AN I don't own HP or any of the characters! Drarry one-shot! D/s themes
Draco Malfoy was good at self control. He spent an unnatural amount of time lying to the people around him, containing his emotions, and creating a false personality that fit his father's desires. It was no surprise, then, that when something came along and tested that control, Draco detested it. He hated that thing, and he would have loved nothing more than to see it disappear. Or, at the very least, leave him alone.
But Harry Potter, it seemed, was sticking around for the long haul no matter who or what tried to kill him, so Draco decided he needed a plan. He couldn't keep faltering, keep catching himself slipping around the Gryffindor. Even if it was just because he was pissed off, Draco had spent the last sixteen years perfecting his image, perfecting fake emotions, and getting worked up because of the golden boy did not fit the mold.
The longer this went on, the more Draco could tell Harry was figuring it out. They went from petty little disagreements to full on screaming matches and fist fights in what felt like mere days, though Draco knew it'd been years. But he saw those green eyes hesitate now, whenever Draco snapped at him or hissed an insult. Because Harry could tell he was breaking that control.
Of course, the boy who lived was unobservant and rather wrapped up in his own dramatic lifestyle to put much focus into Draco. Or, at least, that was what Draco was hoping. But every time Draco let that anger flare stupidly in his eyes, he saw Harry grow more and more determined to make him snap. Maybe it was just because he'd been such a dick to the boy, but Draco felt like it was more. Like Harry wanted to see him lose control and fall apart simply because it was so not in his nature and because Harry seemed to be the only person who could push him that far.
He needed a plan. Draco knew that someone would notice if he suddenly slipped Harry an obedience or an avoidance potion, but he couldn't think of any other way out. As much as he hated it, Harry did push his buttons. He made Draco feel more anger and more emotion than Draco had in years and it scared the Slytherin, honestly, because he needed that facade. If not for his father, then for the world. But Harry didn't seem to care how much he needed it or how much work he'd put into it. Harry just wanted to see it shatter.
Or, at least it felt that way. Realistically, they were rivals and Draco had no doubt the Gryffindor hated him with a burning passion and just liked to rile him up. It was probably nothing near as dramatic as Draco made it out to be in his head. But, still… Something about the look in Harry's eyes made Draco second guess himself because that normally inattentive, distracted sort of half-effort wasn't there. In their more recent run ins, Harry had looked like he was in a quidditch match. That was the only time Draco could ever remember seeing that much focus, that much determination, and that much sheer scrutiny in those emerald rings and it unnerved him to say the least.
"You've been acting weird lately, Malfoy." Draco wished he could say he was surprised by the voice, or that the Gryffindor had managed to sneak up on him in the empty potions classroom, but he knew he was distracted. He wasn't thinking clearly, or at all, and his reflexes were suffering.
"Why? Am I being nicer to you than usual?" Harry didn't sneer though, or laugh. That focus was back in his eyes and Draco didn't have to look to see it because it was in the way he walked, the way he drummed his fingers on the table. Nothing but confidence and a damn near predatory kind of attention.
"You don't fight like you used to." Draco stayed quiet, pouring over the beakers, and let Harry come to him. "Why is that, Malfoy? You used to fight me with fire in your eyes but now? Now, if there's anything, it's like a lukewarm cup of tea-not fire, not anger or hate. You're distracted, too, so tell me why." Draco stopped his measuring and prayed for Snape to appear. He wouldn't, though, because Draco knew he was spending the long weekend in Germany with another potions master and that was why he'd let Draco use the classroom in his freetime.
"Just because I have some semblance of self control doesn't make me lukewarm, Potter." But Harry's face split into a smile and Draco knew he should have stayed quiet. Now that the subject of control was on the table, he was screwed.
"Some semblance of self control, huh?" Harry repeated, mocking him. "See, I would argue you have more than a semblance. You are the poster child of control and emotionlessness, always have been, just not when it comes to me." Draco's hand started to shake where he hid it under the table. He was so screwed. Either Harry had talked to someone observant, like Hermione, or Draco was getting worse and worse at keeping up his charade-both of which spelled trouble.
