InsaneJournal

Current location:	Home
Current mood:	accomplished
Current music:	Evanescence - Surrender
Entry tags:	bbtp

Fic: A Fine Line (DM/HP, NC17)
Title: A Fine Line, NC-17

Author: HP Strangelove hpstrangelove

Fandom/Pairing: Harry Potter - DM/HP

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 6770

Summary: Draco captures Harry, Draco tortures Harry, Draco forces Harry to have sex, Harry enjoys it, and they all live happily ever after.

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling. No monetary profit made on this story.

Warning: (Just about everything I could think of that would violate Live Journal’s TOS) Rape, bondage, torture, spanking, nipple torture, the boys are in sixth year (so you do the math), PWP with no artistic merit, spoilers for HBP but NOT DH.

Beta: None (so feel free to point out any and all mistakes in a constructive manner)

AN Note: Written for the September 1, 2007 Insane Journal Bring Back the Porn Challenge bbtp_challenge and annephoenix, whose birthday I missed back on 19-August. I could never hope to torture Harry the way she can, but I certainly tried.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco had waited a long time for this – to have Potter finally at his mercy where he could do anything he wanted to him and Potter would have to take it. And oh, there were so many, many things to make Potter pay for, starting with that first rejection on the Hogwarts Express all those years ago.

Draco knew Potter was following him around the castle and had finally figured out that Draco was using the Room of Requirements. Potter even tried to get in one time, unsuccessfully, while Draco was inside. That was when the idea came to him – he asked the Room to create a replica of the Malfoy dungeons. And this time, Potter would be allowed in.

One Stupefy later, and Draco had Potter unconscious, naked, and chained in the middle of the room, arms pulled taught overhead, toes barely touching the stone floor underneath. Tiny droplets of blood trickled down Potter’s arms as the metal cuffs cut into the soft skin of his wrists. Really, if Draco were truly loyal to the Dark Lord, he should have turned Potter over immediately. But Draco was selfish. He wanted to keep Potter all for himself.

Head falling limply back, mouth slightly parted, he was a perfect blank canvas waiting for Draco to begin working on. Draco studied Potter closely, seeing him in detail for the first time since that day they met in Madam Malkin’s all those years ago.

Draco had had such high hopes, back when he was a child, back when he started at Hogwarts. Every wizarding child knew the Legend of the Boy Who Lived. When his father had told him that the great Harry Potter was going to Hogwarts the same year as Draco, Draco knew they were destined to be best friends. Harry Potter had no family of his own, so Draco was going to invite Harry Potter to stay for the Christmas and Summer Holidays. Draco had everything he could ever wish for, except a friend to share his life with. Harry Potter had no family, so together, they would be perfect.

Draco could still remember that fateful day, as clearly as if Potter’s rejection had happened five minutes ago. He was proud of the fact that Potter didn’t know how much he had hurt Draco by choosing that blood-traitor Weasley as a friend over him. Draco took the pain and stamped the hurt down, molding it, changing it, willing himself not to cry, until the end result was a passionate, burning hatred of the boy who destroyed his dreams of friendship. Draco vowed that day he would make Harry Potter pay, and now the time had come.

Gazing upon Potter’s still form, Draco couldn’t help but wonder how differently his life would be now if Potter was his friend. He reached out and ran his fingers through Potter’s thick, black, hair. It felt surprisingly soft and silky. Tentatively, he moved his hand down and caressed the side of Potter’s face, feeling the prickle of hair. Draco had never particularly cared for the rough look of facial hair on a man, but on Potter, it gave him a sensual and dark feel about him that Draco found hard to resist. The early hair growth made Potter look older than his sixteen years. Potter was attractive, Draco had to admit, in a scruffy sort of way.

Moving his hand again, he traced a finger over Potter’s nose - the same nose it had felt so good to break after Draco had discovered Potter in his train compartment - then down along Potter’s bottom lip. It was slightly chapped but still, moist and full. He’d never fantasized about kissing Potter before, and it surprised him to think that he wanted to know how those lips and mouth would taste.

