Chapter 14 – Like a Snake

"If you don't speak to me, Harry, I'll be forced to use Legilimency."

This, after many others, was the one appeal for conversation Dumbledore had made that shocked Harry into response. Dumbledore had never uttered a single threat against Harry, small as this one seemed.

Harry blinked and looked up into his worried eyes, his blank expression betraying none of his shock, which had been a weak flicker to begin with. No, the only emotion dominating his thoughts at the moment was a sickening horror. It pulsed behind his eyes like a shadow so dark that not even the smallest glimmer could be found within.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice so soft it felt wrapped in feathers. "I need to know what's going on inside your head. We need to get past this. There is so much for you to know—so much to do."

Harry knew this was true. Why, only a few days ago the Daily Prophet had reported several mysterious disappearances, obviously linked to Voldemort. And yet this did not matter. Voldemort did not matter. Nothing mattered. Even the monster taking up residence in Harry's head held no interest for him anymore. It had been washed away in the flood of Harry's horror. He could hardly feel it anymore but he knew it was still there somewhere, squirming in its imprisonment.

Disgust. That was one light that could be seen in the dominating shadow; still only a faint beam. But it lit up when Harry thought of the monster. It was disgusting—horrible. He was glad he had somehow put it in a cage; glad he could no longer feel it wrapped around him; glad he somehow seemed to be wrapped around it. But how long would that last? Until the next time he got an erection?

Disgusting.

"What, Harry?" breathed Dumbledore. "What's disgusting?"

Had he said that out loud? He should have expected it. It was such a putrid thought. How should he have expected to keep from vomiting it out? His brain couldn't hold it. It was too much. Too much... Too much!

"I raped Draco Malfoy," Harry blurted and immediately doubled up and heaved over the armrest of his chair.

It seemed to take forever for his stomach to purge itself of everything and when he was done it didn't feel like enough. So he hovered there, his fingers digging ruthlessly into the armrest, his elbows protruding at odd angles, his head dangling a foot over his own pool of vomit. He could feel his glasses slipping down his sweaty nose but he didn't move to save them. And no one else did either. No one else tried to sit him up—clean him up. Dumbledore seemed to have left the room.

Of course he left, Harry told himself bitterly. He's as disgusted by me as I am.

After so much time had passed that Harry's elbows had cramped and crumbled beneath him, the door opened again. Light footsteps crossed the room without hurry and Harry watched indifferently as a pair of shoes stepped toward him, around his sick. Then strong, warm hands cupped his shoulders and soft hair tickled his cheek. Harry heard a whisper, felt a tingling on his tongue, and his mouth felt clean and refreshed.

"Sit up, Potter," Malfoy said, pushing him. But the moment Harry recognized the voice he lunged away from it, almost throwing himself over the other armrest in his haste to get away. When he froze again he was pressed against the opposite wall, hands flat against the stable surface, eyes wide as saucers.

Malfoy's expression was stoic; his stance was neither tense nor relaxed. He said nothing as he watched Harry tremble and then break, a jagged gasp ripping through him.

"I'm sorry," he panted. "I'm so sorry!"

"Sorry for what, Potter?" Malfoy snapped, folding his arms.

Harry cringed violently but at the same time, felt an infinitesimal piece of himself unravel deep in the shadows of his head. Malfoy's anger had released a tiny part of his guilt. Suddenly he wished for Malfoy to scream and rant, to throw things, break things—break Harry.

"Stop it," Malfoy suddenly demanded coolly.

"S-stop what?" asked Harry.

Malfoy sneered. "Stop feeling so bloody guilty! It's sickening."

Harry nodded. Malfoy was right—he was sickening. He would apologize correctly and then he would beg for any kind of punishment Malfoy wanted to give him.

"I'm sorry," he said with intensity. "For raping you."

To his surprise, Malfoy unfolded his arms, tilted his head back, and barked one short laugh. "You're such a virgin." He strode around the chair still separating them and right up to Harry.

Harry flinched and turned his head away, waiting for the first punch. Instead, Malfoy snagged his chin with unyielding fingers and forced his face back to look at him.

