A/N: I love you Rotschopf and Dystopic. You make me see the reality, not just the fantasy. Thank you.
29. Healing
"Potter, kindly remove your hands from the back pockets of Mr. Malfoy's trousers," Severus Snape's cold voice boomed in the cold dungeon office.
Harry flinched and jumped away from Draco. "Y-yes, sir."
"Is he still awake?" Snape asked, lining up several odd bottles on his table. Some of the vials hissed, some of them bubbled, and some were just pure mist. Every single one of them looked disgusting, vicious even.
"He's unconscious, I think," Harry sighed, worry clearly written over his face and tinting his voice. "He fell into a deep sleep almost immediately when you left us."
"Hmrhp," Snape grumbled and grabbed one of the hazy vials with his bony hands. "We must check his internal injuries, as I am sure there is something seriously wrong with his stomach and possibly also lungs."
Harry paled. "Isn't that very dangerous?"
"Of course it is, you stupid brat," Snape sneered. "Now, we must get Mr. Malfoy to inhale the fumes of this potion. It will manifest any bleeding injury he might have in the area under his ribcage."
"Alright. What can I do?"
"Uhh..." Snape looked uncomfortable. "We, er, should make him breathe very deeply and rapidly."
Harry raised his brows. "Okay."
"Ah, Potter." Snape coughed.
"Yeah?" Harry looked confused.
"Er."
Harry looked at the Potions Master's pained face, and suddenly understood what the old greasy bat might have been thinking. He burst out laughing. "You... You thought I would need to give him a blow job in front of you? Whahahaha!"
"Potter, this is not remotely funny!"
Harry sniggered. "The hell it isn't!"
"Mr. Potter." Snape straightened his pose and tried to look very menacing. "Ten points from Gryffindor. And it would be appreciated if you would kindly snap out of your childish behaviour so we could proceed with helping Mr. Malfoy here."
Harry swallowed the last of his laughter and nodded. "R-right, um, you don't need to watch this, necessarily."
"Watch what? You really are not going to...?"
Harry swiftly leaned over Draco and gently kissed his lips. Then he started to trail his tongue down the blonde's jaw line towards his neck. Draco started to shiver beneath him, and his breathing increased rapidly. Harry winked at Snape, and slid his tongue even lower, starting to play with Draco's left nipple. Then, he kissed his way down to Draco's bellybutton and French kissed the little cleft.
Draco moaned, his breath already laboured.
Snape felt both disgusted and, to his own horror, also aroused.
"You might want to give him that potion now," Harry instructed the rigid professor.
To Harry's amazement, Snape actually flushed --something that had never happened before. "Uh, um, right."
Harry hid his triumphant grin against Draco's soft skin.
Snape brought the vial of mist under Draco's nose, and the Slytherin boy inhaled it deeply. Harry's nose caught a distant scent of fir tree and earth, and he was glad that the potion didn't seem to encounter much resistance from Draco's part.
"Now, we wait," Snape declared. "Please, stop fondling him. It disturbs me greatly."
Harry obediently retreated and went to stand beside Snape, keeping a respectful distance to Snape. "What are we waiting for?"
"We are waiting for the mist to come out of Mr. Malfoy's nostrils. Look."
The light blue haze that Draco had inhaled now came out as dark orange fog. It formed an ugly, three-dimensional model of Draco's viscera, which only Professor Snape seemed to be able to interpret. Harry watched the hovering and shimmering picture in cruel fascination and felt even more worried than before.
"Hmmmm... Just as I thought," Snape muttered.
"What is it?" Harry's voice came out as a whisper.
"Severe injuries. You do not need to know more precisely. Let us hurry, otherwise it might be too late."
Harry felt his body go numb. "Too late?"
"Potter, get that blood red liquid from my table," Snape commanded. "No, not that one, the bubbling one."
Harry did as he was told and hurried back to Snape.
"Now, feed it to Mr. Malfoy whilst I keep his head in the right angle for him to swallow."
Harry carefully crawled next to Draco again. He looked how Snape's professional hands propped up his lover's head.
"Hurry up, you nitwit," Snape snapped, glaring at Harry.
Harry glared back at him, and carefully opened the vial.
"Now, try to make him drink it. All of it."
**
It was the weirdest feeling he had ever experienced. There was no pain, there was no ease. No cold, no heat. Snape's leather couch felt almost ethereal underneath him, and the soft lips that fondled his cheekbones felt like the light touches of the wind. Draco's mind tried to process what was happening around him, but he could not hear anything except the blood rushing in his veins, the heart beating slower and slower in his chest. He could not open his eyes, because his eyelids had become so heavy... so very heavy...
