7. Weakness of Loss and Lust
Draco paused inside of the bath door, leaning wearily against the door. He sighed and rubbed his temples, his mind raced and he couldn't seem to get his thoughts in order.
The bathroom was a lot bigger than Draco had first imagined, much bigger. The room was rather large and was a pristine, clean white, with beautiful white tile on the floor that swirled with veins of silver and blue that moved under foot with every step. A sink of white marble sat on the right wall looking like it was carved from the very wall itself; it flowed like waves of foam upon the ocean. The mirror above it was a simple oval with vines of silver ivy encircling it. Across from the sink was a bath, one of the old baths in mint condition, standing alone away from the wall, its immaculate white basin supported by four lions feet plated in shimmering sterling. The back of the bathroom held the toilet and across from it was a shower made two panes of cut crystal that blurred that which was behind it.
Draco stepped hesitantly towards the porcelain bath and ran his fingers along the edge of it, enjoying the cool, smoothness that ran under his fingertips. He knew he should probably take a shower so as to be swift but he hadn't been able to take a proper bath for almost a decade, not since he was a small child. His father had always considered them too effeminate.
He turned the silver knob on the far side of the spigot a stream of water instantly slipping out and after a moment steam began to rise. Draco turned the cold water knob after a moment holding his other hand in the flowing stream of water to get it to the perfect temperature of almost scalding but not quite.
As he reached the perfect temperature he stoppered the plug and stood up once more. He tugged at his tie and pulled it off wearily, watching it fall heavily to the swirling floor. He began pulling the vest off over his head but it became stuck halfway, he became overbalanced by the stuck vest and stumbled. Once he regained his balance he jerked on the vest violently, pulling his shirt up and ripping off the button that had caught the vest. The button clattered to the floor and rolled across the floor blending into the floor before Draco could even begin to look for it. He cursed silently and dropped the vest on the floor followed by the shirt now missing a button.
He looked down at the fallen clothes as he pushed his shoes off with his toes. Normally he would carefully fold the clothing and set it on the edge of the sink but this day he didn't even have the energy to take off his shirt without ripping off buttons. He paused as he stood from pulling off his socks, looking carefully at the figured reflected back at him in the mirror. He studied his pale form, lithe but still muscular a form of elegant curves and perfectly proportioned muscles. The veela heritage from his father's side gave him the body he had, small, thin, free of bothersome facial and body hair except in the pubic region.
He watched himself in the mirror as the hands in the mirror, glided down, tracing the edge of his pants that hung off his hips, barely holding on. He remembered the arguments he had had with his father about his clothing, always too loose, too effeminate…he had always gotten along better with his mother.
He slowly undid the button on his pants, pushing the zipper with one finger slowly. They fell to the ground. He turned away from the mirror, a mixed feeling of shame and embarrassment filling him. He faced the bath and slowly turned off the water and stepped into the steaming hot water. He gasped as he lowered himself into the water, embracing the bitter sting of the hot water surrounding his body. He laid back and rest his head on the edge of the bath, the water coming up to his neck as he relaxed, closing his eyes, he remembered.
He remembered vividly the nights he would sneak out to his mother and timidly knock on her door. She would open it up a crack her dark eyes flashing silently as he opened the door and gestured for him to come in, her finger over her lips with a mischievous smile on her lips. They would spend hours talking and playing. He would beg his Mother to put on makeup and Draco would watch with fascinated at the process, watch his mother become a whole other person and she had so many faces, pretty, plain, overdone, ugly and scary. It was inevitable, at least in his eyes, that he would begin to copy her and they would play dress up together. All made up and parading around her room in dresses made for the most elaborate occasions.
He found out. His father found out somehow, Draco would never forget that day. He remembered sitting in the study, memorizing spell upon spell of the dark arts his mother sitting beside him reading a musty old tome, ready to help Draco with anything he couldn't read or pronounce. The door had flung open, cracking in half as hit the china cabinet, glass cascading onto the floor from the cabinet along with the plates and silver therein. The book had fallen from his mothers hand, as she stood, fear etched across her face. She stood before me, protecting me even as she shook like a leaf in her fear.
At the time he seemed to swoop in like a bird, talons extended to kill. He grabbed Draco's mother by the throat, lifting her several inches in the air. She hung motionless in the air, a soft gurgling coming from her mouth as she clawed at his hands, tears running from her eyes. Draco had begged his father to stop, to put her down that he would do anything. His father did drop her but only to hit him, he had fallen backwards and hit his head on one of the tables that stood there in the library. Everything had gone black. All throughout the memory he could not remember any sounds, everything was very quiet but he vaguely he could recall that his father had been screaming the entire time.
When he awoke from the darkness he was in his room, his head was bandaged and pounded painfully. He had tried to ask for his mother but a potion had been forced into him before he get any answers, he had the feeling that no one would give any.
The next day he found his mother a puppet. Her eyes were so dark and cold and nothing of the mother he had known and loved remained. His father had taken her away from him and in his grief he had done the same thing to himself. He had closed himself away and simply allowed himself to become what his father wanted. For the first time he confronted that truth in his own mind several months ago he had begun to fight back, he had been beaten for every retaliation but the pain from the beatings was nothing compared to the feelings of power and freedom he gained by fighting back against his fathers will.
