To Make Anise Smile
Title: It Is Allowed
Author: ridicu_liz
Pairing: Remus/Draco
Rating: NC17
Author’s Notes: Written for anise_anise who was feeling blue. *Loves* Feed the author, should it please you.
The figure looked small, hunched even, walking away as the wind blew his hair forward, pushing him ever further from the boy who watched from the Owlry. He didn’t turn, never looked back at the place he was leaving. Would he miss any that he left behind? Draco doubted that he himself would be missed, even as part of his heart left with the werewolf walking into the distance.
~~~~
“Twenty points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy, and you will report to my chambers at precisely 8:00 p.m. this evening.”
Draco arrived at the door (which had been harder to find than he’d expected, even given the map forced into his hand) at 8:37. He’d meant to be late, of course. Malfoys did not owe allegiance to commoners. Professor or no, no one who dressed in such a shabby state; no one who associated with the likes of Potter voluntarily; no such person was above reproach. Still, he’d not meant to be quite this late. His father would not be pleased if he were expelled.
The door opened to find Professor Lupin wearing Muggle clothing and a hard expression. Draco nearly took a step back. Mild mannered. He was supposed to be mild mannered. The door was opened further and the Professor stood aside to allow him entrance. Spine straight, head high, he stalked into the room. His sneer would make it very apparent what he thought of the accommodations.
“I see you have the same respect for other people’s time as you do for property and propriety and all other things. Tonight, Mr. Malfoy, tonight you will have cause to regret that.”
Draco turned, a small spike of dread forming in his stomach. This was Lupin, he shouldn’t sound like Snape, couldn’t create the same sense of dread that filled his gut when his father was angry. It wasn’t possible. Not here.
Lupin smiled, moving very close to him, too close. It was a predatory smile and Draco froze, caught like a rabbit… or a ferret his mind whispered nastily. A hand shot out, yanking Draco’s wand from his pocket while another wrapped tightly around his upper arm.
He came to himself, straightening and pushing his chin out, along with his chest. “You have no right to do either of those things. Get your hands off me, and give me my wand this instant!” His tone was imperious. Draco was used to being obeyed, after all. He had privilege and the power of his name behind him.
Lupin smiled benignly.
“My father,” he began. He got no further. The hand on his shoulder yanked him forward hard and he found himself pressed flush against his Professor. The man loomed over him. Had he always been that tall? Or was it an illusion?
“Ah yes,” the tone was calm, polite, deceptive, “your father. We are acquainted you see. I’m not concerned about him, Mr. Malfoy. I’m concerned about you, Draco, very concerned.”
The use of his given name caused shivers to run down his back for some reason. Draco fought to think of something to say, but before he could cobble together a scathing remark Lupin had continued.
“You insist on acting like a child. You insist on petty bullying and cheap tricks. You resort to name calling and slander. When cornered you ask for or speak of your Daddy. It’s obvious to me,” Lupin’s voice was soft and almost kind. Fear leapt higher up from Draco’s gut. This was not going to end well.
“You need someone to take you firmly in hand. You are begging for it. Begging. I have little to lose, Draco. I’ll give you what you want. Perhaps you’ll be less of a danger to yourself and others. Pity Lucius never had the guts.”
How dare the man insult his father. “My father…” his voice was outraged this time, but again he was cut off.
“Hold your tongue or I shall gag you.” For some reason he believed this and sputtered into silence. Lupin dragged him over to the sofa and sat down, holding Draco firmly by both arms now. Draco contemplated kicking him, even moved his leg to do so, but one glance at the steel in those hazel eyes had him freezing again.
“Be grateful it is Tuesday. You’ll have several days before you need to be on a broom again. Sitting shall not be pleasant tomorrow.”
Draco gaped, mouth actually falling open. He couldn’t mean? It wasn’t possible? No one had ever… This was not possibly allowed…
“It is allowed. It’s not often practiced these days; however, I assure you that the penalty remains on the bylaws. I checked just this afternoon you see. You can protest of course, call attention to this. You will lose, and all of your friends will know. I’m certain your father will be pleased to hear that you were so afraid of a bit of a thrashing that you ran to his dear friend the Headmaster.” The voice was still soft, polite, coated in adamant.
