MEMORY VIAL 31: DUEL TO THE DEATH (YEAR 5)

AFTER THE BATTLE AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

The End-of-Term Feast was underway. After talking to Sir Nicholas and then Luna soon after, Harry felt revitalized enough that he started to head towards the feast and had just exited the Fat Lady's corridor when he froze midstride.

"To me, Potter," repeated the drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy as he held out his hand, palm up.

Harry's insides plummeted sickeningly. Draco had been walking up the corridor towards Harry but had stopped the moment they saw each other.

"Give the prophecy to me…"

"I was hoping I would find you, Potter."

All at once, Harry felt cold. He remembered fighting Lucius at the Ministry, and he did not know how to react to the Death Eater's son. Draco felt more like an enemy than a lover to him now.

Draco's not his dad. He's not his dad, Harry repeated to himself, steeling his nerves.

"Noticed your seat was empty at the feast, so me and the boys spread out to find you." Draco took a tentative step forward, aware that Harry could flee at any moment.

Harry assumed Draco was referring to Crabbe and Goyle, and it was not too difficult to imagine what they wanted to do to him. "Keep away," he said.

"Not this time, love."

Harry took a cautionary step back.

Draco prowled forward, eyes locked with Harry's. "We want you to hurt for what you did to our families. In fact, Crabbe would like to see you dead."

"Too bad then, huh? Your dad wanted to kill us, but he was so afraid I'd break the prophecy Voldemort was after."

"He wouldn't kill you," Draco said in a low voice. "The only reason my father would kill anyone is if they refused to do the right thing…"

"Are you batty? I was manipulated into going to the Ministry for Voldemort! He and your dad didn't mean anything 'good' or 'right' by it—they meant to use me!"

Harry continued his retreat, but Draco sauntered up to him with more confidence now that he knew Harry had no one to defend him.

"I hate you, Potter."

Harry paused for a moment, then worked his jaw. "There's a club you can join for that, you know."

"I'll kill you."

Harry scoffed. "If you meant that, you would've done it already and slithered back into the dungeons."

Draco's smile was poisonous. "But that's why I'm here. I am going to kill you. You think I wouldn't take advantage of you after finding you like this?"

"You're the worst." Harry stumbled back, forgetting his wand, forgetting everything. "You practically turned into your father in Umbridge's office—you were just like him, Malfoy! Gloating, like a sycophant, when I was about to get hit with the Cruciatus Curse."

"After everything you've done, I think she was rather lenient. I would've tortured you myself if I believed it would make a difference, but you're thicker than a troll!"

Harry shuffled towards the tapestry leading into the Fat Lady's corridor. His heart was pounding, and he felt strangely like he was underwater, like he wasn't quite present in his body. The Body-Bind Curse, he told himself impatiently. I can use that. But what's the incantation again? The way Draco's eyes were smoldering at him made Harry forget. "Stay away!"

"Like hell."

Harry turned to run, but Draco grabbed him by the arm and knocked him painfully to the wall. Dazzled by the impact—having struck his head against the rough-hewn stone—Harry coughed, feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of him. Before he could recover, the breath was somehow stolen from his lungs yet again, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut the moment he felt Draco's mouth crushing his own.

Terrified, Harry balled his hands into fists and swatted Draco's flanks. He only stopped when Draco retaliated by grabbing a fistful of his hair.

"Just try and fight me, Potter."

Harry lunged forward to return the kiss, using his teeth, which earned him a yelp of rage when he managed to cut Draco's lip. Harry took a moment to catch his breath. He tasted blood on his tongue and felt surprisingly aroused by it.

Draco daubed the blood with his hand and glared at Harry. "That'll cost you. Feral animals like you need taming."

"Oh? I'm trembling in my robes, Malfoy. Please don't hurt me—Please don't make me pay."

Draco grabbed Harry by the collar and shoved him backward through the door that was hidden behind the tapestry. "Is this where you were going? Is this the way to the Gryffindor common room?"

"Let go! Like I'd tell you!" Harry twisted in the other boy's grip as he was dragged up the Fat Lady's corridor. His heels dug into the stone beneath him, although he kept losing his center of gravity and was unable to free himself.

Eventually, Draco came to a halt and jerked his head towards the Fat Lady's portrait with a knowing smirk. "End of the line, Potter. I already know about her. News spread when her portrait was attacked by Black a couple years ago." He examined Harry, who was fussing like a yowling cat on the inside of his robes. "Don't bother slipping out of those now. We'll be taking all your clothes off soon. Now give her the password so we can get this over with."

Unsure if he had heard correctly, Harry peered through the lopsided hood of his robes and blinked quizzically.

"Did I stutter, Potter? Give her the password, and we can have this duel out in private."

Suddenly docile and compliant, Harry examined the Fat Lady in her End-of-Term celebratory dress. Without thinking, he stammered the password. "Ph-Ph-Phoenix feather."

The Fat Lady frowned at Draco suspiciously, then did something she had never done before. She interfered. "What's a Slytherin doing here? And what does he mean by you two dueling? I'm pretty sure dueling is against school rules—and neither of you has a second in attendance."

"That's our business," Harry said, trying to sound calm. "He's a prefect, and I need him. It's kind of a personal emergency, now would you kindly let us through?"

The Fat Lady raised her chin loftily. "What business is it of mine if The Boy Who Lived dies before the age of sixteen? And all over an illegal duel? Except I am loyal to the Headmaster. Should I pass a message to Professor Dumbledore about your duel?"

"Tell anyone," Draco said gruffly, "and I'll shred your portrait with Dark magic myself. You'll be in a worse state than how Black left you."

Disgruntled by that threat, the Fat Lady drew herself up to her full height. "In that case, I definitely refuse!" She gathered the frills of her dress in both hands. "I'm going to the Headmas—"

"Please don't fetch Professor Dumbledore," Harry pleaded, sounding desperate. "It's not that sort of duel. It's a private matter, and it's our last chance to hash this out before we go home."

