Sigh. . . if only I could bring myself to care about being such a perv. Oh
well, here it is, what everyone's been waiting for. But BE WARNED. Most of
the coming chapter contains very GRAPHIC sex (slash in nature, of course).
Disclaimer: Harry and Draco are not mine.
Chapter 9: An Exchange and a Gift
"It feels like lightening running through my veins, every time I look at you."
- David Gray, Please Forgive Me
Draco removed his school robes and hung them up, revealing dark grey pants and a tight shirt. Harry's chest felt suddenly tight, and his own pants even tighter. Draco arched an eyebrow before using his wand to cast a silencing and locking spell, then he turned towards Harry.
His head tilted and his face expressionless, ungelled hair falling at an angle, Draco untucked his shirt: but when he slowly began to unbutton it, panic and nervousness suddenly seized Harry. This was not how it was supposed to be, not how he wanted this to be, anyway. This was. . . frightening. Sexy, yes, but scary as hell. So he forced himself into motion, stepping close to Draco and stilling the elegant hands with his own, and gazing into amazing blue eyes. He gave a weak smile before leaning up, wrapping his arms around the taller boy, and kissing him.
Cho had nothing on Draco. Harry felt a shock of electricity run through him and he shivered, causing Draco to break the kiss and look at him with concern. "Are you alright?," he asked, no longer able to keep up his façade of indifference. Harry had kissed him. Harry had kissed him! Voldemort had never kissed him (thank Merlin), and his father's violent kisses could only be defined as such because their lips met. But Harry had really kissed him.
Harry retrieved an arm from Draco's back and held it up to show it to him: it was covered in goose bumps. "I've never done this before," he whispered huskily, nervously.
"It's not so hard," Draco soothed, tracing his fingertips along Harry's cheek, eyebrow, ear, scar. Draco's delicate caress along his scar made him shudder unexpectedly with desire and he leaned in for another kiss, this one deeper, longer, and more passionate, and his arms tightened around the sexy body.
When they finally broke apart, panting and needing air, it was Draco's turn to smile shyly. He was in love with Harry, and here he was with Harry, and he wasn't going to make it worse than it already was by forcing himself not to enjoy it (though a certain self defence mechanism had certainly been trying to convince him for the last couple days to do just that). For that night, and just for that night, he was going to forget that Harry didn't love him, that Harry was doing this to defeat Voldemort; and it would be easy to let his mind pretend to believe what it wanted desperately to be true - that Harry was here, making love to him, saving him from the ghosts and nightmares that haunted his life, swearing to never leave.
"You're so beautiful," Harry whispered, rubbing noses with Draco.
"That's what Voldemort says," Draco replied reflexively, then turning his face away in embarrassment as Harry pulled back slightly in shock, though his arms did not drop. It was just what Voldemort would say right before shattering that beauty with blood and bruises.
"I'm sorry," Harry choked out hoarsely.
"Don't be," Draco said, pulling Harry closer to rest Harry's chin on his thin shoulder and to escape searching emerald eyes. Harry nuzzled Draco's neck and ear and soft shiny hair, inhaling contently the smell of vanilla and fresh grass. "You smell good. Does anyone ever tell you that?"
Draco shook his head and Harry straightened to kiss him again, allowing his hands to travel down the firm back then under Draco's shirt. Draco inhaled sharply at the contact and he forced himself not to tremble with pleasure and excitement, and to focus instead on slipping Harry's robes off him. Harry smiled at him, then continued unbuttoning Draco's shirt where he'd left off, exposing a perfect expanse of skin and two dusty pink nipples. He pushed the shirt past ivory shoulders and let it fall to the ground.
Then he looked back into Draco's eyes and watched his face for reactions as he caressed the silky skin. Draco was finding it hard to breathe, and his face was flushing beautifully - he couldn't help it really, every nerve in his body felt inflamed and overly sensitive. A small voice in his mind explained that this was the same reason he hurt so much when Voldemort and his father beat him, and tortured him, and raped him. He started to grimace, but all bad thoughts fled his mind (and a gasp escaped his lips), when Harry rolled a nipple between his calloused fingers.
Harry's heart melted to see Draco like this - so vulnerable, so open, so willing. . . in such rare pleasure. He too was allowing his mind to forget why he was here, why he was falling into deep blue eyes, pink lips, and white skin. The fantasy was much better than the harsh reality.
Harry pulled away gently, with a mischievous smile on his lips. He quickly removed his own t-shirt in time to see Draco carefully step past the candle ring on sock clad feet and sit nervously on the bed. Harry used his wand to off the overhead light. He toed off his own shoes, then, after a moment's hesitation, awkwardly stripped off his pants and followed Draco to the bed.