Draco’s breath hitched. He was caught and he knew it. The door was warded, he’d felt the magic when it slammed. He was wandless. He could insist on leaving, but then Lupin would see to it that he was humiliated.
“I see we understand. Since you are an acolyte I shall use my hand rather than a cane. Be grateful. Lift your robes, lower your pants and place yourself across my knees. I shall ask only once.” Lupin’s removed his hands and pushed himself further onto the sofa, waiting.
Draco flushed, feeling color run into his face as the tendril of fear turned into a pit of snakes, writhing inside him. He could run and be caught. He could refuse, and be forced. He could make this worse… if that were possible. He found he did not want to find out. Hands shaking, eyes firmly on the floor, Draco lifted his robes in the back, sliding his pants downward. He kept the front of the robe firmly down. He was furious, frightened and completely humiliated. Nonetheless he managed to force himself to follow instructions, placing himself in position and raising his robes.
Professor Lupin instantly put hands on his shoulders and his legs, adjusting him until he lay entirely on the couch, bared buttocks across his Professor’s knees. Presented. Cringing. Draco’s face burned and he contemplated all the ways he would wreck revenge upon this filth.
The hand on his skin caused him to jump. It rubbed softly, down one cheek and then across to the other, as if mapping territory. “It will be alright, Draco. You need this. You deserve this. And since you did not fight me, what happens here will remain here.”
Draco closed his eyes, clenched his teeth and promised himself that he would make no sound, would simply endure and then live to curse this man to the hell he belonged in.
It started slowly. The first smack was more shocking for its sound than for anything else. He jumped, braced for searing pain, but instead felt only a bit of warmth. The next was the same, and the next. He could stand this. This was nothing. If Lupin thought a Malfoy could be broken by such things he was mistaken. The warmth built softly. It was almost pleasant. Suddenly Draco found, to his horror, that his body was responding in ways that were clearly unexpected.
No, no, no, no, no, NO. He silently begged his body not to send blood southward, not to betray him, NOT to fill his cock to hardness that would be clearly evident to his Professor. Draco braced his forarms and attempted to bring himself up just a bit off of that lap.
Lupin pushed him back down with a firm hand to the small of his back and more slaps to his backside. “It’s a perfectly natural reaction, Draco. No need to be upset.”
Draco wished he could crawl into the couch and disappear. Tears gathered at the back of his throat, from anger and shame, not from pain, because as yet there was only a bit of a sting and warmth.
“It won’t last, you know. This was just the warm up.” As if the words had been a starting gun of sorts the blows began to fall harder. Harder and faster and then harder still. What had been warmth and sting quickly turned into pain and fire. The hand knew no pattern, showed no mercy. Top, middle, side, the tops of his thighs, the curve where his arse met his legs, none of these places was spared. He bit his lip, closed his eyes, held his breath hard as pain - hot, searing, overwhelming - coursed through him. Never, never had anything hurt like this. He cringed and clenched, trying not to kick, not to make a sound.
“You won’t hold out, of course. No one does. It’s alright. I won’t let you. You needn’t make it harder on yourself.” The blows had stopped during this little commentary, and Lupin was stroking his behind softly, kneading and running fingernails over his scalded skin. Draco whimpered without meaning to.
“That’s it, boy. Give in. I’ll take care of you.” The blows started again, this time even harder if that were possible. Draco’s world became one of heat and pain and gasping breath. He did not notice when his first tears fell, coming to the realization only after his cheeks were drenched in saline. He felt no shame; could spare nothing for feeling anything other than the fire in his arse. At long last he collapsed, body going limp even as the blows continued. It would end when Lupin deemed it over, and there was nothing Draco could do to alter that.
Everything stopped almost immediately. Draco was sobbing, limp and shaking, tears falling onto the fabric of the ancient sofa. Lupin’s hand rubbed soothingly over flesh that had to be deepest scarlet. Draco felt as if he had blisters, if he even still had skin. “Good boy, such a good boy. It’s alright. You needn’t be strong for me.”
Draco made no attempt to move. His breath came in great shuddering gasps but he could not control them. He’d lost control of everything some time ago… perhaps the instant he had entered the room.