Draco, whose hand was in the pocket of his robes with a few Dark spells in mind, relaxed. The Fat Lady considered Harry's earnest appeal and wondered if she was making a mistake by giving in. "I'm not going to be written into the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning as the one who let you die, am I?"

"I swear, you won't. If he really wanted to kill me, he would've done it without bringing me here."

After a long minute of considering both students, she sighed. Her portrait creaked away from the wall, revealing the entrance to the Gryffindor common room with its empty fireplace, sunlit windows, and moth-eaten upholstery.

Harry climbed in first, followed by Draco. Harry stood up and watched as Draco brushed his robes off while gathering himself onto his feet. The portrait closed again.

"If someone's in here," Harry started say.

"I'll curse them." Draco glared around at the sofas, keeping an eye out for possible stragglers.

"Well?" Harry expanded his arms around him. "The snake has slithered into the hawk's nest. What now?"

"To your dorm."

Harry hesitated. Draco's bid for control was becoming too much.

"That wasn't a request, Potter. Now."

"And what if I don't want to play your games anymore, Mr. Prefect?"

Provoked by the Gryffindor's mocking tone, Draco grabbed Harry, but Harry grappled him in return. Harry tried to shove Draco off, but Draco pulled him closer, his gray eyes ablaze.

"I'm not gonna just do what you say!"

"You're going to do everything I want, Potter, whether you like it or not."

The scrap devolved into fisticuffs, but Harry tripped clumsily over his robes and tipped them sideways onto the sofa. They scuffled frantically. Draco rolled them off the rumpled cushions and pinned Harry to the hearth rug on his stomach.

"I know you love to duel like a Muggle, Potter, but I've got you beat this time. Now lead the way, or we'll have this dance right here."

"Get your knee off my back, first!" Harry shouted in a strained voice.

When Draco removed his knee from the small of Harry's back, Harry scrambled furiously to his feet, but then went rigid when a hand closed painfully around his scruff.

"Easy there… Be a good boy now, you hear?"

"Malfoy—"

"Puppies don't talk, Potter. They obey. Now, lead the way."

Harry grunted at the pressure being applied to his neck. Instead of complaining, however, he led the way to the winding staircase which would take them to the dormitory where he, Dean, Neville, Ron, and Seamus had their lodgings. When they reached the landing, Harry opened the door, and his shoulders relaxed when Draco finally let him go. Skin tingling unpleasantly, Harry moved toward his bed, next to the vase of dead Dragonsnap Blooms, while Draco shut the door and locked it with his wand.

They were alone in Harry's room now, and they were both extremely on edge. It felt like one of Harry's erotic dreams, but this was real. They could do anything now, and no one would hear them. The entire school was several floors beneath them in the Great Hall, and Harry understood exactly how the next hour or so was going to pan out.

"You're dead, Potter," Draco had said in a low voice the first time they'd seen each other after Lucius's arrest. "I'm going to make you pay for what you've done to my father…"

There was a soft rustling of robes as Draco crossed the room to where Harry was standing. When Harry turned to face him, feeling ready for whatever was coming, Draco caught him by the shoulder, ripped at the clasp of his robes, then shoved him away at arm's length by his throat.

Harry choked through the tightening pressure on his neck.

"Pay attention, Potter," Draco said calmly, as the smaller boy dug his nails into the arm that was holding him at bay. "You're in desperate need of training, and it's time someone show you who's in charge."

Harry kicked Draco in the shins but was tackled onto the bed where they brawled to get the worst of their aggression out. Harry managed to loosen the grip that was limiting his air supply by knee-bashing Draco in the stomach, but Draco responded by jabbing him in the ribs, causing Harry to have difficulty breathing all over again.

In a flurry of limbs, Harry fought his way on top of Draco and pinned him down by using both his knees. He tore at the clasp of Draco's robes and ripped at the buttons of his perfectly ironed shirt. When the garment hung open, Harry smothered Draco's torso with his hands, feeling instant relief at the warm skin against his fingers. He wanted their clothes off as quickly as possible, so that every inch of himself could nestle against every inch of Draco's.

Harry smiled at the heartbeat he felt ramming against his palm, but the moment did not last. The skirmish grew fiercer as Draco bucked in an attempt to throw Harry off, and their violence did not relent even after discarding their robes to the ground.

They both rushed to unfix their trousers, and Harry's fingers spasmed with excitement, as if a version of the Tarantallegra spell had been cast on them. When they were both exposed from the waist down, having torn each other's trousers down to their ankles, neither of them second-guessed what they were doing, and they vied for dominance while jostling their erections together.

Draco yanked on Harry's loose tie and kissed him, smearing blood from his cut over their mouths. Harry put up a valiant effort, but he failed to overpower Draco, who eventually bruised Harry in the side before flipping their positions once again.

Harry landed on his back, head hitting the pillows with a loud, "Oof!" It took him a moment to reorient himself so that he could tell the difference between up and down, and sideways and slantwise.

"It's time you learned your place, mutt."

Draco removed their disheveled shirts, while Harry stared up at him, dazed. For some reason, Harry felt turned on by that slur, and he didn't know why. After all, he didn't like "filthy half-blood", but being called a mutt was somehow different…

If Harry had been a puppy, his tail would be wagging feverishly, and he'd be licking Draco's face to urge him on. He'd be nuzzling his master and whimpering affectionately, nipping until he got all the attention he desired.

Groaning through his soreness, Harry tangled his fingers in Draco's hair as the other boy lowered onto him. A bite sank into the fleshy part of Harry's neck, and Harry's skin crawled with the onslaught of pleasure. "I give," he croaked feebly, tingling somewhere deep in his core. "I give…"

Draco tugged gently with his teeth and then unlatched them. "Mh… What is it you're giving, love?" His hand strayed to Harry's bruised ribs, and Harry winced.