"Gryffindor through and through," Draco commented with regards to Harry's red and gold boxers. Harry chuckled.
"Actually, I was almost placed in Sytherin," Harry replied, sitting next to the shirtless figure.
"I can't say I'm surprised," Draco replied sadly.
Harry winced and, turning towards Draco, soothingly stroked his hair and back. There was nothing to say to that. After several long moments, Draco's body began to respond to and lean into his touches. Harry brought his other hand up to Draco's face and tilted it towards his own. After a searching look, he tenderly kissed him, gently nibbling on his soft lower lip and causing Draco to mewl faintly. Harry had never heard anything sound so sexy. His erection throbbed impatiently and he himself moaned with desire before lightly pressed Draco down on the bed.
Harry moved down slightly to take a nipple between his teeth, making Draco arch up towards him, and he felt Draco's nimble fingers in his hair, then on his back and neck. He lapped at Draco's skin until he reached his navel, kneeling between Draco's legs, then he moved lower and nuzzled the grey pants that covered the evidence of Draco's arousal, and Draco arched up again.
"May I?," he asked huskily, looking to Draco and his fingers hovering over the button of his pants. Draco was startled out of what was quickly becoming a lust and pleasure filled daze, and he mustered the coordination to nod weakly.
Harry greedily fumbled with Draco's button and zipper, then Draco managed to lift his hips to allow Harry to pull them off. He cast them away, beyond the flickering candles, then gazed lustfully and admiringly at the handsome body below him. He stroked tense, quivering white thighs, evoking soft whimpers from the other boy.
Finally, he let his eyes feast on Draco's erection, bobbing slightly and gently oozing precum. He was somewhat surprised to find his mouth watering, never before having been able to understand how anyone could enjoy giving head. He bent down and kissed the smooth skin of Draco's inner thighs, then he nuzzled his balls, savoring his lovers heady smell and erratic breathing, before turning to the core of Draco's desire.
He planted wet, sloppy kisses along its length, licked its tip, then took into his mouth. Draco gasped and arched up reflexively, a little violently, and Harry gripped his hips to stop from gagging, then eased them back onto the bed before continuing his eager ministrations.
Harry continued for some time, until he heard Draco pant, "Harry, stop. I'm too close, I can't, don't, I. . ."
"Shhh. . .," Harry replied, dragging himself up and along Draco body to gaze into beautiful, unfocused eyes. "I understand," he whispered before kissing him deeply. Then he pulled up, again to search Draco's eyes. "You're amazing, you know?"
Harry pulled his boxers off, then he used his hand to gently part Draco's legs so that they were splayed wantonly. He reached for his wand then used it to create a coating of lubricant on his fingers. He looked back at Draco, seeing the vague awareness in his eyes, and Draco nodded perceptively. Harry smiled at him, though his muscles were feeling weak. Never tearing his eyes away from Draco's, he nestled his hand between supple, firm cheeks then rubbed the tight entrance there. Draco whimpered and closed his eyes in apprehension.
"Shhh. . .," Harry soothed, raining weightless kisses on Draco's face as he spoke. "It's okay. It's only me. I won't hurt you. Draco, please open your eyes." Draco opened his eyes hesitantly and Harry smiled at him. "I won't hurt you. But I need you to relax." Again, Draco nodded faintly.
Harry rubbed his entrance again, then slowly pressed two fingers inside. "Don't tense up, Draco, please," Harry begged, his voice laced with concern. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he hurt his lover now. He massaged the tight passage until its grip eased, then pushed further in and curled his fingers (blessed be books!), and was rewarded by a sudden gasp and a sharply arched body.
Harry repeated the action and Draco's body again responded. "Harry. . .," Draco whined deliriously, though a flavor of fear could still be recognized, his mind still attempting to resist the betrayal of his body. "How do want to do this?," Harry asked gently.
Draco closed his eyes tightly for a moment before opening them again, tears sparkling in them. "Like a woman. . . not like an animal." Voldemort's words were thumping behind his eardrums, and his blood was racing with alarm and confused lust.
Harry was cut deeply by his words, and he hated that it had to be this way. He eased his fingers out of Draco and slicked up his own arousal. He stroked Draco's erection and whispered, "You're no woman, Dacro."
He lifted Draco's legs over his shoulders and tenderly pressed himself between Draco's cheeks, allowing Draco to squeeze his eyes shut. "And you're no animal." Then he pushed in slowly.
Draco's breath hitched and his hands clawed at the sheets, his mind spinning in pain and pleasure. All of Harry's thoughts were driven from his mind, his sight was almost driven from before his eyes, and he breathed heavily. They were frozen like that for a long moment, until Harry's mind sharpened enough to whisper hoarsely, "Draco? Are you alright?"