Dark hair dusted over Potter’s chest and stomach, and Draco couldn’t resist touching it, running his hand over the soft fuzz, delighting in how the mix of hair and warm skin felt under his fingers. The line of hair thickened as it went lower towards Potter’s groin, becoming a nest of black curls cushioning Potter’s flaccid cock. Draco gave in to the temptation to hold it, to have Potter’s most vulnerable part of his body right there in the palm of his hand. It was a heady feeling, knowing how much pain he could cause Potter just by applying the right amount of pressure. He moved his hand to cup Potter’s balls, lifting them up slightly and rolling them around, enjoying how wondrously pliant they felt. He could just imagine the look of revulsion in Potter’s eyes if he were to know Draco was fondling him this way while he was unconscious.

Releasing Potter’s balls, Draco moved to take a better look at Potter’s back. All the robes and baggy Muggle clothes had been hiding a fairly fit body that Draco was slightly envious of. Draco was no doubt taller and heavier, but the distraction of his task for the Dark Lord this year had taken its toll on Draco’s body and his muscles had lost some definition.

Running his hand along the curve of Potter’s arse sent a thrill of anticipation straight to Draco’s cock. He could hardly wait to sink himself deep in between those two mounds of flesh. Draco was startled out of his contemplation by a low moan and slight stirring coming from Potter as he began to wake up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Slowly lifting his head upright, Potter blinked owlishly, trying to determine through his fog-filled brain where he was. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, so everything was a blur. It didn’t help that the only light in the room seemed to be coming from the glow in the fireplace and a few wall sconces. He was cold, and he could feel a draft breezing lightly across his skin, skin that had nothing covering it any longer.

His shoulders and arms were painfully aching, and it didn’t take long for him to realize it was because he was bound to the ceiling, hanging in chains, his wrists chafe and bleeding from the pressure of his weight pulling against his manacles. He could hold himself up somewhat, but only by standing on the balls of his bare feet. His calf muscles were already beginning to cramp under the stress.

What had happened? How the heck did he get here like this, and where was ‘here’ anyway? He didn’t remember being attacked by anyone. Ron and Hermione had gone to Hogsmeade for the Apparition practice sessions. He’d stayed behind to try and catch Malfoy in the Room of Requirements and…

“Damn,” Harry whispered. He remembered now. Gregory Goyle had been standing guard outside, Polyjuiced as the little girl holding the brass scales. Harry had scared him away, then proceeded once again to try and enter the Room. He wasn’t sure which variation of words did the trick, but he was shocked and elated when the door had appeared this time and he was able to enter. But there was no light and he couldn’t see, so he lit his wand and then – nothing, until he woke up here.

“Malfoy?” Harry called. “Are you here?”

Out of the shadows, Harry could see, even with his blurred vision, the gleaming white-blond hair of his enemy, Draco Malfoy, as he moved menacing towards him.

“Welcome to the Malfoy dungeons, Potter,” he drawled. And with a wicked smile, added, “I told you, you should be careful who you made friends with. It should have been me instead of Weasley. Now you’re going to find out what it means to have a Malfoy for an enemy instead of a friend.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Potter had been his usual mouthy self at first, but four lashes with Draco’s favorite whip had taken care of that problem. The Room had provided everything the way Draco remembered it to be in the dungeon of Malfoy Manor. What made this particular whip Draco’s favorite were the tiny, sharp metal hooks, shaped like a cat’s claw, attached to each end of three braided leather thongs. When the hooks made contact, they would grab into the body and take hold. The quick pull back on the whip caused bloody slivers of skin to be painfully sliced out. It was perfect for maximizing pain while minimizing blood-loss and scarring; it was perfect, for Potter.

The first strike knocked the breath from Potter and he gasped, throwing his head back and twisting in his chains. Another strike to the back, one to the upper chest, and finally, a painful one to Potter’s tender belly had screams coming from Potter’s mouth instead of insults – it was music to Draco’s ears.

