(no subject)
Title: Sectumsempra Animi
Chapter: 5--Crush
Author: sakaim
Word count: 5,305 (this chapter; over 27K overall)
Warnings for this chapter: Some smut.
Story summary: Draco Malfoy seeks revenge on Harry Potter for Sectumsempra by use of a forbidden love potion. Harry is desperately infatuated with Draco, who exploits his newfound power to control and torture his greatest archnemesis.
Note: This fic will be finished by the Deathly Hallows release.
The soft, haunting sound of a hollow knock ringing on her bedroom door was the cause of Narcissa’s awakening from her afternoon catnap, and she picked herself up from her leather chair by the window. Vanity forced her to inspect her reflection in the full-length mirror that must have been five hundred years old, and her hands came up to give her blonde hair a hearty shake for volume before she strode across the room to the door. “Hello, Draco,” she whispered with a pleased smile, and she stood aside to gesture him in. “How wonderful to see you today… I’ve been having a nap. This old house exhausts me.”
“Dreadful, isn’t it?” Draco asked with a sneer as he claimed the chair Narcissa had been napping in moments before. He tested it with a light bounce before he settled comfortably into the cushion, and he let his gaze drift out the window as his mother came up behind him and began toying with his hair.
Draco was distracted.
Potter had been talking about nothing but the raid on the Ministry of Magic, and the more Potter talked about it, the more Draco was curious about what would happen. ‘Of course,’ he told himself, ‘it’s not like I want to go or anything…’ Surely someone would be killed, and he was too closely tied to people on both sides of the war - well, that wasn’t true, really, as he felt no affability towards anyone in the house but Snape - to want to witness any more death. Dumbledore’s fall from the Astronomy Tower still haunted his dreams, after all.
Only last night, Draco had woken up gasping for air and in a desperate panic, moments before having leapt off of the Astronomy Tower in his dream to catch Dumbledore before he hit the ground and just… broke. It was too much for it to have been real, the phantom sight of Dumbledore’s crumpled form on the ground. Draco had seen it as he and Snape had rushed past in an attempt to get the hell out of the grounds. His horror had only been intensified when the rustle of sheets beside him told him he was not alone, and he’d had his wand in hand before he realised that Potter had sneaked into his bed in the middle of the night. Quivering and sweating, Draco had lowered his wand and buried his face in his hands to muffle the harsh sounds of sobbing escaping unbidden from his mouth.
It seemed as though Potter expected him - wanted him, even - to go with the Order to intercept the raid, and he wondered secretly whether or not he was desired there so Potter could show off in an attempt to impress him. Naturally, he had ignored Snape’s plea to give Potter the antidote in favour of letting Potter work himself into a frenzy trying to lay even a finger on Draco. The finger, and the rest of him, had been consistently denied since five days before, when they had returned from Gringotts. Draco shuddered upon recalling the short possession he was so sure had actually occurred, and he shut his eyes tightly in disgust.
“Mother,” he began quietly, and he turned his head to the right in order to observe her as she picked at his hair habitually, “what do you know of the upcoming raid?” He valued Narcissa’s opinion as highly as his own, and that was very highly indeed. Also, he knew that she had been informed of the raid by Potter, who had come to him three days previous and whispered about how he had gone to Narcissa and spoken to her without becoming infuriated for the first time. Draco had wanted to laugh, but he knew that laughing would only cause Potter to become more infatuated with him, and even he had limits.
Narcissa paused at her son’s inquiry, and she frowned slightly as she looked up and gazed over the courtyard where, weeks before, she had seen Potter and the Weasley girl kissing - or, she thought, the Weasley girl kissing a very reluctant Potter, his reluctance gaining him several brownie points in her book - and her son’s obvious jealousy from his bedroom window. That day, as she watched her son leaning out of his window with a smile too much like his father’s and Potter reaching, enamoured, for his hand, she had done a lot of thinking about Draco and the correct course of action for him. She thought about the Order of the Phoenix and how kind Potter had been to allow her and Draco to take refuge in his home, about the endless war and its subtleties that Potter could never fully understand, and about the beautiful spark in Potter’s eyes that made its appearance every time her son walked by him or spoke or sighed. Oh, her son was clever, more so than he knew, and she secretly applauded him for thinking of a love potion. There was no better way to secure a place in the Order’s grasp short of Potter actually falling in love with Draco, and she did not see that happening. Ever.
“Well, I know that it is to occur in two days,” she claimed as she focused back on the white-gold strands of her son’s hair and ran her nails through it. It was so like his father’s. “I also know that you should participate, if possible.”
“What?!” Draco demanded, turning around to stare at her full-on, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Why should I? I’m in hiding, Mum. I’m supposed to be, you know… hiding, not running around doing things. I’m spent, thanks.” He crossed his arms over his chest and turned back around to stare furiously out the window. Were she and Potter in league together now? He supposed he really had nothing to be concerned over until Snape told him he should go, after which he would have immediately Apparated with Snape to St. Mungo’s for a check-up.
Narcissa sighed at her son, regretting for once that she had raised him to be such a brat. “Be serious, Draco,” she scolded quietly, having no reserves whatsoever about seizing a pretty lock of Draco’s hair and tugging it sharply. He yelped in shock, and she smiled with pleasure. “Have I got your attention now?”
“Yes, for fuck’s sake! That hurt!”
“Good,” she stated simply, and she moved around the chair to perch precariously on the arm. “If you accompany the Order when they go, you will not be so suspicious to them any longer. If you fall… out of favour with Potter… then it is very likely that, as you stand now, you will be cast out if your little plot backfires. I am completely shocked that Mad-Eye hasn’t tried to murder you yet over this little love potion fiasco…Severus told me everything, Draco, and I agree with him. You need to give Potter the antidote, but I think you should wait until you’ve gained the Order’s trust. It’s crucial that they don’t kick us out of here, Draco.”
Draco frowned at her and crossed his arms, staring blankly out the window. “Are you going to go fight, Mother?”
Narcissa paused, looking at her son for a few long moments then nodding almost solemnly. “Yes. I must earn my keep as well.” The dirty look Draco shot her made her smile, and she patted his shoulder. “That doesn’t work on me, little love. I taught it to you, remember?”
Draco scowled.
Harry’s heart was pounding in his chest, thumping so hard against his ribs that it hurt, as he approached Draco’s bedroom door at the end of the corridor. He swallowed hard and leaned against the wall just outside the room, trying to properly gather himself before he even thought about going to see Draco.