Draco silently wondered if this was how it felt to be dying.
Oh, well. At least, the Great Harry Potter would be mourning him.
If that was not flattering, then what was?
He felt the feathery kisses become more demanding. They were sliding down his neck. A tongue was teasing his pulse point. Was he dreaming? The pleasure that only a moment ago had been almost unreachable now exploded in his body, making his every nerve end burn with passion. He felt like being in ecstasy.
He moaned.
And then... A strange scent filled his world, a scent of fresh spring soil, a scent of fir trees and honey-soft resin. His head started to spin even more than before, although the feeling of passion was now gone. Instead, he felt his stomach churn in the most peculiar way. Was he still alive? If this was still a part of the dying process, then Lucifer sure as hell took his time to test his loyalty.
He was so tired. So very, very tired...
Somewhere, far away, in the other reality, Draco heard someone calling his name. Irritated, he furrowed his brows and tried to block out the voice. Did they not know that he wanted to sleep? Just sleep...
Draco... Love, please, open your mouth...
Draco felt something liquid being poured down his throat. He tried to spit it out at first, but then the sweetest flavour of strawberries and vanilla spread over his tongue, and he swallowed, eager to get some more.
He regretted his eagerness immediately when a sudden, icy breeze made its way inside of him, making him shiver with cold. Sharp, brisk tentacles lanced his ribcage and conquered even the smallest recesses of his torso. And finally, they formed a strong, steely, agonizing cage around his weakly beating heart.
Draco was sure that this was the last phase in the dying process. His heart felt so cold... So cold... As cold as it had been only a few weeks ago towards Potter. Potter... the young man who he now loved more than anything on Earth.
Draco knew that Harry was here with him, holding him, whispering sweet words to him. Only that he could neither hear the words nor feel the Gryffindor's comforting touch anymore. In despair, he remembered that he had lost his chance to say goodbye. Would Harry hear him still?
I love you Harry...
His mind screamed, but he could not get the words out of his mouth. The coldness was so intense that it seemed to freeze his voice in his throat.
Harry... You stupid fucking idiot... You better know that I loved you.
And then, just as fast as it had come, the coldness crept away.
Something hot and prickling was being massaged into his shoulders and chest. Then, the warmth spread to his arms, and finally over his wounded back. He did not feel the hands that were obviously roaming over his muscles, only the heat that seeped through his skin, into him, and made him feel oh-so-warm and comfortable.
Draco... Draco... Can you hear me...?
Well, duh. Draco wanted to roll his eyes. Of course he could hear the voice, what were they thinking? He was not deaf, only half dead, for Merlin's sake. Why were they yelling at him? Why was Harry yelling at him? Oh, please.
Yes, I can hear you, you stupid twat. Now give it a rest. No, wait. Give me a rest... Me very tired.
Draco did not know if he had managed to say his thoughts out loud this time, but at least no-one was yelling in his ear any longer. The voices became muffled now.
Can he sleep here tonight? I can't really take him to the hospital wing, you know. I don't want Poppy to tell Dumbledore about his Dark Mark.
Despite the hazy state of his mind, Draco realised that they were pondering whether to place his perfect body in care of Hag Pomfrey or not. He wanted to scream his protests with full volume, but again, his mouth did not want to cooperate.
Yes, I allow him to stay... If he stays alone. I don't want you to spend any unnecessary time in my rooms, Potter. You must understand that I find the idea rather, ah, disturbing.
Draco tried to smirk. However, he failed as his head suddenly started to spin. He felt like flying. The couch disappeared from under him, and he vaguely realised that he was being lifted into someone's arms. Something warm was wrapped around him, and he smelled a faint waft of firewhiskey coming from somewhere.
I'm not bloody leaving him, and you can't even demand that from me. So, thank you, Professor. I will take care of him myself.
Draco could almost feel the tension in the air.
You are not taking him anywhere. He needs to stay under surveillance.
That was clearly Snape, the voice dripping with its usual venom.
Professor, I am not leaving him. I don't care what you say or do, or how many house points you deduct, but I will not leave him. Either you let me stay here, or you let me take him away into the Slytherin dorms. And I am dead serious here, Sir.
Draco could almost imagine the glaring contest that was going on between the Potions master and the Gryffindor.
Fine. Take him then, if you must.
Snape sounded both irritated and tired.