"You'd be dead before you could rape me, Potter," he hissed. His grey eyes smoldered like molten steel.

"Then kill me," Harry groaned.

"Oh, shut up," Malfoy snarled and then the molten steel was pouring from his lips and into Harry's mouth.

The kiss was on fire, spreading in a stormy wind. And everywhere it touched him, Harry's shadows were lifted. He felt awake—alive. He hadn't been living before this kiss; hadn't been living before Malfoy.

A wanton moan left him shuddering when Malfoy filled his mouth, jabbing with his tongue repeatedly, eliciting suggestive images behind Harry's eyelids. His hand squeezed ever tighter on Harry's jaw and his other twined roughly around Harry's waist, pulling him flush against his hard body. Harry touched his rippling biceps with tentative fingertips and, as if rebuking him for his gentleness, Malfoy dug all ten of his fingernails into Harry at the same time he bit down hard on his bottom lip.

Harry whimpered and clutched Malfoy's arms fully. As a reward, Malfoy licked a hot trail over Harry's swollen lip, licking up the scarlet bead that had blossomed there. He planted one heavy, closed-mouth kiss over Harry's lips; then a second; then a third. Finally he pulled away and moved his second hand down to Harry's waist as he stared into his eyes, his face once again imperturbable.

"So you forgive me?" Harry panted.

"There's nothing to forgive," Malfoy said and Harry believed him. "I wanted it as much as you did—or almost as much as you did." He smirked and suddenly shoved Harry away, pushing him into the wall.

"Where are you going?" Harry choked, scrambling to regain his balance.

"Dumbledore pulled me from my dinner to come console his Chosen One. I'm hungry," Malfoy said without pausing or turning back. "See you in a bit," he added.

"You will?" asked Harry.

Malfoy threw a wink over his shoulder then opened the door and disappeared. Almost immediately, Dumbledore reentered his office, pinning Harry in place with solemn eyes.

"Harry?"

"I'm fine," Harry said. He finally pushed off the wall and tried to straighten his robes surreptitiously. He didn't want Dumbledore to know he'd just been snogging the boy he'd accused himself of raping.

A cloud seemed to lift off of Dumbledore at these words. But he looked no less stern.

"Sit down, Harry. There is much we need to discuss."

With a sigh, Harry pulled out his wand and cleaned away his sick before dropping into his chair. He knew this was going to be a long visit.

Harry took one of the longer routes back to his dormitory much later that evening. His thoughts were buzzing with the conversation he'd just had with Dumbledore and he decided a nighttime stroll might help him clear his head.

Though Harry had been extremely reluctant to talk about it, Dumbledore had made his storytelling pleasantly easy, reacting understandingly to Harry's confession of his activities the previous night. While carefully skirting embarrassing words and questions, Dumbledore wrangled enough details out of Harry to write a novel about the night. They were all questions about how Harry had felt, however—none about what, specifically, Harry did.

When they had come to the undisputable decision that Harry had lost control due to both the presence of his mate and his weakened defenses while sleep, Harry already felt loads better. Though Malfoy's reassurances were mostly responsible for his brighter outlook.

Then Dumbledore had suggested something ridiculous—something unthinkable.

"Harry," he had said. "I propose that we begin devoting our lessons to teaching you to control your second half."

Second half: that's what Dumbledore had taken to calling the thing in Harry's head. At best, Harry had only ever thought of it as a second awareness. Second half seemed unreasonably friendly. It was a monster, he had assured Dumbledore thoroughly. It was beyond control. But Dumbledore seemed to think that it was only as tame as Harry made it out to be.

Admittedly, Harry had realized that it was actually him. They were, as Dumbledore accurately implied, two halves of a whole. It was this realization that had enabled Harry to come to terms with it in the hospital wing. It was the fact that had allowed him to coexist with it. But Dumbledore claimed that wasn't enough.

"Coexisting merely is," he'd said sagely. "But cooperating is all that could be."

"Hmph," Harry snorted as he traversed the dark, empty corridors. "All that could be what separates me from nonexistence."

"Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness," a voice answered him.