These feelings for Draco made absolutely no sense, but he was not so concerned over that. He burned painfully for Draco every time he heard his voice, every time he saw even a glimpse of him, every time he was mentioned, but he had never had these sorts of urges with anyone else. He thought about Ginny, about Cho, and he shuddered, sickened at the thoughts. They were in the past now, and they were not - and had never been - Draco.
It was, however, increasingly obvious that Draco did not feel like this towards him, and that flayed him more than anything. Every angry glare, every harsh word, lashed painfully against Harry’s heart, and he wanted to fall to his knees even thinking about it. “Fuck,” he gasped, and he punched the wall in anguish. Why didn’t Draco love him? Why?
The next day was the scheduled raid of the Ministry, and Harry needed Draco there, but he knew that even asking would be futile. Draco would want nothing to do with it, nothing to do with helping Harry fight, because as much as Harry liked to believe he wasn’t, he knew Draco was still an utter bastard. ‘A loveable utter bastard,’ he thought to himself grimly, and he sighed. Wanting to actually speak with Draco instead of jumping him, he turned to the bedroom door and cleared his throat a bit before he knocked quietly. There was no answer, which he took to mean that he was allowed inside, and so he opened the door and crept inside before closing it again. It would not do for Ron or Hermione to know that he was there.
Draco’s eyes shot open when the door opened, but he did not sit up when he saw Potter silhouetted in the dim lit of the corridor, and he let his eyes close again. He had actually fallen asleep after several hours of attempting, and so Potter’s intrusion annoyed the hell out of him. What right did he have to just barge in like that? He supposed that it was Potter’s house, after all, and he huffed into his pillow, ignoring the dip of the mattress when Potter slipped between the blankets and cuddled up to him. He felt a hand on his hip, and he realised with a sickening jolt that he had decided to sleep in the nude.
Harry noticed this, too, and he swallowed thickly, all rational thought wiped from his mind. “O-oh,” he whispered, and he felt something icy-hot shoot through his veins as Draco rolled onto his back to glare at him in the dark. The glare was not painful, however, but arousing as all hell, and Harry’s cock was immediately straining to burst through his old pyjama pants. He heard Draco fumbling with something on the nightstand, and he blinked as an oil lamp was lit, spilling soft golden light over them. It played with the shadows on Draco’s face, and Harry felt a few drops of pre-come squeeze from the tip of his erection and soak into the threadbare fabric of his pyjama pants. “Oh, Merlin…” He took his bottom lip between his teeth and chewed.
Draco blinked at him in the light and saw the incredible restraint Potter was exercising. He could see the need in those green eyes, and he felt himself smirking, felt himself reaching up to brush a lock of Potter’s hair away from his scar, and he shivered in disgust with himself at the first heated coils of arousal twisting in his stomach. Potter just looked so vulnerable, so in need of him, and he liked that more than he wanted to admit to himself. “Does it hurt, Potter?” he asked in breathless tones. “Is it painful not touching me?”
Harry nearly came on himself when Draco hand touched his hair, and he spread his legs as though the touch had been between them instead of on his head. “Yes,” he hissed, and he gave a startled gasp when Draco slid his fingers down and onto his cheek. Draco had not touched him at all since they had snogged that day after the Gringotts visit, and it had been absolute murder for Harry. His cock was now dripping steadily, his pyjamas sporting a growing wet spot near the waistband, and he heard himself whimpering.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Draco chuckled, loving the fact that he could do this to anyone, let alone Potter, and he pulled the blanket off of Potter’s legs to have a look. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of those old trousers clutching Harry’s cock, soaking wet with want for him, and he felt his own cock twitch. Harry’s hands were twitching at his sides, and Draco’s eyes flicked up to meet the gaze fixed so intently on him. “Merlin, Potter, don’t you ever wank?”
Harry shook his head fiercely. “No, no, no, you, only you,” he moaned, and his eyes rolled in ecstasy when Draco’s fingers reached to pinch one of his nipples.
“And what makes you think, Potter, that I’ll ever have anything to do with that cock of yours, hm?” Harry was trembling fiercely now, for Draco’s hands were pushing away the cloth of his pyjamas and exposing his nudity. He had never seen so much pre-ejaculate in his life, and he watched as his cock pushed out drop after drop in a constant rhythm so that the droplets were chasing one another down his shaft. Draco seemed in awe of it as well, and he grabbed one of Harry’s hands, pushing it down so Harry would touch himself, but Harry resisted and shook his head. “You really mean only me, don’t you?” Draco snorted, and he was pleased when Harry nodded enthusiastically. His cock was a deep purple and completely rigid, and he knew that he would come the moment Draco touched him there… If Draco would touch him, that was.
“Please,” he gasped, feeling drunk, and he was shocked when Draco leaned right up and kissed him. He felt incredibly light-headed as Draco’s mouth opened over his, tongue stabbing into his mouth and fucking it desperately as he climbed on top of Potter. As he did so, he was quite unaware as to why he was doing so, knowing only that he was hornier than he had ever been before and that he wanted to do something about it.
Harry writhed beneath him, his arms sliding up to wrap around Draco’s neck as Draco’s hands unbuttoned his pyjama shirt. Every tiny brush of Draco’s fingertips against the skin of his chest seared through him, and he tore his mouth away to gasp at the ceiling. Draco bit his chin and growled before he moved to nibble at the hollow of Harry’s throat, sending violent tremors down Harry’s spine. “I love you, Draco… I… nnngh…”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Trying to ruin it, Potter?” he snorted, and he felt Harry chuckling beneath him. He felt himself smiling -really smiling- for the first time in a year as he pushed Harry’s shirt to the side and pressed a kiss to his bellybutton, causing Harry to squirm with pleasure, and he seized Harry’s hip, squeezing it. “Is this all you think about, Potter?”
“No,” Harry breathed, causing Draco to pause, and he lifted up on his elbows, his bottom lip red and moist from being chewed on so fiercely. “It’s not all I think about… I think about the first time you’ll tell me you love me, or the first time you’ll fuck me, or when we tell Ron and Hermione that we’re moving in together.” He closed his eyes and smiled at his fantasies.
Draco stared at him sardonically, one eyebrow hiked up into his hair, but he kept his mouth shut and merely shook his head. “You’re pathetic, Potter…”
“Yeah…”
They looked at one another and began to laugh, but then Draco’s hand was sliding between Harry’s legs and Harry was arching his back and keening. Just when he thought he was going to come, Draco’s hand disappeared again, and Harry whined before sitting up and staring with wide eyes as Draco stripped completely naked, exposing every inch of milky white flesh in the light of the oil lamp. Draco grinned at him, giving him a soft wink before he grabbed Harry’s hand and placed it on his cock.
