harry was exactly.
"Why am I not surprised you're out this late, Potter?" he said in a falsely snobbish tone. Harry knew this, and answered with an equally false smart-ass remark."Maybe because you're feeling guilty about being out yourself, Malfoy, and you're needing someone to join the rule-breaking in case you get caught." Draco smirked.
"You know, Harry, one day you're not going to be so lucky that I'm the one you run into and not McGonagall or something." Harry didn't say anything. He knew he'd be able to avoid anyone if he really wanted to; Draco didn't know about the map, after all.
"Do you have any new ones, Draco?" he said softly, still under the Invisibility Cloak. Draco shut his eyes slowly. Generally when Harry asked this, he could see him, and Draco didn't like to see his face. His eyelids drooped purely out of habit. He pulled up the sleeve of his robe and held his arm in the moonlight.
Harry gazed upon the pale skin, and his own eyes nearly bled at the sight of the swollen welts that resided now on Draco's arm. He hated to see the perfect skin tarnished this way; but he also knew what Draco was going through. After all, Draco had asked him the same question numerous times.
Releasing his grip on the Cloak so it fell in a pool around his ankles, Harry took Draco's wrist in his hand. He felt it tremble slightly, and loosened his grip.
"Why, Draco?" Harry asked in a whisper. He did not ask in a despairing tone, as if trying to persuade him against it. Harry asked this in a curious one, to find out the reason more than anything else. He'd seen worse on his friend, but this was definitely a set that would scar for more than a month or two.
"My father came for a visit," Draco said, his voice hardly audible. He was trying so hard not to burst into tears on the spot. Harry would know what this meant, Draco thought. He always does. He understands. More than anyone else. He understands. With this thought to comfort him, Draco let a few tears slide from his eyes. Harry's attention immediately turned to Draco's cheek; the way the moonlight was hitting him, he looked absolutely heavenly. Harry glanced down at the gashes on Draco's arm again, unsure of what to do or say. He put his other hand on Draco's shoulder. Finally opening his eyes, Draco met Harry's gaze and knew that Harry did, indeed, understand.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked him. Draco's eyes slipped out of focus for a moment, but then he nodded slightly.
"Yeah." Draco had been through too many rounds of the Cruciatus Curse to really feel the aftermath anymore, his father used it exclusively for spur-of-the-moment torture. Harry didn't need to know about the lashes on his back, though. Not yet.
"Don't lie to me, Draco," Harry said, his voice dropping a couple pitches. All the time, he was gazing at Draco's pale perfection in the moonlight, and without warning-he didn't know what made him do it-he found his lips gliding along the tearstains on Draco's cheek.
Neither Harry nor Draco gasped or jerked away; there was no shouting of, "What the fuck, Potter!" or, "Damnit, Draco, I'm sorry…!" Harry merely froze, a centimetre away from Draco's cheek, waiting for something to happen.
Draco let out a breath. In truth, his heart was pounding. He wasn't angry or upset, he wasn't going to start shouting and cursing, but he was anxious. He was still gazing forward, where Harry's eyes had been just moments ago. He didn't see Harry's expression. He wasn't sure he wanted to. But he could tell that Harry was still there. He just didn't know what to do with himself.
His father hated him. The Dark Lord wanted him dead. He had failed his family line, and his parents were thinking about disowning him. He'd made a grave mistake in life, in even trying to kill Dumbledore. He'd gotten in way over his head in the past year or two, and he couldn't figure out who to go to for help. Who he could go to that wouldn't look at him scathingly, like everyone else had been doing lately. He had no relatives, and most of his "friends" at school were really just cronies that once thought he would lead them on to be the next generation of Death Eaters. They were just using him for a place in the Dark Lord's world. Harry was the only one who understood all this, the only one to be in a compatible place in society. Harry could help him survive his guilt, his terror. Harry would help him survive the blood staining his back, and that staining his veins.
"Draco," Harry breathed, trying not to move, for he still didn't know what in Merlin's beard was going on. To his great surprise, and utter pleasure, Draco turned his head towards Harry, and their lips brushed the other's, forcing them into a ghost of a kiss.