Thank you, Sir. Um... Will he be alright now?
Draco moaned and buried his face against the solid chest of his carrier. Such sappy Gryffindorish concern should be outlawed.
Yes, he will be just fine, Potter, unless you blow things up as usual. Remember that he needs a good night's rest, not your cock up his arse. Now get lost. Come to see me tomorrow morning, and I will check his condition. And for heaven's sake, keep this quiet!
A door creaked open somewhere to his left, and soon Draco felt fresh air stirring around him. A low thud accompanied the steady steps that were echoing in the dungeon hallway, and he understood that he was finally out of Severus Snape's office.
**
The minutes passed in a complete quietude, except from Harry's steady footsteps echoing from the walls. Draco was lying peacefully in the Gryffindor's arms, being held in a firm embrace. Yet, the situation began to annoy the Slytherin somewhat, especially now that he started to feel a little bit more awake. Taking a deep breath, he cracked his eyes open.
"Harry?"
Vivid, emerald eyes looked down at him, concerned, and the steps halted. "D-Draco?"
"Stating the obvious, I see."
Harry broke into smile and kissed Draco ever so lovingly. "I'm glad you're awake."
"It was a wonderful feeling, you know," Draco slurred and tried a sweet smile.
"What was?" Harry rasped, clearly fighting tears of relief.
"Dying."
Biting his lip, Harry scowled down at the blonde. "You were not dying, you bloody Drama Queen."
Draco blinked his large grey eyes a couple of times and grinned. "Yes, I was."
"No, you were not," Harry swallowed. "I would never have let you die."
"You don't decide about those things, luv," Draco lifted his hand and fondled Harry's cheek. "But you are right. I was not dying, obviously." Draco shrugged, as if disappointed. "I just thought for a moment that I was."
"So did I," Harry confessed. His voice was shaking.
They gazed at each other for a long moment during which Draco realised that, contrary to all his prior beliefs, a Malfoy heir was indeed capable of going all soft. The idea of him becoming a heap of jelly in front of Potter disturbed him somewhat, but what could he do? Under the possessive stare of those famous green Potter eyes, he was completely naked and defenceless
"I love you, Draco," Harry broke the silence.
"Of course you do." Draco scowled, fighting tears. "Now let me down, you sap. I can walk on my own. They didn't cut my legs off, you know."
Harry put Draco gently down, however not letting go of his forearm just yet. "You sure?"
"I'm sure," the blonde sniffed. "Look, they're right there." He pointed at his lower limbs.
Harry groaned. "How can you even think about being witty at the moment? Look at you! Look at me! Look at the time!"
Draco casually lifted Harry's arm and looked at Harry's wrist watch. "Nine thirty."
"You must get some sleep," Harry said.
"I don't want to," Draco protested.
"Yes, you do."
"No, I don't."
"Yes, you DO!"
"NO!" Draco pouted like a child and crossed his arms.
Harry sighed. This, if anything, was a firm sign that Draco indeed had to get some sleep. Diplomacy, Harry reminded himself.
"Alright. How about a bath? You look terrible," Harry tried.
"I so do not look terrible! I look just fine!" Draco whined.
"You are all covered in blood, for Merlin's sake!"
"Well maybe I want to be covered in blood!" Draco yelled. "Yours, if you don't stop acting like a mother hen!"
"Alright, that's it!" Harry lost his temper. "Come here, you little spitfire! We are going to have a relaxing bath and after that, we are going to sleep."
Harry grabbed the weakly protesting and whining Draco and hauled him along.
**
Finally, after climbing several staircases and crawling through an endless amount of long aisles, Draco admitted that Harry was right: he really was feeling very tired and worn out. This was easily noticeable from the fact that he was currently leaning against Harry's shoulder with all his weight as the Gryffindor steered him towards the prefects' bathroom. They had yet one staircase left to climb before reaching the fifth floor.
"Come on, Draco, let me carry you."
"No!"
"I could always levitate you..."
"NO!"
"Honestly, why do you have to be so difficult?"
"Because!"
"Because what?"
"Just because!"
"You are sometimes so annoying! Can't you bloody swallow your pride for once in your life?" Harry's eyes flashed fire.
"No, but I'll feed it to you, if you'd like!" Draco's gaze froze to an icy stare.
"Stop yelling, you're not supposed to get agitated in your condition," Harry admonished the Slytherin.
"What? I'm not fucking pregnant, Potter! I'm totally capable of arguing with anyone I like," Draco retorted, obviously ready for a full-scale fight.