Harry kicked the remains of his bunched-up trousers off his ankles, then opened his legs around the other boy to embrace him with his whole body. "I'm giving up," he said. "Giving you my body."

"It's not yours to give," Draco said harshly. "It's mine to take, and I promise to thoroughly make it hurt."

Harry latched an ankle around Draco's waist, not giving a damn about violent threats or being objectified. His nerve endings had reached the boiling point, and that was all he cared about. "Give me your worst."

Harry was forcibly disentangled and thrown sideways onto his stomach. He braced himself as Draco climbed over him from behind, and he didn't know what to expect, except that he'd be getting out of this alive.

Mesmerized by the naked body underneath him, Draco shifted slightly backward on his knees and lowered his lips to Harry's tailbone. He maneuvered slowly up the middle of Harry's back, kissing a trail, while the smell of the other boy's hot skin turned his brain to mush. His tongue lapped slowly upward along the valley of Harry's spine, tasting the sweat that had built up throughout the day. So good, he thought. His body tastes so damn good, it's all I want…

Harry fidgeted when he felt those kisses rising closer to his shoulder. He convulsed a bit, whenever Draco's lips tickled his skin, and he felt so awkward and exposed in this position, but he loved everything Draco was doing to him. When Draco's nose lingered in the messy waves of his hair, the Gryffindor backed himself against Draco's hips, to signal what he wanted.

"Is this what you want?" Draco pressed his hips forward, but Harry tightened up on purpose. Harry wriggled his bottom to throw Draco's aim off, and he refused to lie still to give the other boy a chance. "Let me in," Draco growled darkly.

Harry braced himself against his boyfriend's subsequent efforts, then said in a perfectly fractious voice, "Piss off." He was not about to let anything happen so easily. He loved being quarrelsome whenever they were about to fuck. To him, it made the intimacy feel even hotter than it already was.

Harry prevented penetration from happening for a good long while, but after several punishing slaps to his bottom, he was so turned on that he stopped resisting. A minute later, Draco was in without so much as a drop of lubricant between them. Harry's instinct was to squirm forward along the bed, to try and offset the invasion, but when he failed at this, he cried.

"Bloody hell… Someone's been practicing on himself, hasn't he? That wasn't too difficult."

Agony blossomed from the nerve endings in Harry's bottom. It felt like he was being cracked open—like fire was circling the rim of his anus, burning away whatever pleasure could have been there. The pain was unbearably hot, in the worst kind of way.

"Have you been practicing, Potter?"

Harry sobbed, then whined like a beaten dog.

"Answer me."

"Y…Yes," Harry said hoarsely.

"To those magazine girls, or to me?"

"You," Harry admitted in a strained voice. "Always you…"

"Well, I'll be a Muggle's son. I honestly wasn't expecting you to say that. But I guess finger-fucking yourself to those whores would be a bit weird."

Harry guessed that assessment was accurate. But his fantasies between Draco versus the girls were always so different. They couldn't really be compared.

Carefully and deliberately, Draco pushed in, making Harry whimper into the pillows. "That's it… You feel my cock? It's been aching for weeks to get inside you…"

It took Draco a few minutes to build his pace to a steady rhythm, but when he did, the wood of Harry's bed creaked in time with the momentum of his thrusts. Harry let out a few ragged cries, but then blocked them with his fist. Draco's cock hurt. But the pain was everything Harry had been hoping for. Hot skin was stroking him on the inside, and the thought of his godfather's death was so far out of his mind that he forgot it ever happened.

Draco deepened his thrusts, lying all the way down on top of Harry so he could feel their bodies rub together while the bed quaked beneath their weight. He groaned softly as he reached as deep inside of Harry as he could. "God… It's so hot… All that friction without any lube is to die for."

Harry felt like he was bursting at the seams, but the tight feeling didn't bother him nearly as much as the primal need to be useful to his boyfriend was. That was the one thing he knew he could excel at, regardless of his mental state: being useful and enjoying it in whatever deranged way he could. Harry thought, He might damage me, but…

"Do it harder."

Draco increased the pressure—

"Faster!"

—and increased his pace.

Harry chewed the blankets to muffle his cries which were being forced out of him with every thrust. The pain started to fade after a while, and pleasure radiated from his sweet spot when he was stroked at the right angle. The cock battering his insides felt brutal and blissful all at once, but he couldn't deny that he craved more of it.

After a particularly mean thrust, Draco moved his hips in hungry circles while maintaining his depth. "What a greedy hole you've got. God, and it's all mine… You're mine, Potter, every last bit of you, you hear?"

"More…" Tears flecked Harry's cheeks as he felt Draco driving in at a different angle. Their bodies twisted slightly, so that they were almost lying on their sides. Draco was still behind him, smoothing his hands over Harry's body, fondling every part that he could reach. Harry raised his leg in the air, to help Draco push inside, and he threw his head back with a grateful moan when Draco held it up for him.

"You're gonna make me come from all that moaning, Potter… Should I?"

"No. I want more—I need more… Please."

"Pathetic. You can beg better than that."

"I need it!" Harry arched his back and writhed backward into Draco. "I need to be punished!"

"You what…?"

Harry squirmed with a shy and embarrassed look set on his face. "I've been naughty, Malfoy, like you said… I've been terribly bad all year, and I deserve it. Punish me with your dick… Teach me to be a good boy… I wanna be good…"

Tears fell from Harry's eyes, and Draco stared at them, watching as they streaked a trail down his cheek.

"Fuck…" Draco pulled out to stop himself from coming.

Harry groaned angrily at the sudden withdrawal. "I didn't say you could stop."