Draco nodded tensely. "Move," he gasped.
Harry needed no other encouragement and began to rock into him, steadily, neither too rough nor too gentle, and neither fast nor slow, though the paced did gradually increase until both boys were groaning and panting and covered in a light sheen of sweat. Harry gripped Draco's arousal and began to pump in rhythm with his own movements.
From a world of unimaginable pleasure, Draco moaned brokenly, "Say the words Harry!," pulling Harry back to a barely comprehensible reality that he had forgotten entirely. Hardly thinking, he muttered the words, "Filio energia donne mae. Te estado mia. Donne mae tuto che esto. Donne mae. Donne mae. Te estado mia. Energia mia."
Draco cried out and came on Harry's chest, tightening around him, pushing him over the edge too, and he emptied himself into Draco with a few final thrusts. But there was something noticeably peculiar about his come down, for while he felt suddenly drained and exhausted, he also felt a great influx of unnatural energy - like what Harry imagined a drug induced strength would feel like. He looked down in anxiety at Draco, whose eyes were closed and face was expressionless. Was he asleep?
In panic, he pulled out, but the energy transfer did not stop. He could feel himself getting stronger and most artificially hyper. But his mind demanded sleep, and he was frightened, and he wanted nothing more than to join his beautiful companion in sleep. Draco rolled onto his side, facing away from Harry, and coiled into a fetal position. Harry gave into temptation and curled up behind him, skin on soft skin. Only for ten minutes. . .
*
Forty minutes later, Harry's eyelids crept open, blinked twice, then peeled back suddenly.
"Shit!," he cried, sitting up so suddenly that Draco was pushed off the bed (luckily, all the candles had extinguished themselves). Without giving a second look to the blonde, he shot off the bed and began to frantically dress. Draco stood still, in all his naked glory, watching him stonily until Harry hissed frantically, "Get dressed! We've already wasted enough time!"
Expressionlessly, tonelessly, "I couldn't agree more." But he dressed, though far more languidly than Harry, giving the latter a great deal of time to tap his foot impatiently. Harry was, after all, a man on a mission.
Harry wrapped them both in his invisibility cloak, which didn't quite fit, but would have to do, and dragged Draco out of the Slytherin dorms down to the Hogsmeade passage, supporting Draco's weight for much of the way. Once in the dark passage and still under the cloak, Harry squeezed Draco's hand. "Are you strong enough to do this?"
"Of course, I'm the human battery," Draco replied sarcastically.
"How do you know about batteries?," Harry asked, too nervous not to prolong the moment.
"I ran away to the Muggle world the summer before last. . . and I learned a lot. I honestly don't know which world is worse." In Harry's state, it almost sounded like the voice of god condemning the entire earth.
"Neither place is that bad," he objected weakly.
"That is where you are wrong," Draco returned, before apparating them both away.
*
Draco had told him that Voldemort was, for this week, holed up in a big, old house in the suburbs of London, but from what Harry could tell, they had apparated into a cold, musty smelling dungeon (in didn't help that the sex smells were getting rather ripe underneath the invisibility cloak). The dungeon appeared empty, but that was not surprising as death eaters were rarely allowed in the dungeon except for explicit purposes - courtesy of the fact that Voldemort trusted no one and that his hubris forbid him from suspecting anyone would have the audacity to attack him, now that he was at the height of his power. Consequently, any death eaters would, conveniently, be in the house above.
"You can go back now, Malfoy," Harry whispered distractedly. His scar was tingling painfully and he had the distinct feeling that finding Voldemort now would be incredibly easy. Voldemort. He shuddered.
Draco shuddered with rage, but Harry wasn't even looking at him. "Fuck you, Potter, I'm not leaving," he hissed.
That made Harry look at him. "I'm not going to confront him while you're here. You're a liability, you can barely stand, and forcing me to defend you would only kill us both. If you want to be free, then leave."
Draco was so furious at Harry's words and deeply wounded by the fact that Harry didn't even appear to be saying them to hurt him. "I hate you, Potter. Seeing you die would almost be worth it." And with that, he apparated, leaving Potter all alone in his invisibility cloak.
Harry took a deep, shaky breath, then headed down the corridor that he somehow knew led the way to Voldemort. The dungeon, however, proved to be huge, and it ended up taking a good five minutes of walking before it led somewhere that wasn't a cell. But it did eventually lead into a large stone room, lit with numerous torches and a large fireplace, where the one and only Voldemort, looking like the devil incarnate (provided it was a snake incarnation), was talking to a translucent floating head.