"That I don't doubt, you stuck-up bastard," Harry muttered.
"Not according to my parents. I'm legal," Draco pointed out.
"As legal as it can ever get with Lucius Malfoy," Harry snorted.
"And what was that supposed to mean, you snivelling Gryffindor?" Draco growled.
"Snivelling? Me? Just look in the mirror and you'll see who is the snivelling one in this room!" Harry laughed.
"We're not in any room, you nitwit, but on a staircase!" Draco sneered.
"Exactly! Where you should keep your mouth shut, if you don't wish to alert Filch!" Harry yelled.
"I don't care if Filch finds us!" Draco hissed. "We have the whole Goyle-issue to blackmail him!"
"Yes, and you've got quite a nice new tattoo for him to blackmail us!" Harry grabbed Draco's wrist and shoved the Dark Mark in the blonde's face.
Draco paled, but his temper did not allow him to back down. "If he knew his own best, he wouldn't cross his ways with me."
"Oh, because you're so scary, right?" Harry's voice was mocking.
"Yes, and because I'm a Malfoy, that's why." Draco crossed his arms.
"Don't think too highly of yourself, Malfoy." Harry poked Draco in the stomach with his index and scrunched up his nose. "Personally, I think your name means nothing."
"I knew you never had any linguistic talents, Potter." Draco looked superior. "I'll have you know that the name Malfoy means bad faith, as in, bad faith for you if you dare to annoy me any longer."
"And I'll have you know that Potter means ceramist, and I'll pot your face into a totally new form if you don't fucking shut your mouth!"
They were at the end of their journey, and they both were ready to rip each other's hearts out. Or rather, other and more easily accessible bodily organs, taken that they both got off from fighting.
"What's the new password?" Harry gasped, leaning against the portrait to the prefects' bathroom.
"How the hell should I know?" Draco glared. "You're the one who brought us here. Didn't you remember that I lost my prefect badge right after the reign of Umbridge –for obvious reasons, I might add."
"Yeah. You were such a pain in the arse back then."
"What do you mean, were? I still am. Crispy Winter."
"What? I thought you didn't know the password!" Harry scowled.
"No. I only asked you how the hell I should know it." Draco flashed a bright but a little pained smile, as his wounds decided to remind him of their existence yet again. They were not completely healed, yet.
Harry looked unimpressed. "Fine, so you stole it, you nosy little prat. Now get in."
"You're treating me awfully bad, considering that I'm half dead here." Draco stuck out his bottom lip. "No understanding at all…"
No matter how corny this little display was, it still brought Harry back to his senses. He looked at Draco worriedly. "You hurting?"
"A bit," Draco confessed.
"At least, you're out of immediate danger, now that Snape healed your inner bleeding."
"Yeah, I guess."
Harry brushed a lock of Draco's hair back behind the boy's ear. Some dried blood stuck to his fingers. "Where... Where does it hurt most badly, love?"
"Here," Draco said and clasped a hand around his Dark Mark. Then, he looked deeply into Harry's eyes. "And here," he whispered.
He took Harry's hand and placed it right above his heart.
Tears welled up in Harry's eyes, and he pulled Draco in a tight, quiet embrace.
They stayed like that for a long time, cradled in each other's arms, only listening to each others' heart beats; they were glad that they still could hear both of them.
**
In good time, Harry remembered that Draco was still very tired. Gently, he guided the blonde into the bathroom.
"Come here, love... Let's get you comfortable."
"Mmm…" Draco closed his eyes and allowed Harry to lead him inside.
Harry lowered Draco in a large, plush arm chair that was situated in one corner of the room, across from the mermaid portrait. Then, the Gryffindor locked the door with a few effective spells and went to open a few water taps. The bath tub – or rather small pool – started to fill up with water and different coloured bubbles.
"Okay, it's ready soon," Harry said and returned to Draco. The Slytherin was already dozing, although he was obviously trying his best to stay awake. Harry grinned. "Not tired, hmm?"
Draco gave him the one fingered salute.
Harry walked over to his grumpy boyfriend and knelt in front of him. Lovingly, he started to open the belt of Draco's trousers that were the boy's only garment.
"How do I look?" Draco asked, eyeing Harry through his heavy lids.
"Like you just escaped a rampant herd of thirsty vampires," Harry replied.
Draco scowled. "And you once thought I was pretty."
"No, not really," Harry said. "I thought you were beautiful. I still think you are."
Draco smiled, and Harry leaned in to give him a kiss on his nose. Then, he slid Draco's trousers off.
