Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters are copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling. I will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site.

"How can I save you
When I can't even save myself
Oh, you want me
A number of different ways

Feel me
Fuck me
Hurt me
Love me
Hate me
Save me
Kill me

Doppelganger I love you
My pain is your pain
Your veins are my veins
Your chains are my chains, too" -Zeromancer

He's more damaged than I am.

Draco has iron control over both his pain and his desires; a skill that had served him when he was forced to perform the horrific tasks placed on him in sixth year, when he was forced to survive Voldemort, and to save me even though it endangered him and it wasn't in his nature to do so. And it served him after the war when he forced himself to join the Auror Department to restore his family and righting their wrongs, even though the job didn't suit him. He never dropped this control. It is still there driving him mad.

I never noticed him breaking until now, as we stand over a body torn to shreds by a werewolf attack in an alley in muggle London. Draco is crouched, holding the remains of a leg nonchalantly and just a moment ago had said, "Human shins weigh heavier than I thought they would." His eyes are dead but he suddenly burst into chuckles.

"Draco, put that down." I suppress a shudder. "You know DMLE regulations."

"Oh you can break rules but I can't?"

"Draco." A firm, strong tone makes him pause. He drops his smirk with a sigh and puts the leg back on the floor. Then stands up and looks at me with that wretchedly dead gaze. I stare straight into it and step forward. He lets out a breathy, taunting laugh. As if he knows what's in my heart.

I look down at him. After the war, I put whatever traumas had atrophied my growth behind me once and for all, and with Mrs. Weasley's cooking, had grown several more centimeters. I'm now an inch taller than Draco – who is still as tall as Narcissa. He grew in different ways, however, had filled out, his face rounded a little. He looks just like his mother. Beautiful. Cold. Unapproachable.

"The way you're looking at me, are you sure you want to reprimand me or fuck me?" His drawl drips with mockery. A smirk barely quirks the corner of his pink lips.

"I'm worried about you. You're going to counseling right?"

"I stopped."

"Draco..."

"It's none of your business, Potter!" He never got around to calling me Harry, despite being my partner for three years. Another wall that's killing him. I need to knock it down. But his eyes flashed for a moment and that was something.

We hear a couple of cracks and Ron and Melinda arrive at the scene.

"I never liked you, Potter," he says venomously. It's something.

Ron hisses "Merlin..." at the sight of the mauled corpse – it's a normal reaction even though he's seen plenty like it. Empathy is healthy. He approaches me and senses something wrong because he frowns at me and asks, "You two okay?"

"Yeah. We're fine."

Draco stops in front of my cubicle a few hours later. "There was another attack."

"Shit." It's almost sun up. I'm exhausted and Draco shows signs of wear even through his iron mask.

When we arrive at the scene it's in someone's home. We enter it and find the remains of an old lady on the floor in the sitting room. Some of her cats too had been mauled. "Damn."

It reeks and not just because of the dead bodies. She was a hoarder and there's garbage bags everywhere, the smell of all types of things rotting mingled with the stench of cat piss. And gasoline for some reason.

Draco sniffs and covers his nose with a handkerchief. "Ugh. I don't know whether it's tragic or wolfie did her a favor."

I turn on him. "Draco!"

He flinches and snaps his stony eyes to me but he doesn't say anything, just watches me glare at him. I can't read him at all and it makes me want to shove him up against the wall, punch him...something to get a proper reaction out of him. Shaking my head, I turn back to the mangled corpse and crouch next to it.

Suddenly I smell smoke. I sniff and follow it to its source, open the door near the dining table and gasp. The kitchen is on fire! I turn and notice that the fire is outside the windows also, and spreading. Someone is trying to get rid of the evidence.

I have my wand out in a flash. "Homenum Revelio!" The spell doesn't detect anyone. They have already left.

I run over to Draco who has started panicking. He's white as a sheet, sweating profusely, but he's trying to keep it under control. "I can't do it," he whispers shakily.

I grab him firmly by the shoulder. "Yes, you can. Draco I need you to help me put the fire out. It's normal fire. Can you do that?"

He can't. He falls to his knees. The fire is spreading fast.

I pick Draco up with an arm around his waist and look closely at him. His eyes are glistening so full of fear, glazed, and I think his mind is no longer here but back in the Room of Requirement. While I prefer the look to a stony gaze any day, it makes me want to protect him with my life.