Harry marvelled at the feel of Draco in his hand, and he began to stroke it cautiously. He gained confidence as Draco spread his legs wantonly and pinched his own nipple in response, eyes shining as he let his head fall back. Harry’s eyes wandered, taking in the sight of the heavy cock in his hand and the tight sac beneath, the shock of tight golden curls trailing down from a bellybutton that protruded slightly from Draco’s stomach. Harry had never seen a bellybutton like Draco’s before, and he reached down to try to push it back into Draco’s stomach, but Draco yelped and swatted his hand away. “Ticklish,” Harry heard him mutter, and he grinned up at him before he nodded to the drawer where he knew Draco kept his lubrication.
Draco reached over and pulled the jar out, handing it over to Potter and letting himself fall back luxuriously against the pillows. Harry reached down and gave his own cock a hard squeeze to keep from coming at the sight, and he moaned softly before he unscrewed the lid of the jar and coated his fingers in the lube before he set to jerking Draco off in earnest.
It shocked Harry how quickly he had Draco moaning and bucking his hips into Harry’s hand, and with a final twist of Harry’s hand around the head of Draco’s cock, Draco was coming hard and fast in his hand, eyes squeezed tightly closed and hips a full six inches off of the mattress. Right before he came, he reached over to seize Harry’s dripping cock, and in the middle of his orgasm, he could hear Harry screaming his name and feel copious jets of semen -both his own and Harry’s- shooting over his chest. He opened his eyes and watched Harry’s face, contorted in rapture, and he moaned at the sight of him.
When Harry was finished, he shakily grabbed Draco’s wand from the nightstand and waved it over Draco’s come-covered chest. When the mess was gone, he gave a violent shiver and collapsed onto Draco’s chest, clutching tightly to him and sighing, sated. “Nnnn, fuck,” he whispered, and he grinned up at Draco, who looked exhausted. “Sorry I woke you up…”
Draco blinked down at him and shrugged. “S’all right. Took me forever to go to sleep anyway,” he murmured, and he let his left hand rest on the back of Harry’s head while his right hand extinguished the oil lamp. “You staying in here tonight, Potter?” He found that, in his advanced exhaustion, he did not mind so much if Harry wanted to stay with him. After all, it wasn’t as though he took up much room in the bed, he thought, and he got comfortable when Harry slid up and buried his head in against Draco’s neck. “I’ll take that as a yes, then?”
“Mhmm,” Harry mumbled, and he rested his hand, open and face-down, on Draco’s stomach. As he was drifting off, he gave a jolt as he realised why he had come into Draco’s bedroom in the first place. “Baby?”
“Don’t ever call me that again, Potter,” Draco grumbled from the pillow.
“Sorry.” Harry nibbled on one of his fingernails nervously, and he cleared his throat. “Draco, are you going to fight tomorrow? With me?”
Draco’s eyes opened and he stared up at the ceiling in the dark, the streetlight outside lighting the room just enough that he could make out that the ceiling was textured somehow. Would he fight with the Order tomorrow? He thought of what his mother had said, that when he gave Potter the antidote for the love potion, Potter would kick him out unless he had the Order’s trust. She would be fighting, she had said, and he knew that, in her head, it had been a challenge to him. “I’ll go,” he finally claimed, and he shifted under Harry’s weight. “But not for you. For me. Go to sleep, Potter.”
Harry lifted his head and looked up into Draco’s face for a moment. Their eyes met in the dark, and Harry leaned up to kiss Draco, but Draco shook his head and turned his head away. “Sleep.” Harry sighed softly and nodded, curling back up to Draco and closing his eyes.
Draco was paralysed with fear.
He was standing in the middle of the second floor of the Ministry of Magic, his back pressed against the wall across from the door of the Auror Office and his wand raised in defence. Death Eaters were swarming the area, and more than once, Draco had narrowly missed curses hurled at him by the same men he used to be obliged to indulge at dinner parties. “Malfoy,” he heard spat at him by Rodolphus Lestrange, and he had been so terrified for his life in that moment that he had cast the first spell that came to mind-Sectumsempra. Rodolphus had fallen to the floor, bleeding so heavily that the bottom of Draco’s robes was dripping when he fled in the opposite direction.
He had not seen Potter in an hour. Everything was a blur, and he knew that he should not have come, that he should not have agreed to come to this fucking battle, because he had no idea what he was doing. He had never been any good at duelling his classmates, much less Death Eaters, and when a bright blue curse was hurled at him suddenly, he screamed and hit the floor, clutching his stomach and moaning. He saw a flash of Macnair’s face and choked as he spat up a mouthful of blood.
“Draco!”
Potter’s voice was like a church bell in the midst of the apocalypse, and he lifted his head to see Potter running for him. He grabbed Draco’s arm and hauled him to his feet, causing Draco to scream, but he ignored it and pulled Draco down the corridor. “What are you doing down here? Merlin, you could have been fucking killed!” Harry was gasping as he pulled Draco into the elevator. He smacked the ‘close doors’ button as fast as he could, and he hit the Emergency Stop button once the elevator began to fly downward.
Draco was moaning in agony, and he whimpered as Harry helped him to lie down on the floor. “Let me see,” Harry whispered, his hands shaking as they pulled Draco’s robes up over his stomach and ripped his shirt open. Draco heard him gag, and he lifted his head to see a blossoming purple bruise spreading like spilled ink over his stomach. His grey eyes rolled back ominously, but he fought for consciousness and clutched one of Harry’s hands as Harry began to whisper something over him.
“Am I all right?” he moaned when the whispering stopped, but he saw tears in Harry’s eyes, and the colour drained from his face. “Potter, goddamn it, am I all right?!” Panic was lacing through his rational thought, and he felt himself begin to shake.
“I c-can’t fix it all…Fuck, Malfoy, why didn’t I pay more attention when learning this?!” Harry growled, and he punched the elevator floor. “Look, I… I did what I could, and it should keep you stable… for n-now… Draco…” He looked up, hearing some explosion above, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. “Voldemort’s not here, Draco…it’s only Death Eaters, but… I’m going to find Bellatrix Lestrange and kill her.”