Hands rubbed his back as well as his arse, brushed hair out of his face, wiped a few tears from his cheeks. “There now. It’s over. You’ve paid.”
Draco nodded, knowing he should be outraged, knowing he should shrug off those hands and leave this room with a sneer. He couldn’t. The comfort in those hands was too tempting now, too soothing after his pain and humiliation. Lupin wasn’t judging him, was telling him he’d done well. In this state Draco could acknowledge his secret craving for acceptance from such a strong figure.
“Shall I make it better? Shall I give you the rest of what it is you want? I understand. I know. I’ll care for you Draco. I’ll keep you safe.” The words were like balm and Draco nodded, not having any idea what Lupin meant, but caught somehow in this place.
Lupin stood, flipping and lifting Draco as if he weighed nothing. Effortlessly. In less than a moment Draco found himself draped over the back of the couch, arse still bare, presented once again. He pulled a cushion to him, resting his face against the musty fabric and praying softly that he would not be beaten more. He knew now he would not protest.
The sensation of fingers on his screaming skin made him moan. He would have begged had he not been a Malfoy. His cheeks were being spread, legs pushed far apart. He complied, trembling again. Please no more, please, please, I’ll be good, promise, promise, I’ll be good… Words he would not speak filled his mind.
The sensation of wet heat running up his crack was so shocking that he could not at first understand what was happening. Then again, up and swirl, warm, wet, lowered and then centered around his most private spot. Wet and swirl and suction and “Oh GOD!”
Lupin was….. Lupin had his tongue on Draco’s arse, licking at his hole. “Oh, oh, oh Merlin, oh God, oh sweet…” Draco trailed off into babbling nonsense as the slick muscle swirled and soothed and pushed against his pucker. Where before there had been pain, now little tingles ran from that place out to every part of his body. His hair tingled. His toes curled. This was… this was. “OhyespleaseGod! Don’tstop, don’tstop”.
He had filled and hardened in a matter of seconds, erection pulsing hard against the sofa. He began to rock softly, pushing forward against the couch and back against that tongue that…”Ahhh!!” Draco was gasping, seeing stars as Lupin’s tongue breached him. There was a bit of pain, but now pain had smeared with pleasure. His arse hurt, the fingers spreading him hurt, the tongue was soft, the sofa against his aching prick was rubbing just so, the stretch was a bit of burn but…
The colors of the world blurred and bled into each other. He rocked, moaning, wanting, aching, so hard. Never had anything felt so right. Never. Swirl and push, stubble on sensitive skin, hard fingers against burned flesh, slippery, wet, yes, yes, yes. Draco moaned, more tears slid down his face unchecked but these were of a different sort. His fingers clenched so hard in the cushion that the fabric squeaked. Still that tongue licked him, opened him, tasted him, shattered and rebuilt him.
When at last a calloused hand wrapped around his cock, pulling and twisting; when the tongue left his hole to begin swirling across the hot skin of his arse; when fingers replaced the tongue, delving deep; when those fingers pushed against something he couldn’t identify that made his bones turn to liquid… when all of those things happened in rapid succession, Draco came apart.
He screamed, no semblance of a manly yell. No. He screamed and clenched, coming so hard that he thought he’d die of the pleasure, and then perhaps he was. The world went entirely black and fell into the abyss, bliss still crashing over and swirling round him until he was nothing else.
~~~~~
Draco had winced for days after that first encounter, every time he put on clothing, never mind when he sat. Lupin had given him a gel to aid in healing, wringing a promise from him that he’d not use it for at least 24 hours to “let the lesson sink in”. He’d never used it.
There had been other lessons. Draco had been corrected again - more than once. He had learned that this made him feel safe, cared for, loved. He had given his Professor his virginity; his dignity; bits of his heart. It was not a relationship. It was nothing he had a name for. Still, if ever he passed out he would awake lying warm and cradled against Lupin’s chest.
The revelations of the morning had come as a surprise. Draco had actively hated Snape for those few minutes, not because he’d revealed a secret Draco knew nothing about, but because he knew what that revelation would cost him personally.
The hours in the Owlry had been worth it. Draco might never see him again. He wiped his hands across his eyes before turning away himself. The trip back to the dungeons had never seemed so long.
