Where Slash Rules

Fic Rec: HP_Darkfest Entry, Beyond Measure - Harry, Snape, Alecto, Amycus, NC-17

2009-11-07T20:26:19Z

So one of the things I was always disappointed with in Deathly Hallows is that there was never a big confrontation scene between Harry and Severus. After their dual in the end of Half-Blood Prince, I expected a rematch where Harry would have a chance to redeem himself. Sadly, that did not happen.

However, now there is this story entry over on Live Journal in the HP-Darkfest comm, and although it's not a dual-rematch, it certainly hits my kink buttons.

Just mind any warnings, and even though it doesn't say, there is some really squicky het in there too...and that says something about the darkness of this great story to be able to cause my stomach to churn!

Beyond Measure

How to view another journal with my layout

2009-11-06T11:54:36Z

I'm terrible about posting here, but I'm trying to get better.

I have a techie question though about Insane Journal.

On LiveJournal, I can click a setting to view other journals in my layout.

Does anyone know how I can do that here on InsaneJournal? I'm having trouble reading a comm journal because of the colors.

2009 Snarry Games Rec: The Fourth Deathly Hallow By Gingertart

2009-09-15T21:25:04Z

(Just when I'm starting to feel better, my 10-year-old son has a 103 temp and tested positive for the flu!)

So when I did my massive Team Snitch fic rec post, The Fourth Deathly Hallow by Gingertart had not yet been posted to the Games. I hate to say any particular entry is my favorite, but this one is definitely in my top five. It has the perfect mix of plot and characters and imagination and sexual tension and - I could go on and on. I may be biased, not because it's a fic on my team but because I love Sherlock Holmes.

It's a long one (56k words) but it didn't seem that way at all. The merging of the two worlds is cleverly done, and the twist at the end - I should have been expecting but didn't. Just look at the summary as an example of what to expect:

Summary: From the private journal of John. H. Watson MD; not intended for publication. Being an account of the strange case of the Fourth Deathly Hallow; in which Dr John H. Watson and Mr Sherlock Holmes save a life, discover the true secret of Professor Moriarty, unravel a time loop or two, encounter a femme fatale, imbibe potions, break into and out of a wizarding mansion, hide in a male brothel, go shopping, track down a magical artefact, almost attend a ritual sacrifice, fail to be Obliviated and totally ignore the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy of 1692, all in the company of a lank-haired, irascible but secretly besotted schoolmaster, a bemused aristocrat and an increasingly perceptive and enamoured young hero.

It's truly an incredible and fun story.

2009 Snarry Games - Fic Recs for Team Snitch, LONG

2009-09-12T17:48:45Z

I feel bad for taking so long to do this, but just as the Games started posting on Insane Journal, I got sick with pneumonia and a horrible cough. I've been doing good just to log in and check my inbox.

I'm still not up to par, but I've been doing really well in keeping up with the Games and thought I'd at least try and mention my fellow team member's fics here. The thing is, I'm pretty easy to please when it comes to the Games. I rarely get squicked by anything, and although het, mpreg, and gender-bender fics aren't my favorites, a fic with those things in them won't keep me from reading.

I still have several to read, but I doubt there will be any fics that I disliked. So as a rec post, I have to put them ALL here really.

But one in particular stands out for me - and I can't really say why exactly. Like I said, I don't care for het much at all, and explicit het even less. It just sort of makes my stomach churn to be reading about squishy girl parts and all...just, yuck.

So the fact that this fic has explicit het should have made it one of those that I liked, but not one that I'd love. And I'm not even sure that saying I love it is right either.

It's just that it will be one that I won't forget.

It was the feel of the story that got to me - the desperation, the love, the brokenness of the characters...I can't say too much without giving things away, although from the start I was sure I knew who the female really was and that may have been why I could handle the het part. The explicit het is so important to the story that without it, it wouldn't be the same.

If you passed this up because of the het warning, please try and give it another chance.

"By Sulfur and Salt" by Elfwreck

Now to be fair, I'm on Team Snitch along with Elfwreck. There is a fic on the other team written by a former alternate member on my team which I'd also like to mention.

"Anachronism" by Starcrossed

It's long, so it looks intimidating, but don’t let it fool you – once you start, it will be over in a flash! I can't say enough good things about it, although it did make me sad in places, to the point of tears. But rest assured, it does have a happy ending.

As far as the other stories go, I'm not making a big old long analysis of them. I'm just supplying a comment or two about what I liked about them in general or how they made me feel. My point isn't to bore anyone or reiterate what others have already said. It's just that if you haven't had time to read any of them, you can go through my list and pick out happy ones, sad ones, cross-overs, or whatever you feel like reading.

I do have to say that none of these entries I have actually read. I know that seem strange, but I don't have time to read. I have a screen reader program which I use to make MP3 files of all the stories, then listen to them while I walk. I get a slightly different 'view' on a story than if I'd read. There are visual scene breaks that are not picked up audibly by the program, and that can be a problem at times, especially when there are lots of back and forth between present and past in some of the time travel fics. The scene break thing is not a fault of the writer. I and many others use some type of symbol combination, such as '~*~', to break scenes, and the reader program will speak those symbols so I know there is a change. When the text of our stories is posted on the web, the scene breaks are coded using an html line code and that doesn't get picked up and voiced. Overall, all the stories have been well written enough and descriptive enough for me to be able to visualize everything that's happening, and they've been thoroughly enjoyable to listen to.

Team Snitch Fics (in order of posting)

"The Shadowless Hereafter" by Perfica

Made me cry, and it's difficult for a writer to do that to me anymore.

"Sex, Lies, and Audiobooks" by RaeWhit

Gosh, what's not to love about this one? Just the thought of getting to hear Severus read audiobooks makes me melt.

"Thrice Turned" by ThreeSidedOrchid/Synn

This was different – one of the genderbender fics that I normally could take or leave but instead still left me thinking about it afterwards.

"Connecting the Dotty" by I Got Tired of Waiting

Wow, what a sweet story. I listened to this one while I was visiting my 80-year-old parents. Another one to make me tear up.