Even with all the magical devices Draco had at his disposal, he found the simplest ways at times produced the best results. In this case, a flannel, dipped in a plain solution of water, salt, and essence of dittany (Draco wanted to be sure there would be no scarring from the whip) was all it took to shatter Potter. Draco watched in fascination as he squeezed the salty water from the flannel, letting it run in tiny rivulets down Potter’s trembling back and chest. It started at his shoulders, clear and clean, but turned pinkish as it mixed with the blood oozing from Potter’s wounds. After drenching Potter in the solution, he proceeded to rub the flannel first over Potter’s back, then his chest, wiping away the blood. Potter screamed endlessly through the process, struggling fruitlessly against his bonds to get away from Draco and the liquid fire searing his torn flesh.

Potter hung in his chains, limp from exhaustion. Draco moved around behind him, pressing his body flush against Potter’s back. A hiss of pain came from Potter’s throat as the touch of Draco’s shirt stung his wounds. Draco brought his arms around Potter’s waist in a mock embrace, running his hands over the wounds on Potter’s chest, relishing the whimpers of pain that Potter tried to suppress. Potter could barely hold his head up and was supporting it against Draco’s shoulder, tempting Draco with his exposed neck. As Draco leaned in to suck and nibble on the glistening skin, he pulled and pinched Potter’s dusky pink nipples, delighting in the feel of them hardening under his touch. Draco loved the way they stood out. They were perfect for piercing, but since he didn’t want to do anything permanent to Potter’s body – at least not today – nipple clamps would have to do instead. Accioing a set from the table (the Room really had done an excellent job of making itself exactly like the dungeons – Draco knew exactly where everything was), he held them up close to Potter’s face so he could clearly see what they looked like in detail. Potter felt a thrill of dread in the pit of his stomach as he anticipated how they would feel once Draco put them on him.

“Malfoy, don’t! Don’t you dare put those on me,” he shouted, as he attempted to twist out of Malfoy’s arms. Malfoy grabbed Potter’s nipple again and held it tight, applying increasing pressure until Potter could do nothing but submit. Potter clenched his teeth, unable to take his eyes away from Draco’s hand as it sprung open the clamp and placed it on the nipple, horrified as the sharp, steel teeth dug into his tender skin. Little droplets of blood welled to the surface and dribble down Potter’s chest.

“Fuck, Malfoy,” Potter cried in anguish. “You sick, sadistic bastard,” he hissed.

Potter’s stomach raised and lowered as he tried to calm his breathing, attempting to adjust to this new pain. Malfoy continued to embrace him, all the while rubbing small circles over Potter’s belly until his breathing evened out. Malfoy took the second clamp and did the same to Potter’s other nipple, this time not missing the slight twitch in Potter’s cock as the sharp teeth bit down and pierced the skin. Little mewling whimpers continued from Potter as Draco began to deliberately rut against Potter’s arse, enjoying the pleasurable friction of his erection sliding along Potter’s silky smooth skin. Reaching down to Potter’s semi-erect cock, Draco began massaging and squeezing, move his hand around and up to the head, lightly digging his nail into the slit as it began to drip wet and glisten with precome. Potter thrust helplessly into Draco’s warm, moist hand – he was so close, his breath coming in short, panting gasps. Leaning back against Draco, feeling Draco’s hard cock in his trousers press between his cheeks, he squeezed his eyes tightly closed, as if not seeing where he was or what Draco was doing would be enough to stop himself from surrendering to the rhythmic magic of Draco’s hand.

“Harry, come. Come for me now.” Draco’s warm, whispered command sent shocks of electricity through Harry's veins, bright starry lights going off behind his eyes, his hips bucking upwards and his cock pulsing his seed out over Draco’s hand and onto the dungeon floor.

Before Potter had a chance to recover, Draco released him from his chains and dragged him over to the bed, throwing him roughly face down. Potter was too weak to protest as Draco pulled his arms up to the headboard, and with an ‘Incarcerous’, had Potter’s wrists bound again.

Until now, Draco had remained fully dressed. The contrast to Potter’s nakedness gave Draco a sense of dominance. Aware of the message he’d be sending Potter as he undressed, Draco took his time, watching the trepidation grow in Potter’s eyes, knowing the longer it took, the more anxious Potter became.

