FIC: Give My Heart 4/5

[gypsyflame]

For the rest of that day and into the next, Draco only saw Potter when he brought food to Draco’s room. Draco made it clear that he had no interest in talking about what had happened, so Potter’s visits were mercifully brief. On the plus side, the time alone allowed Draco to recover from too much time spent around Gryffindors - but on the negative, it also allowed him to obsess over how Severus was going to react when he saw the memories.

By the time Severus visited the next afternoon, Draco’s stomach was tied up in knots, and the trays of breakfast and lunch that Potter had delivered had gone uneaten. To save time, he’d already put all of the relevant memories into the Pensieve. He sat in the chair while he waited for Severus to come upstairs, tapping his fingernails nervously against the desk.

Severus knocked twice on the door to let Draco know he was there, then removed the locking spells and stepped inside. “Did everything go according to plan?” he asked as he warded the room.

“Yes.” Draco scrutinized Severus’ expression, but he saw nothing. Severus’ face was impassive - not cold or unfriendly, just unemotional. Draco couldn’t tell what he was feeling at all, which didn’t make him feel any better. “The Pensieve is ready.”

“Good.” Severus bent to brush a kiss against Draco’s cheek before drawing his wand and leaning over the Pensieve.

It was that brusque, almost dismissive kiss that finally gave Draco some insight into Severus’ emotional state. He was just as anxious as Draco was, if not more so - and Severus hated feeling anxious. He usually dealt with it by becoming either furiously angry or completely detached. In this case, he had apparently decided to go with the second option.

Strange as it sounded, Draco would rather have the anger. At least then he could be sure that Severus was feeling something.

It was going to take Severus some time to watch the memories - a couple of hours, at a minimum. Draco had prepared for that by having a book on hand, but he soon realized that he was far too nervous and distracted to read. Instead, he roamed restlessly around the room, never sitting for more than a few minutes at a time, dreading the moment Severus raised his head from the Pensieve but at the same time desperate for it to come.

When it did come, Draco didn’t even notice right away, absorbed as he was in pacing the length of the carpet. He stopped short when he saw that Severus was standing straight, back still turned to Draco. The tension in his body was palpable, and underneath it lay an unmistakable current of anger.

Don’t let him make you feel guilty. You had to do it. He knows that.

Draco cleared his throat. “Severus -”

Severus turned, and the rest of the words died on Draco’s lips. Severus’ face was no longer expressionless; his eyes were burning, his jaw tightly clenched, and his body was shaking as if he were barely restraining himself from violence.

Draco took a step back. He had never been afraid of Severus in his life, and he wasn’t now - he knew Severus would never hurt him. However, the same could not be said of the furniture, and Draco knew from experience to get the hell out of the way when Severus was about to fly into one of his destructive rages.

But Severus didn’t even draw his wand. Without saying a word, he strode towards Draco, grabbed him by the elbows, and kissed him.

Draco’s gasp of surprise was muffled by Severus’ mouth. The kiss was rough and possessive, more about staking a claim than about pleasure, and Severus’ grip on his arms was too tight. Draco didn’t fight it; there had been a part of him that had feared Severus would never touch him again after he saw the memories of Potter, and he was too relieved to find the kiss unwelcome. Besides, he was no stranger to rough sex.

Severus released Draco’s arms to yank at the buttons of his shirt, ripping them in his haste. Draco turned his head to the side to break the kiss.

“Severus,” he said, “what are you -”

“I can’t bear to see you in his clothes.” Severus’ voice was so low it was almost guttural.

“That doesn’t mean you have to ruin them - Severus!”

Severus had torn the shirt from his body without bothering to finish unbuttoning it; the remaining buttons popped off and fell to the floor on top of the damaged garment. Draco’s heart raced at the show of strength, and not from fear.

“Take them off,” said Severus. “Now.”

Despite his words, he didn’t even give Draco a chance to move before jerking open his trousers with the same force. He dragged Draco to the bed and pushed him down on it, pulling the denims off his legs and tossing them aside.

“Severus,” Draco said breathlessly, overcome. He’d never seen his lover so…animalistic. Even though he had his misgivings - he wasn’t sure this was the healthiest way for them to deal with what had happened - Draco’s cock was hard and standing at attention, his body aching with need.

Severus shrugged off his robes and then climbed over Draco on the bed, still otherwise fully clothed, and kissed him again. Draco tried to return the kiss, but he couldn’t keep up, and he started to understand that Severus didn’t want him to return it. Severus wanted to take him, to reclaim him from Potter, and he wanted Draco to let himself be taken.

Draco could do that. If that was what Severus needed to reassure himself that Draco was still his, then Draco would give it to him.

Severus bit his neck. “Turn over,” he rasped. “On your hands and knees.”

Draco obeyed, then flinched when the preparation spell hit him unexpectedly. The discomfort wasn’t even soothed by Severus’ magic, this time, because Severus was upset and his magic reflected that.

Before Draco could recover from the double hit, Severus drove inside him with one forceful thrust. Draco cried out, grabbing the headboard with both hands so that he would have something to hold on to.

Severus fucked him brutally, much harder than he ever had before, and it hurt. The pleasure was there, yes - Draco couldn’t imagine being fucked by Severus and not feeling pleasure - but the pain was sharp and immediate and almost equal to it. Even Draco’s first time hadn’t hurt this much, and Severus had been drunk for that.

He clung to the headboard and kept his legs spread submissively, concentrating on what felt good instead of what didn’t. And he derived no small amount of emotional satisfaction from Severus’ frenzied possessiveness, which was worlds away from his earlier emotional detachment and much more gratifying.