I point my wand at the front door. "Aguamenti!" I just need an opening for us. Part of the fire is put out momentarily, large enough to run through. "Draco, move!" I rush us out into the street and, at a safe enough distance, I fall over Draco who's struggling with every breath.

A tear trickles down his temple. I need to get through to him somehow so I lift him up to a sitting position. "It's okay, Dray, I'm here."

"I can't-hah-I can't..."

Draco is pyrophobic. He won't even go near an oven. I fucking know that. But he's an Auror. I too have my issues. Get nervous in dense forests, but I can control it. I have to, I'm an Auror. But I don't stop breathing in them.

He's more damaged than I am. The thought crawls down my spine for a second time tonight.

"Draco you need to calm yourself. Come one, breath. It's okay. No one got hurt."

But he won't stop. "I can't..." he says between gasps. "I can't...I can't."

"Draco, breath. Look at me!" I cup his face in my hands. "Look at me—hey! Breath."

"I can't..."

For once his eyes don't look dead. Their stone-gray color have turned to a molten silver full of pain, fear, and tears which trickle delicately down his pale cheeks and unto my fingers. His face, so vulnerable right now, is gilded by the crackling fire behind us.

He's beautiful.

"Just focus on my face, Dray. Try to calm down and breath." So I tell but I'd rather see him in pain and afraid than soulless.

I lean in closer and immediately his hands come up and clutch at my robes like a lifeline. He's gasping for every desperate breath and I if I don't get it under control I'm going to have to apparate him to Saint Mungo's.

"Draco, look at me. Are you looking at me?"

He nods, even as tears stream down his face. He's trembling. I take him into my arms to make him stop, put my mouth to his and kiss him. Three years and I've never made a move so I don't know why I kiss him now of all times, but seeing him like this somehow draws something more primal out of me. I feel his heavy breaths pour into me, his chest ebbing violently against mine, and then he calms. His breaths grow steadier. He moans and kisses me back.

I almost lose myself against his lips but the need to know that he's okay is stronger than anything. I break away and scan his face. His eyes, still liquid silver, scan me back. They're red at the edges from crying, his tears have stuck his long, pale lashes together. His pale cheeks are dotted with color; they look like apple blossoms – I don't know if it's from exertion or from embarrassment. Never have I seen that look on him before and it makes me hard.

He breaks away slowly breathing a little better. There are tears in his eyes when he looks at me, a little more clearly now. "I can't stop hearing him scream," he whispers and starts to weep. I've only ever seen him cry like this once before and it's one of my worst memories.

I rock him in my arms, shushing him. I know who he's talking about and there's nothing I can say to him. He presses his wet face into my chest, his hands cling to my robes, his body trembles wretchedly against mine. My arms tighten around him.

It's not right. I killed Voldemort six years ago. He's dead and gone. So why is he still in my life ruining everything?

Draco eventually stops crying and grows pliant in my arms. "The heat hurt," he mutters tiredly. "I didn't like it."

"I know. Don't worry. I won't let anyone hurt you."

We stay that way for I don't know how long. Any moment now more Aurors would appear. Someone is bound to report the fire.

I draw back slightly and smirk down at him. "Can't believe that actually worked."

His laughter is breathy and somewhat vulnerable. I kiss him again and this time he wraps his fingers in my hair and pulls. I groan.

I don't want to stop kissing him but I break away just far enough to whisper unto his lips, "Don't do that." I use a warning tone but he does it again. So I pull back and when I see his face again, some of the old Draco is back with a weak smirk on his lips. But his control must be breaking because his eyes still haven't returned to being stones yet.

"You do want to fuck me," he whispers harshly, still breathing a little heavily, but he seems to ignore his own damaged state and drops his other hand to my crotch.

I flinch and grip his wrist before it goes any further. "Not here. Not now."

"Here and now is kinky."

That's what I hate about him. That twistedness that somehow developed over the years because no one tried to stop it. "I thought you didn't like me, remember?"

"Hatred is kinky too."

"Draco." I use the voice that makes him listen and he stops.

"Then take me home." He looks at me seriously, eyes still filled with remnants of old wounds and new fears and I can't say no. Even though it's happening too fast, he's damaged and I'm way too used to seeing him walk around as if he's made of stone. I could do the noble thing or the selfish thing.