Draco finished undressing, and with a predatory grin, moved to the bed, pushing Potter’s legs apart and kneeling in between them. Oh, how he loved Potter’s arse! Reaching out, he grabbed a handful of cheek and squeezed, slowly but tightly, eliciting a soft moan. Draco squeezed and kneaded several more times before pulling Potter’s cheeks apart, exposing Potter’s puckered entrance to the cool air. Draco couldn’t take his eyes off it, fascinated by the little clenching movements it made as Potter tried to fight Draco’s hands.

Draco took the flat of his hands and rubbed them over the smooth skin of Potter’s arse. The Room had thought of everything for Draco, including lube on the nightstand. He spread Potter’s cheeks again and slowly inserted a coated finger into his entrance, savoring the feel of the muscle as Potter tried to push it back out. When his finger was completely in, he moved it out and back several more times, causing more whimpers and moans from Potter. Potter’s head was turned to the side, eyes shut again, another shudder going through his body as Draco added a second finger. Potter was so tight, Draco could hardly wait to replace his fingers with his cock and feel that velvety warmth engulf him.

Potter’s arse was so perfect and smooth – too perfect, in fact, but he could take care of that easily enough. Turning the insignia part of his ring to the inside of his hand, he paused to caress Potter’s cheek on last time. Pulling his arm back, he brought it down forcefully with a resounding crack, stinging Draco’s palm and causing Potter to yelp and jump in surprise. A dark purple circle, where the ring had made contact, formed in the middle of the reddening outline of a hand.

Potter’s muscle clenched around Draco’s fingers that were still inserted inside him. Draco moved them back and forth, in and out, stretching Potter and forcing him open, leisurely at first, then with more force as he increased the speed. When Potter lifted his arse up and pushed back, meeting Draco’s thrusting hand, Draco pulled his arm back again and delivered another stinging blow, harder than the first, then another, and then a forth. Potter’s shoulders were shaking uncontrollably as he tried to choke back his sobs. Draco had never seen anything as sexy as Potter’s abused arse, bright red with dark, angry bruises spotting the hot flesh. He thought of keeping Potter like this, fucking him from behind. On the other hand, fucking Potter face to face would allow Draco to see every raw, anguished emotion in Potter’s eyes.

Removing his fingers from Potter’s entrance, Draco rolled him onto his back. He placed one of Potter’s legs up on his shoulder and the other on the bed, bent at the knee, forcing Potter’s legs wide apart. Coating himself with more lube, he positioned himself so that his cock was just pressing up against Potter’s anus. As soon as Potter felt it, he eyes went wide in panic. He began struggling frantically against his bonds and kicking out at Draco, who held firm. The struggle didn’t last long, though, weakened as he was from his bout with Draco’s whip. Finally, Potter exhausted himself and lay panting on the bed, despair coursing through his veins.

“Please, Malfoy, please don’t do this,” Harry said, barely above a whisper. He knew it was no use, though. Draco was going to go through with it no matter what Harry said or did, and Harry was sure Malfoy was enjoying it that much more because of Harry’s struggles and pleas.

The agonizing look in Potter’s eyes as he begged Draco to stop made his cock ache in need, spurring Draco on. He couldn’t take it any longer, he was so hard it was painful. Slowly, Draco pushed the head of his cock in through Potter’s ring of muscle, stopping to savor the “No, please…please…” coming from Potter as his entrance was breached. Seeing his cock partially inside Potter like that was intoxicating, something he’d only dreamed about doing but never thought would be real. Potter continued his whispered pleas, begging with his words but also with his eyes, imploring Draco to stop. Draco thrust forward again, pausing this time about half way in, Potter’s anus stretching hotly around him. The tears that had been forming now started to spill out of the corners of Potter’s eyes, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Potter was so wonderfully tight around Draco’s cock. Draco had to stay still or the sensation would be more than he could stand. The last thing he wanted was to come too soon, but the warmth enveloping him as he filled Potter’s hole was making it a challenge. One last thrust and he was in all the way. Looking directly into Potter’s tear filled eyes, he said with a satisfied smile, “You’re mine now, Potter – all mine.”

Harry’s arse was on fire; he felt nauseous, overcome by the pain and feeling of fullness created by Malfoy’s cock impaling him. Worse than the physical pain, though, was the fact that it was Malfoy: Malfoy who owned him now, Malfoy who possessed him. Malfoy who violated and degraded him, Malfoy who invaded him in the most intimate possible way.