"Remember who's in control, Potter," Draco said warningly. "Now where's the bloody lube I gave you?"

Harry wiped his cheeks dry with the back of his hand and sniffed. "Under my pillows."

Draco reached over Harry's head and searched for the vial by feel. When he found it lying against the headboard, he uncorked it and dripped some of the lubrication onto his fingers. He applied some to his cock first, then Harry's opening. The little hole contracted snugly around his fingers while he coated Harry on the inside.

Now that he had recovered from the near-orgasm, Draco realigned himself behind Harry and reinserted his cock with a slow, deep thrust. He smiled at the enthusiastic moan he was met with, and after a minute of reacquainting himself with Harry's insides, he guided the boy back onto his knees and regained his momentum.

It was much better for Harry. Far less punishing and more slippery. For all his vaunted disobedience, Harry was rewarded with the sweetest bludgeoning to his prostate that he had ever felt. He imagined their hatred melting away in the sweltering heat of their shared lust. He believed they could fuck all their problems away, and if not, at least they would have fun trying.

Harry grabbed the pale arm that was braced against the mattress next to his head. He kissed Draco's fingers, to show that he could take his beating like a good boy, and Draco smiled when he did this.

Draco paused for another break, and Harry kissed upward along his slender arm.

"You're a really good boy, Potter…"

Harry's face shined at the compliment, and he gnawed on Draco's skin.

"I have an idea, though."

Draco climbed off the bed and fetched his wand out of his robes, while Harry collapsed onto his back. Harry's legs opened around Draco when he climbed back over him. Draco smirked wryly at the limp cock that was resting below Harry's stomach.

"Hard to believe you're enjoying this. You're softer than Professor Sprout's Squishcaps."

"I dunno know why I can't stay hard," Harry said self-consciously. "I guess I'm just so focused on all the butt stuff."

"As long as you're having a good time, I don't care." Draco's eyes drank up the sight of Harry's lean body. Harry was still rather skinny but had filled out a bit more since they'd last been together, since the Dursleys couldn't starve him while he was at school. "How 'bout you ride me?"

"Huh?" Harry had just been picturing the pots of mushy fungi in Greenhouse Three, but at Draco's suggestion he started imagining, hilariously, riding Draco like a Thestral.

Let's escape to anywhere and never look back, he would have told Draco telepathically. Take us wherever Voldemort can't find us. Far, far away…

Draco grabbed Harry's arms and rolled over with him so that their positions were switched. Harry was upright on his knees, straddling Draco and looking scared and confused at the apparent change in roles.

Draco smirked. "Put my dick in that perfect arse of yours and ride it however you want. It's what naughty boys like to do to enact penance on themselves." Draco waited while Harry reached for Draco's cock, then pumped it uncertainly in his hand. "Atta boy… Don't be shy."

Harry groaned when he managed to fit Draco's cock in to the hilt. It was the deepest Draco had ever been, although Harry supposed Draco must have grown a little bit since they'd last been together.

"Move up and down, Harry. I wanna see you fuck yourself with my dick." Draco relaxed into the pillows and sighed heavily when the Gryffindor started to rock back and forth. He used the respite to regain some of his energy, and after a couple of minutes of watching Harry lift and lower himself repeatedly, Draco pointed his wand at Harry's chest.

Oblivious to the spell that was about to be cast on him, Harry writhed shamelessly on Draco's lap, circling his hips to guzzle the cock that was inside him.

"You look so hot, Potter," Draco said in a dazed voice. "So sexy…" Then his arm tensed, and he cried, "Servitus!"

At the sound of the incantation, ropes wound around Harry's wrists and throat, strangling him just enough so that he reeled against their grip. Ropes coiled around his ankles also, tying him to the bedposts. "Malfoy, what're you—?"

"Don't fight it, Potter. Just enjoy how it feels—it's supposed to feel good. You need to be trained, remember? You need this, and I'm here for you."

Harry was shocked to find that his hands were bound behind his back. The rope around his neck constricted his airways, although he could breathe, but he could not talk.

"Relax, Harry… It's alright." But then a look of worry flashed across his face. "You are alright, aren't you?"

Harry nodded doubtfully, feeling grateful for this minimal showing of concern.

"Good. Just move slowly and work your way up. It'll feel better the more you open yourself up to it. I promise."

Harry would have nodded again to indicate his understanding, but he could no longer move his neck. All he could do was grunt.

"I learned that spell from a book I found in my parents' room a few years ago. Sizzling Spells for a Humdrum Sex Life. I like to read it whenever they're out, and you wouldn't believe what's possible with sex when you've got magic." Draco smiled at the renewed tears on Harry's face. Harry's cheeks glistened as he gave in to the opposing sensations of constriction and penetration. "There're things written in that book I've dreamed of doing to you. This is just one of them."

Harry squirmed over his lap, not riding him anymore, but relishing the pleasure that coursed through him when Draco flexed his cock inside him.

"Thought I was done punishing you, did you? Not quite, Potter. We've got a long way to go until you're broken enough to trust."

Harry lowered himself onto Draco's lap after each cock-flex. He shook with fear, but he felt good. He groaned at the way Draco was caressing him all over, touching every inch of him except his flaccid cock. Then suddenly, something he had only fantasized about happened out of nowhere, and Harry promised himself he would never tell on Draco for driving a wrecking ball through their boundaries like this.

Draco raised his wand again. Harry caught a glimpse of it only briefly, then heard the incantation: "Imperio!"

Harry did not fight the illicit invasion for even a second. Something about Draco entering his mind seemed better than sex, and he was eager for every last part of himself to be violated, even if it was deliberately against his will.