“Mine,” Severus growled, his hands painfully tight on Draco’s hips. “You are mine.”

It was difficult to speak while being fucked so vigorously, but Draco needed Severus to know that he agreed. “Always,” he gasped out. “Always yours, Severus.”

Severus made a kind of snarling animal noise and then he was coming, cock slamming into Draco relentlessly as he filled him with hot pulses of semen and magic. Instead of the warm rush of swiftly flowing water that Draco usually experienced when Severus came, he felt like he was being pummeled by angry, crashing waves. It knocked the wind out of him, and he choked for a few seconds before he remembered that there wasn’t actually any water.

Draco was still coughing and trying to catch his breath when Severus pulled out - far too quickly - and reached around, making a dissatisfied noise when he realized that Draco hadn’t come. He flipped Draco onto his back and slid down his body, swallowing his cock to the root.

Though he tried to moan, Draco didn’t have enough air in his lungs to do even that. Everything was happening too fast, and he could still feel the aftereffects of Severus’ magic, making him dizzy. He sucked in a desperate breath, drawing his legs up so his knees were bent and his toes were digging into the mattress.

Severus’ mouth was hot and eager and fucking incredible. Draco pushed his hips up, trying to get his cock as far down Severus’ throat as he could. One of his hands wandered blindly down to rest on Severus’ head.

“Put your fingers in me,” he begged. “Severus, please, I need -”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence before two of Severus’ long, slender fingers had been thrust inside him. It hurt a little, because his arse was sore from the aggressive fucking, but the pain was so eclipsed by the ecstasy that Draco barely noticed it. Rather than rubbing Draco’s prostate, Severus pulsed his fingertips against it rapidly, which was a sensation that Draco much preferred and found infinitely more pleasurable.

His climax came fast and powerfully, and Draco gave a low scream as Severus swallowed everything he gave, sucking him through his orgasm until Draco could no longer stand it. Severus pulled back, and Draco sagged into the bed. He let his eyes drift shut, pleasantly sated and ready to bask in the afterglow.

When a few seconds had passed without Severus lying next to him, Draco opened his eyes. He frowned when he saw that Severus was sitting at the foot of the bed, staring down at his own hand. Then Draco got a better look at Severus’ face - and the expression of horror on it.

Draco sat up quickly. “Severus, what’s wrong?” he asked, but his question was answered when his eyes fell to Severus’ hand. Two of Severus’ fingers - the ones that had been inside Draco - were stained with blood.

“You are bleeding,” Severus said blankly, as if he couldn’t quite believe his own words. “I made you bleed.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m fine.”

Severus looked at him then, and there was such pain in his eyes that Draco’s stomach clenched. “Why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you?”

“You weren’t!”

Severus gave him a look that clearly said Don’t insult my intelligence, and Draco sighed.

“It felt good more than it hurt. I really am okay, Severus. It’s just a little blood.”

“Any blood is too much, Draco, for God’s sake!” Severus was growing more agitated by the minute. “I was too rough, I lost control….”

“I liked it -”

“You should have stopped me - ”

“No. Severus, hush.” Draco took both of Severus’ hands in his own, covering the bloodstain so that Severus couldn’t keep glancing at it and working himself up. “I didn’t want you to stop. If it had gotten too much, if you had gone too far, I would have stopped you, but you didn’t. Do I look at all upset to you?”

Severus ignored the question. “I am not certain I would have stopped even if you had asked,” he said, his voice low and haunted.

“Yes, you would have,” Draco said firmly. He had absolutely no doubts about that. “You would have.”

“Watching Potter touch you…” Severus hesitated for a second, then quietly said, “I wanted to kill him, Draco. There was nothing I wanted more in that moment than to track him down and tear him apart piece by piece.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. I turned my rage on you instead.” He laughed bitterly. “A prince among men, indeed.”

Draco didn’t know what to say. Severus’ past was dark - probably darker than Draco even knew - and he struggled with so many demons on a daily basis that it was impossible to keep track of them all. It was no secret to Draco that Severus had killed people, both willingly and under coercion, although the only one he’d seen himself was Dumbledore. Had Severus also raped people? Was that what this was about? Or was he simply troubled by what he perceived as his attack on Draco, a person whom he loved and had sworn to protect?

Draco picked up his wand from the nightstand, unable to suppress a hiss of pain as he leaned over; his arse ached horribly. He spelled Severus’ hand clean, keenly aware of Severus’ eyes tracking him. Only when every trace of blood had been removed from Severus’ skin did Draco set his wand aside.

“You are hurt,” said Severus.

“Just a little sore.”

“Lie on your stomach. I will heal you.”

Draco lay down and rolled over, moving very carefully. He could hear Severus undressing and was stupidly grateful for it - it meant that Severus wasn’t intending to leave any time soon.

Severus’ weight shifted on the bed. There was a tense pause, followed by a murmured cleaning spell. Though Draco felt the magic - which was fortunately much calmer now - it didn’t touch him, and he frowned.

“What are you doing?”

“There was blood on the sheets,” Severus said in a clipped tone.

Oh. Draco was about to start worrying again, but Severus rubbed his back reassuringly before spreading his arse with one hand and casting another cleaning spell to get rid of the blood and come.

Severus’ touch to that part of his body, combined with the benign magic, aroused Draco instinctively. He kept still, though, not wanting Severus to know. Severus wouldn’t want to have sex again so soon after what had happened.

“Christ,” Severus muttered as he gently prodded Draco with his fingers, assessing the damage.