Draco’s first thought was that Bellatrix was his aunt, but he shook that thought out of his head and winced as he sat up. He looked down at his stomach, pleased to see that the bruise was drastically shrunken, then looked up into Harry’s eyes. “Kill her, then,” he coughed, and he closed his eyes when Harry shifted closer and touched his hair. “For fuck’s sake, Potter, would you get out there? I’m the least important person in this building…”
“Shut up!” Harry hissed, and he kissed Draco lightly before he helped him to his feet and hit the Emergency Stop button again. The elevator lurched into motion and stopped on the fourth floor, the doors sliding open. Harry was prepared for an onslaught of curses when they did, but there was no one there. The lights were blinking ominously, and Draco swallowed hard as they stepped together out into the corridor. The elevator doors closed again, and the boys pressed against the wall, sliding sideways down it in case the elevator brought someone to their floor.
A snap in the distance made Draco give a horrible start, and he nearly dropped his wand as Harry leapt into the middle of the corridor and hurled a curse through the darkness. “What are you doing?” Draco hissed in shock. “You’ll give away our position!” The elevator dinged behind them, and Draco whipped painfully around, wand held high, to see several Order members stumble out of it, including his mother. She saw the pained expression on his face and nodded to him, but she did not go to him, and he shrank back against the wall.
Harry’s hex fizzled against a wall at the end of the corridor, it seemed, and Harry was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when four figures in black cloaks and white masks suddenly appeared before them. Tonks and Narcissa stepped up beside Harry, who nodded to them without glancing at them, and the duel began.
The corridor was lit with hexes. The elevator kept going and coming, bringing both Death Eaters and Order members alike, often both in the same load, and there were several dead bodies, motionless and unmarked, lying on the elevator floor. Draco could not see any Order members, and for that he was glad, but he knew that he was looking at the bodies of people who had helped to raise him, and he ached slightly. Narcissa did not seem a bit fazed by the fact that she was duelling with people she had known for years, many years, and Draco watched his mother with nothing short of awe as she murdered Rosier. She never had liked him.
Harry was doing everything he could to keep the Death Eaters away from Draco ,who was the only person not fighting. He seemed transfixed, and Harry knew why -Draco knew these people and, as Dumbledore had said, Draco was not a killer. Bellatrix stepped into view, her mask shattered or discarded, and she grinned nastily at Harry. “Oh, look!” she squealed in mock delight, and she clapped her hands together. “It’s baby Potter, come to save the day! How delightful!” She giggled and saw Draco pressed against the wall, and she pouted. “Dwaco,” she called in her baby voice, and she fluttered her eyelashes when her nephew looked sharply at her. “Dwaco, what’re you doing? Did baby Potter pwomise to pwotect you? How sweet!”
Harry snarled and threw a hex Draco recognised as the hex that had hit him in the stomach earlier, and Bellatrix dodged it with a playful giggle. “Is that the best we’ve got, Potter? How about you, Dwaco?” She aimed her wand at Harry, giggled, then shouted, “Avada Kedavra!” Her wand, however, had moved just before the spell was cast, and Draco’s eyes widened as the blinding green Unforgivable was hurled at him.
It was as though the spell was cast in slow motion for Harry, and when the incantation was half-cast, he realised that it was being aimed at Draco, his Draco. Eyes widened in horror, and he opened his mouth to scream before the potion took hold of him and he grabbed the nearest person to him and shoved them in the line of the spell. Anyone but Draco, anyone but Draco!
Narcissa’s eyes widened as she saw her sister cast the ultimate Unforgivable towards her son, and when she felt Harry’s hands on her, she understood. She let him push her, let him shove her into the spell’s path, and she heard Draco’s screams ringing in her ears when she died. The world seemed to snap quickly back to its proper time signature, and Draco flung himself to the floor, to his mother’s side to shake her and yell at her. Harry’s body was buzzing with emotion, and he turned to look at Bellatrix, who was staring with wide-eyed horror at what she had done. Before Harry could cast anything at her, there was a flash of Peruvian Darkness Powder, and the Death Eaters were gone.
Narcissa was placed on the couch in the den of number twelve, Grimmauld Place by Harry’s shaking arms. Her face in death was set, resolute, and as Harry inspected it for the very first time, he realised how very much Draco favoured her. They had the same nose, the same white-blond hair, the very same complexion…Harry hung his head and lifted one of her cold hands, bringing it to his lips. “I’m sorry, Narcissa,” he choked, and he felt tears pricking his eyes. He had killed her, really, not Bellatrix. Draco would never, ever forgive him.
He could hear Draco’s voice as the door to the den opened, and Harry registered that it sounded terrified. He looked up from Narcissa’s frozen face to see Remus and Tonks standing there with Draco between them, his eyes wide and sunken and his skin a pale green colour. Remus was looking gravely at Harry, his eyebrows furrowed, and he released his hold on Draco’s shoulder. “Go on, Draco,” he whispered, and he felt rather than saw Draco’s tremor.
Draco was not sure what spurred him to move across the room, but his feet were moving nonetheless, and he swallowed hard as he knelt beside Potter to gaze at the dead face of his mother. Narcissa, to whom his last words had been punctuated with a sneer. “Mum,” he breathed, and he felt Harry’s hand move to touch his lower back, and something inside of him audibly snapped. Grey eyes were suddenly narrowed, and he leapt back from Harry. “You! You killed her, you son of a bitch!” he screeched, and he felt his hands fumbling for his wand. He found it and jerked it out of his robes, aiming it steadily at Harry and snarling like a dog. “Why did you kill her, Potter?! Why?!”
Molly Weasley bustled into the room and seized Draco from behind, snatching his wand from him. Draco was screaming hoarsely now, no words forming from the onslaught of sound, and Harry felt the scream cutting into his very soul. He seized his chest and gasped for air, his left hand reaching out for Draco, needing to touch him. Memories of the night before flooded his head, memories of him and Draco laughing together and Draco suddenly rolling on top of him and kissing him and smiling, and he knew, he knew, that it would never happen again. “I-I…”
“NO EXCUSES!” Draco shrieked, and he wrestled himself out of Molly’s arms. He was on his feet, eyes glued to Harry, and there was a moment when everyone in the room, including Draco, was sure that he would fling himself at Harry. Instead, for the second time since they had known one another, Harry watched as Draco’s eyes were suddenly drowning in tears, and he felt himself sobbing with Draco’s pain as he rose to his feet as well.
“I just wanted to sa-”
“I DON’T CARE!” Draco shook his head fiercely and began to back away, suddenly turning and fleeing to his room. The sound of the door slamming shook the house, and Harry crumpled to the floor.