Harry heard Draco inside his mind, giving the command: Get on your knees, Potter… suck my dick and worship it like the filthy mutt you are…

The conjured ropes loosened around Harry when the Bondage Jinx was lifted. The next moment, Harry watched himself obey the orders he had been given. Harry clambered off the side of the bed, and the conjured ropes dropped from his ankles and hung loose around his neck. Draco scooted to the edge of the bed, while Harry set his knees on the cold, hard floor. Draco stared down at him, and Harry crawled up to his lap with an enthralled look in his eyes.

"Such a good boy…" Draco caressed the side of Harry's face, then smiled when Harry sucked his thumb into his mouth. Draco removed the Imperius Curse, wanting to be sure Harry was doing everything of his own volition. While he meant for the sex to feel forced, actually forcing it was something he was totally disinterested in.

"You're mine, Potter. Is that understood?" He ran his thumb over Harry's bottom lip, gently at first, then roughly so that Harry felt properly demeaned. "Dead or alive, your body's all mine, and I'll do whatever the hell I want with it."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Draco pushed his thumb between Harry's teeth, to stop him.

"Think before you speak, love. You're at my mercy, and you'll always be at my mercy."

Harry opened his mouth again, attempting speech. All he could manage was a feeble croaking of: "M…My throat…"

"What?"

Harry steadied himself over Draco's knees. "It's what they do, right? Those girls you gave me. I've seen it. And you wanted it from me too, remember?"

"Wanted what…?"

"My throat."

Draco raked his fingers through the other boy's hair and smiled kindly. "You're full of surprises, aren't you, mutt? Those dirty magazines giving you ideas? Merlin… You think you can take it down your throat?"

Harry shook his head, but said, "I wanna try."

"Or I can make you do it." Draco pointed his wand commandingly at Harry again. "Bypass your limits. I can make you do all sorts of things you couldn't do otherwise."

"But I want to do it." Harry pawed at Draco's legs, looking as if anything else would be depriving him. "Just me…"

Draco swallowed back his excitement, then lowered his wand. "Have at it then," he said after deciding not to push for the Curse a second time. He wanted Harry to be the one acting on this first and foremost, instead of his own magic. "But look at me while you do it, will you? I wanna see those gorgeous eyes fill up with tears whenever you choke…"

Harry smiled gratefully, feeling very much like he was in the role of a good boy. He lowered his head to the erection that was standing at attention for him. Now that the ropes were off, he was free to stroke Draco's cock with one hand, and caress the lean, tight muscles of Draco's stomach with the other. Harry's hand strayed from Draco's stomach to the bed where he took hold of Draco's hand. He laced their fingers together, wanting to maintain an intimate connection like this while he sucked.

Harry let half of Draco's length inside his mouth…

Draco's fingers tightened around Harry's reflexively, and he moaned. "Don't bite, now."

Harry slid the cockhead against the pocket of his cheek, positioning his tongue to stroke a portion of the shaft simultaneously. This earned him a drawn-out groan of approval. Then, feeling rebellious, Harry popped the cock out of his mouth and nipped Draco playfully on the foreskin.

Draco grabbed Harry by the hair with his other hand and pulled threateningly. "Teeth, Potter…"

"I was only kidding." Harry slapped Draco's cock against his cheek with a mischievous grin. "I'd never do that to you, I promise. I'm sorry if it hurt." Harry kissed where he had bitten him, then started licking along the entire length for the next few minutes.

Draco relaxed sideways against the bed post, leaning his head against its rounded surface while he watched. "I missed that tongue, Potter. It feels so lovely…"

Harry looked up inquisitively while running his tongue along the shaft and fluttering it around the tip. He had learned enough during the first half of the school year that he knew exactly what Draco liked best. He puckered his lips around the head, kissed it repeatedly, and began stroking on his own cock to get it hard again.

Draco massaged Harry's knuckles with his thumb. "I wanna feel your throat…"

In an effort to fulfill that request, Harry blocked out the fear that he was feeling and snuck Draco's cock deeper into his mouth. The tip touched the back of his tongue only briefly, but Harry gagged immediately and pulled it out. He had to be honest, even though it was not exactly pleasant when it hit his gagging reflex, it excited him somehow, and he felt even more reckless toward Draco's cock than he did a minute ago.

Harry took Draco in a second time, and when it prodded the back of his throat, it ignited a tingling sensation in his arms and legs, similar to an orgasm but not nearly as intense. He choked around it, then pulled out, but continued licking around Draco's balls while he thought about attempting the dive a few more times.

Fingers caressed around the base of Harry's neck and behind his ears. Harry shivered at the ticklish feeling and heard Draco say, "That's my Potter… You've got spit all over me and it feels amazing. I want more… I love it. Your throat's so slobbery and wet."

Harry couldn't stop himself from stuffing Draco into his mouth as far as he would go. He tried to swallow, like one of the girls in his magazine, but couldn't. Instead, he gagged, pulled Draco out, then buried his face against Draco's thigh while he tried to process all the excitement he was feeling.

"Are you alright, Harry…?" Draco smiled down at him. "Do you like it? Would you rather choke on my dick than breathe?"

Hearing it worded that way made Harry's stomach tingle. "Yeah. That's exactly it." He wiped his mouth, then positioned himself over Draco's lap again. But he wondered how it was possible to feel pleasure like this when his throat wasn't even supposed to be used like this.

"Pleasure is all in the mind," he remembered reading in an interview in his favorite magazine. "I have to put myself in a certain frame of mind, and, as the Muggles say, Abracadabra! Otherwise, I wouldn't get off sucking dick nearly as much."

Harry managed to deep-throat his boyfriend in several two-second intervals, but it got messier and messier with each try, so much so that even his eyeglasses got smeared with a stray bit of spittle. He decided he must be doing it wrong, since all the girls in the magazines managed to keep themselves looking fresh-faced and pretty with their toys.

"I'm making too much of a mess," Harry said apologetically.

"On the contrary, you're not making enough of a mess, if you ask me."