That wasn’t good. Severus only invoked his father’s Muggle deity when he was truly distressed. It must be worse than Draco had thought - although now that he didn’t have sex to distract him, he was hurting a lot more than he had been before.

Severus took his time healing Draco, casting every spell with painstaking precision. Now that he had calmed down a bit, his magic was more like Draco was used to. The healing spells washing over his body felt like gentle waves lapping at him as he lay at the shoreline, warm and soothing, taking away his pain and replacing it with comfort.

Draco’s initial arousal faded quickly as he was lulled by Severus’ magic. When Severus finally finished, he was almost asleep.

Severus lay down next to him and stroked his hair. “I cannot stay. The Dark Lord is expecting the memories.”

Draco made a sleepy noise of protest. It had been far too long since he and Severus had slept in the same bed.

With a huff of amusement, Severus said, “I will stay until you fall asleep. Brat.”

The fondness in his voice made Draco smile. For a few minutes, they just lay there, Severus’ fingers carding through Draco’s hair as Draco dozed. Just as true sleep was about to claim him, Draco heard Severus speak again.

“Forgive me,” he said softly, probably unaware that Draco could hear him.

“Nothing to forgive,” Draco mumbled drowsily, and then he was out.

***

Draco avoided Potter as much as possible for the next week. They had made plans for another sex scene the day before the next Order meeting, and Draco thought that was enough. The Dark Lord would only care that Draco had managed to seduce Potter to his bed; he wouldn’t need or want to see anything else now. And on a personal note, Draco just found it too confusing to be around Potter. He wanted to hate him, but at the same time, he couldn’t help feeling a strange sense of solidarity with the git. After all, they had both been more or less forced into this awkward situation. Knowing that Potter was suffering almost as much as he was himself made Draco feel less like a whore.

Still, it was best for everyone involved if Draco kept his distance, and he had communicated as much to Potter - which was why he was surprised when Potter came barging into his room one day near the end of the week.

“Knock much?” Draco said in irritation, setting down the book he’d been reading.

Potter didn’t even notice his tone; his eyes were wide with excitement and he was almost out of breath. “We found it.”

“Found what?”

“The Horcrux. Hufflepuff’s cup.”

The news brought Draco to his feet. “In Gringotts?”

“Yeah. It’s in the Lestrange vault.”

Something about the way Potter said that made Draco narrow his eyes in suspicion. “Please tell me you aren’t planning on trying to break into Gringotts to steal it.”

“How else are we going to get it? Ask your auntie really nicely?”

“Potter! Nobody’s ever successfully stolen anything from Gringotts before.”

“That’s not true -”

“The Dark Lord doesn’t count.”

“Why not?” Potter said, sounding honestly offended. “You think he’s more powerful than I am?”

“Perhaps not, but he is smarter - usually - and he had the advantage of decades of experience.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m taking a bunch of people who are both smarter and more experienced than me.”

Draco blew out an exasperated breath. “Gringotts’ security -”

“Is challenging, but not impossible. Not for the Order.” Potter’s face softened. “I know you’re worried -”

“I certainly am not!”

“- but we’ll be okay. I just came to tell you that we’re leaving.”

“So soon?” Fine, so maybe Draco was a little worried.

“We have to go now. We think the Lestranges may know we were tipped off.”

Before Draco could process that completely non-reassuring information, Potter was heading for the door. “Potter!” Draco called after him.

He stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

Draco wasn’t sure why he had spoken. What could he possibly say? Be careful? That was a useless sentiment when it came to Potter.

“Don’t die,” he said instead.

Potter grinned. “I’ll do my best.”

***

It seemed that the majority of the Order had gone with Potter to Gringotts; Draco was the only living soul in Grimmauld Place. Even the house elf was absent. Potter had been too preoccupied to remember to lock Draco’s door to keep up appearances, so Draco had free run of the house. After a brief check of the downstairs rooms, however, Draco grew unnerved by the silence and returned to his room, where he spent the rest of the day in a state of agitation that was becoming all too familiar.

He knew the moment Potter returned - not because he heard him, but because he felt him. Potter’s Apparition reverberated through the house, startling Draco so badly he almost fell out of his chair. He stared at the walls, watching with equal parts fascination and fear as they literally pulsed with Potter’s magic, red-hot and angry.

The raid must have gone badly.

Draco didn’t know where in the house Potter was, but the only thing that mattered was that Potter wasn’t in his bedroom. He had never felt another wizard’s magic without being in their immediate presence. Even the Dark Lord, who had the strongest magic Draco had ever felt, wasn’t so powerful that Draco could feel him from a different room.

Draco broke out in gooseflesh, but not from cold. In fact, his bedroom was growing warmer by the second, as if someone had cast a warming charm. The walls and floor shimmered with heat.

The stupidest thing he could possibly do in that moment was seek Potter out. So, of course, that was exactly what he did.

It was as if he wasn’t in complete control of his own actions, like a moth being drawn to flame. Something deep inside him reacted to Potter’s magic with hunger, yearning to be closer to it, and it was a craving that was too powerful for Draco to deny.

He moved through the house slowly, letting the magic guide him down the stairs and into the drawing room. The closer Draco got to Potter, the hotter the air became, until he crossed the threshold to the drawing room and halted in wonder.

Raw magic sparked and crackled through the air, racing over the furniture, the rug, the curtains. Every few seconds, something burst into flame, then extinguished itself just as quickly, leaving the object unharmed. Fire licked at the walls without burning them. And in the middle of it all, Potter paced the room like an angry lion.