"The Bed You Made" by Meri

I love the twisted spin on Wizarding law and culture – hopeful ending made me happy.

"D For Defender" by Amand-r

Like, does she ever write anything that isn't great? Funny as usual (is it bad form to say how much I loved her story last year too, to the point I bought the DVD of the movie it was based on, but liked her take better?), and even though I didn't know the Tick, it didn't matter to the hilariousness of this…Man-Bat, Man-Bat, Man-Bat …what more is there to say?

"Bids and Pieces (of Harry's Life, Post-Happily Ever After)" By Ziasudra

Hot sex with an interesting plot to get them there!

"The Snidget" by Acidburn and Sinick

Very cute. Satisfying take on the Dark Lord winning.

"If Only" by Jadzialove

Wow, what a powerful story. Anyone who's ever wished they'd done things differently will certainly appreciate this one. It didn't just bring tears to my eyes, it had them falling down my face. Oh, and the sex was hot too.

"Snow Harrie" by Eriador117

Another gender-bender that I wasn't sure I'd like much but did. She says it's loosely based on Snow White, but a fluffy fairy tale it's not. Creative use of the Weasleys made me laugh!

"Sweet Surrender" by Gin_Tonic

This is a cross-over with Pushing Daisies, which I don't know at all. It didn't matter because the story was wonderful. I'll never see cellophane the same again!

"Tracking Changes" by Montana Dan

I'm a racing fan and this was so much fun, even with no Snarry sex (because it's Severitis).

"Timely Actions" by Odogoddess

I really enjoyed how time travel and canon were mixed in this, along with some satisfying sex at the end!

"She Who Knows the Orphan" by Dacro

I've always been fascinated with Egypt and was pleased when I saw this story took place there (in Ancient Egypt). As you read, you can tell the staggering amount of research that was put into this story. Excellent job.

"Rook Castling Kingside" By WhiteCotton

I've only started this one but had to stop because it was too confusing to listen to without any scene change prompt. What I've heard though, I've really enjoyed and I'm looking forward to reading it soon.

"His Mother's Eyes" by LinW

Dumbledore has never been one of my favorite characters, and this fic points out a lot of the reasons why. What's neat about this story is that it has Flitwick playing a large part in it too.

"Play the Game" by HP Strangelove

(Can I rec my own?) Well if you like Dark Fic in the tradition of annephoenix and amanuensis1, you'll certainly enjoy this one. The torture and abuse does have a point though…and there's a plot, and a mystery too.

"The Weight We Carry" By AtypicalSnowman

I'm in the middle of listening to this one, but so far I'm enjoying it. Creepy feeling of no one being around…I don't know how it will turn out.

"Sands of Time" by Ron's Pigwidgeon

Cross-over with Torchwood, although I really don't think you need to know the show to enjoy this fun story. Capt. Jack is so IC – he'll do anybody and anything, and he includes Harry in that. I love a jealous Snape, and Draco in charge is great.

I've also read the Team Cauldron entries, but I really need to get back to work and don't have time to go through them all right now…Maybe tomorrow, because they deserve to be rec'd too!

Snarry Games Fic: Play the Game, NC-17 - Details on those Warnings

2009-09-07T17:03:52Z

I posted this on my own LJ, but because of a C&D I received in another fandom, I've had to flock that LJ.

So in case you weren't able to see this post over there, I thought I'd also post it here unlocked.

~*~

Because even with warnings, or especially because of them, it can be difficult to decide to read my Snarry Games fic or not.

So for those who are on the fence and would like some more details about why those warnings are there, I thought I'd make this post.

I'll do my best to not say any spoilers, but basically this is the plot and why there are those warnings.

There is a series of Polaroids by Robert Maplethorpe called Charles and Jim – my icon is one of them – which depict a naked young man and a naked older man in a bare room with only a mattress on the floor. This fic was inspired by those photos:

What if the young man was never allowed to leave that room? What if he was a sex slave, and the older man was a client who fell in love with him and wanted to rescue him?

Harry became the young man, and Severus became the older one. And this fic was born.

Harry is an Auror. He's investigating a series of Muggle kidnappings. The Muggles are being taken to a sex club for wizards, but Harry doesn't know where because the club is under the Fidelius charm.

Harry almost manages to capture the kidnapper as he's taking the next victim, but the kidnapper gets away. The kidnapper later abducts Harry, 'takes' Harry's magic (I won't say how), and keeps Harry in the sex club.

Many of the warnings are due to what the wizards do to the Muggle 'workers' in the sex club – think of it as a Death Eater orgy. Because of magic, many of the injuries which would be fatal are able to be healed. The wizards are very sadistic, although their acts are mostly described during a conversation between the bartender at the club and one of the wizards – breathplay, sharp object penetration, and bloodplay incidents.

Harry is also used by the wizards in the sex club - those incidents include orgasm denial, bondage, spanking, whipping, knife/bloodplay, needleplay, and breathplay, along with the use of gags, blindfolds, cockrings, butt plugs, nipple clamps, and handcuffs/manacles. There is a spell that I created that mimics the bites of mosquitoes, and the kidnapper uses that to torture Harry.

The kidnapper uses a pattern of hurt/comfort to try and break Harry down.

Towards the end, there are two incidents of torture that may be too extreme for some readers. One is the use of a plant with thorns, wrapping around Harry. The second is waxplay, but with 'magical' wax that burns hotter than normal wax.

The point of all of this is to show several things, but most of all it's to emphasize Harry's strength, both physically and mentally – no matter what is done to him, he won't give up. It comes close at times, but he has faith in his friends that they will find him. When the chance for escape come, he doesn't forget about the Muggle captives.

The story is a mystery – who is the kidnapper, and why does he hate Harry so much? The secondary story is Draco/Harry, and then Snape's acceptance of his feelings for Harry in light of Harry's disappearance.