"You mad that you can't get under my skin anymore, Potter?" The last name was intentional, trying to distance them. But Harry noticed that too. Merlin's beard! When had the reckless idiot gotten so detail-oriented and why did it have to be Draco he focused that on?! Harry didn't let him wonder, though, because he stepped up and leaned on his elbow on the table Draco was working on.
"No, and if our differences were truly set aside I would accept that. But I don't think that's what it is. If I didn't get under your skin, you would look at me with apathy-not fear. You would stand me down, cold as stone-not run. And yet you do both, which leads me to believe that I very much do get under your skin and, if I were a betting man, I'd said that you hate it. That it makes you feel out of control." Draco swore under his breath and deliberately knocked over the jar of seeds so he could bend his neck and concentrate on picking them up.
"I'm pretty sure I just hate you, Potter." Harry laughed, low and darkly in his ear. Draco jumped so badly that he knocked into Harry's body, which was now behind him and dangerously close. What the hell was he doing!?
"You're distracted." It was an accusation, like another piece of evidence in Harry's case again Draco's story. "I'll make you a deal." Draco definitely felt like he was going to throw up because this did not sound at all like a good idea. Even as he slid the last of the seeds into the jar again, he was hesitant. Harry was still just inches away from him. Why was the Gryffindor suddenly so close to him and why did it bother Draco so much? It felt like the boy was setting him on fire.
"What kind of deal." The purr Harry let out when Draco didn't immediately refuse should have been illegal. It hit the blond like a tidal wave, and made him shudder. But Harry was far from done and didn't back off, he leaned a bit closer so his breath hit the blond's neck.
"Give me fifteen minutes." Draco waited, but the rest didn't come.
"Fifteen minutes to do what?" Another purr made Draco's knees weak-Merlin! What was going on?!
"To break you, Draco. If I can make you lose control in fifteen minutes, then you have to admit that I can still get to you and you have to tell me what's wrong." Oh no. This was a bad idea and Draco could hear that very clearly in the air itself, which hummed with energy. This was the kind of idea that would land Draco in the basement of the Manor if his father ever found out, and this was the kind of idea that put Draco's entire reputation on the line.
"And when I win? What do I get?" He was very careful with his words-when I win, not if-but Harry just chuckled at his confidence.
"If you win, I'll drop it. I'll leave you alone and I'll accept that you're just too… disciplined to let me get under your skin." Draco's body should not have shivered at the word discipline from Harry's mouth, but it did and the dark-haired boy chuckled again. Damn him! Damn both of them and anyone who had ever contributed to making this current situation possible. But, Draco reminded himself, he'd been trying to come up with a plan. Fifteen minutes and then Potter would leave him alone forever, would let him but that mask back into place. He could handle fifteen minutes, right?
"Deal." With a grin, Harry lifted his wand and the door to the classroom slammed and locked. "You gonna beat me up or something, Potter?" Another dark chuckle just beside his ear made his body stiffen.
"I would never, Draco. It's Hermione who enjoys punching people, remember? Now, onto the rules of this little game. I can do anything-within reason-that I want and I swear to god I will not hurt you because that's cheating. Fifteen minutes exactly. If you cave, if you lose control, I win." Draco nodded, already feeling his heart starting to race in his chest. Whatever Harry wanted? What kind of sick, twisted deal was this? What if Harry cursed him or something and refused to lift it until he surrendered?
"Hush, Draco. You don't need to be afraid of me. I won't hurt you, remember? That's not the point of the game." But Draco was used to his father, used to silver tongues that found loopholes in even the tightest agreement. If Harry didn't hurt him, he would hurt someone he was close to. Or, maybe, he would take a hostage? Use occlumency and dig up some secret that he could then threaten to spread around the school like wildfire?
"Go over to that table and place your hands on top of it, palms flat." Draco did as instructed and watched Harry dim the room. This felt dangerous, and like a kind of terrifying Draco had never experienced before, but he kept repeating to himself over and over again that he could do anything for fifteen minutes. He'd been crucio cursed for that long before, even. He could withstand anything for fifteen minutes. And then it would all be over with, then Potter would leave him the hell alone and he could go back to focusing on his father.
