A/N: I was in a strange mood when I wrote this. Unsure whether to add a chapter with the backstory or not.No matter how it sounds, it is consensual. Harry is having a hard time accepting and needs to vent his anger.
R & R, please.Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, only the situations.
Rage
Whyteroze28
"Gods' Potter, you're really in a mood tonight," the voice hissed, as the body it belonged to was shoved roughly against the wall.
"Shut up!" The words were hot, demanding and forceful as Harry thrust his tongue into the mouth. He was determined to silence the voice. "You mean nothing to me. You're just an outlet for the rage."
The voice was silent as Harry ripped off the robe, practically shredding it. He knew he was being rough and he didn't regret it for a minute.
Maybe it would get the images out of his head. Walking in on them in the common room. Seeing her naked on the floor in front of the fire… watching him thrust into her. 'How dare they!'
He pulled the rest of the clothes off, not caring if they tore, if he hurt the body under them. 'For that's all it is,' he thought to himself. 'A body. Not a person, because thinking about it as a person makes this real.'
He thrust roughly against the body, biting the lips, tasting blood and loving it.
"Turn around," he commanded, his voice harsh, grabbing the shoulders as he forced the body down onto the dungeon floor.
He'd known it was going to happen. He'd seen the glances, heard the lust in their voices, felt the tension in the air. With the addition of their sex-crazed teen hormones, it was inevitable. 'But they were mine!'
So, he had gone to the Hog's Head, and proceeded to down as much Firewhisky as possible. It had been luck that his now willing partner had been there as well. Luck… and the Marauders' Map.
Looking down at the body beneath him, Harry felt a feral grin spreading across his face. It was quite beautiful. Pale white in the moonlight spilling through the window. The silvery blonde hair falling across the shoulders. An image begging to be remembered, even though he would try his damndest to forget.
Then the voice started speaking again. "Well, if you're going to do it, get on with it." But instead of shutting it up again, Harry spoke.
"Why do you let me?" he asked, almost a whisper. "Why, when we can't stand the sight of each other?"
"Because, the voice whispered, as Harry quickly began thrusting his fingers into that moist heat. "I may not care about you, but I do want you… maybe on some basic level even need you. And you feel it too, don't you, Harry?"
The words were gasped out, the last one ending in a breathless sigh as Harry removed his fingers and unzipped his pants, freeing himself from the confinement. Even drunk he couldn't mess this up, his Seeker's reflexes taking over. Then he aligned himself.
"Don't call me that," he grunted, forcing himself into that waiting opening. "It makes this too real." He tried not to let his mind dwell on how perfectly they fit together.
"Oh, Merlin, Potter… Fuck, yes… Ohhhhh!"
Harry felt the muscles clench around him, and then he was falling. He was unsure whether it was the alcohol, the body, the scene he'd witnessed earlier, or a combination of all three, which was making him feel as though he was adrift on a sea of stars.
When he pulled out, he sighed as he looked down at the body, which wasn't just a body anymore.
"You'd better get cleaned up he whispered, his voice sounding husky in the aftermath. "You're bleeding."
"I'm okay," the voice which was no longer just a voice stated. "I've been taken roughly befo…" The sentence trailed off suddenly, and Harry suddenly knew why.
Then, as they began straightening their clothes, Harry looked over, green eyes meeting gray for the first time all night.
"That may have just burnt the rage out of me. Thank you."
There was an unspoken something in those eyes, and a small smile on those lips that made Harry lean in and capture them in a much gentler kiss.
"Think nothing of it Harry. Anytime you need to vent your frustration because of them, you just come find me."
Harry smiled, amazed of the depths of the feeling behind the words, in the meaning stressed by the use of his name.
"I may just do that, Draco.