A/N: Hm. Not much to say here. It's really self-explanatory. If you absolutely detest S&M. Sorry.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these poor, poor characters I'm playing with. J.K. Rowling does.

Harry woke up the next day groggily.

"Where am I?" he panicked.

He tried to push himself up and look at his surroundings but his arms buckled from under him. Pain shot through his body as he let out a grimacing yelp. He eventually came to realize he was in his own bed, the alarm clock flashing 12:30 pm. Everyone else in the dormitory was at lunch.

He looked down at his arms,

"Why did it hurt?"

and gasped. His wrists were a deep purple, a navy blue traced a perfect circle around his flesh.

"Skin should never be this color," he thought, biting his lip.

Slowly, the memories of last night flowed back to him in small waves. He eventually managed to get up, only to fall back down again, hitting the floor.

"Fuck, what the hell...."

Harry cautiously got to his feet, looking in the mirror. His neck was covered in red marks, various bruises on his body. It was the stone floor. Draco was soft, a gentle lover. He got overzealous, yes, but only sometimes. Draco loved him. He shook his head, whispering out loud,

"I'll never do that on a stone floor again."

.....Two Months Later...

It was a brisk January Friday morning, and everyone was anxious for the weekend to begin.

Harry was glad to see Hedwig, the only person-well, - listener he had. She hadn't come for food that morning; rather, she came bearing a message. Her amber eyes were pitiful, almost apologetic as he took the note. He read it, his smile fading.

Harry,
I've got some new things we can try out. Screw your Quidditch practice, this is more important. You better be there. 10 o clock at the usual place.
-Draco

Harry sighed. It had been like this often.

"He's just going through a phase. He's excited to do things with me, it's all out of love," he reassured himself. Draco was everyone he always wanted: a friend, a lover, someone who had pride and could take care of himself.

....

"You're late," Draco spat, with a malicious grin.

"I'm sorry, it's just, Hermione asked what I was-"

"I told you not to associate yourself with that mudblood filth!"

"She's not-"

Draco slapped him hard across the face.

"Harry," his whole appearance changed from cold to loving, "It's best for you," he took his hand, "and best for us." His voice was so trusting, so compassionate. Harry kept falling in love with him.

"He cares, he really does. We're gonna be together forever, I can tell," Harry knew for sure. There was no doubt in his mind.

"Y-yeah," he stuttered. Draco was right...he was always right. He placed his head on Draco's neck.

"Thank you, love," Harry realized, grateful that Draco was there to guide his life.

Draco looked pleased with himself.

"Well, I have a surprise for you," he smirked.

"Close your eyes and sit on the ground."

Harry did what he was told, excited that Draco had planned something special for him, had been thinking of him. He put something soft over his eyes and muttered a silencing spell on the room. He then forcefully kissed the blinded boy, nearly choking him. Harry didn't care.

"Every action is done out of love," he thought.

Draco moved away, and all he could hear was the blonde's footsteps as he picked something up. What it was, he had no idea.

Harry screamed for his life as the leather seared on his body. Draco smiled smugly, rather satisfied with Harry's reaction, running his hand along the handle of the whip. Harry's heart raced, panting frantically as he held back tears. Draco didn't like it when he cried.

"Every action is out of love,"

"You like?" Draco asked, happy with his new toy.

There was no response. Draco hit him again, harder.

"I asked you a question," he sternly said.

Harry whimpered softly, trying his hardest not to break down on the spot.

"Oh Harry," Draco cooed, leaning down to him.

Harry could feel his breath on his chest; he was close right over him. Draco ran the back of his hand down his face.

"I'm sorry, I just thought that...you'd like this," he sighed remorsefully. "I was just thinking of you and you always said do what you want and, and..." Draco's voice was weak and pleading.

"No, no, it...it's fine. Really," Harry reassured, his heart skipping a beat.

He didn't mean to make Draco upset. He didn't hear another word, either, as Draco stood up.

It continued endlessly, until Draco got bored.

"Thank you so much," the serpent said from the heart.

He kissed him lovingly, "You don't know how much this means to me,"

Harry took that moment to catch his breath, "N-no problem," he managed to say. He winced as Draco touched him. His body ached. His mind was screaming at him,

"No, what are you doing! He's torturing you; stop it. You're being stupid about this, wake up!!"

But his heart told him differently. His heart wouldn't stop. It ruled over him, logic meant nothing now.

"Every action is out of love,"

He let him kiss him. He let him get on top of him. He let him have his way with him.

It hurt so badly as Draco forced himself into him. But Harry didn't care. Because it was love. And love hurts. As his bare, bloody back kept hitting the floor he could have fainted because of the pain, but he had to keep conscious, to keep loving him. To show his love for him.

He was a moral person, he wanted to wait for the one he would marry. But in his mind, Draco would always be with him. So it made sense to let him take his virginity like this, so painfully. So agonizingly excruciating.

...Middle of January...

The clock told the story of an early, sleepless morning. 2 am and Harry couldn't sleep. His pain wouldn't allow him. Every which way he turned the response was always an aching horror. Silent tears trailed down his bruised cheeks. He held his tongue, not to wake anyone up.

Hedwig had just returned from another midnight flight, and perched on Harry's bedside.

"Oh Hedwig," he whispered, "what am I doing..."

She returned a faint hoot with mournful, dull eyes.

"I, I know I love him. And he loves me, right? Of course...or he wouldn't do those things, no one could. How could anyone do...that...without caring? He just wanted to love me...in a different way. I know it. I can feel it. He just can't tell me, I don't know why. He loves me, right?"

Harry waited for her to answer.

She hooted quietly one last time as her amber eyes rolled back, her lifeless body hitting the floor.

Harry didn't sleep that night.

....February....

"Draco..." Harry whispered as he took of his hood, standing in front of the blonde.

"You're on time. Finally," was his only response to him.

"Yes, but before we-"

"WHAT IS IT THIS TIME?" he bellowed; frustrated that he was even speaking.

"It's just, people are starting to notice-"

Draco's face went white; he stood up, a head taller than the Gryffindor. "Notice what."

"T-that...my...uh," Harry was frightened.

He lifted the sleeve to his robe to expose no longer clear, milky skin. It was scarred, tainted. His wrists were a permanent dark bluish brown, the bones themselves bruised. He winced; the cold air hurt the more recent wounds, made by a spiked whip. The marks were innumerable, everlasting reminders of Draco's love.

"Oh," Draco said, uncaring. "That. Well, it'll heal soon. Just say your clumsy ass fell down the stairs or something. Lord knows they'll believe you."

"That was close...no one must know. He's mine and mine alone, no one can have him." The Slytherin's mind raced.

Harry looked hurt, waiting for Draco's soothing voice to make the pain go away. But there was no saving grace this time. Harry was a slave once more to his own love for this boy, this trap he's set himself up in.

Harry let him chain him. He let him whip him. He let him have his way with him.

And Draco, well, Draco let him bleed.

A/N: Twisted, yes. One more chapter to go!