"Mother Morgan!" Harry gasped. "Oh, Merlin... Draco..."
"What is it, Potter?"
"It's... It's... All these bruises... We forgot to heal your legs..."
"Oh, that," Draco stated dully. "Never mind. They're just shallow cuts."
"I don't care! Shallow or not, we must take care of them immediately! How could we forget to check these with Snape?"
"Potter, I'm only glad that Snape didn't see me stark naked," Draco pointed out.
But Harry didn't hear him. He was seething with anger. "How could they? How could they do this to you?"
Draco raised a lazy, ash-coloured brow. "What do you mean? They're Death Eaters. This is what they do for living. Torture people."
"But… But you were one of them! Why would they torture one of their own like this?"
"This is what happens during the initiation, I suppose." Draco tried to sound calm, even though his voice was breaking. "I was sort of expecting this… But what I wasn't expecting was that I'd have to... to kill my own cousin…"
"But it wasn't really your cousin," Harry reminded him.
"That's not the point here," Draco rasped. "The point is that I still killed her, even if it wasn't really her! Gods... I am a horrible person."
Harry swallowed. Gently, he smoothed Draco's abdomen and the fine hair that disappeared under the waistband of Draco's yet un-removed boxers. "You can't go on blaming yourself forever," he whispered.
"Then I can't go on at all," Draco whispered back. "I'm a murderer, Harry."
"Listen, you're not a murderer. Snape told me that Tonks, er, Karkaroff was still alive after you were done with him. Voldemort killed him, not you."
"Not the point..."
"Hush, now, love," Harry embraced the broken Slytherin prince. "You didn't kill anyone. You just tortured someone to near death. There is a difference."
"Fuck you... There's no difference to me... I... I can't believe I did it." Draco's words came in ragged breaths.
Harry watched how Draco buried his face in his hands, shaking all over. This wasn't real, this could not be. Suddenly Harry felt special, to be allowed to see this ghastly breakdown. And yet, he wanted to chase all the ghosts away. It would do nobody any good if Draco would start hating himself. Not now, when they had a great mission ahead of them, which demanded concentration, vigilance and determination -- and even more personal sacrifices.
"You did it," he said, lowly and evenly. "And you will have to do it again."
"I don't know... Only yesterday I thought I could really do this. But you have changed something in me, Harry."
"Draco..."
"I don't think I can go through with our plan any more," the Slytherin sighed. "I don't want to be responsible for any more deaths. Especially concerning my own family."
"You can go through with it," Harry sounded determined. "We can go through with it. Because we have to."
Draco didn't say anything any more, only closed his eyes and leaned his head back, wanting the earth to swallow him. Maybe there, in Hell, he would no more feel this anguished about his life.
Harry took a better position at Draco's feet and started to smooth the painful bruises all across the pale skin. He closed his eyes and tried to remember some of the incantations Madame Pomfrey had used on him during those multiple times he'd been visiting the Hospital Wing.
"Curatio Iniuria... Or something like that..."
Curiously, the spell worked, despite the fact that Harry tried it for the first time, and without a wand for that matter. Harry felt Draco relaxing under his touch at the very second the magic spread out of his fingertips. "Does it feel any better?" he asked, marvelling at the sight of the slowly fading injuries.
"Mmmhhh... Yeah." Draco mumbled. "I never knew you were a medi-wizard, Potter."
"That's because I'm not." Harry playfully kissed Draco's knee. "I'm just a dilettante."
Draco looked down at Harry with serious eyes. "But you can control wand-less magic. And you didn't tell me."
"And you didn't tell me that you're an Animagus." Harry shrugged.
Draco recoiled, but composed himself quickly. "Who told you?" he demanded.
"Snape," Harry smoothed a large bruise on Draco's thigh with his healing fingers. "Curatio Iniuria... He told me you're an eagle owl."
"Well, yeah." Draco looked hesitant. "I am."
"Why did you keep it a secret from me?" Harry asked.
"I... I don't know. Maybe... I just didn't want you to know how far into the Dark Arts I already am."
"Becoming an Animagus isn't Dark Art, love."
"Becoming a very underaged Animagus with Lucius Malfoy's lead is Dark Art, love."
Harry smiled, contented. "Yes, I suppose it is."
Draco shuddered as Harry leaned upwards and closed the distance between their mouths. The kiss was deep yet careful and it tasted of iron. Draco knew it was his own blood. Harry didn't seem to mind the metallic flavour, though. He used his soft tongue to wipe Draco's lips clean of the bitter gore, clean of all proofs of the past crimes.