He knew that he didn't want to take Potter to his father, he would never give something he wanted to him after he had taken his mother from him. So why was he doing it? Why did he agree to this stupid thing if he had no intention of following through?
He sighed as he tried to sort through his thoughts, tried to understand himself. Perhaps he had only agree to do it to fail. By agreeing to such a ridiculous agreement he would publicly humiliate himself repeatedly throughout the week and by doing so humiliate his father. Failing after going to such lengths would be even worse. His father could beat him as much as he wanted but he could never do anymore, not without having another child and his mother was barren. Eventually there would come a time when his father would be forced to do the same thing he had done to his mother to Draco himself. Draco feared that time but also relished its coming because he would then be free, never would he have to make another decision or do anything. He would just remain closed inside himself and watch it all happen.
Another thought as to his decision was maybe that, he wanted to feel the way his body reacted to Potter…Harry, Potter? What did it really matter, it was all stupid and childish anyway, calling each other only by their last names. The poor boy was rather attractive, especially if you removed those blasted glasses.
Draco knew deep down that he was gay but knowing and admitting it to yourself are two completely different things. Harry had been right when he had said Draco was in denial but it was a self-chosen ignorance. One that perhaps he had left alone far too long. You can't muse over happy childhood memories of cross dressing without taking a second look at yourself.
The real reason he refused to acknowledge the truth of himself was that he knew it would be the last straw. If his father found out he was gay he would be turned into a puppet then. Having only one heir meant that you could not kill the heir because the heir has to continue the family line. That means marriage and procreation; not running off with a gay lover and telling your father to go fuck himself.
Wait, he stopped himself and thought about the idea again. Rather than simply failing, what if he was 'corrupted' by Harry? What if he did switch sides? His father wouldn't be able to hurt him, but his mother…he could hurt her, could kill her. Then again to remain as he was his mother would be as good as dead anyway. If his father did kill her he would be setting her free and if he switched sides, perhaps, just perhaps they could save her and her back to him.
The soft far away sound of running water shocked Draco out of his reverie and he bolted up in the tub. His water had was almost lukewarm, testifying to the length of time he had remained in the water. If he had been completely human, he would have begun wrinkling up, but Malfoys do not do such things.
Harry stood up from where he had been bent over the sink. turning off the faucet and turned to regard Draco quizzically with one eyebrow raised, "Doze off?"
Draco started, flushing as he pulled his knees tightly up to his chest, "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" He snarled.
"Shaving. I didn't know I needed your permission to do so in my bathroom. I waited as long as I could which, was about an hour mind you. I'm all finished up so there's no need to have a tiff, all right?"
Draco shifted slightly in the water, the blush that had lightly colored his cheeks in embarrassment when he had found Harry in the room with him began to spread as he involuntarily took in the figure of Harry Potter.
He wore nothing but a soft pair of black sleeper pants that hung precariously off his hips and covered what Draco could only imagine as perfectly sculpted legs and other areas. They led up to a torso sculpted by gods, quidditch and who knows what else. He was fit but not bulky like some of the boys at school who worked out constantly but he wasn't lean like Draco. A drop of water slipped from his chin and slowly worked its way down his chest. His hair and face glistened with water and droplets caught in his hair shimmered in the light. His hair was unruly normally but he had allowed it to grow even longer than normal and it framed his face stands curling around his cheeks and shrouding his eyes in places. A strand caught in the corner of his mouth, his glittering evergreen eyes, everything about him…
"Malfoy's do not have tiffs." Draco murmured softly, looking away from Harry and locking his gaze in the corner of the room.
Harry laughed and shook his head, "Have you made a decision?"
Draco shivered but didn't move, "Malfoy's also do not have friends."
Harry frowned slightly and sighed leaning back against the sink, bracing his hands on the rim, "I should have figured as much…I just don't understand you. You confuse me even more than I confuse myself and that's pretty hard to do…I guess I should just prepare to die at the end of this week when you hand me over to your father."
"No." Draco's eyes opened wide, he hadn't meant to say anything.
Harry caulked his head towards Draco, "What? Did you say 'no'? What did you mean?"
Draco debated with himself whether to tell him anything and finally concluded since he was going to 'switch sides' anyway some allowance of information would be permissible. "I meant no I'm not going to hand you over to my father." Draco shivered in the now cold water but refused to move with Harry still in the room.
"Then you're going to hand me over to Voldemort directly, to gain all of the credit yourself? Or maybe kill me yourself?"
"No." Draco slid to the side closest to Harry, resting his chin on the edge of the bath while still keeping his legs closely tucked to his chest.
Harry pushed himself up from the sink pulling his hands through his hair tugging on it in frustration, "Then what? What's the point of agreeing to the stupid agreement if you aren't going to, to kill me?"
"To fail. The point of the agreement is so that I can fail."
"To fail? If you failed then you'd have embarrassed yourself in front of the whole school, the whole world would eventually know. Your father…would kill you…..is that-?"
Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked, "Very clever, I didn't think you had it in you. Though he won't kill me, he can't; I'm the only heir to the Malfoy legacy. There are other ways of handling a difficult person."
Harry nodded slightly his eyes clouding and going far away for a moment, "The Imperius."
Draco nodded slightly then sat up and rested his arms on the edge, looking directly into Harry's eyes as he asked his next question, "Since I told you why I agreed to the proposition I think it would only be fair if you tell me your reasons and-" he held up a hand as Harry opened his mouth to say something, cutting him off, "don't tell me that whole doing what you want and rebelling crap. I know that that's part of it but that's not the real reason." He shivered again and this time Harry noticed frowning slightly.
"You're shivering, you've been sitting cold water all this time, haven't you?…"
Draco recoiled, wary of his voice and intentions, he clutched his legs even more closely to himself, plunging his arms into the water to wrap them around his legs, a violent shiver wracking his body as he did so, "Answer the question." He snapped through chattering teeth.
Harry shook his head in exasperation and crossed the room in three quick strides before Draco could even think to react, "I'll answer once you're dry and warm. You're going to get sick." He said as he deftly reached into the cold water and pulled the plug. The water drained quickly and was almost completely gone by the time he had grabbed a large plush white towel.
Draco was frozen stiff, shivering horribly as he violently glared up at Harry, "Touch me and I'll kill you. Just leave the towel and get out."
Harry gave a short laugh and unfolded the towel holding it open at each end an holding it up so that he could see nothing but the white of the towel, "Come on then, I can't see you."
Draco shivered once, then with a snarl he rapidly stood and reached for the towel. Before he could grab it Harry wrapped the towel around him, quickly slipping one arm around his back and down under his knees and easily lifting him. Startled and caught off guard Draco could not find words, his tongue was tied, so to say.
Harry carried him out of the bathroom and back into the common where he gently sat him on the edge of the bed. As Draco pulled himself together, mentally and physically, pulling the towel tightly around himself, Harry returned to the bath only to remerge seconds later with another towel. He dropped it unceremoniously atop Draco's head and commenced to dry his hair. Draco was still under his hands, his anger slowly dispelling as Harry gently worked his hair. His eyes fell closed and he began to drowse. Harry placed the second towel on the edge of the bed and lightly began working his fingers through his hair, straitening and smoothing the pale blond strands until they lay straight and untangled. As he pulled away, dropping his hands to his sides, Draco's eyes slowly opened and he looked up at Harry.
"Why?" The flickering light from the fire got caught in those iron grey eyes and damp hair and Harry lost his ability to speak for a moment.
"You," he whispered, his eyes clouding slightly and he reached forward and gently, hesitantly touched Draco's cheek with the very tips of his fingers, delicately running them along his cheek, "For you. I wanted to be with you if only for a week, even if the affection you would show was false, even if it meant my death, even though I knew you could never love. For you, Draco."
Draco felt drawn in by those fathomless, emerald green eyes, frozen by the almost imperceptible touch. When Harry bent, pausing mere inches from Draco's face, his eyes searching Draco's, their breath's mingling; he knew he intended to kiss him. He knew this and he didn't pull back. He didn't pull back, not because he was in shock, not because he was bound by the agreement but because he wanted that kiss to happen. He wanted to feel Harry's lip gently press to his own, to taste him on the edge of his mouth. He gave in to his desires and the pressure of his heart thundering in his chest. The rising blood in his cheeks matched his growing arousal and he left go of the towel, letting it fall down to expose his pale chest and wrapped his arms around Harry's neck. He pulled him close and slid his fingers through the raven, black locks marveling momentarily at their softness.
Harry's hands slid around his slim waist, his touch moving slowly down as he passionately kissed Draco once more. The towel slowly fell to the ground as his hands passed along the outside of Draco's thighs, pausing at the knee they slid up and in. His fingers played along Draco's inner thigh, moving up. Draco gasped at the touch and as he did Harry slipped his tongue into his mouth, tasting, devouring. His hands continued their journey, coming upon Draco's now hard, erect member. Draco gave a tortured moan as Harry touched him, a shiver running along his spine and spreading through his entire body.
Harry retreated from his mouth and trailed soft, slow kisses down his jaw and neck as his hands teasingly explored his length. Draco's breathing shuddered and he unconsciously clutched at Harry's neck and shoulder. He arched slightly, tilting his head up; a moan escaped him as Harry nipped the skin of his neck. The bed sank as Harry rested one knee on its edge. His hands gradually lost their teasing nature, he touched with the express purpose of bringing pleasure and he did. The heat of his breath moved back up Draco's neck, he brought one hand up to cup his cheek and pulled his face down into a heated kiss.
Draco froze as the climax came upon him, his voice escaping him as he collapsed into Harry's shoulder, his breathing deep and ragged. He slowly forced his fingers from their grip upon Harry's neck and shoulder, cramped and stiff as they were. Draco could see were his nails had dug into Harry's flesh, his fingers themselves leaving indentations. He felt drained as he pulled back slightly.
Harry brought his hand to his mouth, absently licking the cum from his fingers. He licked his lips as he finished and his eyes flashed in the dieing fire, "My turn."