Harry waited for overgrown man serpent and the head to finish talking, not wanting the head to send for reinforcements. When the conversation ended, there was a terrifying moment in which Voldemort appeared to inspect the corridor entrance, where Harry was standing, but he seemed to decide that nothing was there and so walked across the room to where a hideous gothic throne rested.
Once he was seated, Harry tiptoed in the center of the room, then whipped out his wand and yelled, "Avada Kada-!"
But he wasn't able too finish as his wand was snatched from his fist a something quite heavy and firm smacked into him, knocking him to his knees - he had been so focused on Voldemort that he had failed to register the great snake that had been coiled motionlessly near the fireplace. Harry didn't even have time to recover before Nagini wrapped tightly around his arms and torso. He tried to struggle, but it didn't stop the snake from forming a second coil around his neck; in fact it only increased the speed at which he was rapidly loosing consciousness.
"Enough!," Voldemort hissed, and the death grip on Harry loosened, then disappeared entirely. Harry looked up at the grotesque thing standing before him through the black spots of near asphyxiation. His wand was pointed at Harry, his other hand holding Harry's wand, and an unpleasant sneer was plastered to his face.
"Well, look what we have here. What an agreeable surprise. Did you know I was just planning on coming to get you one of these days? Now you've come to me instead. Impatient, are we? Well. . . No need to wait anymore. Crucio!"
"Agh!," Harry screamed. And screamed, and screamed. He screamed until he was hoarse and he thought he would never stop. He withered and wretched and shuddered in agony, until he would have sold his soul and those of everyone he had ever loved - indeed, the souls of the whole world - just to end the pain. He would have died a thousand times to stop the torture that blinded his mind and racked every nerve.
The pain finally faded, though his body continued to spasm in imagined agony and he hadn't the power of thought to remember his own name. "You have defied me for the last time, Potter. Now say goodbye."
"Nunh," was all the scarcely coherent boy could manage. He could barely open his eyes.
"Good enough. Avada Ka-!"
"AVADA KADAVRA!," Draco shouted and a green shock of power arched from his wand. He did this, fully knowing that he was still too weak and drained to successfully cast such a demanding spell on even a reasonably competent wizard, let alone Voldemort. But he had had his revenge, watching in angry satisfaction as Harry writhed and thrashed in pain, and he neither wanted Voldemort to be free of his nemesis nor did he want Harry to die. He both loved and hated Harry Potter, and he didn't know what he thought of the Boy- Who-Lived, but he did know that he would die for him.
Voldemort faltered for a moment, but recovered almost immediately. "You lying, back stabbing whore!," he roared. "CRUCIO!"
And then it was Draco's turn to fall to the ground with a sickening crack as his knees hit the stone floor, his wand clattering away. Draco's body arched and was taken by a progression of seizures and convulsions. He bit his lip until his mouth filled with blood, but he didn't cry out. It was the game he always played with Voldemort, the game he always lost, in the end, but was somehow determined not to lose this last time. He accomplished this effort with a fierce, all consuming focus that drove the away the pain, the awareness of his surroundings, and all manner of lucidity.
The seconds ticked by, turning into a minute, but still Voldemort did not let up, his face twisting with perverse pleasure and profound hatred. And Voldemort did hate Draco - he hated him for having power in simply being indispensable, and for that he tortured him, and would not be satisfied until he heard him scream; for that he kept Draco under the curse even after he had clearly lost consciousness.
When Harry's eyes finally recovered their capacity to focus, the first thing to fall in sharp relief was Draco's wand. He was barely able to register what was happening to Draco (mostly only aware of Voldemort being distracted from him). He forced himself to single mindedly pull himself - inch, really - towards it, and finally his fingers grasped around it.
Propping himself up, he swung his arm around to point it at where his foggy mind placed Voldemort, only to find himself again faced with Nagini. So much for surprise. "Avada Kadavra," he whispered hoarsely, and a green neon flash slayed the snake. Voldemort whipped around, wand raised, and they simultaneously yelled, "AVADA KADAVRA!"
Two great arcs of energy shot out from the two wands, clashing violently in a shower of radiance and sparks. But it didn't resolve itself. Harry felt power flow through him, not just his own but also a strange, comforting surcharge, and the power fed the intensity deadly light show.
Then he began to notice something: the light show was edging closer to Voldemort. A rush of confidence woke his rage and loathing, adding to his power and forcing the meeting point of their energy further and further and further. . . almost there. . .
PHWUT. . . BANG!
Silence.
Harry exhaled raggedly, then allowed himself to breathe heavily. It took him several moments to recover from the shock enough to take everything in. He was splattered with blood and guts, as was much of the room. Voldemort was. . . dead.
Voldemort was dead!
"Ha. . . Ha. . . Ha. Ha. Hahaha," he laughed hysterically. Then he froze. "Draco. . .?"