"Harry," Draco said, looking down cross-eyed at Harry's lips, giving him that infamous look of Come on, kiss me already!
Harry dropped Draco's wrist and placed his own hand on Draco's other shoulder. In this motion, Harry's head moved an inch closer to Draco, and they met for the second time. Both Harry and Draco were met with such a passion between them, they lost connection with everything around them. Draco could only feel Harry's hands at the base of his neck, could only hear his own heartbeat in his ears. He could only see the tip of Harry's nose through his half-closed eyes. All Harry could focus on was how perfect Draco tasted, how right the feel of his hair was, how undeniably natural the whole thing seemed. He understood everything, now.
Before he could stop himself, Draco slid down the remainder of the wall to lie on the floor, dragging Harry with him. He longed to touch every bit of what he had, for so long, taken advantage of; he wanted to make up for lost time. He wanted to see everything in the moonlight…To finally have the full glory of everything that was Harry Potter. He wanted to look into those eyes, to touch all those scars, to understand the brilliance of the mind. His whole body electrified at the thought; heat spread through his veins faster than a thestral on a dead cow, heat that he hadn't felt in years. As this heat gathered between his legs, some small part of his brain objected. Stop, stop! It's Harry, you idiot! You only just got past the whole, "I-hate-you-and-you-hate-me-so-lets-just-curse-each-other-stupid-until-we-get-expelled," thing! He's not your lover, he's your friend, and what makes you think he'd go along with it! You don't know love, remember? You're not allowed to love!
This last thought froze Draco in his tracks. Harry, while gliding kisses down his jaw, stopped moving, as well.
"Draco?" he said in a worried whisper. Maybe Draco had realized what they were doing.
"I-I cant," Draco whimpered, as if having a bad dream. Harry took a deep breath. He knew what was coming. He'd felt it himself, not long ago. He'd had the same thought that he saw in Draco's eyes at this very moment.
"I just…I can't do this!"
"You can't what? Can't feel? Can't have affection? Can't feel affection?" One more silent tear trailed down Draco's cheek. Harry knew. He always understood. He whispered an apology.
"I'm sorry," he said, a small smile playing about his pink lips. He leaned forward and brought Harry back down in a kiss. He was suddenly aware of Harry's striking erection against his thigh. This reminded him of his own, and he groaned very quietly, for they were still out in the middle of the hall, after all.
"Harry," Draco began. "Not to worry," Harry said.
The next thing Draco knew, he was laying on a bed. He couldn't tell much else, although he did see numerous beams of moonlight past Harry's shoulders.
But, again, he couldn't focus on much else; Harry was busy ravishing his throat and shoulders.
This is not to say Draco wasn't keeping busy. He was trying to memorize every single angle in Harry's form, for Harry was the true and dedicated Quidditch star. Draco didn't care much; he didn't exercise the right muscles at Quidditch practice (he more or less blew them off). He wasn't thin because he was Seeker, he was Seeker because he was thin. It was just a title to him. Harry, on the other hand, devoted every practice not only to honing in on his skill, but staying physically fit, as well. He had perfect muscles that no one would ever have suspected. Quidditch robes covered them up on the field, school robes covered them up during autumn, winter, and spring. Even during the hot summer months at the beginning and end of each school year, Harry didn't go ripping off his shirt like so many other boys did. Sure, he'd roll up his sleeves or unbutton a top button here or there, but nothing drastic. Draco felt like he was touching some secret tomb, the items in which had been unseen since they were buried. His sensitive fingertips ran along the ridges of white lines covering Harry's shoulders, biceps, side, and other areas on his torso. The thought of finding every one of Harry's scars made Draco shiver in excitement.
They each had a matching one on their right arm, just below the triceps and above the elbows. Draco had made an H, Harry had made a D. This was the first one they'd done together, to make permanent their truce. Draco had the urge to see his initial on Harry's arm. He had to. He had to make sure it was still there. His H was still bright white…What of Harry's D?