Harry jumped a foot in the air and spun around, automatically training his wand on the interloper. Malfoy stood in the beam of his wand light, hands raised in mock surrender, smirk firmly in place. Harry lowered his wand and scowled.

"No," he disagreed. "Hearing other people talking to themselves was the first sign."

Malfoy shrugged. "Fair enough."

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry asked, changing the subject. Despite all that had been exchanged between the two, this light banter felt the oddest yet for Harry.

"Well," Malfoy said quietly, sauntering forward. "I was waiting in your dormitory but you took so bloody long that I came to find you instead. Just as well, anyway," he added, glancing up and down the corridor, pausing in his steps. "There's a bit more appeal to this abandoned corridor than a room full of sleeping lions."

Harry narrowed his eyes and took a step back from Malfoy's advance. "What are you on about?"

With a wicked smirk, Malfoy licked his lips suggestively, taking one step forward. "I want you to rape me again." He snickered at his own words and at Harry's hesitant stumble backwards.

"What's going on here, Malfoy?"

"You sound like a broken record, Potter." He adopted a whiny tone that absolutely did not sound like Harry. "What are you doing here, Malfoy? What are you on about, Malfoy? What's going on here, Malfoy?"

The next step he took was more like an aggressive stride and Harry found that his counter-step landed him flat against a wall with nowhere left to go. Malfoy leaned forward and licked his lips again. He looked like a cat ready to pounce.

"I wish you would stop droning and start moaning."

And then pounce he did.

Harry was pinned to the wall, Malfoy's steadfast grip holding both his hands above his head and his uncompromisingly firm body pressing into Harry's every dip and bulge—and oh, his bulge! Malfoy seemed to discover it at the very moment Harry did. His smirk turned feral and he locked his eyes on Harry's as he ground his thigh between Harry's legs.

The effect was instantaneous. Harry went at once from suspicious and untrusting to impassioned and aching. In the half a second before the bubble burst, Harry caught his moan between lips and teeth, just barely remembering Malfoy's cheeky comment in the haze of his lust. He gave a feeble attempt at hardening his gaze, aiming for insolence.

It worked miraculously.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed dangerously and he growled low in Harry's ear.

"Challenge accepted, Potter," he hissed and suddenly dropped.

Before Harry could look down, his fly was unzipped, his erection was release, and Malfoy swallowed him whole.

"Ah!" Harry cried out in surprise. Straight after this slip-up, he bit his lip hard to keep quiet.

It was the hardest thing he'd ever done. Malfoy's mouth was extraordinary! Despite Harry's admirable endowment, he was able to slide his lips right down to the very base of his cock, sheathing Harry entirely in the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. While he was there, he swallowed convulsively and laved his tongue on the underside of Harry's cock. When he was gone, he swirled licks and left kisses over Harry's tender head. Between both gestures, he swept his hands up and down Harry's sides, raking sharp fingernails over his skin, pinching his nipples between fingertips, massaging his sac with tender, teasing strokes. Harry had never received a blow job before but he was pretty sure this was as good as they got.

Then, just before he was sure he would explode, a long, slender finger pressed into his arsehole and rubbed a slow circle around the inside of his channel.

Harry's moan was frivolous, masculine, shameless, and most of all, a perfect defeat.

He rode the blinding white waves of his orgasm unrestrained. And when he came down from his high he dropped to his knees and kissed Malfoy full on the lips, drawing his flavor right out of Malfoy's mouth.

"I win," Malfoy smirked when they broke apart.

Harry dropped his head back against the wall, panting. "Actually, I think I win," he objected.

Malfoy's eyes widened. "By Merlin," he whispered dramatically. "Did the Virgin-Who-Lived just make a sexual innuendo?"

Harry rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored him. He was feeling good, limber, free. He rolled his eyes back down to Malfoy and grinned, deciding to float on his cloud of bliss for a while longer, no matter where it took him.

"Draco the Debaucher," he said. "That's what they should call you."

Draco raised one eyebrow. "Who is 'they'?"

Harry's forehead crumpled in thought. Who was they?