The reason I won't say there is a 'happy' ending is that I won't gloss over the fact that I think Harry will need extensive counseling to help him deal with what he's been through. But Severus and Draco both pledge to support and love Harry, no matter how long it takes for him to heal. I think it ends on a hopeful note.

That's about as much as I can think of to say about the warnings. I certainly understand that the story isn't for everyone, and I'm not going to be upset if someone chooses to not read it. I don't want anyone to ever push themselves to read something that would make them feel uncomfortable just because it's one of my stories.

On the other hand, if you read it and enjoy it, I hope you'll leave a comment and vote.

Snarry-a-Thon Entry: A Lowering Of Defenses, NC-17

2009-05-16T20:34:36Z

There may be a few of you on my flist who are not memebers of the snape_potter comm, where it's locked both on Insane Journal and Live Jounal, so I'd thought I'd post in my own journal...and I'm trying the cross posting function on dreamwidth, so we'll see how it works.

Title: A Lowering of Defenses
Author: hpstrangelove
Other pairings/threesome: none
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 4350
Warning(s): Underage sex (Harry is 15, as this takes place during fifth year), bondage, orgasm denial, object penetration, dub-con.
Prompt: Officially Claimed Prompt 322: Harry has fantasies of being bound. Unoffically Claimed Prompt 86: Occlumency lessons - Snape sees Harry's fantasies.
Summary: Snape shows Harry the power of the mind.
Beta: The wonderful joanwilder
A/N: There are some slight adaptations of the original text of the first Occlumency lesson in Book 5.

A Lowering Of Defenses

Harry didn’t know when it had started, his enjoyment of being bound. He’d never given it much thought until today, because of his lesson, when everything had been laid bare.

~*~

The first time he could remember the sensation had been when he was six years old. It had been summertime, and he and Dudley were in the park, playing. When they’d been younger, he and Dudley had spent quite a bit of time together, more than Aunt Petunia had ever realized. This one particular day, Dudley and he had been chasing each other around the swing set. They were wrestling with each other, rolling around on the ground and laughing. Whoever was pinned had to chase the other one down. They were fairly evenly matched back then. Dudley wasn’t yet the fat prat he’d become by the time Harry had received his Hogwarts letter.

It had been the times when Dudley had Harry pinned, his wrists over his head and held in Dudley’s tight grip, that Harry enjoyed the most. It was probably the fact that Harry had rarely been touched or embraced that had him enjoying the feel of Dudley on top of him, holding him down.

Harry would have thought that as they got older, and Dudley crueler, he would have kept out of Dudley’s way. That wasn’t what had happened, though. Without understanding why, Harry would taunt Dudley, purposely making the boy angry. Harry was quicker and lighter than Dudley, and would have to slow his pace so that Dudley could catch him.

Dudley would throw Harry to the ground, pin his wrists together over his head with his left hand, and with his right, give Harry several sharp slaps to the face. It would sting and sometimes his lip would split and bleed. But the pain was a small price to pay for that sensation of being restrained, of surrendering to the feel of helplessness, to being touched.

When Harry had arrived at Hogwarts, he'd found that as much as he enjoyed being away from the Dursleys, he missed his fights with Dudley. It wasn’t until his fourth year, during the Triwizard Tournament and at the cemetery, when Peter Pettigrew had bound him to the tombstone, that he'd made the connection to that feeling he'd got from being held down by Dudley.

Harry had been frightened that night, the night Voldemort had returned. He was sure that he was going to die, but as he pulled against the ropes that kept him tied to the tombstone, he couldn't stop his cock from becoming hard. His erection hadn’t lasted, considering the rest of the events of that night, but still, it had happened, and it had happened because he’d been bound.

When Harry had later described the spell that Pettigrew had used to cast the ropes from his wand, it wasn’t long before Hermione had learned how to do it herself, teaching it to Harry and Ron. One especially useful bit of information about the spell was that the person casting it could easily reverse it, whereas anyone else would have to cut the ropes in some way. It wasn’t long before Harry had learned to cast the spell wandlessly, with the result that he could bind both of his wrists together to the headboard, without having to worry about dropping his wand and being unable to reverse it later.

That summer at the Dursleys seemed to drag on forever. At least they pretty much left him alone, which gave him plenty of time to practice the rope spell. His fantasies were the only thing that kept him sane. It seemed ironic that thinking of being tied to the tombstone was what drove the image of Cedric’s lifeless eyes from his memory, but it worked, and that was all that mattered.

But imagining Peter Pettigrew as his captor was too close to the real memory. Instead, in his fantasies he replaced Pettigrew with a man who hadn’t even been there that night, but one who would've thoroughly enjoyed having Harry bound, gagged, and at his mercy – Severus Snape.

Harry’s first fantasy had Snape as the one who’d tied him to the tombstone. Snape didn’t gag him, though. He kept Harry’s mouth free so that he could force Harry to drink some horrible-tasting potion. Harry would fight him at first, but Snape would pinch Harry’s nose closed so that eventually, in order to breathe, Harry would have to open his mouth. That was when Snape would pour the potion down his throat, then force his mouth shut and keep it closed until Harry swallowed it all down.

After a few minutes, Harry’s cock would become hard, and his body would tingle all over, aching to be touched. He’d worked out that what Snape had given him was a lust potion, and Harry would look at Snape in horror as Snape smirked evilly.

He’d lean in close, his breath hot on Harry’s ear. “I’m going to make you beg for it, Potter. You need me to touch you. Your body will feel like it’s on fire. The only thing that will give you any relief is for me to touch you, all over, everywhere. You will not be allowed to come until I do, inside of you. Once I do, the spell will be broken. Until the next time, that is.”

And since it was a fantasy, Snape would use some kind of spell that would vanish all of Harry’s clothes, and Harry would be there, tied naked and unable to move, as Snape explored every inch of his body.

Snape would use his hands, pinching and squeezing and scratching until Harry didn’t think there was a part of his body that wouldn’t be bruised and marked. Snape would tease Harry by squeezing his balls painfully with one hand, while working his cock up and down with the other. Just as he felt he couldn’t hold back any longer, Snape would use the rope spell to bind his cock and balls to keep him from coming. No matter how much he pleaded, Snape would just laugh at him. Harry would promise Snape anything if only he could come, but Snape would wait, wait until Harry could no longer hold back his tears from the ache in his cock.