"Good boy." That purr should not have hit Draco the way it did. It slid into his muscles and settled in his gut like some kind of anchor that almost begged him to fall to his knees. Where the hell had that come from!? Draco shook his head to clear the thoughts and tried to reason. It was just because he'd never been called that before, right? Surprise was a strong emotion.
"I will not hurt you, Draco, I promise you that." He didn't believe that, of course, but the words made his muscles relax just the slightest bit of their own accord. Why did Harry keep reassuring him? Or even bothering to try to reassure him, for that matter?
"I will not hurt you." Draco understood that time, when Harry vanished his robes and left him standing bare-chested in just his pants. Merlin! He'd never felt so exposed in his life and, briefly, his mind went to the scars that riddled his back before he realized Harry was staring at him, watching him.
"You're so strong…" Harry murmured, and Draco jolted when a warm hand ghosted over his shoulder. "No one ever really thinks you are because you act like such a brat. But you are." He felt Harry's finger, warm and smooth, trace one of the scars near his shoulder blade and it sent a shiver down his spine. No, this was not affecting him. It couldn't affect him because Draco wasn't going to let it.
"Keep your hands on the table, Draco." He hadn't realized he'd taken them off, honestly, and replaced them quickly. The low note of authority in Harry's voice made him scared to disobey and Draco hated it but it was familiar enough to his father that it was too strong for him to overpower. His palms pressed into the wood, feeling the grooves and trying to remember that it was only for fifteen minutes. How long had it been already? It felt like years.
"Such a good boy." That time, it did hit Draco hard enough to make his knees bend but he caught himself with the table and suppressed it into a shudder. Something about those two words settled in his chest like pure oxygen. He wanted to kneel, he realized, and Merlin that terrified him because the last time he'd kneeled at someone's feet he'd suffered greatly. Fear flooded his system at the memory, but Harry didn't let him panic.
"Hush, I said I wouldn't hurt you." One of Harry's hands ghosted down his spine and gently traced a few scars on the way down, drawing another shiver from the blond. Fifteen minutes. Just fifteen minutes and then he was free.
"Sometimes I wonder about you, Draco…" The hand brushed over his ribs and Draco's body jolted in surprise, knocking back against a warm wall of muscle. Shit. Harry shifted his hand and ran it up Draco's chest, just barely missing his nipple as he lightly trailed along the blond's collarbone, then to the hollow of his throat.
"What do you wonder, Potter?" The last name made Harry laugh, and it shook into Draco's unsteady frame like thunder in his bones. At least his voice had been steady, right? It disappeared the second he stopped speaking, but he'd sounded halfway put together which was an accomplishment considering the way his body was short circuiting at the moment. Harry trailed back down his chest and over his stomach, stopping to trace circles around Draco's belly button.
"I wonder about you, about your life," the Gryffindor mused, outlining the tops of Dracos hipbones and he moved to his lower back. "About your mother and why you never talk about her. About your mask, and why you feel the need to wear it. I wonder when the last time you had a home-cooked meal was-and no, house elves don't count. I wonder a lot about how you sleep at night, if you curl into a ball like a cat or stretch out and take up the entire bed just because you can." Harry splayed his hands flat against Draco's lower back and sighed. Slowly, he moved upwards almost as if he was trying to smooth out and erase the scars before he reached the back of Draco's neck.
"I wonder when was the last time someone touched you…" Those damn fingers tickled his neck and slid over his shoulders, down his chest. "Without it ending in pain." That was a clear comment on the scars on Draco's back but he was struggling to breathe enough as it was and he couldn't find it in him to argue or make up some story. He didn't want to, he realized.
"I wonder, sometimes, if you hate me at all. Or if anger is the only emotion you let through that mask, so that's what it comes out as." He could feel Harry-his warm breath on his neck, his palms now lightly gripping his waist, and his entire body just inches away. Even from where he was standing, Draco felt his warmth. The dungeons were cold and, usually, with his robes he was fine but Draco was shirtless, bathed in darkness and cold air, and he shivered. But Harry maintained those few precious inches of space between their bodies.