"Really?"

"Yeah…" Draco's smile was crooked. "It's really hot the way it is. I've always loved the idea of you getting a bit sloppy, and I can't believe you managed it. You look so naughty. This is the best blowjob I've ever had. Just the visuals are making me crazy…"

Feeling reassured that he could get fairly nasty without turning Draco off, Harry decided to stop worrying about the mess he was creating and just enjoy himself, like Draco had said.

In between bouts of trying to hold Draco's cock against his gagging reflex, Harry either kissed Draco's thighs, licked his balls, or teased the frenulum. His own cock began to leak the more he took Draco in—but then his whole body spasmed when Draco grabbed him by the neck and forced him down.

Harry's body seized up, and his throat erupted into chokes. He gagged and barely held back from throwing up. He sputtered everywhere when he was let go a few seconds later. Harry wiped the spittle from his chin and shoved Draco peevishly in the stomach. "I didn't like it the first time you ever did that, and I still don't like it! That wasn't funny!"

"It wasn't meant to be," Draco said in between laughs. He grinned at Harry, who was giving him the most unforgiving look he had ever seen. "Aw, c'mon… are you upset at me? I'm sorry, Potter. I really am. Your mouth is just so perfect, it's hard not to force it…"

"You're lucky it felt a little bit good, or I'd bite your prick off and feed it to Crookshanks!"

"Ouch… Is that so?"

"So," Harry said boldly, not letting up.

Draco grabbed Harry firmly under the chin and guided him gently to his feet. "Alright. I won't do it again, you have my word. But I'd call us even for your nipping. Now get on the bed so we can finish. I think it's pretty clear who won this duel."

Me, Harry thought vehemently. I control you. It's not the other way around, you broom-rod.

Draco waited for Harry to do what he was told, smiling at the defiant way Harry carried himself. Draco twisted around on the bed and crawled on top of him.

Harry lay on his back, hands settled against Draco's arms. He frowned mutinously at Draco, but opened his legs, feet suspended in the air above his own shoulders.

"My dear, unruly Harry Potter…"

"Draco-fucking-Malfoy," Harry spat crossly.

"You're lucky you're so beautiful, or you'd seriously be dead."

Harry fumbled his snide retort the moment Draco entered him. He closed his eyes and pumped his own cock in one fist while he focused on the full feeling in his bottom. Stay hard, he thought desperately. Stay hard…

Time passed too quickly. The bed began to creak again, and they both moaned and nuzzled against each other's lips. Harry's limbs began to quake the more Draco plunged into his opening, and he smiled brilliantly when that spot inside him was touched. After all their dirty play, they were really making love this time, kissing and nuzzling each other, tangling up their limbs so that Harry felt like he was melding with the other boy, losing his sense of self.

At some point, Harry's whole world turned to sweetness. He whimpered and leaned his head back into the mattress, opening himself to Draco as much as he could. He couldn't open his heart anymore, but he could open his legs for the rest of time, and maybe it would be enough to stop the world from turning. Maybe it would stop the war from coming. Every part of him felt radiant, and the feeling was intensified when Draco's lips grazed the bare side of his foot.

Thick ropes of cum dashed up between their stomachs while Harry shook. Harry felt his insides melt like a furnace, and when the contractions faded in his cock, Harry opened his eyes and stared at the porcelain body swaying above him, with the scar that was almost completely healed. He shivered fiercely when lips touched his foot a second time.

"Draco—! Holy fucking boggarts, I want your cum…"

Transported by those words and ignoring the silly curse, Draco came soon after. Before he could decide whether to pull out or stay in, he began to spurt, and so he pressed himself in and held his depth while his balls emptied themselves.

Harry panted heavily underneath him. "It's warm… I can feel you flooding me with cum—oh god…"

Draco pushed past the orgasm and continued to fuck Harry, ignoring the prickling sensation in his cock even as the pleasure drained from it. For a minute longer, he took himself straight past the borderline of pleasure and toppled headlong into sensory overload. When it became too much—when Draco's cock felt like it was spearing a molten tunnel fire—he pulled out with an abrupt cry and stopped Harry from reaching down for it.

Draco was surprised and relieved to find it intact. It was red with soreness, but it was still there, and his entire body was racked with spasms. He collapsed on top of Harry, making the boy beneath him grunt as air was expelled from his lungs.

Harry laughed softly, yielding to the moment, hardly believing everything they had just done with each other. Time stood still for what felt like an eternity, and he ran his fingers down Draco's arms and up his back. He's mine…

Draco's limbs twitched contentedly. He listened to the rapid thumping of Harry's heart, smiling at how perfectly their bodies fit together, even when they weren't in the throes of having sex.

After several minutes of soaking in the moment, Draco lifted his head and started to sit up, but a tangle of limbs smothered him back down, unwilling to let him escape more easily than he had arrived. Draco tapped his wand against Harry's throat, looking pensive.

Harry's pulse thrummed rapidly against the rod of hawthorn. He groaned sweetly as it was dragged toward the hollow of his throat.

"It's not just that arse that doesn't want me to leave, is it?" Draco slid the wand over Harry's jawline and over his lips. "Your heart too?"

Harry nudged his mouth against the wand and kissed it. "Don' leave yet," he said in a low voice. "It was bril'yant, Malfoy. Bett'r than anything…"

"Better than flying?"

A smile spread over Harry's face. The flush hadn't yet drained from his cheeks, but he got over the drunken drawl in his voice fairly quickly. He looked at Draco and chuckled, unwilling to answer the question.

Draco found that he was smiling too, but still he said, "If you hadn't ruined everything…"

Harry's playful demeanor faded when he heard that. "I was never your pot—I mean… I was never your pet, Malfoy. We might pretend while we're shagging, but I can' just do whatever you say."