XXXXX
Yes, he's dead, but this is not the end of the story. Tune in again soon!
Disclaimer: Harry and Draco are not mine.
Chapter 9: An Exchange and a Gift
"It feels like lightening running through my veins, every time I look at you."
- David Gray, Please Forgive Me
Draco removed his school robes and hung them up, revealing dark grey pants and a tight shirt. Harry's chest felt suddenly tight, and his own pants even tighter. Draco arched an eyebrow before using his wand to cast a silencing and locking spell, then he turned towards Harry.
His head tilted and his face expressionless, ungelled hair falling at an angle, Draco untucked his shirt: but when he slowly began to unbutton it, panic and nervousness suddenly seized Harry. This was not how it was supposed to be, not how he wanted this to be, anyway. This was. . . frightening. Sexy, yes, but scary as hell. So he forced himself into motion, stepping close to Draco and stilling the elegant hands with his own, and gazing into amazing blue eyes. He gave a weak smile before leaning up, wrapping his arms around the taller boy, and kissing him.
Cho had nothing on Draco. Harry felt a shock of electricity run through him and he shivered, causing Draco to break the kiss and look at him with concern. "Are you alright?," he asked, no longer able to keep up his façade of indifference. Harry had kissed him. Harry had kissed him! Voldemort had never kissed him (thank Merlin), and his father's violent kisses could only be defined as such because their lips met. But Harry had really kissed him.
Harry retrieved an arm from Draco's back and held it up to show it to him: it was covered in goose bumps. "I've never done this before," he whispered huskily, nervously.
"It's not so hard," Draco soothed, tracing his fingertips along Harry's cheek, eyebrow, ear, scar. Draco's delicate caress along his scar made him shudder unexpectedly with desire and he leaned in for another kiss, this one deeper, longer, and more passionate, and his arms tightened around the sexy body.
When they finally broke apart, panting and needing air, it was Draco's turn to smile shyly. He was in love with Harry, and here he was with Harry, and he wasn't going to make it worse than it already was by forcing himself not to enjoy it (though a certain self defence mechanism had certainly been trying to convince him for the last couple days to do just that). For that night, and just for that night, he was going to forget that Harry didn't love him, that Harry was doing this to defeat Voldemort; and it would be easy to let his mind pretend to believe what it wanted desperately to be true - that Harry was here, making love to him, saving him from the ghosts and nightmares that haunted his life, swearing to never leave.
"You're so beautiful," Harry whispered, rubbing noses with Draco.
"That's what Voldemort says," Draco replied reflexively, then turning his face away in embarrassment as Harry pulled back slightly in shock, though his arms did not drop. It was just what Voldemort would say right before shattering that beauty with blood and bruises.
"I'm sorry," Harry choked out hoarsely.
"Don't be," Draco said, pulling Harry closer to rest Harry's chin on his thin shoulder and to escape searching emerald eyes. Harry nuzzled Draco's neck and ear and soft shiny hair, inhaling contently the smell of vanilla and fresh grass. "You smell good. Does anyone ever tell you that?"
Draco shook his head and Harry straightened to kiss him again, allowing his hands to travel down the firm back then under Draco's shirt. Draco inhaled sharply at the contact and he forced himself not to tremble with pleasure and excitement, and to focus instead on slipping Harry's robes off him. Harry smiled at him, then continued unbuttoning Draco's shirt where he'd left off, exposing a perfect expanse of skin and two dusty pink nipples. He pushed the shirt past ivory shoulders and let it fall to the ground.
Then he looked back into Draco's eyes and watched his face for reactions as he caressed the silky skin. Draco was finding it hard to breathe, and his face was flushing beautifully - he couldn't help it really, every nerve in his body felt inflamed and overly sensitive. A small voice in his mind explained that this was the same reason he hurt so much when Voldemort and his father beat him, and tortured him, and raped him. He started to grimace, but all bad thoughts fled his mind (and a gasp escaped his lips), when Harry rolled a nipple between his calloused fingers.
Harry's heart melted to see Draco like this - so vulnerable, so open, so willing. . . in such rare pleasure. He too was allowing his mind to forget why he was here, why he was falling into deep blue eyes, pink lips, and white skin. The fantasy was much better than the harsh reality.
Harry pulled away gently, with a mischievous smile on his lips. He quickly removed his own t-shirt in time to see Draco carefully step past the candle ring on sock clad feet and sit nervously on the bed. Harry used his wand to off the overhead light. He toed off his own shoes, then, after a moment's hesitation, awkwardly stripped off his pants and followed Draco to the bed.
"Gryffindor through and through," Draco commented with regards to Harry's red and gold boxers. Harry chuckled.