Author: ridicu_liz
Pairing: Remus/Draco
Rating: NC17
Author’s Notes: Written for anise_anise who was feeling blue. *Loves* Feed the author, should it please you.
The figure looked small, hunched even, walking away as the wind blew his hair forward, pushing him ever further from the boy who watched from the Owlry. He didn’t turn, never looked back at the place he was leaving. Would he miss any that he left behind? Draco doubted that he himself would be missed, even as part of his heart left with the werewolf walking into the distance.
~~~~
“Twenty points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy, and you will report to my chambers at precisely 8:00 p.m. this evening.”
Draco arrived at the door (which had been harder to find than he’d expected, even given the map forced into his hand) at 8:37. He’d meant to be late, of course. Malfoys did not owe allegiance to commoners. Professor or no, no one who dressed in such a shabby state; no one who associated with the likes of Potter voluntarily; no such person was above reproach. Still, he’d not meant to be quite this late. His father would not be pleased if he were expelled.
The door opened to find Professor Lupin wearing Muggle clothing and a hard expression. Draco nearly took a step back. Mild mannered. He was supposed to be mild mannered. The door was opened further and the Professor stood aside to allow him entrance. Spine straight, head high, he stalked into the room. His sneer would make it very apparent what he thought of the accommodations.
“I see you have the same respect for other people’s time as you do for property and propriety and all other things. Tonight, Mr. Malfoy, tonight you will have cause to regret that.”
Draco turned, a small spike of dread forming in his stomach. This was Lupin, he shouldn’t sound like Snape, couldn’t create the same sense of dread that filled his gut when his father was angry. It wasn’t possible. Not here.
Lupin smiled, moving very close to him, too close. It was a predatory smile and Draco froze, caught like a rabbit… or a ferret his mind whispered nastily. A hand shot out, yanking Draco’s wand from his pocket while another wrapped tightly around his upper arm.
He came to himself, straightening and pushing his chin out, along with his chest. “You have no right to do either of those things. Get your hands off me, and give me my wand this instant!” His tone was imperious. Draco was used to being obeyed, after all. He had privilege and the power of his name behind him.
Lupin smiled benignly.
“My father,” he began. He got no further. The hand on his shoulder yanked him forward hard and he found himself pressed flush against his Professor. The man loomed over him. Had he always been that tall? Or was it an illusion?
“Ah yes,” the tone was calm, polite, deceptive, “your father. We are acquainted you see. I’m not concerned about him, Mr. Malfoy. I’m concerned about you, Draco, very concerned.”
The use of his given name caused shivers to run down his back for some reason. Draco fought to think of something to say, but before he could cobble together a scathing remark Lupin had continued.
“You insist on acting like a child. You insist on petty bullying and cheap tricks. You resort to name calling and slander. When cornered you ask for or speak of your Daddy. It’s obvious to me,” Lupin’s voice was soft and almost kind. Fear leapt higher up from Draco’s gut. This was not going to end well.
“You need someone to take you firmly in hand. You are begging for it. Begging. I have little to lose, Draco. I’ll give you what you want. Perhaps you’ll be less of a danger to yourself and others. Pity Lucius never had the guts.”
How dare the man insult his father. “My father…” his voice was outraged this time, but again he was cut off.
“Hold your tongue or I shall gag you.” For some reason he believed this and sputtered into silence. Lupin dragged him over to the sofa and sat down, holding Draco firmly by both arms now. Draco contemplated kicking him, even moved his leg to do so, but one glance at the steel in those hazel eyes had him freezing again.
“Be grateful it is Tuesday. You’ll have several days before you need to be on a broom again. Sitting shall not be pleasant tomorrow.”
Draco gaped, mouth actually falling open. He couldn’t mean? It wasn’t possible? No one had ever… This was not possibly allowed…
“It is allowed. It’s not often practiced these days; however, I assure you that the penalty remains on the bylaws. I checked just this afternoon you see. You can protest of course, call attention to this. You will lose, and all of your friends will know. I’m certain your father will be pleased to hear that you were so afraid of a bit of a thrashing that you ran to his dear friend the Headmaster.” The voice was still soft, polite, coated in adamant.