Draco didn’t understand what was happening. There were other wizards like him who experienced magic with one of their senses - people who could see magic, or smell it, or feel it the way he did. But it was always one sense that was affected. If Draco could see Potter’s magic, then it wasn’t his ability allowing him to do so.

“Potter,” he whispered, his mouth dry.

Potter whirled around, and Draco staggered backwards as the magic hit him like a blast of heat from an oven. Potter wasn’t just angry, he was furious, and his power swirled around him in a wild, fiery maelstrom that Draco could tell he was losing his grip on.

What would happen if Potter lost control of his magic when it was like this? Draco had a horrible vision of the entire house going up in flames and burning them both to ash. He had to calm Potter down.

“What happened?” he asked.

“They were waiting for us,” Potter said, and even his voice was laced with magic, deeper and more resonant than usual. “It was an ambush.”

“The cup?”

“We got it. But we lost -” Potter’s jaw clenched, and one of the sofas caught fire.

“Who?” said Draco, dreading the answer. If it had been Granger or any of the Weasleys, he didn’t think he’d be able to talk Potter down.

“Billings and Wheeler. You never met them.” Potter started pacing again, which took some of the focus of his magic off Draco and made it easier for him to breathe. “It was my fault.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is. I wanted the cup so badly that I didn’t stop to think. I rushed us. And I killed them.”

Draco chanced a couple of steps towards Potter. “You didn’t. It’s a war, Potter. People die. And you said you got the cup, so at least they didn’t die in vain.”

Potter turned on him again, magic lashing out at Draco like a burning whip. Draco swayed and grabbed the back of a nearby chair to keep from falling over. The heat of Potter’s power should have hurt - and it did have a painful edge - but it was quickly becoming intoxicating.

“Do you have any compassion at all?” Potter demanded. “It’s like you’re made of ice.”

Draco shook his head, trying to stay focused. “I’m just looking at the big picture. You should be, too -”

Potter seized his wrist, probably to stop him talking, and it was as if Draco had become a human lightning rod. Wild magic shot through him, travelling from Potter’s hand through Draco’s body and into the floor. Draco gasped and his legs gave out under the onslaught, bringing him to his knees.

The initial rush of power faded quickly, but a steady flow of energy remained, thrumming through Draco and heating his blood. He could feel it in every pore, every cell, every atom of his being, and he had the sense that he was no longer a wizard of flesh and blood, but that he was made entirely of magic instead.

It was mind-blowing.

Potter stared down at Draco, still holding his arm. Now that Draco had grounded his magic, he seemed a little more in control of himself, though the fierce light in his eyes hadn’t diminished.

Draco tried to say his name, but all that came out was a weak puh sound. His mouth simply refused to coordinate with his brain. Drunk. He felt drunk, only a hundred times better and without any of the negatives.

Potter fell to his knees in front of Draco. Almost without meaning to, Draco grabbed the back of Potter’s head with his free hand and pulled him into a kiss. Potter stiffened and made a startled noise, but then he kissed Draco back hungrily.

Gods, yes, this was what Draco wanted, what he needed, more of that magic sliding over his skin and setting his nerves ablaze. He rubbed his throbbing cock against Potter’s hip and whimpered.

His clothes suddenly vanished, and so did Potter’s. Draco hadn’t heard him cast a spell, and he certainly wasn’t holding his wand, but there was no doubt that the clothes were gone because Potter wanted them gone. The pure power inherent in that act only increased Draco’s need. He pushed Potter backwards so he was sitting on his heels and straddled his lap, frantic to have Potter inside him - to have that magic inside him.

“Easy, easy,” said Potter, “wait a second -”

Draco wasn’t sure what happened or how Potter did it, but in an instant he was wet and open and ready. It hadn’t been the preparation spell - Draco hadn’t even felt the changes happening. One second his body wasn’t prepared for sex, and the next it just…was.

Without further thought, Draco impaled himself on Potter’s cock. It was like having molten pleasure poured directly into his core, and Draco came immediately, writhing against Potter while he clawed at his back and bit his shoulder hard enough to draw blood.

When the last orgasmic shudder had subsided, Draco was still just as hard as he’d been before he’d come, and just as anxious to be fucked. Though his orgasm had been pleasurable, somehow it hadn’t given him any relief. Draco moaned in dismay and frustration, grinding down on Potter’s cock.

Potter was thrusting up into Draco as best he could, but it wasn’t enough for either of them. He lowered Draco onto his back. Draco drew his legs up in anticipation of being fucked, then cried out in pain when Potter pulled out unexpectedly - it was like being stabbed in reverse. He grabbed Potter’s arm to keep him from moving away.

“Hang on, I’m just turning you over,” Potter said. “It’ll be better.”

Draco allowed himself to be rolled onto his stomach; the thick rug was soft against his skin. Potter dragged his hips up so Draco was balanced on his knees, then sank into his arse once more. The return of Potter’s warmth and magic, after the moments of aching emptiness, was the best thing Draco had ever felt.

He tried to rise from his elbows to his hands so that he could move more freely, but Potter put a hand on the small of his back and kept his chest pressed firmly against the floor. “Stay down,” he ordered in a voice that rumbled with thunder. “Just take it.”

Draco was too lost in magic-induced bliss to even want to argue. He wound his fingers into the rug, and when Potter started fucking him, raw and deep and hard, he let out an uninhibited scream of pleasure. Once he’d started, he couldn’t stop, and he screamed again and again as Potter fucked him within an inch of his life.

The screams precluded speech, but even if Draco had been able to speak, he wouldn’t have been able to manage anything more coherent than fuck me fuck me YES oh gods harder fuck me. He couldn’t tell where Potter ended and he began. He couldn’t even really feel Potter’s cock - only that magic, that power, driving into him over and over.