Snape would release him, turn him around, binding his hands behind his back. He’d shove Harry against the tombstone and kick his feet apart. He’d tease him by placing the tip of his cock right to Harry’s entrance, pushing enough so that Harry knew it was there, knew what was coming next.

“Oh, Potter, this is exquisite. I’m going to shove my cock into that tight little arse of yours, and I’m not going to care how much it hurts you, or how much you scream, or how much you beg me to stop.”

Harry could keep himself on edge like that for a good thirty minutes, hearing Snape’s voice in his head, telling Harry all sorts of horrible things he planned on doing to ‘the insolent brat’.

Eventually, Harry couldn’t take it anymore, and he’d pull against the ropes tying his wrists to his bed, imagining Snape’s harsh and punishing thrusts into his arse. He wouldn’t even have to touch himself - the thoughts and the bindings were enough to make him come, so hard and intense that it took every bit of self control to keep himself from crying out as he spilled all over his stomach and the sheets. The last thing he needed was for uncle Vernon to walk in on him and find him tied to his bed. That would have been too much of a temptation for his uncle to resist.

After that time at the Dursleys’, he’d also begun to practice silencing and camouflage charms, and by the end of the summer when he’d returned to Hogwarts, he had no fears of being caught in his bed in his dorm when he played his game, as he now called it. He could silence his bed area, and with the curtains closed and the ropes camouflaged, he doubted Ron would notice them if he dared peak through the curtains.

And he played his game several times a week. With the horrible things that had been happening at the school during fifth year, the time he spent with the game was the only time he could lose himself and forget how bad it all was.

~*~

When he’d returned to Hogwarts from Grimmauld Place after the Yule hols, all he’d wanted to do on that first evening back was play his game. With Sirius, the Weasleys, Ron and Hermione always around, he hadn't been about to take the chance of playing and getting caught, and he was in desperate need of some relief.

He especially had wanted to forget that he was spending the night with Snape, in his first Occlumency lesson. Harry had been sure that being in Snape’s presence after weeks of denying himself his fantasies wasn’t going to be conducive to learning anything, much less some new, unfamiliar, and obscure branch of magic. Even now, Harry couldn’t hold back a snicker at the words Snape had used to describe it: magical defense of the mind against external penetration!

External penetration wasn’t something Harry wanted his mind to be defended against. His mind actively sought it, and specifically sought it from Snape. If he’d only known what learning Occlumency would mean…but he hadn’t.

“I am about to attempt to break into your mind,” said Snape softly. “We are going to see how well you resist. I have been told that you have already shown aptitude at resisting the Imperius Curse. You will find that similar powers are needed for this…brace yourself, now... Legilimens! ”

Harry hadn’t any idea of what to do to resist. Snape’s office blurred, then was replaced with images flashing through his mind. He felt as if he were staring into a strobe light.

He was six, and Dudley was chasing him around the swing set in the park… he was nine, and Dudley had him pinned on the ground, slapping his face…he was sitting under the Sorting Hat, and it was telling him he would do well in Slytherin…a hundred Dementors were closing in on him beside the dark lake…Cedric Diggory was lying on the ground with blank eyes staring at him…Harry was tied to the tombstone and a figure clad in black, holding a vial of liquid approached him…

No, said a voice inside Harry's head, as the memory of fantasy-Snape drew nearer, you're not watching that, you're not watching it, it's private -

He felt a sharp pain in his knee. Snape's office had come back into view and he realized that he had fallen to the floor; one of his knees had collided painfully with the leg of Snape's desk.

“Did you see everything I saw?” Harry asked, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.

“Flashes of it,” said Snape, his lip curling.

Harry closed his eyes in dread. If he didn’t block out thoughts of the game, Snape was going to know!

“Concentrate this time, Potter. Clear your mind, rid yourself of your emotions, focus on building a barrier to keep me out…”

The problem was that when trying to not think of something, say, a pink elephant, that something was exactly the thing that came to mind. When Harry realized that Snape could see into his thoughts, he desperately tried to not think of the game…

“Legilimens!”

And of course, that had been all Harry could think about.

Being chained naked to the wall of Snape’s classroom…Snape’s mouth biting his neck…Snape’s hand pinching his nipples…Snape turning him around and crushing him against the cold stone…Snape’s hands parting his cheeks…Snape’s cock thrusting inside…Harry screaming as he came, pulsing thick, white strands onto the wall…

Harry found himself on the floor again, gasping for breath, his face burning with shame. Oh god, he thought, Snape had seen! Snape had seen everything!

The next thing Harry knew, he was being pulled up by a fist in his hair. His eyes began to water from the intense pain, and he struggled to pull out of Snape’s grasp.

Anger distorted Snape’s features as he harshly shoved Harry against the wall. His hand still in Harry’s hair, he pulled Harry’s head back, forcing him to look up into his face, which was only inches away from Harry’s.

“Just what do you think this is, Potter? An opportunity to make fun of me? Do you think I’m playing some sort of game?”

Harry had never seen Snape so furious. He tried to push Snape away, but the man was just too strong, and with the hand in his hair, Harry was effectively immobilized.

But as Harry struggled, he realized the sensation of helplessness was making his cock hard. He gritted his teeth and quit moving, hoping to get his body under control.

“Let me go!” Harry spat. “You’re hurting me!”

“Not until you explain yourself. Those images I saw were of things that have never happened! Are you planning to go to Albus with the tale that I’ve molested you tonight? To get me sacked? If so, you are stupider than I thought. All it will take is a drop of Veritaserum for him to know that you are lying and that I am not!”

The last thing that Harry wanted was for Dumbledore to know about his game. It was bad enough that Snape had seen it, but Harry didn’t really care what Snape thought of him. He did care what Dumbledore thought, though.

“It’s not like that, and those images did really happen, only they happened in my mind, in my fantasies.”