"You were always my pet," Draco whispered thoughtfully. "But pets that attack their owners get put down. Understand?"

Harry made a sour face.

"I love you, Potter, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't want you dead. And I mean, seriously dead."

Sirius, Harry thought reflexively.

A lump began to swell in Harry's throat. "I wish… I wish I was dead too sometimes…"

Draco watched tears well up in Harry's eyes. "Are you looking for pity?"

"No." Harry's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Jus'… I just want what my parents had. Love, I mean. Real love."

Draco stroked a finger over Harry's fringe, revealing the scar that was hidden underneath. He kissed it, and Harry closed his eyes as Draco removed his glasses and moved his lips to daub the tears from his lashes.

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, and Harry mirrored the movement, so they were holding each other tightly, their limbs tangled all the way down to their toes. "My Harry," Draco said in a tender voice. "I'll extract payment from you for everything… and if it's not enough, I'll kill you."

Harry lay in the silence that followed that pronouncement.

Draco untangled himself and got up from the bed, but Harry tried to wrestle him back down, like a child that was being deprived of its favorite teddy.

"Potter." Draco frowned in displeasure. "Let go."

Harry squeezed tighter. "We'll be on opposite sides again if I do that."

Draco considered that, doing his best to moderate his anger. "You still don't get it, do you? I can't stand to look at you right now. It was fun while it lasted, but if you make me stay, I'll strangle you to death with my bare hands."

"No, you won't."

"Try me."

Harry let go, having picked up on the edge in Draco's voice. He wanted to cry, but instead he listened to the sound of rustling while Draco got dressed in silence for a few minutes.

"Sirius is dead," he said weakly, as a last resort, hoping it would move Draco into staying longer. He had not invited anyone to talk about his godfather until now, and so Draco would be a fool to turn the offer down.

I'll open my heart, Harry thought, even if you mean to rip it to shreds. Just stay with me a bit longer…

Draco paused for a moment, a pitiless expression on his face. "I wasn't spared my father. Why should you be spared a man you hardly knew?"

Harry's gaze drifted toward the window. He supposed he had earned that comeback after what he had told Draco in Snape's classroom. A crushing ache began to spread over his chest, and he felt so empty now that their time together was over…

Draco left, taking the warmth of the room with him. Harry covered his face in both his hands for a while, then slowly crawled out of bed to dress himself.

The room was empty. He was alone. This was the closest thing to a dementor attack that he could think of. Being left in the emotional wreckage of their lovemaking.

Earlier, it had been nice talking to Sir Nicholas. Even Luna had helped Harry overcome an emotional hurdle in the wake of Sirius's death. But he could not help feeling as if he needed the love of his enemy more than he needed a peptalk from a friend.

Somewhere inside himself, he screamed.

Draco clambered out of the Fat Lady's portrait hole, still sprucing up his hair and clothes. A button was missing on his shirt, but a simple adjustment of his tie concealed it well enough.

When the Fat Lady's portrait closed again, he smiled back at her and said, "Don't worry. I left Potter in a much better state than I found him in. We just needed to come to an understanding."

Draco pivoted around on his heel and started back toward the Great Hall. The feast was probably almost over, but if he hurried, he might make it in enough time to nick a dessert to take down into the dungeons with him. Later in the evening, he would tell Crabbe and Goyle that he had cornered Harry close to Gryffindor Tower and gotten a bloody lip for his trouble, but nothing worse had happened because the Fat Lady had interfered, and they would need to try and curse Harry later on the train—

I was never your pet.

Draco spun around, feeling spooked that Harry had crept out of the common room so fast, but no one was there. He stood stock-still, eyes roving the walls for what he imagined to be ghosts. Deciding the voice had been nothing but his imagination, he turned around and exited the Fat Lady's corridor, frowning at the sudden ache in his chest.

Sirius is dead.

Draco looked back at the tapestry and hesitated.

Promise you won't leave me even if you get married, he remembered Harry asking him.

If you can share me, Potter, Draco had told him, everything between us will be just fine. I'll never leave you. I'll break all the rules for you.

"I love you, Draco," Harry had written in his Valentine's letter earlier that year. Draco tried to shake the memory of it, but couldn't. Harry had made an abysmal attempt at poetry, and it was the most endearing thing he had ever read.

Draco stared at the tapestry for a long while. He took a breath, then gravitated back towards it, not knowing if the Fat Lady would let him through again. But a voice echoed off the walls around him, the smooth, silky intonation of his Head of House.

"Draco…"

Snape materialized like a revenant from the shadows, startling Draco when he looked back around. "Sir!"

"What are you doing here?"

"N…Nothing, sir."

Snape narrowed his eyes perceptively and lowered his chin. "You, your friends, and Potter have been missing from the feast for almost an hour."

Draco looked down at the floor and said nothing. Then he covered his mouth with his hand, feeling self-conscious of the cut Harry had given him.

"I found your friends and they told me," Snape went on, watching Draco's expression closely, "what you were up to."

Draco glanced out the window and blocked out the memory of Harry clawing and punching at his body on the bed. He kept his finger pressed to his bottom lip. "I meant to hurt him, sir. For what he did to my father."

"Yes… That's what they told me." Snape reflected for a moment before reminding him, "You will leave Potter alone. Like I ordered you."

"Yes sir."

"Now either return to the feast or your dorm. You have a lot to prepare for, for when you get home."

"Yes sir. I'm sorry, sir. I meant nothing by being here—"

"Don't explain yourself, Draco. Just… forget him."

Draco nodded reluctantly, then followed in Snape's wake when Snape turned to leave. Black is dead, he thought to himself, as their footsteps echoed dissonantly off the corridor walls and down the stairway. My father is locked up, Fudge has been discredited, and Professor Dumbledore is back.