A single incoherent mutter, and both the boys' clothing was removing itself. Draco gasped at first, but after he realized what had happened, he was grateful. Some Wandless spells just Vanished clothes. Others, like the one Harry had just used, made the transition from "clothed" to "not clothed" much less awkward. It wasn't as if Harry and Draco were suddenly left staring at each other's pale forms with nothing to do. No, buttons undid themselves, belts unhooked of their own accord, and robes, shirts, and pants all folded themselves neatly in a corner on the floor.
"Nice touch," said Draco breathlessly. He saw the first letter of his own name, white and emblazoned onto Harry's arm. If he had to say, he would have thought that it was even deeper now than it had been when Harry had first made it. Registering this thought as something they both had done, Draco knew that their bond was tighter than he had originally thought.
By now, both he and Harry were panting with need, their erections were equally painful. Harry, who had remained hovering above Draco, waited another moment, however.
"Draco," he said, gasping from the effort of containing himself and from holding himself above the other without crushing him. "Draco, what are we doing?" Draco took a breath, letting it out in a hoarse whisper.
"I don't know…do you like it?" Harry laughed desperately. "Yeah…you?" Draco nodded.
"Come on, then," he said, bringing Harry back down to a crashing kiss.
As their tongues explored each other, Draco was still running his fingertips up and down Harry's torso. A few times he drew dangerously close to Harry's hips, and Harry wormed his way closer to Draco's hand each time. Harry was getting a little self conscious about Draco caressing all his scars; he didn't like the way they looked on him very much. Well, except for a select few. Yes, except for a select few.
Draco, on the other hand, looked absolutely radiant. When he scarred himself, he made intricate patterns and designs, etching across his own flesh works of painful skill that any art professor would envy. Harry's eyes ran up and down Draco's milky white skin, expecting Draco to blush at his stare. Harry hadn't seen the extent of Draco's scars, just the ones easily showable. This, Harry was sure, was a masterpiece. But Draco merely let him gaze, until Harry's eyes started to run lower down his torso. Draco cleared his throat."I told you they were intricate." And he had. When Harry asked him how many more each day, Draco would tell him how many marks and he would go on about how perfect they were, how detailed, how deep or shallow he'd made them. Harry thought he was exaggerating; but Merlin, was he wrong. Harry ran a thumb up and down a few of them, drawing his eyes back away from Draco's waist. He bent low to kiss the scars he'd just touched, and Draco's head fell to the side as he breathed with the movement of Harry's kisses. He couldn't help it, his hand drifted back up to meet Harry. They kissed again, and Draco, sick of the pain between his legs, lifted himself up off his shoulders and forced Harry to roll over.
With Draco hovering in the moonlight again, Harry was stunned speechless. With his momentary lack of focus, Draco took a hand and dragged his nails up each of Harry's legs, reminding him just what they were up to. Harry groaned, as if suddenly reawakening to the fact that he was stiff as a board and desperately needing release. Draco straddled him, running his hands down Harry's chest just once, leaving red streaks as his nails ground into skin. He felt Harry shudder beneath him, and immediately ventured down to his lower region.
Of course, neither of them had done anything like this before. Draco just imagined what he'd like to be done to him, and made it feel as natural and seamless as possible. Judging by Harry's reactions, he was doing a fair job. Scratching his way back down to Harry's thighs, he drew his nails right up to Harry's balls. Feeling him squirm beneath his own form, Draco smirked his old Malfoy smirk.
"Aren't we excited, Harry?" Harry opened his eyes, glaring at Draco.
"You know, for someone who was just thinking less than an hour ago that they couldn't love, you're doing an awfully god-awfully good job at the teasing part!"
Draco swept forward so his eyes were on a level with Harry's. Their mouths a millimetre apart, he grasped Harry's member as they met in another kiss. Taking his own into his hand as well, Harry gasped for air as he felt his erection join Draco's as their tongues met again in passionate fury.
"Draco," Harry moaned, as he ground up into Draco, "please, do something…!"