"Actually, I was almost placed in Sytherin," Harry replied, sitting next to the shirtless figure.
"I can't say I'm surprised," Draco replied sadly.
Harry winced and, turning towards Draco, soothingly stroked his hair and back. There was nothing to say to that. After several long moments, Draco's body began to respond to and lean into his touches. Harry brought his other hand up to Draco's face and tilted it towards his own. After a searching look, he tenderly kissed him, gently nibbling on his soft lower lip and causing Draco to mewl faintly. Harry had never heard anything sound so sexy. His erection throbbed impatiently and he himself moaned with desire before lightly pressed Draco down on the bed.
Harry moved down slightly to take a nipple between his teeth, making Draco arch up towards him, and he felt Draco's nimble fingers in his hair, then on his back and neck. He lapped at Draco's skin until he reached his navel, kneeling between Draco's legs, then he moved lower and nuzzled the grey pants that covered the evidence of Draco's arousal, and Draco arched up again.
"May I?," he asked huskily, looking to Draco and his fingers hovering over the button of his pants. Draco was startled out of what was quickly becoming a lust and pleasure filled daze, and he mustered the coordination to nod weakly.
Harry greedily fumbled with Draco's button and zipper, then Draco managed to lift his hips to allow Harry to pull them off. He cast them away, beyond the flickering candles, then gazed lustfully and admiringly at the handsome body below him. He stroked tense, quivering white thighs, evoking soft whimpers from the other boy.
Finally, he let his eyes feast on Draco's erection, bobbing slightly and gently oozing precum. He was somewhat surprised to find his mouth watering, never before having been able to understand how anyone could enjoy giving head. He bent down and kissed the smooth skin of Draco's inner thighs, then he nuzzled his balls, savoring his lovers heady smell and erratic breathing, before turning to the core of Draco's desire.
He planted wet, sloppy kisses along its length, licked its tip, then took into his mouth. Draco gasped and arched up reflexively, a little violently, and Harry gripped his hips to stop from gagging, then eased them back onto the bed before continuing his eager ministrations.
Harry continued for some time, until he heard Draco pant, "Harry, stop. I'm too close, I can't, don't, I. . ."
"Shhh. . .," Harry replied, dragging himself up and along Draco body to gaze into beautiful, unfocused eyes. "I understand," he whispered before kissing him deeply. Then he pulled up, again to search Draco's eyes. "You're amazing, you know?"
Harry pulled his boxers off, then he used his hand to gently part Draco's legs so that they were splayed wantonly. He reached for his wand then used it to create a coating of lubricant on his fingers. He looked back at Draco, seeing the vague awareness in his eyes, and Draco nodded perceptively. Harry smiled at him, though his muscles were feeling weak. Never tearing his eyes away from Draco's, he nestled his hand between supple, firm cheeks then rubbed the tight entrance there. Draco whimpered and closed his eyes in apprehension.
"Shhh. . .," Harry soothed, raining weightless kisses on Draco's face as he spoke. "It's okay. It's only me. I won't hurt you. Draco, please open your eyes." Draco opened his eyes hesitantly and Harry smiled at him. "I won't hurt you. But I need you to relax." Again, Draco nodded faintly.
Harry rubbed his entrance again, then slowly pressed two fingers inside. "Don't tense up, Draco, please," Harry begged, his voice laced with concern. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he hurt his lover now. He massaged the tight passage until its grip eased, then pushed further in and curled his fingers (blessed be books!), and was rewarded by a sudden gasp and a sharply arched body.
Harry repeated the action and Draco's body again responded. "Harry. . .," Draco whined deliriously, though a flavor of fear could still be recognized, his mind still attempting to resist the betrayal of his body. "How do want to do this?," Harry asked gently.
Draco closed his eyes tightly for a moment before opening them again, tears sparkling in them. "Like a woman. . . not like an animal." Voldemort's words were thumping behind his eardrums, and his blood was racing with alarm and confused lust.
Harry was cut deeply by his words, and he hated that it had to be this way. He eased his fingers out of Draco and slicked up his own arousal. He stroked Draco's erection and whispered, "You're no woman, Dacro."
He lifted Draco's legs over his shoulders and tenderly pressed himself between Draco's cheeks, allowing Draco to squeeze his eyes shut. "And you're no animal." Then he pushed in slowly.
Draco's breath hitched and his hands clawed at the sheets, his mind spinning in pain and pleasure. All of Harry's thoughts were driven from his mind, his sight was almost driven from before his eyes, and he breathed heavily. They were frozen like that for a long moment, until Harry's mind sharpened enough to whisper hoarsely, "Draco? Are you alright?"
Draco nodded tensely. "Move," he gasped.