“Malfoy, please. Please take it out. It hurts….”

“Of course it hurts, Potter,” Draco replied, laughing, as if it was the most idiotic thing Potter could ever say. “Why do you think I’m doing this?” he asked, emphasizing his words with a twist to one of the clamps biting into Potter’s nipple. It caused the boy beneath him to writhe and groan in pain.

Draco slowly pulled out, little by little, until all that was left inside Potter was the tip of his head. He stayed still, never breaking away from Potter’s watery green gaze. A smile crept evilly over Draco’s mouth as fear filled Potter’s eyes, and in one swift motion, roughly thrust back into Potter all the way to the hilt. Potter arched and cried out. Draco didn’t move, willing himself to not come. He wanted to make this last, to savor every moment of Potter’s abject misery.

Potter didn’t beg anymore, much to Draco’s annoyance. He just continued to softly sob as Draco loomed over him, apparently realizing that Draco would show no mercy no matter how much he pleaded.

Draco saw Potter’s erection had withered from the pain. This would just not do, thought Draco. Better than taking his revenge by fucking Potter would be fucking Potter and making him enjoy it. He began to massage Potter’s cock again, coaxing it back to life until it was once more weeping with need.

As Potter returned to hardness, he looked away from Draco, his face burning in embarrassment, ashamed by his response to Draco’s touch. “Such a little slut, aren’t you Potter? Look at you – you’re rock hard and dripping all over. You want this, don’t you? You want me to fuck you. That’s why you’ve been stalking me all over the castle, isn’t it, to get me alone so we could do this.”

“No, Malfoy! No,” Potter denied, “that’s not why at all! I don’t want this.” But his protests trailed off as Harry couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there wasn’t just a bit of truth to Malfoy’s words. Both Hermione and Ron had accused him all year of being obsessed with Malfoy. Harry had thought it was only because he knew Malfoy was up to something, some task for Voldemort. But it was obvious to both of them that Harry’s body was craving this. Malfoy was right – Harry was hard and wet with desire, and even though Malfoy’s cock hurt and burned inside of him, the sensation of fullness, of being helpless and under the control of his enemy, began to overwhelm him with lust. He was at a loss to understand what was happening. Malfoy wasn’t doing this to pleasure Harry. His intent was to hurt, both physically and emotionally, and he was doing a good job of it, too. Harry was insane to actually be aroused by his own rape, but that was exactly what was happening and the thought mortified him.

“I’m going to make you bleed, Potter. I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll have to crawl out of here on your hands and knees because you won’t be able to walk.”

Harry couldn’t suppress his trembling at Draco’s words, and braced himself for Malfoy’s next thrust.

Except, instead of the pounding he expected, Malfoy began moving with a slow, steady rhythm that, although wasn’t comfortable, certainly wasn’t intolerable. As Malfoy continued to slide in and out of Harry’s passage, he moved his hands back around Harry’s cock, timing his masterful strokes to match the movement of his cock inside Harry.

Harry didn’t know when it happened, but the pain began to dissipate, replaced by a different kind of fire, now centered in his groin. Malfoy’s thrusting became faster, more frantic and intense, but instead of hurting, it made Harry feel like he was flying, taking him higher and higher. Arching his back, he began to meet Malfoy’s thrusts, bucking his hips up each time. The pressure of Malfoy’s hand around his cock, surrounding him in warm, moist friction sent him soaring. Harry’s gasps became more frequent, louder, and he heard someone saying, “More…gods, more. Yes…harder…harder. Just like that…don’t stop!”

Throwing his head back, and with a sound that was more animalistic than human, Harry’s world exploded. He came hard, white and sticky onto his stomach and into Malfoy’s hand, with a sweet intensity ten times more powerful than the first time. It seemed unending, his body writhing wantonly in ecstasy under Malfoy, his anus clenching around Malfoy’s cock. He felt a wet flow of warmth coating his insides as Malfoy stiffened and came right after.