"I wonder, sometimes, why you try so hard to be in control. If you're afraid of something, or someone, and think that that will protect you." Draco hissed, but it wasn't at the touch. Those words hit a little harder and a little deeper than any of the others so far and he had to bite his lip to steady himself. He wasn't afraid. The mask wasn't to protect him from his father, it was just to avoid confrontation with the man. Fifteen minutes, Draco reminded himself, just fifteen minutes.
Harry's ghost of a touch was infuriating because Draco wanted all of it, or none of it. The in-between grated into him like rock salt in a wound and he cursed himself for being so weak and so pathetic. This was working, because he was weak. He stiffened, but the movement only made Harry more persistent and he felt those delicate hands return to the base of his spine. In one, quick, fluid motion Harry dug his thumbs into the muscle there.
Draco nearly screamed.
It didn't hurt, and, as Harry began to work his thumbs in small circles, Draco realized it actually felt quite good but it still surprised him. He'd been expecting pain, waiting for it. Harry massaged slowly, though, and leisurely like there was no time limit or bet going on at all. Slowly, gradually, he felt those warm hands work up his spine and out into his shoulder blades where it felt like years upon years of tension was waiting, just begging Harry to take it away.
"You're so tense, Draco…" Harry tsked his tongue, but Draco just shuddered. "Relax, I'm not going to hurt you. Not when you've been such a good boy." Fuck those words, honestly. This time it hit Draco hard enough that he stumbled, barely catching himself on his forearms on the table, but Harry just adjusted to the new position without comment. Draco took the opportunity to bury his face in his hands and bite the meat of his palm. Anything to ground him, anything to keep him from falling to the floor in a mess of emotion and pathetic, uncontrolled whimperings. He bit harder, shaking. The new position also stretched his back, as he hunched over the table, and it gave Harry access to all kind of knots and muscles he hadn't been able to reach before.
"Hey, it's okay. You keep tensing when all I want is to make you relax. Only six more minutes on the clock, Draco, you think you can hold out that long?" The reminder really did make Draco stiffen, which only made Harry's thumbs press deeper somehow. He shivered as Harry reached the base of his spine again and, just for a second, teased his waistband as if he was considering working lower, beneath the cloth. Draco bit his hand hard enough to taste blood. Fuck. Just six more minutes, he could handle six more minutes. Harry purred a bit, though, and pressed his forehead against Draco's shoulder as he worked the muscles even harder.
"You need to relax, Draco…" Lips touched his shoulder blade and Draco nearly spasmed completely off the table. He was not expecting a touch like that. It shot through him like electricity and, to his dismay, settled in his gut just above his groin because Harry did it again before he could completely recover.
"Mmm when was the last time someone made you feel good, Draco? Mentally, physically, emotionally, doesn't matter. When was the last time you experienced something other than pain or apathy?" Draco was shaking now, uncontrollably and so severely that he had to press his forehead against the wood to make it stop. When was the last time someone made him feel good? He honestly couldn't remember. Thankfully, Harry didn't seem to actually want an answer he just wanted the thought in Draco's mind because he pressed another kiss to Draco's skin-this one farther down his spine.
"Fuck." The warmth paused for a moment.
"What was that, Draco?" Immediately, Draco got the impression that he was not supposed to swear-which was totally not fair-but he'd used all his words on that one expletive. He just shuddered and buried his face back in his hands.
"Awww it's okay sometimes I can't find the right words either. I've found that relaxing can have a rather profound effect on my own speech abilities, though, maybe you should try it." Draco's body was betraying him. That was the only way to describe it because, as Harry's hands moved to his hips, he felt the heat shoot straight to his dick. He wasn't attracted to Harry-he wasn't! But the soft, gentle touches were driving his body insane with some kind of want or need and he didn't like it.
"Relax, Draco." A command, this time, and that made his dick pulse because apparently his body loved the idea of Harry telling him what to do. Traitor, Draco thought. He tried to focus all his energy on just remembering how long it'd been since Harry said six minutes. He'd heard the wizard charm a nearby bell to ring as soon as it had been fifteen minutes exactly but no sound was coming. Fuck he needed to hear that bell and he needed it soon.