“What made you pick me to be the antagonist in your fantasies?” Snape asked, still angry but also sounding a bit curious.

Harry thought for a moment, wondering how much of the truth he should tell Snape.

“It started with nightmares of the night that Voldemort returned - ” Harry began, but was interrupted by a hiss from Snape.

“Do not say his name, Potter!”

“Fine! The Dark Lord…the night the Dark Lord returned. I kept having nightmares of being tied to the tombstone and got hard at the feeling of being bound. When I concentrated on that feeling, I didn’t think about Cedric’s death so much.

“Except I didn’t want to be reminded of the real events. Since you weren’t there, in the graveyard, I sort of manipulated the nightmare and turned it into a fantasy, having you replace Pettigrew. After a while, I started fantasizing about other places, other situations. That’s what you saw.”

“So, you never intended to try and use those thoughts against me by going to Dumbledore?” Snape asked.

“Of course not! I would never want him to know about any of it. Going to Dumbledore would be the last thing I’d do.”

Snape seemed to consider Harry’s words for a moment, then his lips curled up into a sneer as he said, “Then perhaps we can work something out.”

Harry wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. “What do you mean?”

It hadn’t escaped Harry’s notice that Snape still had his hand in his hair, and although the grip wasn’t as painful as it had been, his hold was firm. And Snape had somehow maneuvered closer, and Harry could feel Snape’s leg brushing up against him, Snape’s free hand pinning Harry’s wrist to the wall.

Then Snape’s entire body was against Harry’s, and Snape’s mouth was on his, his tongue pushing inside and exploring hungrily.

Harry moaned as he struggled again, but Snape's body bound him to the wall more efficiently than the ropes had bound Harry to the tombstone.

Snape broke the kiss, but immediately moved his mouth to Harry’s neck, biting down hard. Harry cried out, his cock throbbing with need, and Snape began to grind his hip into Harry’s crotch as he spoke.

“You need it, like it, rough, don’t you, Potter? Well I can take care of that, and more. And I don’t even have to touch you to do it.”

Snape let him go so quickly, it was as if he’d been burned. Harry didn’t move. He stayed frozen against the wall, wondering what Snape was going to do next.

“Legilimens!”

The room blurred again as before. Now, though, Harry was naked, and his wrists were manacled in chains hanging from the darkness over his head. He could only touch the floor with his toes, and he was so painfully aroused by his struggles to break free that tears formed in his eyes. He wanted to come so badly, but something was stopping him – a cord of some kind was tied around his balls, and even though when he looked down he couldn’t see it, he could certainly feel its effect.

What he had seen as he looked down were two small, silver rings piercing each of his nipples, with a delicate looking silver chain connecting them. His cock gave a jump when he thought of how it would feel if Snape were to put a leash on the chain, pulling on it and leading him around the room by his nipples.

Harry gasped, his head falling back, when he felt Snape behind him, pulling his cheeks apart and pushing a finger inside.

“If you don’t like the manacles and chains, I can make them into ropes,” Snape said, and immediately Harry felt the cold of metal replaced by the roughness of thick ropes wrapped around his wrists.

“Or I can replace my finger with a plug.” And Harry felt something much larger than Snape’s one finger filling his arse, and he moaned at how good it felt to be stretched like that.

“Or I can change the plug to something more organic.” Harry’s breath hitched as suddenly the inside of his arse felt like it were on fire.

“What…what…is that?” Harry managed to croak out in a sob. The burn was intense but pleasurable at the same time, and he thought he might pass out from not being able to come.

“Oh, Potter, you have so much to learn, and I will be the perfect teacher,” Snape said sensually, but never answering Harry’s question. Snape remained behind Harry, but now reached around and with his right hand tugged on the chain between Harry’s nipples.

“Please,” Harry begged, “please let me come.”

“I think we need to silence that insolent mouth of yours, Potter. You’ll come when I say you can, and not a moment before.”

And before Harry could reply, his mouth was filled with a large ball of some kind, secured by thick straps around his head. He could only moan now, and when his sight was cut off by a silky fabric, he twisted and pulled on the ropes in protest.

Now Harry felt a new sensation. Something snakelike crawled up from the floor, slithering up his feet, one on each of his legs, moving in unison. They climbed up along his calves, then to his thighs, stretching and climbing higher, between his legs, one in front around his balls and cock, and one in back between his arse cheeks. They paused there, and each began to tease him, taking turns. The one at his arse began to slowly insert itself into his hole, the burning plug having disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. The rope snake pushed in, farther and farther, much farther than Harry could imagine was possible, then began to grow, widening and opening Harry up. It seemed as if it were curling up inside of him, and then it began to move in and out of Harry, fucking him and causing him to writhe in his bindings. If it hadn’t been for the brother of the rope snake around his balls and cock, he would have come, but the rope snake in front had wrapped itself snugly around Harry’s balls, then inserted itself down deep through the tip of Harry’s cock.

The rope snakes seemed to play with Harry for an eternity, and he could feel saliva running out of his mouth around the ball, dribbling along his chin. His tears would have been flowing freely down his face if it weren’t for the fabric of the blindfold soaking them up. Finally, they took mercy on him, pulling themselves out of his arse and urethra, and joining together at his waist, and continued their travels along his body.

They moved upward, wrapping around Harry’s chest in what felt like an intricate pattern, over his shoulders and around his neck, but then parting again, one traveling along each arm until combining together for the final time at his wrists. When they’d finished their journey, they began to tighten, a light pressure at first, but then more, firmer, constricting around every inch of Harry’s body, and he began to panic as he feared the ones around his neck would cause him to suffocate. But they never reached that point; it was as if they could sense exactly how much pressure could be applied without doing him any harm.

When they’d completed their adjustment, they began to lightly vibrate, almost as if they were charged with electricity, and Harry’s body jerked at the shock, then went limp in his bonds, unable to fight off the painful need to come any longer. He started to see spots of white as his consciousness began to leave him, but he was jerked back to alertness by Snape’s words in his ear and Snape's hard cock pressed to his arse.