Harry needed no other encouragement and began to rock into him, steadily, neither too rough nor too gentle, and neither fast nor slow, though the paced did gradually increase until both boys were groaning and panting and covered in a light sheen of sweat. Harry gripped Draco's arousal and began to pump in rhythm with his own movements.
From a world of unimaginable pleasure, Draco moaned brokenly, "Say the words Harry!," pulling Harry back to a barely comprehensible reality that he had forgotten entirely. Hardly thinking, he muttered the words, "Filio energia donne mae. Te estado mia. Donne mae tuto che esto. Donne mae. Donne mae. Te estado mia. Energia mia."
Draco cried out and came on Harry's chest, tightening around him, pushing him over the edge too, and he emptied himself into Draco with a few final thrusts. But there was something noticeably peculiar about his come down, for while he felt suddenly drained and exhausted, he also felt a great influx of unnatural energy - like what Harry imagined a drug induced strength would feel like. He looked down in anxiety at Draco, whose eyes were closed and face was expressionless. Was he asleep?
In panic, he pulled out, but the energy transfer did not stop. He could feel himself getting stronger and most artificially hyper. But his mind demanded sleep, and he was frightened, and he wanted nothing more than to join his beautiful companion in sleep. Draco rolled onto his side, facing away from Harry, and coiled into a fetal position. Harry gave into temptation and curled up behind him, skin on soft skin. Only for ten minutes. . .
*
Forty minutes later, Harry's eyelids crept open, blinked twice, then peeled back suddenly.
"Shit!," he cried, sitting up so suddenly that Draco was pushed off the bed (luckily, all the candles had extinguished themselves). Without giving a second look to the blonde, he shot off the bed and began to frantically dress. Draco stood still, in all his naked glory, watching him stonily until Harry hissed frantically, "Get dressed! We've already wasted enough time!"
Expressionlessly, tonelessly, "I couldn't agree more." But he dressed, though far more languidly than Harry, giving the latter a great deal of time to tap his foot impatiently. Harry was, after all, a man on a mission.
Harry wrapped them both in his invisibility cloak, which didn't quite fit, but would have to do, and dragged Draco out of the Slytherin dorms down to the Hogsmeade passage, supporting Draco's weight for much of the way. Once in the dark passage and still under the cloak, Harry squeezed Draco's hand. "Are you strong enough to do this?"
"Of course, I'm the human battery," Draco replied sarcastically.
"How do you know about batteries?," Harry asked, too nervous not to prolong the moment.
"I ran away to the Muggle world the summer before last. . . and I learned a lot. I honestly don't know which world is worse." In Harry's state, it almost sounded like the voice of god condemning the entire earth.
"Neither place is that bad," he objected weakly.
"That is where you are wrong," Draco returned, before apparating them both away.
*
Draco had told him that Voldemort was, for this week, holed up in a big, old house in the suburbs of London, but from what Harry could tell, they had apparated into a cold, musty smelling dungeon (in didn't help that the sex smells were getting rather ripe underneath the invisibility cloak). The dungeon appeared empty, but that was not surprising as death eaters were rarely allowed in the dungeon except for explicit purposes - courtesy of the fact that Voldemort trusted no one and that his hubris forbid him from suspecting anyone would have the audacity to attack him, now that he was at the height of his power. Consequently, any death eaters would, conveniently, be in the house above.
"You can go back now, Malfoy," Harry whispered distractedly. His scar was tingling painfully and he had the distinct feeling that finding Voldemort now would be incredibly easy. Voldemort. He shuddered.
Draco shuddered with rage, but Harry wasn't even looking at him. "Fuck you, Potter, I'm not leaving," he hissed.
That made Harry look at him. "I'm not going to confront him while you're here. You're a liability, you can barely stand, and forcing me to defend you would only kill us both. If you want to be free, then leave."
Draco was so furious at Harry's words and deeply wounded by the fact that Harry didn't even appear to be saying them to hurt him. "I hate you, Potter. Seeing you die would almost be worth it." And with that, he apparated, leaving Potter all alone in his invisibility cloak.
Harry took a deep, shaky breath, then headed down the corridor that he somehow knew led the way to Voldemort. The dungeon, however, proved to be huge, and it ended up taking a good five minutes of walking before it led somewhere that wasn't a cell. But it did eventually lead into a large stone room, lit with numerous torches and a large fireplace, where the one and only Voldemort, looking like the devil incarnate (provided it was a snake incarnation), was talking to a translucent floating head.
Harry waited for overgrown man serpent and the head to finish talking, not wanting the head to send for reinforcements. When the conversation ended, there was a terrifying moment in which Voldemort appeared to inspect the corridor entrance, where Harry was standing, but he seemed to decide that nothing was there and so walked across the room to where a hideous gothic throne rested.