"I said relax." There was more steel, more authority, than Draco had ever heard in the Gryffindor's voice before. It shocked his system. When Harry grabbed his hips though, digging his fingers into the flesh almost possessively, Draco let his body collapse onto the table. It wasn't a loss of control. He told himself that over and over again and it seemed like Harry felt the same way because he kept going, thank Merlin. Wait, no! It was bad that Harry was continuing, wasn't it?
"Better." Draco was extremely aware of Harry's mouth, still pressing kisses randomly to his back, and he was also very aware that it was trailing lower. It was at his mid-back, now, and steadily moving downwards. Harry's grip on his hips tightened, drawing him back a bit so that those gentle lips could reach better. Fuck his body liked that. Draco cursed at himself for even considering it but the idea of Harry manhandling him, pushing and positioning his body exactly the way he wanted him to be, set Draco's body on fire. His skin burned, begging for any kind of touch Harry would give. He forced himself to stay still but his lungs seized and he couldn't breathe because he just wanted Harry to fucking touch him!
"Relax, Draco…" He was tense again and Harry had noticed, pausing his lips long enough to make sure Draco obeyed. "Such a good boy." Merlin! It was not okay how much those words affected him. Draco couldn't fight it this time, not with every other emotion and urge he was battling against, so he dropped to his knees on the cement and Harry let him. Trembling, he pressed his forehead into the edge of the table and gripped it tight with his hands. One was still bleeding, but Draco ignored it. The warm body behind him followed easily, until Harry was kneeling behind him as well and still keeping that distance between them as he resumed his torture.
"You are a good boy, Draco." Draco whimpered and gripped the table so hard his hands went white. Fuck he was so hard. It'd been hidden in his previous position but now that he was on his knees, his arousal was very clear and Harry had to have noticed. He ignored it, though, and continued pressing kisses to Draco's lower back.
"I mean it. You're such a good boy, obeying so well…" A shudder shook Draco's body so hard he had to lean against the table leg for support, but Harry kept going. "So responsive, so eager… Trying so hard to be in control even though you know you're not." Draco was crying. The realization shocked him and he reasoned that Harry must not have noticed because the raven-haired boy didn't react to it but Draco did. He hadn't cried since he was a very small child. It felt strange, foreign, like it wasn't really his body that was sprouting hot, salty drops of clear liquid and forcing them down his cheeks.
"Such a good boy…" Harry's murmur was like a spell, and it might as well have been for the way it made Draco's body keen into his touch. The tears fell faster and there was no way Harry could ignore them, now, but he said nothing and Draco just clutched the table leg like he was seconds from falling apart. There could only be a few minutes left, right? There had to be seconds left on that damn timer and Draco just had to hold out a little longer, just a few more seconds…
"Is that why you've been acting strangely, Draco? Because you want to be a good boy, because you want to obey, because you want to give me control? Or because you want me to take it from you?" Draco snapped.
It wasn't clear from the outside because he was already on his knees, clinging to a table leg just to stay upright, but he shattered. The tears fell faster and faster but Draco couldn't breathe or stop them. That was it. That was what made Harry so impossible to shut out. He wasn't special, he didn't have some kind of dark magic that let him put Draco on edge or some kind of potion to make Draco vulnerable. It wasn't even that he was taking control in the first place, pulling it from Draco like candy from a baby. It was that Draco wanted him to.
"Please…" he gasped, letting the choked word tumble from his lips and splinter on the ground like shards of glass.
"Please what, Draco?" Harry was there, gently running his hand up and down Draco's back and occasionally pressing kisses to his shoulder but nothing more. Fuck Draco just wanted more-anything Harry would give him, any touch any feeling it didn't matter.
"Please take it…" That was all Harry needed to hear, apparently. In an instant, those hands seized his hips and spun him til he was sitting in Harry's lap, facing him. He expected a slap, or maybe some yelling, but he was not ready for Harry reach out and pull him into a burning kiss that sent shockwaves through his entire body like a miniature earthquake.