Bolts of lightning travelled up his spine, causing his back to twist and arch, and into his arms and legs, making them tremble uncontrollably. He shoved himself back onto Potter’s cock with no care for the rug burn he was getting on his elbows and knees.

“Fuck, Draco, I can’t…I’m gonna…”

Potter shouted loudly when he came, hips jerking wildly as he spilled deep inside Draco. Draco’s final scream caught in his throat as the force of Potter’s orgasm ripped his own from him as well. His body shook with violent spasms as it was wracked by surge after surge of pure, intense magic. The assault finally proved to be too much for Draco’s system, and he passed out.

When he came to, eyes blinking open blearily, he was lying on his back with Potter kneeling over him, looking worried.

“Malfoy,” he said when he saw Draco was awake. “Are you okay?”

At first, Draco had no idea where he was or what had happened. His head was pounding, his throat was raw, and he felt like he was going to throw up any second. “What…” he started, then stopped when his voice came out hoarse and cracked, as if he’d been screaming.

Screaming…Oh, fuck.

“No,” Draco moaned, his memory returning. “No.”

“Are you okay?” Potter asked again.

He reached out like he was going to touch Draco’s shoulder, and Draco jerked away, scrambling sideways on the floor. The sudden movement made his stomach lurch, and he barely stopped himself from vomiting all over the rug. “Don’t touch me, don’t…” He looked down at himself, then around the room. “Where are my clothes?”

“Er…”

“Potter, where the fuck are my clothes?”

“I don’t know,” Potter said helplessly. “I didn’t use a spell to take them off. They just… disappeared. I don’t know where they went. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t know where mine are, either.”

“How on earth would that make me feel better?” said Draco with a touch of hysteria. He was desperately confused; he could remember what had happened, though it was a little blurry. What he couldn’t remember was how it had started, or why he had allowed it to continue. On top of all that, he felt horribly sick - achy and nauseous and enervated, like he’d gone a few rounds with the Cruciatus Curse.

“I can transfigure you something -”

“You do any more magic and I will fucking kill you.” Draco was almost as surprised by his own vehemence as Potter was.

He ignored Potter’s wide eyes and shakily got to his feet, grabbing an afghan from the back of a chair and wrapping it around himself. Potter rose as well, though he did nothing to cover up.

“Malfoy, I -”

“Stay away from me,” said Draco, backing towards the door. “Just stay the fuck away from me, Potter. I mean it.”

He was in no fit state to run from the room, but he did his best.

***

Draco spent the next couple of days curled up in bed, suffering the worst hangover known to man. Nothing would ease his pounding headache, his mouth remained dry and cottony no matter how much water he drank, and even thinking about food made him throw up. He rejected all of Potter’s entreaties and requests to talk, refusing to even allow him into the room.

He was caught in a paroxysm of guilt and self-loathing, obsessing over what had happened, reviewing every minute detail of the encounter to see where he had gone wrong. Severus would never forgive him this. Never.

Draco lost track of time, huddled in bed as he was, so Severus’ eventual arrival caught him off-guard. He felt the instinctive urge to jump out of bed and try to make himself presentable, but quickly quashed it. What did it matter what he looked like?

“Draco,” Severus said as he set the memory-copying device on the desk and then sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you ill?”

He had considered not telling Severus about what he’d done, but that wasn’t really an option. Severus was expecting a memory to take back to the Dark Lord, and Draco only had one to give him. There was no point in trying to fool Severus into thinking it had all been planned, either; the man wasn’t an idiot, and anyway, he deserved the truth.

“I had sex with Potter,” Draco said listlessly. He couldn’t look Severus in the eye, so he just stared at the opposite wall.

“That might be enough to put anyone to bed, but don’t you think you are being a little melodramatic?”

“No, I…I had sex with Potter. Unplanned. For real.”

Severus went completely still. He was silent for so long that Draco started to think he hadn’t heard him.

“Severus -”

“When?” Severus’ voice was tight, controlled.

“A couple of days ago.”

Severus stood abruptly and walked over to the desk, his back to Draco. He held himself stiffly, and when he spoke again, his voice was no longer controlled, but raw with hurt. “Why?”

Draco swallowed. “I don’t know. It’s all…it’s a bit of a blur.”

“Show me the memory,” Severus said, turning around.

Draco sat up, frowning. He’d known that Severus would have to watch the memory, to review it as he’d done with all the others, but he hadn’t expected him to ask to see it. That was taking emotional masochism to new lengths.

“Are you sure you want to -”

“It is not a question of want,” Severus said coldly. “It is a question of necessity. Show me the memory, Draco.”

His icy tone made Draco cringe, but he didn’t begrudge Severus his anger. If their positions had been reversed, Draco would be doing a lot worse.

He picked up his wand and crossed to the desk. He tried to recall the conversation he and Potter had been having before things had gotten out of control - Draco was pretty sure he remembered mentioning the Horcrux at one point, and that was something the Dark Lord could not see. He finally decided just to start the memory from the moment Potter had grabbed his wrist.

When the memory had been fully withdrawn - right up to the point where he had passed out - Draco backed away from the desk to let Severus take his place in front of the Pensieve. He returned to the bed, though he was too uneasy to lie down again.

To Draco’s confusion, Severus emerged from the Pensieve only a few minutes later. He couldn’t possibly have watched the whole memory.

Severus spun to face him, and Draco recoiled at the pure fury in his expression. For the first time in his life, he doubted his certainty that Severus would never hurt him.