Hesitantly, I choose the selfish option and apparate us straight to his apartment – which is a section of Malfoy Manor just for him. He's still a pure-blood through and through. However, now that I'm here, the sight of his enormous four-poster bed lavishly decorated with embroidered silk and looking far too tantalizing, I regret it. Something is telling me that this is wrong. I mean, I want him, have wanted him for years, but he's not himself tonight. I shouldn't...I can't.

He walks towards his bed but I remain by the fireplace. It's cold, unused, and makes me wonder what Draco does for warmth.

"Harry?"

Fuck! That's the first time he's said my name. I don't look at him when I say, "I'm heading back." If I look at him, I'll want to throw him on his giant, lavish bed and fuck the posh drawl right out of him. But he's not himself. He's feeling vulnerable, losing control. And he's damaged.

There's a dark silence behind me but I don't care. "Draco, go back to counseling."

"Fuck you, Potter!"

His steps hurry towards me, grabs my robes, and turns me around. "Are you playing with me?"

"What? No!"

"Then what are you playing at!?" His voice is hoarse but his eyes are cold stone again. His walls are back up. "Do you want me or not?"

Merlin, I can't stand to look at him, it hurts. "I want you. But I can't. I need to fix you first."

Draco cackles madly. "Oh, that's rich! You need to fix me?" Grinning darkly, he presses his chest to mine and gets so close we breathe the same air. "Fix yourself, Golden Boy. You're just as damaged as I am. You. And Me. We're the same."

His words wake up something in me I didn't know was there. Was it all those teenage years of anger and loathing towards him? Pent-up desires for retribution? Pity? Guilt for my failure to save him before Voldemort could damage him?

What I do know is hunger. So much hunger and it snaps. I grab him by the neck with both my hands, bend his head and kiss him hard. So hard when we finally part to breath there is blood on our lips. On his teeth. He's got a bloody smile that makes me sad for some reason and says, "You don't want to just fuck me then."

He laughs and kisses me passionately and his tongue makes me go crazy. Then he draws back and breaths into my ear, "Choke me."

I want to. It surprises me that I want to and I do it. I squeeze my fingers harder around his long, white neck. His breaths grows heavy, restricted against my ear. It's hot and I'm so hard I can barely think straight. His eyes, they're melting into silver again, shining with pain and pleasure.

I walk him backwards towards the round tea table near the fireplace and slam him down against it. He let's out a breathy cry that drives me wild, wraps his legs around me. I grind against him as I watch his eyes swell and water. They're bright – in pain but alive, watching me as I choke him.

I want more so I squeeze harder and he begins to struggle a little. Just a little. An arch of his back, a leg flails, his hands come around my wrists as his eyes close. This makes the tears in his eyes run down the sides of his temples and wet his pink ears. His cheeks are red and plump as his face swells. Now they really do like like the petals of an apple blossom.

"H-hah-Har-ry!" It's not his faint voice but my name on his breath that snaps me back to reality. I shoot backward.

What did I just do!? Draco is on his back on the table, gasping and coughing as he tries to breathe again. He rubs his neck – it's red and bruised, the shapes of my fingers coiled around it. It looks ugly. I look away.

"Merlin, Draco, I'm sorry," I whisper. My voice sounds so deep and throaty. I don't recognize it.

He laughs that breathy laugh of his and whispers hoarsely, "I knew it. You don't just want to fuck me," he gasps, smiling. There's blood still on his teeth. "You want to hurt me."

I turn away, about to apparate. No. I can't run from this. Without turning to look at him I tell him, "Draco, you need help." My voice sounds closer to its original tone now but it shakes.

I can hear the sneer in his voice. "I'm not the only one."

"Then we!" I yell. "We need to seek help."

"Tell me, is our esteemed A.D. counselor helping you? Does going to talk to that old bat keep the demons away?"

I sigh. Suddenly I'm exhausted and highly depressed. And angry at Voldemort, whose evil reaches us beyond death. I walk back towards him. He's sitting up and his face is stony. But when I look in his eyes, there's something in them. He's angry. It's a bigger something.

I get close but not too close. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I think you do."

He's riling me up. Boy did he ever know how to rile me up. My lips purse as I try to control my temper. "No. I don't."

He cocks his head, peers into me like he sees more than I'm willing to reveal. "Maybe not too much. But you do want to hurt me a little."

I sigh. He exasperates me. "Draco, I don't want to see you hurt!"