“I-I’m s-s-so sor-sorry…”
Chapter One
Chapter Four, Chapter Six
Chapter: 5--Crush
Author: sakaim
Word count: 5,305 (this chapter; over 27K overall)
Warnings for this chapter: Some smut.
Story summary: Draco Malfoy seeks revenge on Harry Potter for Sectumsempra by use of a forbidden love potion. Harry is desperately infatuated with Draco, who exploits his newfound power to control and torture his greatest archnemesis.
Note: This fic will be finished by the Deathly Hallows release.
The soft, haunting sound of a hollow knock ringing on her bedroom door was the cause of Narcissa’s awakening from her afternoon catnap, and she picked herself up from her leather chair by the window. Vanity forced her to inspect her reflection in the full-length mirror that must have been five hundred years old, and her hands came up to give her blonde hair a hearty shake for volume before she strode across the room to the door. “Hello, Draco,” she whispered with a pleased smile, and she stood aside to gesture him in. “How wonderful to see you today… I’ve been having a nap. This old house exhausts me.”
“Dreadful, isn’t it?” Draco asked with a sneer as he claimed the chair Narcissa had been napping in moments before. He tested it with a light bounce before he settled comfortably into the cushion, and he let his gaze drift out the window as his mother came up behind him and began toying with his hair.
Draco was distracted.
Potter had been talking about nothing but the raid on the Ministry of Magic, and the more Potter talked about it, the more Draco was curious about what would happen. ‘Of course,’ he told himself, ‘it’s not like I want to go or anything…’ Surely someone would be killed, and he was too closely tied to people on both sides of the war - well, that wasn’t true, really, as he felt no affability towards anyone in the house but Snape - to want to witness any more death. Dumbledore’s fall from the Astronomy Tower still haunted his dreams, after all.
Only last night, Draco had woken up gasping for air and in a desperate panic, moments before having leapt off of the Astronomy Tower in his dream to catch Dumbledore before he hit the ground and just… broke. It was too much for it to have been real, the phantom sight of Dumbledore’s crumpled form on the ground. Draco had seen it as he and Snape had rushed past in an attempt to get the hell out of the grounds. His horror had only been intensified when the rustle of sheets beside him told him he was not alone, and he’d had his wand in hand before he realised that Potter had sneaked into his bed in the middle of the night. Quivering and sweating, Draco had lowered his wand and buried his face in his hands to muffle the harsh sounds of sobbing escaping unbidden from his mouth.
It seemed as though Potter expected him - wanted him, even - to go with the Order to intercept the raid, and he wondered secretly whether or not he was desired there so Potter could show off in an attempt to impress him. Naturally, he had ignored Snape’s plea to give Potter the antidote in favour of letting Potter work himself into a frenzy trying to lay even a finger on Draco. The finger, and the rest of him, had been consistently denied since five days before, when they had returned from Gringotts. Draco shuddered upon recalling the short possession he was so sure had actually occurred, and he shut his eyes tightly in disgust.
“Mother,” he began quietly, and he turned his head to the right in order to observe her as she picked at his hair habitually, “what do you know of the upcoming raid?” He valued Narcissa’s opinion as highly as his own, and that was very highly indeed. Also, he knew that she had been informed of the raid by Potter, who had come to him three days previous and whispered about how he had gone to Narcissa and spoken to her without becoming infuriated for the first time. Draco had wanted to laugh, but he knew that laughing would only cause Potter to become more infatuated with him, and even he had limits.
Narcissa paused at her son’s inquiry, and she frowned slightly as she looked up and gazed over the courtyard where, weeks before, she had seen Potter and the Weasley girl kissing - or, she thought, the Weasley girl kissing a very reluctant Potter, his reluctance gaining him several brownie points in her book - and her son’s obvious jealousy from his bedroom window. That day, as she watched her son leaning out of his window with a smile too much like his father’s and Potter reaching, enamoured, for his hand, she had done a lot of thinking about Draco and the correct course of action for him. She thought about the Order of the Phoenix and how kind Potter had been to allow her and Draco to take refuge in his home, about the endless war and its subtleties that Potter could never fully understand, and about the beautiful spark in Potter’s eyes that made its appearance every time her son walked by him or spoke or sighed. Oh, her son was clever, more so than he knew, and she secretly applauded him for thinking of a love potion. There was no better way to secure a place in the Order’s grasp short of Potter actually falling in love with Draco, and she did not see that happening. Ever.
“Well, I know that it is to occur in two days,” she claimed as she focused back on the white-gold strands of her son’s hair and ran her nails through it. It was so like his father’s. “I also know that you should participate, if possible.”
“What?!” Draco demanded, turning around to stare at her full-on, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Why should I? I’m in hiding, Mum. I’m supposed to be, you know… hiding, not running around doing things. I’m spent, thanks.” He crossed his arms over his chest and turned back around to stare furiously out the window. Were she and Potter in league together now? He supposed he really had nothing to be concerned over until Snape told him he should go, after which he would have immediately Apparated with Snape to St. Mungo’s for a check-up.
Narcissa sighed at her son, regretting for once that she had raised him to be such a brat. “Be serious, Draco,” she scolded quietly, having no reserves whatsoever about seizing a pretty lock of Draco’s hair and tugging it sharply. He yelped in shock, and she smiled with pleasure. “Have I got your attention now?”
“Yes, for fuck’s sake! That hurt!”
“Good,” she stated simply, and she moved around the chair to perch precariously on the arm. “If you accompany the Order when they go, you will not be so suspicious to them any longer. If you fall… out of favour with Potter… then it is very likely that, as you stand now, you will be cast out if your little plot backfires. I am completely shocked that Mad-Eye hasn’t tried to murder you yet over this little love potion fiasco…Severus told me everything, Draco, and I agree with him. You need to give Potter the antidote, but I think you should wait until you’ve gained the Order’s trust. It’s crucial that they don’t kick us out of here, Draco.”
Draco frowned at her and crossed his arms, staring blankly out the window. “Are you going to go fight, Mother?”
Narcissa paused, looking at her son for a few long moments then nodding almost solemnly. “Yes. I must earn my keep as well.” The dirty look Draco shot her made her smile, and she patted his shoulder. “That doesn’t work on me, little love. I taught it to you, remember?”
Draco scowled.
Harry’s heart was pounding in his chest, thumping so hard against his ribs that it hurt, as he approached Draco’s bedroom door at the end of the corridor. He swallowed hard and leaned against the wall just outside the room, trying to properly gather himself before he even thought about going to see Draco.