“Why are you trying to protect him?” Severus barked.

Draco blinked. “What? I…what?”

“You told me you had sex with Potter. You neglected to mention that he raped you.”

“Raped?” Draco repeated, his jaw dropping. “He didn’t rape me! Did you even watch -”

“You were clearly intoxicated. He was not. He took advantage of you.”

“That’s ridiculous! I wasn’t intoxicated.”

Severus snorted. “Draco, I have seen men up to their waists in whiskey more sober than you were.”

“Fine,” said Draco. “So I wasn’t exactly in my right mind. It doesn’t matter. Potter couldn’t have taken advantage of me, because he couldn’t have known I was in any state to be taken advantage of. He doesn’t know how magic affects me.”

“Yes, he does.”

“How could he possibly -”

“I told him.”

Draco’s eyes widened. Severus’ anger had faded somewhat, to be replaced with discomfort and a sort of defiant guilt.

“You told him,” Draco said slowly. “You told Harry Potter that I can feel magic.”

“Yes.”

“For Merlin’s sake, Severus, why?”

“I had to warn him not to perform magic around you,” Severus said. “You did not know how powerful he had become, but I did. I told him you would be distracted by it, that it would make it difficult for you to concentrate on your mission.”

Draco remembered the first day he had arrived here, when Severus had brought Potter into the foyer to speak with him privately. At least now he knew what it had been about.

“You had no right to tell him that without my permission.”

“Perhaps not. But have no doubt that he knew you were drunk on his magic when he fucked you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Draco, growing more exasperated by the minute. “Potter was forced into this just as much as I was. Why would he…” Draco trailed off as Severus began to look even guiltier. “What now?”

“The dreams the Dark Lord saw - Potter’s dreams - they were more specific than he led you to believe.”

Feeling a sense of foreboding, Draco said, “What do you mean?”

“Potter doesn’t dream about vague blond men.” Severus sighed. “He dreams about you.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. People have sex dreams all the time about people they don’t actually want to sleep with. Don’t you remember that time you dreamt about McGonagall and -”

“Draco,” Severus interrupted quietly. “Potter wants you. He has wanted you since you began spying for the Order. I have always known it.”

Shaking his head in denial, Draco said, “No. Maybe he finds me attractive, but that doesn’t mean…he’s never said…”

Wanted you for so long…

Call me Harry. Please.

Was it possible that what Draco had thought was playacting hadn’t been acting at all? Was the reason Potter had been so unexpectedly good at putting on this charade because he had meant everything he’d said?

Draco’s nausea, which had begun to wane that morning, returned full-force. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“I thought it would make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re lying,” Draco snapped as he stood up. He could see the real reason written all over Severus’ face. Merlin, he was so sick of being lied to. “You were just afraid that if I knew Potter wanted me, I would leave you for him.”

Severus didn’t contradict him. “It would not have been the first time someone I loved chose a Potter over myself.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to her.”

“Draco -”

“How can you have so little faith in me? So little respect for me? How can you claim you love me when you don’t even trust me?”

“And should I have trusted you?” said Severus, growing angry once more. “You slept with Potter willingly even without knowing the truth.”

“Not five minutes ago you were insisting that he raped me!”

Severus’ expression shuttered. “Yes. He and I will have words about that.”

“You can’t have it both ways, Severus,” Draco said impatiently. “Either Potter raped me and I’m not at fault, or I chose to be unfaithful to you by having sex with him, in which case I don’ t think you can say he’s at fault. You can’t feel wounded by us both. Make up your fucking mind.”

Severus glared at him for a second before striding to the door. Draco stood still, immobilized by shock. Was Severus really going to choose to feel betrayed by him instead of Potter? Granted, Draco himself hadn’t considered it rape at all, but that had been before he’d found out that Potter had known exactly what was happening. If he’d known, then he could have stopped it. Should have stopped it.

Severus slammed the bedroom door as he left. Draco closed his eyes and tried to process the fact that Severus had, in essence, chosen Potter over him.

Then he heard the shouting.

Severus’ angry voice was unmistakable, even coming from down the hall. Draco couldn’t make out the words, but the message was clear, and when Potter’s equally angry voice answered a moment later, his knees went weak with relief.

The relief was short-lived when Draco realized that if he could hear them, so could everyone else in the house. He spared a moment to regret that he had never changed out of his pajamas before running out of his room and down the hall.

Severus and Potter were standing just inside the door to Potter’s room, facing off like enraged cats. Draco darted into the room and shut the door behind him.

“Are you mad?” he hissed. “They can probably hear you at the Ministry!”

Both men turned to look at him, and Draco drew back a little. Having two men fight over you was not as fun as Pansy’s novels made it sound.

“Sorry,” said Potter. He waved his hand absently at the door, and just like that, the wards sprang up - without a spell or even a wand.

Draco stumbled sideways. Severus reached out to steady him and glowered at Potter. “For God’s sake, Potter -”

“I’m sorry,” Potter said again, though he sounded like he actually meant it this time. “I didn’t do that on purpose, I swear.”

Draco righted himself, stepping out of Severus’ reach. “So you did know,” he said to Potter.

“I…yeah.”

“Then why did you let me - if you knew I couldn’t control myself, why didn’t you stop me?”

Potter looked away, his face flushed with shame. “I didn’t want to,” he said, so softly that Draco almost didn’t hear him.

Draco wished he hadn’t heard him. His chest ached with betrayal. “So that’s true as well, then.”

“Yes.”

“You bastard,” Draco spat. “All this time you’ve let me believe that this has been as difficult for you as it’s been for me, but really it’s been a dream come true. Literally.”