"What if I told you I want to hurt? But only a little."

"Like I said. Get help."

Draco throws himself off the table and lines his body up with mine. He glares up at me, smoldering silver that makes my heart skip. "I will. But not from a wrinkly old bat that falls asleep in her chair while I'm trying to find the words to monotonously describe all the things I don't get about myself." His eyes search mine as I listen. "I want to feel. Only you can do that. I need you, Potter."

I shake my head. I want to save him more than anything. But what I just did to him is evidence that there is something wrong with me too. I need to fix myself before I can fix him.

"I'll fix it."

"What?"

I said that out loud without knowing. "I'll fix it," I say louder, to him. "I'll fix us."

Draco laughs derisively. The sound throws me back to our days at Hogwarts when he'd make fun of me. Like the time I fainted because of the Dementors. "Saint Potter...Well, go on then. Piss off so I can wank to the memory of you choking my lights out."

He's mad. I look at him like he is. "I almost killed you! Do you understand that?"

"Death is kinky. I heard you come when you die."

He's in a mood. There's no reasoning with him when he's like this. He likes to do and say things he knows will agitate me into yelling at him. Such times it's best to walk away. And I do just that. I don't go back to work though, despite the disaster that was tonight. Instead, I apparate home. I'm still hard as a rock.

Draco is back under control; that iron control that doesn't do him any good because when he cried in my arms it must have been the first time he did since the war and everything came out. He's trying to keep it all in again.

Worse, he's shutting me out, more than ever. He ignores me completely on the lift up to the Auror Department, won't let me touch him, not even a comforting hand on his shoulder. His eyes are cold.

Almost as soon as we step out, Robards is on us and shoots his mouth off about all the things we're doing wrong right in front of the entire department. I don't know if I could have salvaged something from the crime scene, but I understand his frustration. I'm pissed off too. Yes, apparating straight home is not protocol but I can't tell him about Draco. Everyone knows he's a little squeamish near a flame, won't go near a lit grill or stove. No one knows it's bad enough to get in the way of his job.

Robards pisses off to his office with a huff and we go back to our cubicles. I try to say something to Draco but he shakes his head and sits down. "I'm going to write my report. Make yourself useful and don't pester me, Potter."

And we're back to square one, just like three years ago when we were first assigned together. Honestly, I never liked the dead smile he gives me when he brings me coffee anyway. I like his teary eyes when they show pain. Because it's something.

The image of his face as I choked him pops in my mind's eye, and I remember the feel of his thighs rubbing against my hips. It gets me dangerously close to getting hard. I need to get away from him.

I head for the lift, take it down to the Atrium to get a coffee from the Munchies stand. There's a pot up in our office but it's not as good and I need the walk. I need to cool down, calm the monster inside. As I take a careful sip – it's too hot – I watch the crowd.

And curse me to hell but there's a moon-pale head walking among the thick crowd towards me. For a moment, my heart skips, wondering why he followed me. But a moment later Luna appears. I sigh in relief. And maybe a little disappointment.

"Hey, Luna. What brings you here?"

She smiles at me. "Hi, Harry. I'm having lunch with Hermione...Tough day?"

This makes me chuckle. I don't know why but Luna always makes me calmer. "Is it that obvious?"

"You look a little worn. Draco troubles?"

Why does she always do that? "What makes you say that?"

"He's the only one that stresses you out this much."

"Could be the case."

"Yeah, I heard about your case from Hermione who heard about it from Ron. You've handled far worse without breaking a sweat."

That makes me laugh. It feels good. "Well, I wouldn't go that far. What about you?"

"I'm well. Excited. Just cataloged a new species."

"Oh wow." I feared she would start talking non stop about it but instead, she asks, "Is Draco coming to Ron's party?"

Damn it. I don't want to talk about him. "Um. I'm not sure. Haven't gotten around to asking."

"Oh, Hermione already invited him because she knows you and Ron are rather obtuse with these things. But he hasn't responded."

Speak of the devil, Hermione is suddenly here with us, hands in blazer pockets. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Ron's party."

"Draco troubles."

Ugh, Luna...why? But Hermione rolls her eyes. "When isn't it?"

"That's what I said."

Wow and apparently everyone in the world knows. "Merlin...I'm going back. Have to finish that report."

Hermione nods and takes Luna by the arm. "See you later, then." Luna waves as they walk away. I head for the lifts back to that stifling air near Draco.