“I wish you could see how delectable you look, Potter. Silence and ropes become you. I could keep you like this forever, trap you in my mind, always on the edge of coming but never allowing you relief. Such beautiful desperation…”

And then, like in his fantasies, Harry could feel the tip of Snape’s cock at his arse, ready to enter him. But he didn’t wait for Snape to taunt him any longer, and forcefully pushed back, impaling himself on Snape in one quick move, his hole burning at being stretched so quickly and all at once.

He heard Snape grunt, then felt fingers grab onto his hips. Snape pulled himself partially out of Harry’s arse, but only paused for seconds before shoving violently back in. If Harry hadn’t been gagged, he would have screamed at the pain. Snape didn’t allow him any time to adjust, and continued thrusting in and out at a punishing pace. It wasn’t long before Harry felt Snape begin to falter, then Snape’s words, commanding in a raspy voice, “Now, brat, come for me now.”

Harry’s world exploded in a symphony of bright stars. He could feel the shockwaves of his orgasm as they moved throughout his body, his arse clenching around Snape as thick, sticky white fluid pulsed from Harry’s cock. Snape’s body shuddered and he shouted loudly, then stilled as he filled Harry’s arse with come.

The room shimmered into focus, and a fully clothed Harry found himself on his knees once more, taking in huge gulps of air and trying to calm his beating heart. He heard Snape laughing maliciously, and Harry looked up at him with hate-filled eyes.

“That’s what I mean, Potter. That’s what learning Occlumency can prevent. Defense against external penetration of the mind. And other places of your body.” Snape laughed again.

Harry turned his gaze away from Snape and looked down at the floor, continuing to breathe in and out deeply, trying to recover from the orgasm that had washed over his mind and affected his body – he could feel the stickiness in his pants where he’d come.

Harry felt Snape’s hands on him, pulling him up, although this time more gently and not by the hair. He pressed Harry to the wall again and told him, “The brain is the most sensual organ of the entire body. What you felt involved stimuli within your mind only – except for the kiss, I never touched you. I lowered my defenses, allowing you to see my fantasies, which your mind, and therefore your body, responded to.”

He let go of Harry and said with a sneer, “I want you back here same time on Wednesday, and we will continue work then. You are to rid your mind of all emotion every night before sleep. You can continue with your little fantasies if you like. In fact, I insist on it. It will help you to empty your mind afterwards, make it blank and calm, you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” said Harry, who was unable to look Snape in the eye.

“And be warned, Potter,” he added with a smile, “I shall know if you have not practiced.”

“Right,” Harry mumbled. He picked up his schoolbag, swung it over his shoulder, and hurried toward the office door. As he opened it, he glanced back at Snape, who just smirked at him. Harry left without another word, closing the door carefully behind him, the wetness in his pants feeling uncomfortably cool.

~*~

As Harry lay in his bed, staring at the closed curtains, he thought about what had happened in his first Occlumency lesson. No, he really had no idea when it had started, his enjoyment of being bound. But if every Occlumency lesson was going to be like the one he’d had tonight, learning this new, unfamiliar, and obscure branch of magic was going to be the first time in his life that he would be looking forward to class with Snape.

Happy New Year Everyone, and Two Fic Recs

2008-12-31T19:48:08Z

Well first, this is my annual end of year, Happy New Year post, especially to snottygrrl. I think she is one of the first on my flist to ring in the New Year, and I'm happy to say I was able to meet her in person at Terminus this past August.

Second - I just want to say how incredible the past year has been. Incredible because:

1) of the wonderful people I met up in Chicago at Terminus. It was so good being able to put faces to the names.
2) I turned 50 and celebrated it by going to NYC and seeing Equus and meeting more fen there! Plus, I met a neighbor up there, winoniel,who only lives about three blocks away from me! She's become a great friend to fangirl with in person.
3) I wrote for the Snarry Games - it made me feel like a true writer.
4) I wrote for 25 days straight this December for the adventdrabbles comms on IJ and LJ (although what I wrote were no drabbles!). I found some really neat friends and converted some new readers to the Alex Rider fandom.
5) Wow, and my idol, annephoenix, invited me to post my Advent series to her Alex Rider archive. I have never felt more honoured!
6) I wrote for yuletide this year for the first time, and my fic was well received, which made me very happy, especially considering who I was writing it for! Plus, the fic I received was wonderful! If you are a Damian Lewis fan (who plays Yassen in the Alex Rider movie), then you are probably a Life fan. My fic was written in that fandom, A Basket of Cellophane, and is terrific. Even if you don't know the characters, it's great, but if you do...take a few minutes to read it. You'll be as awed as I was.

Thirdly, some of you may be familiar with hollycomb on Livejournal from her Albus/Scorpius fics, but she wrote a very sweet and tender original fic for me, Where You Go From Here, based on a prompt I gave her. She's a talented writer and if you have time, check it out. It will put a smile on your face for the New Year.

And I hate putting this last, but I can't finish this post without a special thank you to joanwilder. She has a special place in my heart for many, many reasons, starting with being my Team Captain for the Snarry Games, then becoming my beta, then taking me under her wing at Terminuse (I get a bit intimidated in large groups and tend to latch on to someone for protection, and she didn't shove me away!), and finally, because she's a wonderful person and friend!

So, flist, I love you all, however I know you, be it via fandom writing, original writing, anime, manga, jdramas, music, ebooks, or audiobooks! You've added so much to my life this past year, and I'm looking forward to more in 2009! I'm sending good thoughts to all of you!

Happy New Year Flist

2007-12-31T15:01:27Z

I know I don't get over here to IJ that much - if it had tracking enabled I think I'd spend more time here.

I'm a few hours late for some of my flist - I think snottygrrl is one of the first to celebrate over in NZ.

I know LJ has had many problems this year, but the one GOOD thing about it is how I've been able to 'meet' so many wonderful people from around the world, and find out about IJ over here.