Potter looked at him again, eyes blazing. “What was I supposed to say? I’m glad Voldemort decided to whore you out because I’ve wanted you for months? I loved fucking you even though I knew you didn’t really want it?” His voice cracked with self-disgust. “How could that have made anything better?”

Whore you out. Yes. That was what had happened, wasn’t it? When it had been the two of them being forced into it together, it had been different - two people making a sacrifice to help end a war. But it hadn’t been a sacrifice for Potter at all. He’d used Draco just as much as the Dark Lord had.

And Severus - he had watched the memory of Potter fucking Draco, and what had he done? Thrown him on his hands and knees and fucked him until he’d bled. He’d used Draco like an animal. Like a toy.

Like a whore.

Draco swallowed back the threatening tears, choosing to focus on his rage instead of his hurt. The only way he could escape from this situation with any of his dignity intact was to get angry.

“I’ve had enough,” he said, his voice shaking. “The way you’ve behaved towards me - both of you - I won’t stand for it anymore. You’ve lied to me, used me, treated me with nothing but disrespect.”

“Draco -” Severus started, looking taken aback.

“Shut up,” said Draco. “I love you, Severus, but you do not own me. I won’t let you treat me like a possession or a child. And you.” He rounded on Potter. “I’m not here for your pleasure, and if you ever cast a spell near me in a non-emergency situation again, I will castrate you.”

The stunned expressions on both their faces gave Draco a sense of vicious satisfaction.

“Let me know when you’ve destroyed the Horcrux, and I’ll see this through. But until then, you can both fuck yourselves.” Draco turned on his heel and walked out of the room with his spine straight and his head held high. Potter’s wards didn’t stop him, though they did make him shiver as he passed through them.

It wasn’t until he had reached his bedroom and safely shut the door behind him that the hurt broke through the barriers he had put up around it. He collapsed into the desk chair and put his head in his hands, refusing to cry even though his chest felt like it was caving in. He wouldn’t be weak this time.

There was a light tapping on the door. “Draco,” came Severus’ voice, uncharacteristically hesitant.

Draco didn’t lift his head. “What part of ‘fuck yourself’ do you not understand?”

The resultant silence was long enough to make Draco think Severus had left, but then he spoke again. “I need the memory. I cannot return to the Dark Lord without it.”

Draco clenched his jaw and dug his fingernails into his palms. The sheer, unmitigated gall…

He took a deep breath. Severus was right. If he went back to the Dark Lord empty-handed, not only would he be punished severely, but the whole mission would be compromised.

The memory was still in the Pensieve. Draco had seen Severus perform the memory-copying procedure several times, and he wasn’t an idiot - no matter what certain parties might think - so there was no need to let Severus into the room. He transferred the memory from the Pensieve to the first vial, then cast the duplication spell.

When the second vial was full, Draco grabbed it, wrenched the door open, shoved it into Severus’ hands, and then slammed the door in Severus’ startled face.

***

Potter did indeed destroy the Horcrux, although Draco didn’t know where or how. In fact, the only reason he knew that Potter had done it at all was because Granger came to tell him.

“So Potter’s sending you to do his dirty work now, is he?” Draco drawled, regarding Granger where she sat awkwardly in his chair. “I thought he was supposed to be fearless.”

“He didn’t send me. I offered.” Her lips quirked. “Although I did hear him muttering something about castration.”

“At least he’s taking me seriously.”

“Yes.” Granger’s slight smile faded as she said, “He told me what happened.”

“Of course he did.”

“He feels terrible about it.”

“Of course he does.”

“The past few years have been really difficult for him -”

“Whereas they’ve been a walk in the park for me,” said Draco.

She huffed in exasperation. “Would you stop being snarky and just listen to me for a minute? Harry gained too much power far too quickly. That kind of thing plays havoc with a person’s mind. If he hadn’t had his friends around him to keep him grounded…”

“He could have become the next Dark Lord,” Draco finished for her. “I know. I’ve felt his power in a way you haven’t. He’s stronger than the Dark Lord.”

Granger nodded. “I’m not trying to excuse what he did or the way he treated you. I just think it’s important that you know he didn’t do any of it maliciously. He never intended to hurt you. He never would.”

“Then he can tell me that himself.”

“Fair enough. Now that all of the Horcruxes are gone, we’re ready to move whenever You-Know-Who is. Harry told me that there’s one more thing you and he have to do?”

Draco grimaced. “Yes.”

“I’ll tell him it’s safe to talk to you.” She stood up but didn’t move towards the door. “Malfoy… I’m not sure if anyone’s ever told you this, but we really appreciate what you’re doing. Not just the past few weeks, but all of it. It can’t have been easy.”

Draco raised his eyebrows, surprised and - to his great chagrin - a little touched. Granger was right. None of the people aware of his double life had ever thanked him for it.

He couldn’t let her know he cared, though. “I’m not doing it for you.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said with a shrug. “You’re doing it, and that’s enough for me. So thank you.”

She still didn’t move; she seemed to be waiting for something.

“You’re welcome,” Draco said experimentally.

Granger smiled, and for once, Draco didn’t find it annoying.

***

That night, Draco and Potter stood facing each other in Draco’s bedroom, a good amount of space between them. Potter was more uncomfortable than Draco had ever seen him, and he couldn’t bring himself to look Draco directly in the eye.

“You know what you’re supposed to say?” Draco asked.

“Yeah.”

“If we make any mistakes, we’ll have to start over.”

“I know. I’ve got it.”

“Fine. And to be absolutely clear, Potter, this is the last time you will ever touch me.”