When I get there, he turns to me and says, "We should return to the house and see if we find clues as to who set it on fire. I doubt there will be a murder tonight."

I nodded. It's not a full moon and apparently, the werewolf is, possibly, someone newly bitten and not a deranged killer. "Whoever it is, is cognizant enough to destroy evidence."

"Or perhaps someone close to them," Draco suggests. "Someone trying to protect them. You said you smelled gasoline. It might have been a muggle."

"Maybe..." Well, at least he's talking to me again. I suppose he must if we're to close this case. Still, I venture, "Um...so are we-"

Draco glares at me. "Shut up, Potter." Then struts off towards the lift.

Draco and I return to the burnt house and rummage through the charred remains. I keep a constant eye on Draco. He's controlling it. I would admire him for that strong will if only he didn't use it to drive himself insane by keeping all his demons inside, festering.

I know he's nervous here, fighting his instincts to run. The smell of burnt things reminds him of Hogwarts, of Crabbe. It dawns on me that perhaps another reason Draco has for joining the Aurors is to feel like he has power over evil things. To feel like no dark wizard could ever subdue him like Voldemort had ever again. Still, Draco isn't the type to face danger for the thrill nor for a noble cause. This job really doesn't suit him.

But he pushes through.

He looks up and catches me staring with a cold glare. "For Merlin's sake, Potter. You're driving me nuts with your mixed messages."

My head snaps away before I can control it. He says I drive him mad but it's the other way around.

Well...I suppose we're two peas in a pod.

It's Ron's birthday and we're at the Leaky Cauldron, drinking. The place had been booked for his party and the tables lined up into one long table to one side, while the middle is an open dance floor. My two best friends are dancing together, closely, intimately. They smile at each other and not for the first time I feel like they're leaving me behind.

They suffered just like me, but they are nowhere near as broken. I know why. I look over to Draco, who's dancing with Charlie. They have been flirting all night.

My grip on my firewhisky tightens but I don't do anything about it. I want to heal us but I'm afraid that if I get close to him I'll do the opposite. Charlie is strong. A dragon tamer, ironically enough. Maybe he could fix him. Merlin, I want to believe it but just the thought makes me want to shatter something, or walk up to them, slam Draco against the nearest surface and kiss him for everyone to see.

Draco doesn't need a tamer, he needs a liberator.

Someone comes up behind me and pats me on the shoulder. It's Bill. His scars a perfect reminder that some of us are irreparably damaged. Even so, he smiles so easily and brightly as if there are no past demons nipping at his heels. "You got it bad, brother!" He shouts into my ear above the music.

"What?"

"I said you've got it bad! For Draco Malfoy!"

I can't reply to that. It only turns my mood sourer than it already is. I gulp down the rest of the firewhiskey.

"Go ask him to dance, Harry. Before my brother sweeps him off his feet. Charlie's a charmer you know."

I still can't reply. Not in the positive but not in the negative either. I must be wearing my heart on my sleeve because Bill leans in close to my ear. "Harry, it's okay to go after what you want once in a while."

I shake my head. He doesn't get it. He doesn't know. "I'll hurt him," I try to explain.

Bill's face turns serious. "You have hurt him. Many times. And he's hurt you. Now you have a chance to heal all that." He throws his head towards Draco and I look. Draco is still dancing with Charlie but watching me. Like always, I can't read his eyes. He's moving but his eyes are still.

"He wants you too. Go take him from Charlie before those two make a drunken mistake."

Now you have a chance to heal.

I look at Hermione and Ron, smiling at each other, eyes only for one another, and they must be so deeply taken in their own little world that they don't even move to the upbeat song, but sway slowly in sync.

I look at Charlie with his dragonhide boots and piercings, his sexy tussled hair watching Draco's ass like it's his next objective. I realize he must own things like whips and chains. The type of thing Draco likes. A picture of Draco tied up, his ass getting whipped, pops into my mind's eye and I can't stand it. It's driving me off the edge.

I shove the empty glass against Bill, who takes it with a smirk, and walk over to them. Charlie doesn't see me coming but Draco does and he's grinning savagely. He grinds his ass against Charlie, throwing an arm behind him around Charlie' thick neck, never breaking eye contact with me. He loves provoking me. Always did. Now in different ways.