These feelings for Draco made absolutely no sense, but he was not so concerned over that. He burned painfully for Draco every time he heard his voice, every time he saw even a glimpse of him, every time he was mentioned, but he had never had these sorts of urges with anyone else. He thought about Ginny, about Cho, and he shuddered, sickened at the thoughts. They were in the past now, and they were not - and had never been - Draco.
It was, however, increasingly obvious that Draco did not feel like this towards him, and that flayed him more than anything. Every angry glare, every harsh word, lashed painfully against Harry’s heart, and he wanted to fall to his knees even thinking about it. “Fuck,” he gasped, and he punched the wall in anguish. Why didn’t Draco love him? Why?
The next day was the scheduled raid of the Ministry, and Harry needed Draco there, but he knew that even asking would be futile. Draco would want nothing to do with it, nothing to do with helping Harry fight, because as much as Harry liked to believe he wasn’t, he knew Draco was still an utter bastard. ‘A loveable utter bastard,’ he thought to himself grimly, and he sighed. Wanting to actually speak with Draco instead of jumping him, he turned to the bedroom door and cleared his throat a bit before he knocked quietly. There was no answer, which he took to mean that he was allowed inside, and so he opened the door and crept inside before closing it again. It would not do for Ron or Hermione to know that he was there.
Draco’s eyes shot open when the door opened, but he did not sit up when he saw Potter silhouetted in the dim lit of the corridor, and he let his eyes close again. He had actually fallen asleep after several hours of attempting, and so Potter’s intrusion annoyed the hell out of him. What right did he have to just barge in like that? He supposed that it was Potter’s house, after all, and he huffed into his pillow, ignoring the dip of the mattress when Potter slipped between the blankets and cuddled up to him. He felt a hand on his hip, and he realised with a sickening jolt that he had decided to sleep in the nude.
Harry noticed this, too, and he swallowed thickly, all rational thought wiped from his mind. “O-oh,” he whispered, and he felt something icy-hot shoot through his veins as Draco rolled onto his back to glare at him in the dark. The glare was not painful, however, but arousing as all hell, and Harry’s cock was immediately straining to burst through his old pyjama pants. He heard Draco fumbling with something on the nightstand, and he blinked as an oil lamp was lit, spilling soft golden light over them. It played with the shadows on Draco’s face, and Harry felt a few drops of pre-come squeeze from the tip of his erection and soak into the threadbare fabric of his pyjama pants. “Oh, Merlin…” He took his bottom lip between his teeth and chewed.
Draco blinked at him in the light and saw the incredible restraint Potter was exercising. He could see the need in those green eyes, and he felt himself smirking, felt himself reaching up to brush a lock of Potter’s hair away from his scar, and he shivered in disgust with himself at the first heated coils of arousal twisting in his stomach. Potter just looked so vulnerable, so in need of him, and he liked that more than he wanted to admit to himself. “Does it hurt, Potter?” he asked in breathless tones. “Is it painful not touching me?”
Harry nearly came on himself when Draco hand touched his hair, and he spread his legs as though the touch had been between them instead of on his head. “Yes,” he hissed, and he gave a startled gasp when Draco slid his fingers down and onto his cheek. Draco had not touched him at all since they had snogged that day after the Gringotts visit, and it had been absolute murder for Harry. His cock was now dripping steadily, his pyjamas sporting a growing wet spot near the waistband, and he heard himself whimpering.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Draco chuckled, loving the fact that he could do this to anyone, let alone Potter, and he pulled the blanket off of Potter’s legs to have a look. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of those old trousers clutching Harry’s cock, soaking wet with want for him, and he felt his own cock twitch. Harry’s hands were twitching at his sides, and Draco’s eyes flicked up to meet the gaze fixed so intently on him. “Merlin, Potter, don’t you ever wank?”
Harry shook his head fiercely. “No, no, no, you, only you,” he moaned, and his eyes rolled in ecstasy when Draco’s fingers reached to pinch one of his nipples.
“And what makes you think, Potter, that I’ll ever have anything to do with that cock of yours, hm?” Harry was trembling fiercely now, for Draco’s hands were pushing away the cloth of his pyjamas and exposing his nudity. He had never seen so much pre-ejaculate in his life, and he watched as his cock pushed out drop after drop in a constant rhythm so that the droplets were chasing one another down his shaft. Draco seemed in awe of it as well, and he grabbed one of Harry’s hands, pushing it down so Harry would touch himself, but Harry resisted and shook his head. “You really mean only me, don’t you?” Draco snorted, and he was pleased when Harry nodded enthusiastically. His cock was a deep purple and completely rigid, and he knew that he would come the moment Draco touched him there… If Draco would touch him, that was.
“Please,” he gasped, feeling drunk, and he was shocked when Draco leaned right up and kissed him. He felt incredibly light-headed as Draco’s mouth opened over his, tongue stabbing into his mouth and fucking it desperately as he climbed on top of Potter. As he did so, he was quite unaware as to why he was doing so, knowing only that he was hornier than he had ever been before and that he wanted to do something about it.
Harry writhed beneath him, his arms sliding up to wrap around Draco’s neck as Draco’s hands unbuttoned his pyjama shirt. Every tiny brush of Draco’s fingertips against the skin of his chest seared through him, and he tore his mouth away to gasp at the ceiling. Draco bit his chin and growled before he moved to nibble at the hollow of Harry’s throat, sending violent tremors down Harry’s spine. “I love you, Draco… I… nnngh…”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Trying to ruin it, Potter?” he snorted, and he felt Harry chuckling beneath him. He felt himself smiling -really smiling- for the first time in a year as he pushed Harry’s shirt to the side and pressed a kiss to his bellybutton, causing Harry to squirm with pleasure, and he seized Harry’s hip, squeezing it. “Is this all you think about, Potter?”
“No,” Harry breathed, causing Draco to pause, and he lifted up on his elbows, his bottom lip red and moist from being chewed on so fiercely. “It’s not all I think about… I think about the first time you’ll tell me you love me, or the first time you’ll fuck me, or when we tell Ron and Hermione that we’re moving in together.” He closed his eyes and smiled at his fantasies.
Draco stared at him sardonically, one eyebrow hiked up into his hair, but he kept his mouth shut and merely shook his head. “You’re pathetic, Potter…”
“Yeah…”
They looked at one another and began to laugh, but then Draco’s hand was sliding between Harry’s legs and Harry was arching his back and keening. Just when he thought he was going to come, Draco’s hand disappeared again, and Harry whined before sitting up and staring with wide eyes as Draco stripped completely naked, exposing every inch of milky white flesh in the light of the oil lamp. Draco grinned at him, giving him a soft wink before he grabbed Harry’s hand and placed it on his cock.
