Theo POV

"I should just go back to Azkaban. Suffer through the rest of my sentence. I deserve it. I'm such a piece of shit that Granger nearly killed me on sight."

For the love of the gods if Draco didn't shut the fuck up I was going to cork his mouth with my fucking cock. He had spent the past two days upon leaving the infirmary on the longest, most self-deprecating, pity party that I had ever been forced to witness. And I thought the first 6 years at Hogwarts were the worst, listening to him curse the golden trio from sunrise to sunset, talking endlessly about Hermione's stupid hair and goofy teeth and her constant, annoying know-it-all answers. A lot of the time it wasn't so much the trio that had caught his attention as the desperate ache in his pants. The man was obsessed with Hermione Granger, more so after the Yule Ball when he had watched his idol parade a newly budding, curvy Hermione on the dance floor. He never shut up about her after that.

"She's going to trip over those flat feet of hers."

"She fell on her arse on the quidditch pitch today, trying to follow Potter and Weasel."

"I bet Potter's stuck a hand up her robes, touched that filty cunt of hers."

"Do you think she tastes dirty? I bet she does."

"Did you see the way that Weasel looked at her? I bet him and Potter take turns with her."

On and on for years. I started to wonder if he would ever realize how obsessed he was and then gave up waiting for him to come to the realization. It was a wonder I had managed to get a word in edge wise and if I brought up the fact that maybe he wanted to touch her dirty cunt he would lose his mind. The fight would last weeks so I stopped mentioning it and he buried those ideas so deep that he didn't even realize he had them. I could swear sometime during all his Occlumency lessons he had managed to bury his own thoughts so deeply that he didn't even know them.

Years of Hermione this and Hermione that, I was at my wit's end with his desire by the time he took the mark. I was prepared to die with my own desires buried. Luckily, or unluckily, that changed after the mark. The mark brought him closer to me and I had taken my opportunity. After years of silently aching for Draco, of wishing he would look at me with half the desire he looked at her, I took my chance. It was worth it. Everything had changed for us after that first kiss. But she was still there, lingering between us like some unspoken promise and after years of fighting for his attention I had reached the conclusion that I was willing to share as long as I got a taste of her too. What can I say? Draco's obsession had caused me to have a bit of my own. It didn't hurt that she was easy to look at and smart. I liked them smart.

"I should owl the Wizengamot. Tell them they made a mistake, beg them to take my back to Azkaban. Or maybe I should just perform another unforgivable. Would they bring back the dementors to perform the kiss for the evil Malfoy heir? I just want to be done with it all."

I reached my limit at Draco threatening to end his life. Enough was enough.

"Enough!" I said, repeating the word I had just thought. I slammed the book I had been reading shut and smacked it on the table by the couch. Our room was thick with despair and I was tired of being weighed down by it. Draco needed something to shut off his brain, to shut his fucking mouth.

I stood and closed the distance between us in two strides, meeting him where he had been pacing in front of the fireplace. I slammed his body into the nearest wall, which just so happened to be the stone edge of said fireplace. Good, I hoped he burned that precious expensive robe of his. Teeth clashed with teeth as he hissed into my mouth. He didn't want the kiss, but he took it without argument and he didn't fight when I grabbed a fistful of white-blond hair and pulled him by it. I dragged him to his knees, effectively ending our kiss while I unbuckled my belt and tore my cock free of its confines.

There was no soft, gentle caresses when it came to handling Draco, especially not the Draco that I was dealing with that evening. He needed a firm hand, someone to break his spirit. I was that someone.

"Open your fucking mouth," I said, my words laced with venom. He glared at me, doing as he was told when I pulled his hair tighter. I stuffed my cock into his mouth with one thrust, all the way to the back of his throat so that he had to hold his breath. I held it there. "Sweet fucking silence. About damn time you use that mouth for sucking instead of talking."

I inched back a bit, letting him breathe and he hollowed out those gaunt cheeks of his, stroking me with his tongue as I worked myself on him. The only sound he made was soft grunts of approval.

"That's a good boy." That earned me a growl. He hated when I called him that, or so that sound would make anyone believe. That was a lie. I could see his hips shifting, his hand falling to his cock to seek friction. "You don't deserve that hand."

He undid his pants anyway, defiant as ever, his hand fisting around his long shaft. I knew what that dick felt like in my hands, in my arse, in my mouth. I knew that dick as much as I knew my own. I hadn't felt it inside me since before Azkaban and I wanted it, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Let him find his own release, the brooding jackass.

I braced a hand on the mantle of the fireplace. The flames licked his back. There was no way he couldn't feel them and yet he made no attempt to move himself away from the fire. It was his penance. Everything was a penance when it came to Draco Malfoy. I wanted to hate him for it. I couldn't find that hate. I had lost my hate for him so long ago. I would let him have all of me or none of me. Whatever he wanted I would give and he would take. I tugged his hair harder, feeling the clench of an orgasm building in my balls.

"I'm going to cum in your mouth. And when I'm done, you won't talk. You won't speak anymore tonight." I began to thrust erratically, in anger but also in seeking my release. "You won't ever fucking threaten your life again or I will never let you touch me, taste me, or fuck me again. Understand?"

He nodded his head in affirmation, his own hand working faster in time with my thrusts.

"You don't even deserve to cum. You're lucky I'm going to let you. You are lucky just to fucking have me."

He murmured his agreement again, sending vibrations down my shaft. I moaned even through my frustration, before gritting my teeth to bite back the noise. He didn't deserve to hear my pleasure right now, but maybe tomorrow, next week, or next year. He truly did deserve so many things- his redemption, his release from Azkaban, me, her. I would do whatever it took to make him whole again even if it meant destroying myself.

In my seething rage, I found myself nearing the edge. A couple more thrusts. I wanted him to choke on my cum, on my sheer devotion to him.

"You will be the fucking death of me. You and that Arrogant. Annoying. Beautiful. Fucking. Mouth." My final words were punctuated with thrusts into his throat as he squeezed me with his lips and cheeks, dragging his tongue along my cock. I touched the back of his throat with ever jolt of my hips before burying myself there again, halting his breathing as I spilled inside of him. My brain sparked at the intensity. My vision damn near blurred. At the same moment he swallowed with a choke I felt the splatter of his own cum as it hit my pants. The air smelled like burnt fabric and sweat when I ripped myself away and dropped to my knees.

I kissed him- tasting me, tasting him, until there was nothing left to do except to then strip us both naked and drag him to bed. There would be no more orgasms, it was time for comfort. I curled him into my arms. He didn't fight me and he didn't fucking speak. I had won the battle for the night and I would win the one tomorrow too. He would make it through our first day of classes tomorrow, even if I had to drag him by his stubborn dick.