I press myself to him and start to dance. Then look at Charlie who blinks at me right before I twist Draco away from him. Charlie looks about to say something but Bill's got my back, he grabs his brother's arm and leads him away to the bar, all the while telling him something.

Draco laughs and throws his arms around me. There's something in his eyes now, a glint of something devious. But it's something.

We stumble through his Floo, snickering into each other's lips, both drunk but not too drunk. We stumble because we're in a hurry to get to one another's skin. But when I go to take off my shirt, he stops me.

"Not yet, Potter."

"Harry."

He smiles brightly and whispers, "Harry," with a voice as if the sound of my name can make him come. "We're the same, Harry." His lips rub against my neck as he speaks through heavy breaths. "You're just as damaged as I am."

He kisses me. This time gently, slowly, but so much more intense. My arms go around his lean waist and his hands reach up to mess with my hair. He breaks away, takes my glasses, mumbling something about getting new ones but he puts them down on the table with care. They're fake. I had to correct my vision for my job but I feel naked without them. Then he takes my hand and leads me towards his large posh four-poster bed with curtains and sheets a deep, forest green and embroidered with gold.

He pushes me down on it then steps back and starts to undress. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears and I think he must hear it too. Last to go are his black briefs which pool at his feet and I can't contain the primal groan that escapes from deep within me.

Fuck all the hells but he is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. A full one-seventy-six centimeters of milky-white perfect skin. Long, graceful limbs, strong thighs. A wide chest that tapers down to a narrow waist, torso muscles defined but not rippling, smooth. And between his thighs, pointing at me: hard, pink flesh, long and supple, dripping for attention under a soft patch of gold curls. Hips that jut out a bit more than most men, like the statues of Dionysus. It was a fitting comparison because if I didn't know better I'd say the youthful god of sex and madness stood before me.

His moon-pale hair glows in the firelight and the flickering shadows make the vision of him look ethereal. His eyes though, that's what I love about him the most, and right now there was a raw fire in them.

That was more than something. He's alive now and I'm going to take him.

His laughter this time isn't carried in his breath but rings as clear as bells. "Bloody hell, Harry. You look like a starved animal. Did you want me that badly?"

He saunters close, presses his stomach to my lips. I take him by the hips and kiss the softer tissue under the belly button where a small bit of fat had accumulated. "I don't just want you, Draco." I speak into his flesh and bite just a little hard. He said he wanted to hurt just a little.

He gasps and a little moan escapes him.

"I want your fire." I kiss and bite. "I know it's there." Kiss and bite.

He doesn't respond. He's breathing harshly again, this time for a different reason – one that I approve of. He's moaning softly but I can tell he's holding back.

"That fire is there but you won't let it live." I yank him to me and he easily falls on my lap, his thighs on either side of my hips, his manhood pressed against my clothed stomach and his ass cheeks are stretched and rubbing against my leather-wrapped thighs. He moans louder this time.

I press my lips to his neck. "You need to let go." I bite, suck and kiss. He's arching against me and his mouth falls slack, lips swollen and red. "It's time, Draco. You can let go now."

Suddenly he looks down at me as if he can't believe I've seen right through him. His silver eyes are open and there's so much in them, so vulnerable. I can see his soul, still writhing, badly healed from the war. I've spent years wishing I could unlock it. Finally. If I had known this is what it took, that this is what he needed, I'd have given it to him long ago.

He lowers his lips to mine and whispers, "Only if you hurt me."

I pause but then I concede, "Only a little."

"Little's all I need," he says. I grab his ass and lift him so I can turn and lower him on the bed, then I crawl on top of him and kiss him again. Hard. Ravenous. He widens his thighs and his shaft digs into my belly. The feel of his naked body against my clothed one is heady, dizzying.

He pulls my hair which makes me growl – it sparks a nerve in my head that angers me. I take his wrists and slam them above his head.

"I thought I told you not to do that."

He smirks up at me insolently. I know what he wants. I lower myself until I'm fully pressed against him, our lips a hair-width apart. "I'm not going to hurt you like I did before."

"I liked it."

"Draco I nearly killed you. You were barely able to tell me to stop."

"Except for that part."

"I don't know if I can control it."

He kisses me and says, "Then do something else." He pushes me off gently to make enough room for him to turn around on his stomach. Then he gets on his hands and knees. I sit up with a groan. The sight makes me salivate. "Fuck, Draco," I whisper hoarsely. I can't recognize my own voice.