Then Draco reached out and rubbed a finger over the crease between his eyes, smoothing it. With slow movements, he dragged his finger up Harry's forehead and traced his lightning-bolt scar. Then he drew an unhurried line to the mark on his temple. Warm fingers danced over the Scitalis like familiar beads of heat. Still locked away in the darkest recesses of Harry's mind, his second awareness purred.

"He likes you," Harry sighed.

"Who does?" asked Draco, his gaze moving from Harry's mark to Harry's eyes.

"The Scytale inside me."

This time it was Draco's brow that crinkled. "Potter," he said slowly, as if speaking to a man on his deathbed. "You are the Scytale inside you."

Harry dropped his gaze, staring at Draco's knees. Draco put a hand under his chin and forced his face back up. "You know that, don't you?"

"Yes," Harry admitted. "But I don't want to be."

Draco scoffed, dropping both his hands and pushing back to sit down fully instead of perching on his knees. "You don't have a choice."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Obviously I do. I'm not a Scytale right now, am I?" he challenged.

Draco reached out again and tapped the Scitalis bluntly. "You're always a Scytale. You always were and you always will be."

He couldn't help it; Harry pouted. "But I become something else—something more when I let it take me over!"

Draco shook his head as if Harry were a silly child who answered a question wrong in class. "Those changes aren't a separate being, Potter. It's still you in there, seeing, feeling, thinking. For instance, you can remember exactly what happened last night, can't you?"

He smirked when Harry blushed and nodded.

"But it feels separate," Harry said. "I can feel it inside me now, like my shadow, following me, listening to me, and yet not me."

Draco's eyes widened and he leaned forward subconsciously. "It's that divided from you?"

Harry nodded again.

"Listen, Potter, that's not good. You need to accept it; let it into you; let it become you."

"Why?" Harry demanded. "Why can't I just leave it locked up in the back of my head? Why can't I be myself?"

"It is yourself, Potter!" he shouted and his temper made him Malfoy again.

Harry reeled backward, pressed into the wall, his eyes narrowed angrily.

Malfoy pressed his hands to his face and scrubbed at his eyes. He took a deep breath and spoke again in a calmer voice.

"If you don't learn to control it now, eventually it will take you over completely. There'll be no returning from that."

Harry sneered. "So what? If it is me and it takes me over then I'll be me, right?"

Malfoy didn't react to his antagonism. "It's untamed, Potter. If it takes you over, it will permanently revert you back to the original state of a Scytale. If you think you're not human now, you won't like that at all."

"What's the original state of a Scytale?" Harry asked warily, anger forgotten momentarily.

"It's what you became last night," Malfoy said.

Harry's jaw fell open. "I wasn't—I wasn't me last night?" he choked.

"You didn't know?" Malfoy asked, suddenly as surprised as Harry.

"I knew it took control then," said Harry. "But I didn't know I changed."

Malfoy pursed his lips at this new revelation. "Which means it's all the more important that you learn to control it now. It's already beginning to take charge of you without you even noticing."

"But I did notice," Harry disagreed. "I could feel that I wasn't in charge of my actions...Last night probably never would have happened if I was." He blushed.

"Be that as it may, it was still able to cloud your mind enough that you didn't notice it transform."

Harry swallowed. "And you're sure I transformed."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Positive. You'd probably notice too if the cock you were sucking was suddenly covered in scales."

"Scales?!" Harry blanched.

"Like a snake," Malfoy nodded. "You saw. I caught a glimpse of you admiring your arms just before you threw me into the wall."

Harry thought back on the moment. He could barely recall the details before the shagging began. He blushed despite himself.

Malfoy chuckled, low and erotic, and Harry glanced up at him under his lashes.

"It occurs to me," Malfoy said slowly. "That I've now given you three orgasms and yet I've only had one."

Reply to Darke: Rofl! Oh man, your review made me laugh so hard! "i am probably your oddest
reviewer, something i take pride in :D" You sound just like me ^_^ Love you too (in an omg awsome reviewer kind of way)! And by the way, don't look out your window... I am sitting there waiting to pounce xD