Draco’s breath hitched. He was caught and he knew it. The door was warded, he’d felt the magic when it slammed. He was wandless. He could insist on leaving, but then Lupin would see to it that he was humiliated.
“I see we understand. Since you are an acolyte I shall use my hand rather than a cane. Be grateful. Lift your robes, lower your pants and place yourself across my knees. I shall ask only once.” Lupin’s removed his hands and pushed himself further onto the sofa, waiting.
Draco flushed, feeling color run into his face as the tendril of fear turned into a pit of snakes, writhing inside him. He could run and be caught. He could refuse, and be forced. He could make this worse… if that were possible. He found he did not want to find out. Hands shaking, eyes firmly on the floor, Draco lifted his robes in the back, sliding his pants downward. He kept the front of the robe firmly down. He was furious, frightened and completely humiliated. Nonetheless he managed to force himself to follow instructions, placing himself in position and raising his robes.
Professor Lupin instantly put hands on his shoulders and his legs, adjusting him until he lay entirely on the couch, bared buttocks across his Professor’s knees. Presented. Cringing. Draco’s face burned and he contemplated all the ways he would wreck revenge upon this filth.
The hand on his skin caused him to jump. It rubbed softly, down one cheek and then across to the other, as if mapping territory. “It will be alright, Draco. You need this. You deserve this. And since you did not fight me, what happens here will remain here.”
Draco closed his eyes, clenched his teeth and promised himself that he would make no sound, would simply endure and then live to curse this man to the hell he belonged in.
It started slowly. The first smack was more shocking for its sound than for anything else. He jumped, braced for searing pain, but instead felt only a bit of warmth. The next was the same, and the next. He could stand this. This was nothing. If Lupin thought a Malfoy could be broken by such things he was mistaken. The warmth built softly. It was almost pleasant. Suddenly Draco found, to his horror, that his body was responding in ways that were clearly unexpected.
No, no, no, no, no, NO. He silently begged his body not to send blood southward, not to betray him, NOT to fill his cock to hardness that would be clearly evident to his Professor. Draco braced his forarms and attempted to bring himself up just a bit off of that lap.
Lupin pushed him back down with a firm hand to the small of his back and more slaps to his backside. “It’s a perfectly natural reaction, Draco. No need to be upset.”
Draco wished he could crawl into the couch and disappear. Tears gathered at the back of his throat, from anger and shame, not from pain, because as yet there was only a bit of a sting and warmth.
“It won’t last, you know. This was just the warm up.” As if the words had been a starting gun of sorts the blows began to fall harder. Harder and faster and then harder still. What had been warmth and sting quickly turned into pain and fire. The hand knew no pattern, showed no mercy. Top, middle, side, the tops of his thighs, the curve where his arse met his legs, none of these places was spared. He bit his lip, closed his eyes, held his breath hard as pain - hot, searing, overwhelming - coursed through him. Never, never had anything hurt like this. He cringed and clenched, trying not to kick, not to make a sound.
“You won’t hold out, of course. No one does. It’s alright. I won’t let you. You needn’t make it harder on yourself.” The blows had stopped during this little commentary, and Lupin was stroking his behind softly, kneading and running fingernails over his scalded skin. Draco whimpered without meaning to.
“That’s it, boy. Give in. I’ll take care of you.” The blows started again, this time even harder if that were possible. Draco’s world became one of heat and pain and gasping breath. He did not notice when his first tears fell, coming to the realization only after his cheeks were drenched in saline. He felt no shame; could spare nothing for feeling anything other than the fire in his arse. At long last he collapsed, body going limp even as the blows continued. It would end when Lupin deemed it over, and there was nothing Draco could do to alter that.
Everything stopped almost immediately. Draco was sobbing, limp and shaking, tears falling onto the fabric of the ancient sofa. Lupin’s hand rubbed soothingly over flesh that had to be deepest scarlet. Draco felt as if he had blisters, if he even still had skin. “Good boy, such a good boy. It’s alright. You needn’t be strong for me.”
Draco made no attempt to move. His breath came in great shuddering gasps but he could not control them. He’d lost control of everything some time ago… perhaps the instant he had entered the room.