It started with a love of HP fanfiction in 2005, but from there my interests expanded to Anime (my first one being Ai no Kusabi and falling in love with the voice of Riki - Seki Toshihiko), Manga (especially Viewfinder), JDramas/Movies (Fuurin Kazan and Four Gods), and various other TV shows, including Dr. Who, Torchwood (and finding out that John Barrowman is a hometown boy from Joliet, Il - too bad I moved from there when he was only 8), Heroes, Life on Mars (why do I find John Simm so sexy?), Supernatural (Wincest - what a word!), Blood Ties, Moonlight (sexy vampires!).

Anyway, wherever you are in the world, I want to thank you for friending me (usually since we've all had to go and lock up our NC-17 stuff!) and I want to wish you a Great New Year!

Fic: If Only (Harry Potter - DM/HP, PG) Happy Birthday Ms. Sesheta

2007-12-02T02:03:54Z

Title: If Only

Author: hpstrangelove

Pairing: Harry Potter - DM/HP but no slash

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2820

Summary: Harry visits his parents’ grave on Christmas Eve, a year after his first visit. Before he goes, he stops at Malfoy Manor to return Draco’s wand.

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

Warning: Angst, but optimistic ending. Spoilers for DH. If you've had a loved one die in a war, you may not want to read this. I've cried every time so far as I proofed it. Sorry sesheta, I didn't mean for it to be so angsty.

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

AN Note: Written for sesheta ’s birthday – I didn’t know it was today until I saw some other well-wishers’ posts. Stupid LJ notifications! Hope you like it. I did it in one day, which is a record for me.

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

The light glowed softly through the windows onto the snow, glittering like miniature crystals. He could hear the singers in the nearby church. The sound carried far through the crisp, cold air. The world was still, unobservant of Harry as he knelt in front of his parents’ grave.

He couldn’t help but remember this same time last year, standing here with Hermione. She had volunteered to come with him again, but he wanted to be alone. He wanted to feel. He wanted to cry. He wanted to let the past year’s events flow through him and saturate him. He wanted to merge with them and understand them, until finally he could accept them. His parents had sacrificed their lives for him, so that he could live, and he was wasting it away in despair. He wanted to want to live again, but he didn’t know where to start.

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

He was happy that it was all over, but the cost had been so high. He couldn’t stop wondering what if and if only.

There were so many what ifs that he had slowly driven himself away from everyone. He didn’t want to see the faces and think about their loss. He didn’t want to think that if he had only done something sooner, or something differently, maybe one less person would have died.

He was living at Grimmauld Place now. The Weasleys had wanted him to stay with them, but he couldn’t face them, knowing what they paid towards winning the war.

Hermione saw what was happening. She was a good friend to him, but she knew she couldn’t help him with this. He needed someone to talk to, someone who understood these things he was feeling, but that person wasn’t her. As he continued to withdraw into himself, she became his only contact with the outside world, if you didn’t count Kreacher.

She went to see him earlier that day, Christmas Eve.

She taught him the spell she’d used last year to create the wreath of Christmas Roses for his parents’ grave and suggested he go there tonight. Since he couldn’t talk to the living, maybe he could talk to the dead. Maybe he could finally cry. He hadn’t cried since last year, when they had first found the grave.

He waited until dark. He needed to dress warmly, and as he opened a drawer to get his scarf, a wand fell to the floor – Draco’s wand.

He’d forgotten he’d placed the wand in that drawer when he’d moved in over the summer. He hadn’t left the house since he moved in, having Kreacher do all his shopping. He didn’t think going to a graveyard on Christmas Eve would attract any attention. No one had been about last year. He didn’t think this year would be any different.

He picked up the wand and held it, remembering how important it had been to him. He hadn’t ever taken the time to look at it before. His main concern had been the magic that he could wield with it, not the way it looked.

He ran his fingers up and down the smooth length. It was a simple looking wand. No fancy carvings adorned it. It was exactly the kind of wand that Draco Malfoy would own. It radiated elegance. It didn’t need anything artificial to make it beautiful. It felt warm to his touch, pulsing with a beat that was almost like a heart.

He shouldn’t have kept it. It wasn’t his. He’d stolen it, defeated Voldemort with it, and then should have returned it. His own wand had been damaged and rendered useless exactly a year ago tonight. The wand chooses the wizard. This one had chosen Draco and had allowed Harry to use it when he was in most need of it, but he didn’t need it anymore. Did he?

When he had originally placed it in the drawer, a nagging little voice in the back of his head had told him it wasn’t right to keep it – he needed to return it. But Harry couldn’t let it go. It was a connection to Draco that he wasn’t willing to give up. He secretly had hoped that Draco might come looking for him and ask that it be returned. He now saw how ludicrous that had been. Draco was too prideful to ever ask Harry for anything. They may have saved each other’s lives, but Draco still hated him. He always had, and Harry was a fool to think that it would ever be otherwise. Draco would never come to him, not for anything.

Sighing, he placed Draco’s wand in his pocket along with his own.   He knew what he had to do tonight before going to visit his parents.

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

The Manor was ablaze in lights. People were everywhere. Apparently the Malfoys were having a party.

They had been fully pardoned, mostly because of Harry’s testimony on Narcissa’s behalf. She may have saved his life for selfish reasons, but she had still done it, and at a great risk of forfeiting her own life if Voldemort had found out about her treason. He’d also mentioned Draco’s unwillingness to identify them when they’d been held prisoner at the Manor, and adding to it the fact that he’d tried to keep Harry from being killed in the Room of Requirements, it had been enough to keep Draco out of Azkaban.

Lucius was another story. The Lucius Malfoy Harry had seen at the Manor during their imprisonment was not the same man he’d encountered at the Ministry of Magic. Harry wondered what he himself would be capable of doing in order to protect his family, and although it wouldn’t absolve Lucius of his crimes in Harry’s eyes, he did understand why Lucius had done some of the things he had at the end. Harry didn’t think Lucius would ever be a threat again, and nothing would be gained by sending him back to Azkaban. Harry wanted to set an example of forgiveness, not revenge. Money was need to rebuild, so part of the Malfoy fortune was the price paid to keep Lucius free.