Draco collapsed to the side of Potter, wrapping his arms around the still trembling boy, a pleasant feeling of calmness descending on him. He found himself tenderly moving a hand up and down Potter’s chest, pressing his face into Potter’s hair.

Harry was breathing smoothly now, feeling the heat of Malfoy next to him, wondering what the hell had just happened. Malfoy began nuzzling Harry’s neck, sending little shivers up and down Harry’s spine. It felt good, but it scared Harry that it was Malfoy making him feel that way. Harry turned his head towards Malfoy and felt a tickle of hair against his face. Harry didn’t want to really think about it, how something that hurt so terrible could feel so bloody brilliant, how Malfoy, who hated him with a passion, ended up giving Harry the most intense, mind-blowing orgasm he’d ever had in his life. Why?

Draco leaned up and looked at Potter, curiously. “Why, what, Potter?” he asked.

Harry hadn’t known he said that out loud until Malfoy spoke back.

“Why?” Harry asked. “Why did you do this? I mean, this went way beyond anything I thought you were capable of. Was this your task then, what Voldemort wanted you to do for him – rape and torture me?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed and darkened as he stared at Potter, willing Potter to understand.

“This had nothing to do with my task for the Dark Lord. This was just you and me, Potter. This was just – payback. Did you really think you’d get away with rejecting a Malfoy? I’ve wanted you, the Great Harry Potter, even before I met you, before we came to Hogwarts. Every wizarding child grows up knowing the legend of Harry Potter. I still remember the first time my mother told me about you, about a brave boy who faced down a bad wizard and killed him, how at only a year of age, you managed to defeat the most powerful Dark Wizard in modern times. Not only that, but you became the only person to survive the Killing Curse. It cost you though – you lost your parents. I felt sorry for you because you didn’t have your mother or father to love you like I did, and I wanted you to become a part of my family so you would know what it was like to have a loving mother and father like I did. I wanted to be brave and strong and courageous like you, to be able to stand up to evil, even if it meant I might die. I dreamed of having you for a friend, of spending holidays together at the Manor, sharing our hopes, dreams, and deepest fears. But you chose a Weasley over me, and destroyed everything.

“I had to hurt you, Potter. I had to punish you for what you did. I had to show you there were consequences for not accepting my hand when it was offered.”

Leaning down, he removed the clamps from Harry’s nipples, sucking one bruised nub into his mouth, while pinching and rolling the other between his fingertips. The pain was gut-wrenching, blinding beyond belief, and Harry was sure he would black out this time. It seemed an eternity passed by as Malfoy licked and pinched and sucked and rubbed, reducing Harry’s world to nothing more than grunts and anguished sobs. He almost wished for the whip again over this excruciating assault on his tender flesh. He hadn’t even known Malfoy had stopped until he heard him talking again, he was so lost in a haze of agony.

Harry could do nothing but stare up at Malfoy, finally comprehending that all this stemmed from Malfoy’s desire to have him as a friend, a friend that he had refused to be.

“I always get what I want, Potter. It may take a while, but you’re mine now. Say it, Potter. Submit to me. I want to know you understand how things are now. Say it – you’re mine.”

“No! No way, Malfoy!” Harry shouted, still crying from the pain Malfoy had just inflicted on him. “I’m not yours or anyone else’s. Leave me alone. Please…just leave me alone.”

Malfoy’s eyes turned stormy. Potter just didn’t get it – thick-headed Gryffindor! Well, he’d learn it quick enough.

Malfoy grabbed each of Potter’s sensitive nipples and pulled upward hard, forcing Potter to raise his body to keep the pressure off. Potter screamed as Malfoy twisted and pulled, more and more until Potter was choking, endless pain coursing through his body.

“Say it, Potter,” Draco commanded, in an angry voice. “I won’t release you until you do! Say it – you are mine.”

Gasping, unable to take a breath, he shook his head yes, anything to get Malfoy to let him go! Apparently that satisfied Malfoy somewhat, and he quit pulling. He didn’t let go though, and continued to roll the pain filled nubs between his fingertips.

Harry closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He had no other choice. “I’m yours, Malfoy,” he whispered softly. “I’m yours.”