Hands rubbed his back as well as his arse, brushed hair out of his face, wiped a few tears from his cheeks. “There now. It’s over. You’ve paid.”
Draco nodded, knowing he should be outraged, knowing he should shrug off those hands and leave this room with a sneer. He couldn’t. The comfort in those hands was too tempting now, too soothing after his pain and humiliation. Lupin wasn’t judging him, was telling him he’d done well. In this state Draco could acknowledge his secret craving for acceptance from such a strong figure.
“Shall I make it better? Shall I give you the rest of what it is you want? I understand. I know. I’ll care for you Draco. I’ll keep you safe.” The words were like balm and Draco nodded, not having any idea what Lupin meant, but caught somehow in this place.
Lupin stood, flipping and lifting Draco as if he weighed nothing. Effortlessly. In less than a moment Draco found himself draped over the back of the couch, arse still bare, presented once again. He pulled a cushion to him, resting his face against the musty fabric and praying softly that he would not be beaten more. He knew now he would not protest.
The sensation of fingers on his screaming skin made him moan. He would have begged had he not been a Malfoy. His cheeks were being spread, legs pushed far apart. He complied, trembling again. Please no more, please, please, I’ll be good, promise, promise, I’ll be good… Words he would not speak filled his mind.
The sensation of wet heat running up his crack was so shocking that he could not at first understand what was happening. Then again, up and swirl, warm, wet, lowered and then centered around his most private spot. Wet and swirl and suction and “Oh GOD!”
Lupin was….. Lupin had his tongue on Draco’s arse, licking at his hole. “Oh, oh, oh Merlin, oh God, oh sweet…” Draco trailed off into babbling nonsense as the slick muscle swirled and soothed and pushed against his pucker. Where before there had been pain, now little tingles ran from that place out to every part of his body. His hair tingled. His toes curled. This was… this was. “OhyespleaseGod! Don’tstop, don’tstop”.
He had filled and hardened in a matter of seconds, erection pulsing hard against the sofa. He began to rock softly, pushing forward against the couch and back against that tongue that…”Ahhh!!” Draco was gasping, seeing stars as Lupin’s tongue breached him. There was a bit of pain, but now pain had smeared with pleasure. His arse hurt, the fingers spreading him hurt, the tongue was soft, the sofa against his aching prick was rubbing just so, the stretch was a bit of burn but…
The colors of the world blurred and bled into each other. He rocked, moaning, wanting, aching, so hard. Never had anything felt so right. Never. Swirl and push, stubble on sensitive skin, hard fingers against burned flesh, slippery, wet, yes, yes, yes. Draco moaned, more tears slid down his face unchecked but these were of a different sort. His fingers clenched so hard in the cushion that the fabric squeaked. Still that tongue licked him, opened him, tasted him, shattered and rebuilt him.
When at last a calloused hand wrapped around his cock, pulling and twisting; when the tongue left his hole to begin swirling across the hot skin of his arse; when fingers replaced the tongue, delving deep; when those fingers pushed against something he couldn’t identify that made his bones turn to liquid… when all of those things happened in rapid succession, Draco came apart.
He screamed, no semblance of a manly yell. No. He screamed and clenched, coming so hard that he thought he’d die of the pleasure, and then perhaps he was. The world went entirely black and fell into the abyss, bliss still crashing over and swirling round him until he was nothing else.
~~~~~
Draco had winced for days after that first encounter, every time he put on clothing, never mind when he sat. Lupin had given him a gel to aid in healing, wringing a promise from him that he’d not use it for at least 24 hours to “let the lesson sink in”. He’d never used it.
There had been other lessons. Draco had been corrected again - more than once. He had learned that this made him feel safe, cared for, loved. He had given his Professor his virginity; his dignity; bits of his heart. It was not a relationship. It was nothing he had a name for. Still, if ever he passed out he would awake lying warm and cradled against Lupin’s chest.
The revelations of the morning had come as a surprise. Draco had actively hated Snape for those few minutes, not because he’d revealed a secret Draco knew nothing about, but because he knew what that revelation would cost him personally.
The hours in the Owlry had been worth it. Draco might never see him again. He wiped his hands across his eyes before turning away himself. The trip back to the dungeons had never seemed so long.