Now Potter met his eyes. “I’ve got that, too, thanks.”

Draco stepped closer to him. “No magic.”

“I promise.”

Draco wound his arms around Potter’s neck and kissed him. He didn’t want to - it infuriated him that he had to have sex with Potter one last time, after what he’d learned - but he comforted himself with the knowledge that he’d never have to do it again. Very soon, either the Dark Lord would be dead, or Draco would be.

His brain objected to letting Potter touch him, but his body remembered the pleasure that touch had brought him before, and it wasn’t long before Potter’s sure embrace and deep kisses got him hard. Draco broke the kiss and led Potter to the bed, doing his best to keep his mind blank and distant as they shed their clothes and moved back into each other’s arms.

The sex had to be different this time. The Dark Lord had to believe that Potter had feelings for Draco - true, deep feelings that would make him stupid and rash. So Potter moved more slowly, more gently, tenderness in every kiss and caress.

Draco was glad to discover that he didn’t find that kind of sex arousing if it wasn’t with Severus. He allowed Potter to take the lead, letting out soft moans and sighs at the appropriate times, keeping his eyes closed and touching himself just enough to make sure he didn’t lose his erection. By the time Potter slid inside him, Draco was thoroughly bored.

Potter’s head was buried in the crook of his neck, so Draco thought it was safe to open his eyes. He stared up at the ceiling as he ran his hands over Potter’s back and through his hair, canting his hips slightly to meet Potter’s. The slow, steady thrusts felt good, good enough that Draco didn’t have to touch his cock anymore, but they were more along the lines of mildly pleasant than unbearably arousing. Potter did his best to avoid Draco’s prostate, as he’d been firmly instructed to.

“Mmm, Harry,” Draco moaned, trying to sound overwhelmed instead of disinterested.

Potter took a sharp breath and started moving faster, sending a rush of pleasure through Draco’s body. He dug his nails into Potter’s shoulder to tell him to slow down. Apparently he’d underestimated the effect of calling Potter by his first name.

Draco turned his head so his cheek was pressed against Potter’s and kissed his neck, signaling that it was time to say the fateful words that would clinch both their and the Dark Lord’s plans. Potter lifted his head from Draco’s neck and laid a brief kiss on his lips, eyes searching Draco’s face.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his hips never stilling.

Draco nodded, fighting to keep eye contact. It was more difficult than he’d thought it would be to look Potter in the eye while the man was fucking him, especially since Potter’s eyes were much more intense without the shield of his glasses. “Yes. I just…I…”

“What is it? You can tell me.”

Very quietly, Draco said, “I’m scared.”

Potter stopped thrusting, though he remained buried in Draco’s body, and frowned. “Of me?”

“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” Draco reached up to cup Potter’s cheek in his hand. Potter kissed his palm.

“What, then?”

Draco let his hand fall back to the bed as fear crept into his voice. “If He finds me…”

“He won’t.”

“Professor Snape says that the Death Eaters are looking for me everywhere, that the Dark Lord is furious they haven’t found me yet.”

Potter’s eyes hardened. “They won’t ever find you. Ever.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Yes, I can.” Potter kissed his cheek, his lips. “I won’t let anything happen to you. No matter what.”

Draco bit his lip and looked away, as if he didn’t quite believe him. Potter gently turned his face back.

“Hey. Look at me. I can protect you. Nobody’s ever going to hurt you again, okay?”

“Do you promise?”

Potter smiled. “I promise,” he said, and sealed his pledge with a fierce, possessive kiss.

His hips resumed their thrusting, faster now than before, and Potter covered Draco’s face and neck with kisses as he whispered words of devotion. Draco did his best to tune them out; he was eager for this all to be over with. He had told Potter not to wait for him to come first - when Potter orgasmed, the rush of magic would compel Draco to climax whether he wanted to or not, so there was no reason to prolong this any more than absolutely necessary.

Potter’s breath became heavier and his movements erratic as he neared the edge, and the increase in friction made Draco moan and wriggle with pleasure even though he’d sworn to himself that he wouldn’t. He didn’t understand why his distaste for and anger with Potter didn’t prevent him from enjoying the sex. What did it say about him that he found pleasure in being fucked essentially against his will by someone he didn’t particularly care for?

“Beautiful,” Potter gasped. “So fucking beautiful - oh god, Draco -”

Potter came while Draco was still trying to deal with his shock at Potter’s words. The power ripped through him, bright and sharp, coursing up his spine before spreading into his limbs and even his head. Draco cried out and came as well, without so much as a hand on his cock, as if Potter’s magic was forcing his orgasm from him.

Just like the first time, once the pleasure had passed, Draco was left weak and nearly insensible. Potter was still inside him, kissing his neck lazily. Draco moved his head as far away as he could - which wasn’t far - and made a noise of objection.

With a great reluctance, Potter withdrew and rolled to the side. He showed no sign of planning to move any further.

“Go away,” Draco said. His words were slightly slurred with exhaustion.

“I thought I had to stay?”

“That was the first time. It doesn’t matter now. So get out.”

“Okay, okay,” said Potter. He sighed. “I’m going.”

Draco pulled the covers up to his chin and closed his eyes so he didn’t have to watch Potter getting dressed. The sticky feel of come on his stomach and in his arse disgusted him, but he couldn’t muster the energy for a spell.

“I’m leaving now,” Potter said. His voice sounded like it was coming from the foot of the bed, but Draco didn’t open his eyes to check.

“Good.”

“Malfoy -”

“Don’t.”

Potter left the room without another word.

Part Three
Part Five