"Good boy, Draco." He crumbled, falling apart completely in Harry's arms, but the Gryffindor held him. There were not words to describe how relieved Draco was when Harry pressed a kiss to his temple, or when Harry ran his hand through his hair and whispered to him that everything was going to be okay. His father would kill him. He knew that, now more than ever, because there was no way this could stay secret but he didn't really care. Just for that split second, he trusted Harry to protect him from anything and everything. Including his father.
"It's okay, just breathe, whatever you're afraid of we'll handle it. Just breathe, okay?" Draco obeyed without even thinking, and the significance of that didn't really hit him until Harry kissed him again, softer now. "It's gonna be okay, Draco. You asked me to take control and I did, so I'm going to protect you. I'm gonna take care of you now, okay?" He nodded and buried his face in Harry's robes. His body shivered, but he couldn't tell if it was because of the heat throbbing in his groin or the cold air that was now turning his skin to ice. Either way, Harry wrapped him in his arms and shared his warmth.
"Thank you for trusting me, Draco." He shook his head, trying to protest that he hadn't trusted Harry he'd just been weak, but Harry didn't let him. "No, stop that. Even if your mind didn't trust me at first, you did. You agreed to the deal knowing full well what might happen and I know you don't have enough foolish certainty in anything, let alone yourself, to know that there was no chance of this happening. You saw that risk, and you did it anyways. Whether you admit it or not, you trusted me enough to risk falling apart and that matters to me, Draco. So thank you."
The Slytherin could only nod, even as he felt Harry shift them and settle in to hold him closer. Harry was right, of course, because Draco couldn't remember a time where he'd been a hundred percent sure of anything in his life but it didn't seem to matter. It wasn't about being right anymore.
"Harry…" Draco squirmed, the pressure in his trousers becoming unbearable, but the Gryffindor just laughed.
"What do you want me to do about that? It's not my fault." But Harry was still laughing, joking, and Draco didn't let himself get defensive. It was a joke. A game. They were teasing each other now and he didn't really know what to do with that but he wiggled closer, rutting his ass against Harry's crotch and the bulge hiding there.
"Is to your fault!" Harry laughed, but it turned into a groan when Draco rutted his hips again. "Finish what you started, golden boy." At that, Harry's eyes flared and he rolled them so Draco was on his back on the ground, pinned there by Harry's bodyweight alone. Hands grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head.
"Now, that's not a very nice way to talk to someone who could keep you here and tease you for hours, days even." Draco shuddered, but that threat had its intended effect and he squirmed. His body ached, even as Harry tsked.
"Sorry sir." He hadn't expected that word to come out so easily, especially when it was usually reserved for his father, but something about it just fit. He could separate the two things, right? And the way it made Harry grin was not something Draco could ever regret so he made his decision and stuck with it. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but they were both cut off by a loud ringing.
It'd been fifteen minutes.
"Should I set the timer again, then?" Draco groaned in protest and bucked his hips for friction but Harry just chuckled. "No? You don't think so? I think fifteen minutes is totally doable, don't you?" A growl escaped his throat, surprising him, but it made Harry's eyes go dark with desire.
"So help me, Harry, if you set that timer I'll-"
"What?" Briefly, Harry ghosted his hand over his throat and Draco paled. "What will you do, my little Draco? In case you forgot, I'm the one who gets to make demands and threats, not you. Maybe I'll set the timer for five minutes then just to punish you."
"No!" Harry's eyes narrowed into slits. "No, please I'm sorry sir. I'm sorry I'll be good I promise just please don't set the timer. Please? I just want you to fuck me." Absolute glee washed over Harry's face and Draco nearly cried in relief when he put his wand back down and smashed their lips together. He would have never imagined begging Harry Potter for anything, let alone sex. But here he was. And it was perfect, truly, because the way Harry's hands ravaged his body and the way those gorgeous lips drew moans from his throat was almost magical.
Fifteen minutes could change a lot.
Thanks so much for reading! Please please please review I'm not super confident still with HP fics because I just started reading the series (I know, I'm way behind the times)