Draco felt weak under this unusually gentle touch. He wanted to cry out loud when his Dark Mark started to burn again with new vigour. The pain reminded him of the initiation ceremony again, reminded him of Voldemort. It was an agony that burned within his very soul, trying to blacken his mind. The Dark Mark wanted him to remember that he should not be here like this, that he should shove Harry away and preferably kill him. It wanted him to see that Harry's love wasn't real, couldn't be real.
But Draco fought against that dark power, telling himself that if this all was just an illusion, if Harry was just an illusion, he would be only too happy to die with the pain the mark was giving him, in order to keep this wonderful dream as long as possible. He fought against Voldemort's call, and kissed Harry back, ravenously, as if his life depended on this one, sole loving contact.
"Promise me to love me tonight, Harry," he breathed, between the kisses that were turning more passionate by the moment.
"I promise," Harry rasped, his hands roaming over Draco's body, fingers trying to find the waistband of the Slytherin's boxers. "I promise to love you tonight... and tomorrow night... and all the nights afterwards."
"And how about the days?" Draco purred and tugged at Harry's shirt.
"The days..." Harry tilted his head and smirked at his lover. "The days, it is your turn to love me."
Harry quickly undressed himself, and then guided Draco into the warm, inviting water. They settled so that Draco's back was resting against his chest, his blond head leaning against his shoulder. He summoned a sponge from the nearby shelf, and started to rub Draco's tired muscles with the soft, and yet so harsh, material.
After a while, Draco started trashing wildly around. He turned his head so that he could lick the pulse line on Harry's neck. "Harry... I need you, please," Draco moaned. "I want you inside me."
Harry found himself heavily turned on by this surprising suggestion of his lover. But, he knew that he had to keep things going very slowly because of Draco's bad state of health.
"You know that you're too weak for that, baby... We can wait until you get better," he muttered in the blonde's ear. "We can wait until tomorrow, at least."
Draco let out a nearly animalistic growl and slithered his hand behind his back, trying to reach Harry's growing problem. "Damn... you... Potter..." he breathed. "I want you now!"
"Draco...ahh," Harry gasped when he felt the Slytherin's talented fingers coil around him. "Draco, don't... I don't want to hurt you."
But Draco was too determined now. He pushed his buttocks against Harry's groin. "You will be hurting me if you turn me down. Come on, Harry... I know you want it."
Harry shuddered and pulled Draco closer. He sank his teeth in the Slytherin's shoulder gently, tasting the moist, salty skin. "Oh, Merlin..."
Draco smiled, and moaned. "Bite me... Bite me harder..."
Harry sucked the ivory flesh, nibbling it gently with his teeth, trailing his mouth downwards towards the shoulder blades, across the freshly healed cuts. He was nearly crying with passion. "Draco..."
The warm, soapy water made the slide very easy. Harry went rigid with surprise when he found himself so quickly surrounded by something so warm and wonderful. He was totally incapable of producing a single reasonable syllable, so good it felt.
"Like it?" Draco chuckled, turning his head so that he could see Harry's fish-like gaping. "Thought so."
Draco began to move, first slowly and teasingly, but soon more urgently. He was enjoying the feeling of Harry; it was like he belonged here, in the black-haired man's embrace. His nightmares started to fade away immediately when his lips found Harry's again.
"I... I'm not going to last much longer..." Harry warned. "If you don't slow down…"
"Bite me again! Pull my hair... Anything!" Draco begged. "Just hurt me a little!"
"Haven't you already...?"
"Shut it and give me pain, you minx," Draco snarled.
Harry smiled breathlessly and grabbed a fistful of the blonde-white hair, tugging it hard. Then he moved his other hand along Draco's forearm.
"Harry, please..."
"Come for me, Draco," Harry panted. "Come for me," he repeated, and curled his fingers around the burning Dark Mark. He squeezed it hard. "Now."
Draco did not know what hit him; both the pleasure and the pain were so intense. The next time he came to his senses was several minutes later, when he was curled up against Harry's rising and falling chest, still surrounded by the warm, scenting water.
He vaguely realised that his Dark Mark did not hurt anymore.
...to be continued...
A/N: Okay, so I decided to take a risk with ff.net. Hell, I'm walking on borderline already as it is with this story.
A/N II: Thank you all for reviewing my last chapter. I am totally awed. If it weren't for your supportive words, I would stop writing this instant.