His nipples were released, but his mouth was captured, Malfoy kissing him so tenderly that Harry thought it had to be someone else. Malfoy’s tongue pressed between Harry’s lips, and Harry parted them, letting Malfoy invade his mouth, Malfoy's tongue exploring, tasting, sucking.

When Malfoy ended the kiss, he untied Harry’s wrists from the headboard. Harry gingerly brought his arms down to examine the damage, rubbing his arms to get the circulation going. He didn’t think he’d be able to move anytime soon, he ached so badly. All he wanted to do was lay down and sleep.

Draco took some of the lube and applied it to Potter’s bruised and bleeding wrists. A coolness immediately surrounded them as the magic did its work. Within minutes, it was difficult to tell he’d even been bound. Potter looked questioningly at Draco, who just shrugged. “It’s a special cream that minimizes the damage that rough sex can cause. It’s useful other places as well.”

“Now what?” Harry asked. “You’re just going to let me go?”

“Why not? You’re not going to tell anyone about this.”

“How do you know I won’t? You admitted you’re doing something for Voldemort. I’ve been trying to get Ron and Hermione to believe me all year long that you’re up to something. Of course I'll tell them.”

“And what exactly are you going to say?” Draco asked. “That I beat and raped you in the Room of Requirement? Do you really want them to know that? How long do you think it would be before others would hear? Do you really want the rest of the school to know you’ve been raped by the son of a Death Eater? Who do you think is going to believe you? Especially since right now I’m in the Slytherin common room attending a meeting with Professor Snape, among others. Plenty of eyewitnesses to testify that I was no where near you this morning. And I used dittany in the water, so you won’t even have scars as proof.”

Harry sighed in frustration. It must be Crabbe, Polyjuiced this time as Malfoy, who was in the common room providing Malfoy an alibi. And Malfoy was right about everything. Ron and Hermione might believe him, but no one else would. He didn’t think he could take Hermione’s pity or Ron’s disgust either, for that was sure to be their reaction if he told them.

“Come on, Potter. It’s not that bad. You got off on it at the end, and don’t think I didn’t notice the way your cock jumped as I put those clamps on you. Maybe you liked what I did to you a little bit more than you’re willing to admit. It’s not so hard to understand, Potter, if you really think about it. The world expects so much from you, expects you to fight the Dark Lord. You’re the Chosen One. All that responsibility being laid on the shoulders of a sixteen-year-old boy who isn’t even fully trained yet.

“It felt good, didn’t it, to not be in control? To be able to surrender, to just feel, to lose yourself to the sensation so much so that you couldn’t tell the difference between your pleasure and pain. It was freeing because you didn’t have to be responsible, you didn’t have to make any choices, you didn’t have to give of yourself. All you had to do was accept what I did to you, and that made it all the more exciting, because it was me. You would never have responded like this if it had been anyone else but me.

“We’ve been bound to each other since that very first day in Madam Malkin’s. You rejected my friendship but you accepted my enmity. We’ve been in each other’s lives for six years now. There’s no escape for either of us. You’re meant to be mine as much as I’m meant to have you, and I’m not letting you go.”

A moment in time, six years ago, had led them here, Harry realized. Back then, with the Wizarding World being so new to him, he hadn’t considered the implications of his rejection. He knew he was famous for being the Boy Who Lived; he didn’t know he was also made into a famous children’s hero, someone children were taught to look up to and admire, used as a role model for strength and courage in the face of evil. And what had he done but destroy Malfoy’s hope of making a friend, and what could be worse in this world than the loss of hope? Harry had rejected Malfoy because Malfoy had insulted the first two friends Harry had made; he also saw Malfoy as being a bit too much like Dudley and had allowed all these things to color his judgment.

None of it was an excuse for Malfoy to have acted the way he did towards Harry these past six years, and especially for what he did today, but it certainly put everything into perspective.

Malfoy was laying next to him still, propped up on one elbow, his other hand roaming over Harry’s body as he spoke, first touching Harry’s arm, then moving over his chest, up over his collar bone to his neck, caressing his face, then back down to his arm where the pattern started all over again. Harry wasn’t even sure Malfoy realized he was doing it, but it felt very good, and then it hit him with a jolt like a Stinging Hex.