"Hit me," he moans.

This is a bad idea. If he were anyone else, I might play along with this. There's nothing wrong with it, plenty of couples do it. But I know it's more to Draco. Something in his soul that hasn't healed because maybe he thinks he wasn't punished enough.

Or maybe this is his way of relinquishing that iron control that's killing him inside. Maybe this is what he needs and he only understands it at a primal, instinctual level – nothing the DMLE counseling office can offer.

So I spank him as hard as I can, one slap right on one of the perfect white globes. It shakes with the force and Draco throws his head back and cries. It hurt him but his voice is heavily laced with pleasure. "Again," he moans.

I do it again. And again. And again. The slaps ring loud, steady, like a mantra, almost entrancing and I lose myself. The flesh grows hot, red. I turn my attention on the other one and give it the same treatment. Draco is practically screaming but he rocks himself against my violent touch.

It's not like last time. I sense when to stop. Draco's arms shake and he drops onto the silk pillows, his ass pointed up at me; glowing flushed white skin, smooth like a peach. I can see the puckered hole from my vantage point and I almost lose control. It's like the rest of him, hairless and pink. Perfect.

I'm possessed by him, I must be. I lean down and lick his crack which makes him moan loudly into the pillow he's biting.

"Don't do that. Let me hear you."

"Harry!" Merlin, his wanton voice, strong and smooth, youthful and alive, it drives me wild.

I reach under him and slide my palm down his shaft, giving it a squeeze that makes him squeal almost like a woman. Then I fondle his sack, my thumb pressing against his perineum. I lick that too.

"Harry, please!"

I laugh. Draco Malfoy begging me on his knees. Never thought I'd see the day.

"What is it, Draco?" I bite down on one of his ass cheeks. "If you beg sweetly enough I might give it to you." Then I give it a lick and blow on it.

"Fuck me...ungh...fuck me with your tongue."

"Why should I do that? Are you tasty down there?"

Draco moans something incoherent which makes me want to tease him even more. "Say it."

"I-I'm tasty!"

"And?" I growl into his flesh and take another bite.

"Ah! Ungh...Harry eat it."

"What? Your tasty ass?"

"Eat my tasty ass!"

I should give him a reward for being a good boy. I spread his cheeks as wide as I can, licking up his crack, then I swirl my tongue around his hole just before I plunge in.

Draco moans loudly through his teeth so I draw back. He hisses in disappointment. "I told you not to hold back your voice. If you want to scream than fucking scream until my ears bleed."

He nods dazedly, his cheek is pressed deep into the pillow, his lips parted and wet. "I will, Harry," he gasps sweetly. "Fuck me with your wet tongue. Make me wet inside."

He's going to be the end of me. I dig right in. This time, his moans are high and clear, filling the room. I stick a finger in and, Merlin, but my eyes almost roll to the back of my head as I close them and moan at how tight it feels. It's going to hurt if I don't take good care of it.

I lean over him, reaching for the drawer on the nightstand. What guy doesn't have lotion there? Of course, Draco being a rich snot doesn't have lotion. I lean back to sit on the heels of my feet and stare at the glass jar of special, very expensive cream.

"Oh, Draco. You naughty boy."

This makes him laugh and look over his shoulder. "Naughty as can be." He wiggles his ass.

If he's quipping like a smart ass, I'm not doing a proper job of fucking him senseless. Must remedy that. I open the jar and dig my fingers in to draw out a nice, thick coat of the white cream. It looks almost like semen. I can feel it tingle against my skin. It's going to make us extra sensitive.

I can barely contain myself as I watch my thick, gooey finger that looks like it's dripping with come disappear into Draco. The sight entrances me. I watch it go in and out, in and out, slowly until Draco is begging for more. Now I'm watching two fingers, stretching that soft, swollen pink ring. He sucks me in hungrily.

"Harry I'm close!"

"Don't!"

If he comes now, I'll have to work him again until he's hard and then he'll last longer than me and that just won't do. I want him to climax while I'm inside him. I want to feel him around me as I drive him to his peak.

The solution is simple. I grab the base of his shaft and squeeze hard, almost painfully, while I stretch him some more. He hisses but doesn't complain. When I'm done I turn him over and place a pillow under his hips.

His face and chest are flushed red, his eyes are almost black, misty and filled with desire for me. His delicious lips are parted, lax. Moon-pale locks in disarray, sticking to his face with sweat.