With this plea, Draco broke away from Harry, licking his lips, then licking his own fingers. Dragging his moist fingertips down Harry's stomach, around his balls, and right toward his entrance, Draco gave Harry what he wanted immediately. Harry's eyes rolled into the back of his head as Draco's finger probed him, and he forced himself to relax as Draco pushed on with an additional finger now and then. After moments of listening to Harry's breathing, Draco leaned down again to kiss him.
"Ready?" he breathed, right into Harry's lips. Harry swallowed, not answering for a moment. Finally, he nodded, his eyes still closed. Draco smiled, brushing Harry's lips once more before repositioning himself between Harry's legs. His ankles immediately rose to meet Draco's shoulders, and Draco had much better access. Gasping at the feel of Harry's entrance on the tip of his cock, Draco was left feeling slightly lightheaded for a second. After Harry's gasp, however, Draco was encouraged to ease forward, allowing Harry to stretch, giving him access. Several tense moments later, Draco was in to the hilt, his balls pressed between Harry's ass and his own body. Harry was gripping his forearm, his brow furrowed. Draco looked down at him, wondering what to do now. He leaned in for another kiss, asking Harry permission to continue. Harry opened his mouth just the slightest.
This moment was one that both Harry and Draco would remember for a lifetime. Embraced by the touch of an open mouth, by the grasp of fingers on flesh, by the grasp of tight muscles on an embedded cock. They were certainly a sight. Connected in every loving way possible, the two felt more alike than ever before.
Harry let loose another breath, and Draco knew he had to move. Keeping his head bowed low towards Harry's, still grasping his hand, he moved only his hips as he drew out of his tight prison. Harry whimpered. At this, Draco threw himself back into Harry so hard he didn't know what to do but ricochet right back again. A nearly inhuman moan gurgled from Harry's throat.
"Draco, there…"
Thinking this was typical of male sex, Draco tried his hardest to hit that same spot each and every time he reentered Harry. After a few attempts, he discovered a way to angle himself that it was a guaranteed hit every time. Harry was soon breathing harder and faster, and Draco was having a difficult time keeping himself steady, calm. He wanted this to last for days, he wasn't sure he could go back on it again if he tried. He wanted so much to just live in this moment the rest of his life.
Harry started to reach down to his own cock, but Draco brushed his hand away in an instant. Thinking that Draco would not allow him to feel anything, Harry started to object. Of course, that was before realizing that Draco had placed his own hand on him, instead. Harry resumed his shuddering gasps as Draco alternately stroked him and hit his prostate repeatedly. Soon it was more than Harry could take. He felt himself tighten up and held his breath. At this silence, Draco pounded him harder and faster, feeling the ridges around his cock brush past him at the speed of light. Harry let out a huge breath and gulped down another. Finally, with one powerful squeezing stroke of his cock, he burst. Harry's semen spilled all over the two of them, smothering Draco in sparkling white. Wiping a little off his own shoulder with an index finger, Draco licked it onto his tongue, cherishing the salty flavor of Harry on his tongue. With this thought, one more thrust into Harry and Draco spilled inside of him. He grasped Harry's shoulders, pressing his own ribs into him. Harry could feel Draco's seed being milked from him and he shook along with Draco as Draco trembled in his release. After his mind caught up with his body, Draco let go of Harry's shoulders, slumping down beside him.
Harry could almost hear Draco's heartbeat beside him. Both their eyes drooped slowly. "Harry," Draco asked in a mumbled whisper.
"Mmm?" Harry answered in an equally mumbled whisper.
"You know what we have to do now, right?" Draco said, sitting back up and opening his eyes in the excitement to come. Harry raised an eyebrow at him."What's that?" Draco reached down to his folded clothes, picking up his pocket knife out of a…well, pocket. He clicked it open, looking at Harry. Right into his eyes. They were going to be bonded again, the same way as before. Harry duplicated Draco's pocket knife Wandlessly, and they began to carve each other's initials into the very heart of the curls that lay before their lower regions. The Muggle way.
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One more A/N: Yes, I know, the whole Room of Requirement and Wandless magic thing are sooo cliché, but the situation called, and hey. When at Hogwarts, do as the…Hogwartians do? Anyway, R&R please, I'll love you forever!