He had another opportunity now, if he was reading Malfoy’s behavior correctly. He’d hurt Malfoy so Malfoy hurt him, certainly on a much more violent level than ever before, but still, he thought Malfoy simply saw it as one hurt for another. But it went beyond hurting Harry now. Malfoy had kissed him, tenderly and with passion. That wasn’t part of Malfoy’s revenge, Harry was sure. And Malfoy said they were meant to be together, because that was what Malfoy wanted.

Harry thought back to that Quidditch match and the disappointment he felt when Malfoy hadn’t played Seeker. The game just wasn’t as exciting. It was still fun, but without Malfoy to compete against, it felt empty. If Harry felt that way about a Quidditch match, how would he feel about missing Malfoy other times? Malfoy kept him on edge, always giving Harry a reason to do better, always there in his thoughts as a measuring stick on which to compare himself against. He couldn’t imagine not having that in his life.

“If we’re meant to be in each other’s lives, Malfoy, then I don’t want it to be as enemies anymore,” he began.

“I want it to be as friends.”

Draco froze; had Potter really said that? Had Potter really uttered those words, those words that Draco had wanted to hear so desperately all his life?

“What did you say?” Malfoy asked softly.

Harry licked his lips, aware that he probably only had this one chance to change things, that where the Wizarding World went from here on out might very well depend on how this one moment between them turned out.

“I said, I want to be your friend. I should have given you a chance at least, back then on the train, and tried to get to know you before passing judgment. We’ve hated each other for six years. I’d like to see what it’s like if we were friends instead.”

Draco was in shock. If Potter had been a Slytherin, he would have thought this was a trick. But Potter always wore his heart on his sleeve, and just the look in Potter’s eyes told Draco that Potter was sincere. He really did want to try being friends.

Draco was elated! He had wanted this for so long.

Then an overwhelming sadness possessed him. It was too late for friendship. Draco was trapped by his task for the Dark Lord. His parent’s lives depended on his success. He couldn’t be friends with Potter and save his parents too! He wanted it so badly he could taste it. All he had to do was say yes, let’s try being friends. But then what? Oh, by the way Potter, the first thing I’m going to do is betray you and let the Death Eaters into the castle because if I don’t, the Dark Lord is going to Crucio me and my parents into oblivion! Draco didn’t care about himself, but he had to protect his parents. He wanted Potter badly, but if the Dark Lord found out he had befriended Potter, his parents would have no chance.

Harry saw it all, what Malfoy was thinking, the way his eyes lit up at the prospect of friendship, to suddenly clouding over with doubts. It was now or never. Please, Harry thought, please let me find the right words.

“Draco, I’ll help you,” he said with determined conviction.

Draco looked at Potter, surprised by the use of his first name. He couldn’t ever remember a time that Potter had used it to address him by. He decided he liked the way it sounded, coming from Potter that way.

“I don’t know what you’re suppose to be doing for Voldemort, but I can imagine you’re doing it because your parents are being threatened, right?”

The look of fear on Malfoy’s face told Harry he’d hit the mark.

“I know what it’s like to not have parents, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even…not even my enemy, and especially not a friend. I don’t know your mother and I don’t like your father, but I would never wish them dead. I can help you, please, if you'll let me.

“And Draco, even if you don’t want to be friends, even if you decide you want to keep the enmity between us…well, I just want you to know I will still help. It’s not dependent on your being my friend.”

Harry prayed with all he had that Malfoy would believe him, would believe in him, that Harry did want to help. Reaching up, he caressed the side of Malfoy’s face, trying to will the truth into Malfoy by his touch.

Draco closed his eyes as he felt the warmth of Potter’s hand against his face. It was a wonderful sensation – better than any of the sex they’d just had, better than the feel of any of the hurts he’d inflicted as revenge, better because Potter did it freely and on his own. He leaned into the touch, wanting to remember forever how it felt. Placing his own hand over Potter’s, he squeezed it and held on, as if for dear life. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes, decision made.

“All right, Potter. I’ll take that help then. This is what the Dark Lord wants me to do…”

Fin.