Harry marvelled at the feel of Draco in his hand, and he began to stroke it cautiously. He gained confidence as Draco spread his legs wantonly and pinched his own nipple in response, eyes shining as he let his head fall back. Harry’s eyes wandered, taking in the sight of the heavy cock in his hand and the tight sac beneath, the shock of tight golden curls trailing down from a bellybutton that protruded slightly from Draco’s stomach. Harry had never seen a bellybutton like Draco’s before, and he reached down to try to push it back into Draco’s stomach, but Draco yelped and swatted his hand away. “Ticklish,” Harry heard him mutter, and he grinned up at him before he nodded to the drawer where he knew Draco kept his lubrication.
Draco reached over and pulled the jar out, handing it over to Potter and letting himself fall back luxuriously against the pillows. Harry reached down and gave his own cock a hard squeeze to keep from coming at the sight, and he moaned softly before he unscrewed the lid of the jar and coated his fingers in the lube before he set to jerking Draco off in earnest.
It shocked Harry how quickly he had Draco moaning and bucking his hips into Harry’s hand, and with a final twist of Harry’s hand around the head of Draco’s cock, Draco was coming hard and fast in his hand, eyes squeezed tightly closed and hips a full six inches off of the mattress. Right before he came, he reached over to seize Harry’s dripping cock, and in the middle of his orgasm, he could hear Harry screaming his name and feel copious jets of semen -both his own and Harry’s- shooting over his chest. He opened his eyes and watched Harry’s face, contorted in rapture, and he moaned at the sight of him.
When Harry was finished, he shakily grabbed Draco’s wand from the nightstand and waved it over Draco’s come-covered chest. When the mess was gone, he gave a violent shiver and collapsed onto Draco’s chest, clutching tightly to him and sighing, sated. “Nnnn, fuck,” he whispered, and he grinned up at Draco, who looked exhausted. “Sorry I woke you up…”
Draco blinked down at him and shrugged. “S’all right. Took me forever to go to sleep anyway,” he murmured, and he let his left hand rest on the back of Harry’s head while his right hand extinguished the oil lamp. “You staying in here tonight, Potter?” He found that, in his advanced exhaustion, he did not mind so much if Harry wanted to stay with him. After all, it wasn’t as though he took up much room in the bed, he thought, and he got comfortable when Harry slid up and buried his head in against Draco’s neck. “I’ll take that as a yes, then?”
“Mhmm,” Harry mumbled, and he rested his hand, open and face-down, on Draco’s stomach. As he was drifting off, he gave a jolt as he realised why he had come into Draco’s bedroom in the first place. “Baby?”
“Don’t ever call me that again, Potter,” Draco grumbled from the pillow.
“Sorry.” Harry nibbled on one of his fingernails nervously, and he cleared his throat. “Draco, are you going to fight tomorrow? With me?”
Draco’s eyes opened and he stared up at the ceiling in the dark, the streetlight outside lighting the room just enough that he could make out that the ceiling was textured somehow. Would he fight with the Order tomorrow? He thought of what his mother had said, that when he gave Potter the antidote for the love potion, Potter would kick him out unless he had the Order’s trust. She would be fighting, she had said, and he knew that, in her head, it had been a challenge to him. “I’ll go,” he finally claimed, and he shifted under Harry’s weight. “But not for you. For me. Go to sleep, Potter.”
Harry lifted his head and looked up into Draco’s face for a moment. Their eyes met in the dark, and Harry leaned up to kiss Draco, but Draco shook his head and turned his head away. “Sleep.” Harry sighed softly and nodded, curling back up to Draco and closing his eyes.
Draco was paralysed with fear.
He was standing in the middle of the second floor of the Ministry of Magic, his back pressed against the wall across from the door of the Auror Office and his wand raised in defence. Death Eaters were swarming the area, and more than once, Draco had narrowly missed curses hurled at him by the same men he used to be obliged to indulge at dinner parties. “Malfoy,” he heard spat at him by Rodolphus Lestrange, and he had been so terrified for his life in that moment that he had cast the first spell that came to mind-Sectumsempra. Rodolphus had fallen to the floor, bleeding so heavily that the bottom of Draco’s robes was dripping when he fled in the opposite direction.
He had not seen Potter in an hour. Everything was a blur, and he knew that he should not have come, that he should not have agreed to come to this fucking battle, because he had no idea what he was doing. He had never been any good at duelling his classmates, much less Death Eaters, and when a bright blue curse was hurled at him suddenly, he screamed and hit the floor, clutching his stomach and moaning. He saw a flash of Macnair’s face and choked as he spat up a mouthful of blood.
“Draco!”
Potter’s voice was like a church bell in the midst of the apocalypse, and he lifted his head to see Potter running for him. He grabbed Draco’s arm and hauled him to his feet, causing Draco to scream, but he ignored it and pulled Draco down the corridor. “What are you doing down here? Merlin, you could have been fucking killed!” Harry was gasping as he pulled Draco into the elevator. He smacked the ‘close doors’ button as fast as he could, and he hit the Emergency Stop button once the elevator began to fly downward.
Draco was moaning in agony, and he whimpered as Harry helped him to lie down on the floor. “Let me see,” Harry whispered, his hands shaking as they pulled Draco’s robes up over his stomach and ripped his shirt open. Draco heard him gag, and he lifted his head to see a blossoming purple bruise spreading like spilled ink over his stomach. His grey eyes rolled back ominously, but he fought for consciousness and clutched one of Harry’s hands as Harry began to whisper something over him.
“Am I all right?” he moaned when the whispering stopped, but he saw tears in Harry’s eyes, and the colour drained from his face. “Potter, goddamn it, am I all right?!” Panic was lacing through his rational thought, and he felt himself begin to shake.
“I c-can’t fix it all…Fuck, Malfoy, why didn’t I pay more attention when learning this?!” Harry growled, and he punched the elevator floor. “Look, I… I did what I could, and it should keep you stable… for n-now… Draco…” He looked up, hearing some explosion above, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. “Voldemort’s not here, Draco…it’s only Death Eaters, but… I’m going to find Bellatrix Lestrange and kill her.”