For a moment, I can't believe this is Draco Malfoy. The boy who taunted me, challenged me at every turn during our teen years. The rival who almost became my mortal enemy. My partner of three years who wouldn't let anyone in, show any emotion or call me Harry.

"Are you going to look at me all night or are you going to fuck me?"

Leaning in to press a kiss to his lips, I tell him in all honesty, "I could stare at you all night when you look like this."

In response, he wraps his legs around me and, with them, pulls me closer. "Do that after you make me come with you big cock."

That rips a desperate groan from me. I press my face into his neck and kiss it, then sit back, whip my wand out and vanish my clothes. Fuck it. When I lie back down on him, we both moan in unison at the feeling of our naked bodies against each other.

"Come on," Draco whispers. "You want to fix me? Fix me. Make me feel you."

I nod, lift his knees up and grab my own shaft, pressing the head against his hole. He moans a soft, "Yes," and it almost sounds like Parsletongue. His hiss of pleasure turns to a cry when I breach him. After that I go in slowly, smoothly, letting him grow accustomed.

"Harder!"

My voice is shaky. "No, it'll hurt you. It's too tight."

"I want to hurt a little."

That wasn't the problem though. He's so tight I might come if I go any faster. When I'm finally seated all the way in, I press my forehead to his, waiting out the harsh intensity of his grip on me. After all, this night is momentous for me, I need to make it last.

He's breathing harshly too, against my lips. Our breaths mingle as we stare at one another. His hand comes up and brushes a strand of hair from my face. "I love your eyes," he says gently, so sweetly and so unlike him. I wonder whether this is the real Draco.

"What do you like about them?" I lower my face to kiss his cheek.

"They're the color of Slytherin, for one," he jokes.

I raise my head and stare into his eyes. After a moment, he says, "But what's in them is so Gryffindor. I can always tell what you're feeling through them."

I kiss him deeply until I feel him practically melting against me. Of course, he ruins it by pulling my hair again. I growl and end the kiss abruptly, gripping his wrists and pinning them over his head. He's smirking now.

Well, I'll just have to wipe that look off his face. I smirk right back before pulling out of him all the way to the tip, then slamming right back in. He throws his head back, baring his throat and I can almost see his scream roll out of him. It's enticing, beautiful, there for the taking, so I sink my teeth into it, gripping his wrists to make sure he doesn't touch my hair again, and I fuck him hard. But steady – I want him to feel all of me in him.

Out of nowhere, he wails delightedly as I hit his sweet spot. "Let me hear more," I tell him, reminding him not to reign in his voice. He screams as I give him the time of his life. I'm moaning heavily, he's so tight, warm and wet, the cream makes me – us – more sensitive – and it takes all my will-power to keep from losing myself inside of him.

Between his half-screams half-gasps, he tells me, "Mm!-g-gonna-hungh-come!"

"Do it," I gasp, barely able to talk myself. "Ungh, come for me, love."

I let go of his wrists and straighten up to pick up the tempo, grip his hips firmly and start fucking him fast, hard, deep. He's screaming his lungs out, holding on to the pillows above him for dear life. His shaft is slapping against his stomach. I wrap my hand around it, giving it one firm stroke and he's coming, releasing a steady, long stream unto my stomach and hand. It gets on his chest too. His insides squeeze me tighter, convulse, even as his body grows soft and pliant under me with a satisfied little moan. I can't take it, I come undone, shooting inside him and it gets warmer, wetter.

"Yeah, fill me up!"

I drop down to kiss him, moaning his name into his lips as I ride out my climax, pump every drop I have into him. Then I collapse on top of him and we're both trying to catch our breaths. He laughs softly against my ear, and whispers, "If I'd known sex with you was so bloody exquisite I'd have seduced you rather than teased you back in Hogwarts."

That makes me grin but he doesn't see it. I keep my face buried in his neck and mumble, "You did more than tease me."

"Oh? Want to punish me for being bad?"

"Maybe later."

His chest shakes against mine in laughter. Out of nowhere, I wonder if he's happy so I lift myself up on my elbows to look closely at his face. It's lax, content. His eyes are misty and a bit sleepy but they're soft, silver. He's got a tired little smile on his lips which I kiss. I can't help it, I could kiss him all day.

"I'm going to fix us."

Draco just moans sleepily against my lips.