Minutes later, Draco wiped his forehead as he reentered the Hall behind the billowing ropes of Snape. Mother, are you alright?

"There he is!" Astoria murmured from her seat in the Great Hall. She pretended to swoon and laughed boisterously with her friends.

You must be scared.

Draco sat down next to Pansy, who latched on to his arm as soon as she noticed he was there. Crabbe and Goyle were already back at the table, packing in as much dinner into their mouths as they could, since the feast was coming to an end.

I'll be home soon. I'll protect you and Father no matter what it costs.

Astoria sent a charmed apple rind to Draco in the slithering form of a serpent, but he ignored it. He only noticed the charmed snake flicking its tongue at him when Crabbe kicked him in the leg and pointed it out.

I want to tell you something, Mum, but it isn't good.

Draco peered over the many plates across the table at Astoria, who was beaming proudly at him.

I love Potter, and I'm scared the Dark Lord will find out.

When all the food disappeared from the tables, Astoria flounced up from her seat and climbed onto the Slytherin table, heels clacking as she crossed it. A few of the students from the other tables pointed her out, and Professor Dumbledore smiled curiously from his seat at the High Table.

"Astoria!" Daphne hissed. "Sit down!"

Mummy, I'm scared, Draco thought.

Astoria trod her way through the sea of plates and goblets over to Draco. Pansy sneered at Astoria's scuffed Mary Janes, puzzling over what she was about. Draco stared at her, half his mind with Harry in Gryffindor Tower, and the other half at home with his mother.

The noise in the Hall died down as Astoria began to recite a poem out of Fireheart's best-known verses. When she was done, her voice trailed off, and she blushed, looking terribly beside herself.

At the Gryffindor table, Ron leaned sideways into Hermione. "I think I figured out who Harry's secret admirer was from two years ago, remember? It was a Slytherin alright. What a load of guff."

Hermione swatted Ron into silence, then smiled dreamily at Astoria's public demonstration. She knew the truth about Harry's admirer, and she guessed Astoria must have been studying Draco's likes and dislikes to recite poetry like this.

Draco rested his chin on top his palm and smiled blandly at her. "That one's my favorite. You like Fireheart too?"

Astoria giggled, red-faced, since she'd never let on that she only started reading poetry after hearing about how much Draco enjoyed it.

Pansy leaped from her seat in a huff. "Astoria!" she shrieked. "I'm going to kill you! You've known for years that Draco's already taken!"

But Astoria was already climbing off the table, using Crabbe's head and Goyle's shoulder to support her while she bounded off. "I looove you Draco!" she sang, while everyone chuckled at her nerve. "I'll see you next yeeear! With bigger boobs for you to gawk at!"

Ron slapped a hand to his forehead and groaned, while Hermione giggled into her sleeve.

Pansy rushed after Astoria toward the Entrance Hall, but Snape bellowed for Pansy to stand down. Meanwhile, Professor Dumbledore mused over the scene, and after a minute of poignant reflection, he pushed his chair back, stood up, and announced:

"Ah, young love and poetry… Such a delightful and cacophonous demonstration!" (The teachers chuckled at this as they remembered snatches of their own youthful romances.) "As we bring this year's End-of-Term Feast to a close, may we remember that the only thing more powerful than love is, indeed, the art of subtlety. May we carry with us the lessons of patience, understanding, and discretion. But most of all, may we remember that the love of our friends carries as much power as the love of any of our soulmates. You are dismissed!"

As the students rushed from their tables to their dorms, Dumbledore's eyes twinkled wistfully in the candlelight. Snape glowered at the Slytherin table, where Draco remained sitting, looking sullen.

What am I coming home to? Draco wondered. He rose from his seat only when Pansy tugged at his sleeve. Draco smiled at her in acknowledgement, then took her hand. Together, they walked out of the Great Hall into the dungeons.

Draco had sworn he would make Harry pay, since family necessarily came first. But, deep down, he wished he could abandon all his allegiances for him instead.

Draco's favorite poem, as read by Astoria Greengrass

I faint with love, enchanted by the light
Of moonlit glances, secret looks that gleam,
In glassy gardens where the roots take blight
From hatred's touch. In dreams that seem a dream,
Our hearts are stitched, though frayed by time's cruel hand,
With rusted needles, threads that twist and bend,
Bound close, yet severed by the wizard's wand
And war's cruel grasp, which our soft ties suspend.

With wands in hand and magic on our lips,
We etch our oath among the stars so bright.
In glens, we weave our spell on floral scrips,
While fairies blush in shadows of the night.
I'll die within your arms, my dearest witch,
Upon our bed, in love's eternal fire.
Let me be burned by stake or passion's pitch—
May you, my love, be the cause of my expire.

— Ignatius Fireheart, Forbidden Magic

A/N: The last chapter for Year 5, and I feel like I need to go mourn for a while. Thank you for reading up to this point, I honestly didn't think anyone would read this when I first started it. I hope the fic isn't becoming too much, but I don't think even I had any idea what I was getting myself into at the start.

Updates will pause for a few months, like they did after Year 4. During that time, I'll be reading Half-Blood Prince, making notes, reviewing the Memory Vials Harry and Draco send to me, and writing the upcoming chapters.

I hope the smut wasn't too much. It might've been over-the-top, and I didn't plan it that way. (I'm just the ghost writer, after all.) Draco's dark kinks and entitlement started to appear early on and got worse over time—to say nothing about how he's been trying to get control of Harry—so it seemed inevitable it would be expressed this way. Thanks for putting up with the shenanigans and we'll see you in a few months, or otherwise in the comments.

The following text was lifted from OotP for this chapter:

"To me, Potter," repeated the drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy as he held out his hand, palm up.
Harry's insides plummeted sickeningly. (Not italicized in this chapter.)
"You're dead, Potter."
"I'm going to make you pay for what you've done to my father…"