Draco’s first thought was that Bellatrix was his aunt, but he shook that thought out of his head and winced as he sat up. He looked down at his stomach, pleased to see that the bruise was drastically shrunken, then looked up into Harry’s eyes. “Kill her, then,” he coughed, and he closed his eyes when Harry shifted closer and touched his hair. “For fuck’s sake, Potter, would you get out there? I’m the least important person in this building…”
“Shut up!” Harry hissed, and he kissed Draco lightly before he helped him to his feet and hit the Emergency Stop button again. The elevator lurched into motion and stopped on the fourth floor, the doors sliding open. Harry was prepared for an onslaught of curses when they did, but there was no one there. The lights were blinking ominously, and Draco swallowed hard as they stepped together out into the corridor. The elevator doors closed again, and the boys pressed against the wall, sliding sideways down it in case the elevator brought someone to their floor.
A snap in the distance made Draco give a horrible start, and he nearly dropped his wand as Harry leapt into the middle of the corridor and hurled a curse through the darkness. “What are you doing?” Draco hissed in shock. “You’ll give away our position!” The elevator dinged behind them, and Draco whipped painfully around, wand held high, to see several Order members stumble out of it, including his mother. She saw the pained expression on his face and nodded to him, but she did not go to him, and he shrank back against the wall.
Harry’s hex fizzled against a wall at the end of the corridor, it seemed, and Harry was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when four figures in black cloaks and white masks suddenly appeared before them. Tonks and Narcissa stepped up beside Harry, who nodded to them without glancing at them, and the duel began.
The corridor was lit with hexes. The elevator kept going and coming, bringing both Death Eaters and Order members alike, often both in the same load, and there were several dead bodies, motionless and unmarked, lying on the elevator floor. Draco could not see any Order members, and for that he was glad, but he knew that he was looking at the bodies of people who had helped to raise him, and he ached slightly. Narcissa did not seem a bit fazed by the fact that she was duelling with people she had known for years, many years, and Draco watched his mother with nothing short of awe as she murdered Rosier. She never had liked him.
Harry was doing everything he could to keep the Death Eaters away from Draco ,who was the only person not fighting. He seemed transfixed, and Harry knew why -Draco knew these people and, as Dumbledore had said, Draco was not a killer. Bellatrix stepped into view, her mask shattered or discarded, and she grinned nastily at Harry. “Oh, look!” she squealed in mock delight, and she clapped her hands together. “It’s baby Potter, come to save the day! How delightful!” She giggled and saw Draco pressed against the wall, and she pouted. “Dwaco,” she called in her baby voice, and she fluttered her eyelashes when her nephew looked sharply at her. “Dwaco, what’re you doing? Did baby Potter pwomise to pwotect you? How sweet!”
Harry snarled and threw a hex Draco recognised as the hex that had hit him in the stomach earlier, and Bellatrix dodged it with a playful giggle. “Is that the best we’ve got, Potter? How about you, Dwaco?” She aimed her wand at Harry, giggled, then shouted, “Avada Kedavra!” Her wand, however, had moved just before the spell was cast, and Draco’s eyes widened as the blinding green Unforgivable was hurled at him.
It was as though the spell was cast in slow motion for Harry, and when the incantation was half-cast, he realised that it was being aimed at Draco, his Draco. Eyes widened in horror, and he opened his mouth to scream before the potion took hold of him and he grabbed the nearest person to him and shoved them in the line of the spell. Anyone but Draco, anyone but Draco!
Narcissa’s eyes widened as she saw her sister cast the ultimate Unforgivable towards her son, and when she felt Harry’s hands on her, she understood. She let him push her, let him shove her into the spell’s path, and she heard Draco’s screams ringing in her ears when she died. The world seemed to snap quickly back to its proper time signature, and Draco flung himself to the floor, to his mother’s side to shake her and yell at her. Harry’s body was buzzing with emotion, and he turned to look at Bellatrix, who was staring with wide-eyed horror at what she had done. Before Harry could cast anything at her, there was a flash of Peruvian Darkness Powder, and the Death Eaters were gone.
Narcissa was placed on the couch in the den of number twelve, Grimmauld Place by Harry’s shaking arms. Her face in death was set, resolute, and as Harry inspected it for the very first time, he realised how very much Draco favoured her. They had the same nose, the same white-blond hair, the very same complexion…Harry hung his head and lifted one of her cold hands, bringing it to his lips. “I’m sorry, Narcissa,” he choked, and he felt tears pricking his eyes. He had killed her, really, not Bellatrix. Draco would never, ever forgive him.
He could hear Draco’s voice as the door to the den opened, and Harry registered that it sounded terrified. He looked up from Narcissa’s frozen face to see Remus and Tonks standing there with Draco between them, his eyes wide and sunken and his skin a pale green colour. Remus was looking gravely at Harry, his eyebrows furrowed, and he released his hold on Draco’s shoulder. “Go on, Draco,” he whispered, and he felt rather than saw Draco’s tremor.
Draco was not sure what spurred him to move across the room, but his feet were moving nonetheless, and he swallowed hard as he knelt beside Potter to gaze at the dead face of his mother. Narcissa, to whom his last words had been punctuated with a sneer. “Mum,” he breathed, and he felt Harry’s hand move to touch his lower back, and something inside of him audibly snapped. Grey eyes were suddenly narrowed, and he leapt back from Harry. “You! You killed her, you son of a bitch!” he screeched, and he felt his hands fumbling for his wand. He found it and jerked it out of his robes, aiming it steadily at Harry and snarling like a dog. “Why did you kill her, Potter?! Why?!”
Molly Weasley bustled into the room and seized Draco from behind, snatching his wand from him. Draco was screaming hoarsely now, no words forming from the onslaught of sound, and Harry felt the scream cutting into his very soul. He seized his chest and gasped for air, his left hand reaching out for Draco, needing to touch him. Memories of the night before flooded his head, memories of him and Draco laughing together and Draco suddenly rolling on top of him and kissing him and smiling, and he knew, he knew, that it would never happen again. “I-I…”
“NO EXCUSES!” Draco shrieked, and he wrestled himself out of Molly’s arms. He was on his feet, eyes glued to Harry, and there was a moment when everyone in the room, including Draco, was sure that he would fling himself at Harry. Instead, for the second time since they had known one another, Harry watched as Draco’s eyes were suddenly drowning in tears, and he felt himself sobbing with Draco’s pain as he rose to his feet as well.
“I just wanted to sa-”
“I DON’T CARE!” Draco shook his head fiercely and began to back away, suddenly turning and fleeing to his room. The sound of the door slamming shook the house, and Harry crumpled to the floor.
“I-I’m s-s-so sor-sorry…”
Chapter One
Chapter Four, Chapter Six