Once he was seated, Harry tiptoed in the center of the room, then whipped out his wand and yelled, "Avada Kada-!"
But he wasn't able too finish as his wand was snatched from his fist a something quite heavy and firm smacked into him, knocking him to his knees - he had been so focused on Voldemort that he had failed to register the great snake that had been coiled motionlessly near the fireplace. Harry didn't even have time to recover before Nagini wrapped tightly around his arms and torso. He tried to struggle, but it didn't stop the snake from forming a second coil around his neck; in fact it only increased the speed at which he was rapidly loosing consciousness.
"Enough!," Voldemort hissed, and the death grip on Harry loosened, then disappeared entirely. Harry looked up at the grotesque thing standing before him through the black spots of near asphyxiation. His wand was pointed at Harry, his other hand holding Harry's wand, and an unpleasant sneer was plastered to his face.
"Well, look what we have here. What an agreeable surprise. Did you know I was just planning on coming to get you one of these days? Now you've come to me instead. Impatient, are we? Well. . . No need to wait anymore. Crucio!"
"Agh!," Harry screamed. And screamed, and screamed. He screamed until he was hoarse and he thought he would never stop. He withered and wretched and shuddered in agony, until he would have sold his soul and those of everyone he had ever loved - indeed, the souls of the whole world - just to end the pain. He would have died a thousand times to stop the torture that blinded his mind and racked every nerve.
The pain finally faded, though his body continued to spasm in imagined agony and he hadn't the power of thought to remember his own name. "You have defied me for the last time, Potter. Now say goodbye."
"Nunh," was all the scarcely coherent boy could manage. He could barely open his eyes.
"Good enough. Avada Ka-!"
"AVADA KADAVRA!," Draco shouted and a green shock of power arched from his wand. He did this, fully knowing that he was still too weak and drained to successfully cast such a demanding spell on even a reasonably competent wizard, let alone Voldemort. But he had had his revenge, watching in angry satisfaction as Harry writhed and thrashed in pain, and he neither wanted Voldemort to be free of his nemesis nor did he want Harry to die. He both loved and hated Harry Potter, and he didn't know what he thought of the Boy- Who-Lived, but he did know that he would die for him.
Voldemort faltered for a moment, but recovered almost immediately. "You lying, back stabbing whore!," he roared. "CRUCIO!"
And then it was Draco's turn to fall to the ground with a sickening crack as his knees hit the stone floor, his wand clattering away. Draco's body arched and was taken by a progression of seizures and convulsions. He bit his lip until his mouth filled with blood, but he didn't cry out. It was the game he always played with Voldemort, the game he always lost, in the end, but was somehow determined not to lose this last time. He accomplished this effort with a fierce, all consuming focus that drove the away the pain, the awareness of his surroundings, and all manner of lucidity.
The seconds ticked by, turning into a minute, but still Voldemort did not let up, his face twisting with perverse pleasure and profound hatred. And Voldemort did hate Draco - he hated him for having power in simply being indispensable, and for that he tortured him, and would not be satisfied until he heard him scream; for that he kept Draco under the curse even after he had clearly lost consciousness.
When Harry's eyes finally recovered their capacity to focus, the first thing to fall in sharp relief was Draco's wand. He was barely able to register what was happening to Draco (mostly only aware of Voldemort being distracted from him). He forced himself to single mindedly pull himself - inch, really - towards it, and finally his fingers grasped around it.
Propping himself up, he swung his arm around to point it at where his foggy mind placed Voldemort, only to find himself again faced with Nagini. So much for surprise. "Avada Kadavra," he whispered hoarsely, and a green neon flash slayed the snake. Voldemort whipped around, wand raised, and they simultaneously yelled, "AVADA KADAVRA!"
Two great arcs of energy shot out from the two wands, clashing violently in a shower of radiance and sparks. But it didn't resolve itself. Harry felt power flow through him, not just his own but also a strange, comforting surcharge, and the power fed the intensity deadly light show.
Then he began to notice something: the light show was edging closer to Voldemort. A rush of confidence woke his rage and loathing, adding to his power and forcing the meeting point of their energy further and further and further. . . almost there. . .
PHWUT. . . BANG!
Silence.
Harry exhaled raggedly, then allowed himself to breathe heavily. It took him several moments to recover from the shock enough to take everything in. He was splattered with blood and guts, as was much of the room. Voldemort was. . . dead.
Voldemort was dead!
"Ha. . . Ha. . . Ha. Ha. Hahaha," he laughed hysterically. Then he froze. "Draco. . .?"
XXXXX
Yes, he's dead, but this is not the end of the story. Tune in again soon!