Harry could barely remember Hermione talking about the Malfoys, how they had become leaders in the rebuilding process. Judging by the amount of traffic coming in and out of the Manor gates, the Malfoys had made many friends in this post-war world.

Harry pulled his fringe down over his scar to hide it. He didn’t think he’d be noticed with so many people about, but the last thing he wanted was headlines in the Daily Prophet screaming out that the Boy-Who-Killed-Voldemort was spotted at the home of former Death Eaters.

The front door was kept open, allowing guests to walk directly in. Harry entered the foyer quickly and tried to find a place off to the side where he could find a servant and ask about Draco. His plans were momentarily forgotten as he was overwhelmed by the appearance of the Manor. He had thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful as the Great Hall when it’d been decorated for the Yule Ball in his forth year, but nothing, nothing, could match the way the Manor looked tonight.

It was as if the walls and lights were made of liquid diamonds, the way they sparkled and shined. Every color of the rainbow had its turn in dominating the room. It reminded him of a Christmas tree he’d seen once when he was young, all made out of silver, but changing from red, to blue, to green, to gold, then back to red again, as a color wheel turned and changed the light reflecting on the tree.

“Can I take your coat for you, sir?”

Harry jumped when he heard the voice, looking down into the face of a house elf. But this elf could hardly be recognized as such. Harry had never seen one so clean and finely dressed. Glancing around, he noticed the other elves were similarly attired.

“Are you a Malfoy house elf?” he asked in shock.

“Yes sir, I work for the Malfoys, as do all the other elves here.”

“You mean work, as in, you belong to the Malfoys?”

“No sir, no elves belong to the Malfoys any longer. I choose to work for them. I don’t have to stay here if I don’t wish to, but they are a fine family to work for. Not all families will pay elves, or educate them either.”

Harry felt as if he’d stepped into an entirely different universe when he’d entered through the Manor doors. A lot had changed in the months he had secluded himself away, but he’d never in his wildest dreams imagined that the Malfoys would give up their house elves, let alone pay them wages.

“Can you tell me if Draco Malfoy is here?”

“Yes sir, he is in the main ballroom, greeting guests with the Master and the Mistress. Would you like me to get him for you?”

“No! Um, no. I just have something of his that I wanted to return, but I don’t want to take him away from the party.   I’ll just come back another…”

“Sir, I’m sure Master Draco would be happy to see you and receive the item in person. He doesn’t get many visitors his own age. Let me get him for you.”

Before Harry could stop him, the elf had vanished. Harry could now see Draco, along with his parents, inside the main ballroom, speaking with guests as they entered. The elf appeared behind Draco and tugged on Draco’s arm to get his attention. Draco leaned down to hear the elf, then frowned. Standing back up, he quickly glanced over and caught Harry’s eye, then began to work his way through the crowd toward Harry.

Harry panicked. He didn’t want a confrontation with Draco, and especially not in front of all these people. Before Draco could reach him, Harry pulled the Hawthorn wand from his pocket, placed it on a table that was against the foyer wall, and took off out the front door. As soon as he made it through the front gates of the Manor, he Disapparated.

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

Here he was, now, kneeling in front of his parents’ grave, wondering how someone brave enough to kill Voldemort could be such a coward when it came to speaking with Draco Malfoy.

He didn’t know how long he’d been here at the grave, lost in his thoughts. It must have been a while. He was cold, his face feeling frozen and his knees wet from the snow. Glancing around, he could see that the church was now empty and dark. The silence of the night surrounded him like a blanket. He still felt numb inside. Coming here hadn’t helped.

Hearing the loud pop of an Apparition echo through the night, Harry reached to grab his wand from his pocket. He’d been on his knees for so long that he didn’t have any strength in them, though, and fell back down when he tried to stand, hitting his head against his parents’ gravestone.

“Graceful as always, I see.”

Rubbing his hand at the spot on his head that had struck the stone, he found himself staring up at Draco Malfoy’s expressionless face.

Glaring at Draco, Harry asked angrily, “How did you find me here? If I wanted to talk to you, I would have stayed at the Manor. Isn’t it rude for the host to leave his guests during a party?”

“Not as rude as it is to stop by to see someone and then run out on them before even speaking with them,” Draco replied.

Then, in a less challenging tone, Draco asked, “Why did you leave?”

What could Harry say? That he’d been afraid? Afraid Draco would be upset with him for keeping the wand so long? Afraid to see a look of hatred in Draco’s eyes as he ordered Harry out of the Manor? Afraid to see a look of friendship in Draco’s eyes as he asked Harry to stay? Afraid to take a chance that maybe things had changed?

Harry couldn’t speak. He looked down at the ground, unable to meet Draco’s eyes, dreading that Draco would use Legilimency and read every fear Harry could never admit to, then turn and use those fears against him. He didn’t think he’d survive if Draco did that.

As Harry remained silent, Draco moved forward and knelt down. The move was so unexpected that Harry looked up without meaning to. Draco caressed the side of Harry’s face with his hand, moving his thumb along Harry’s cheekbone as he spoke.

“I tried to get you to stop, but you were too quick. When I went back into the Manor and saw my wand, I had to find you. I went to the Weasleys and Granger was there. She told me where you would be. She told me…other things…about you too.

“I know how it hurts, Harry. So many Slytherins died too. I couldn’t help them. I wanted to, but I was scared. They looked up to me once, and I let them down. If I’d only stood up to him, took off to fight like you did, maybe some of my friends would be alive today.

“It’s so unfair! We were only children! So many died before they ever had a chance to live, and they didn’t even know what they died for in the end!”

Draco’s hand was shaking against Harry’s face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself, but when he opened his eyes again to look at Harry, they were bright with unshed tears.

“It takes time to heal the wounds. Some go deeper than others. There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s your defense against all the horrible things you went through, and you went through more than most of us. I can’t take the pain away, but I can be there for you and help you deal with it, when you’re finally ready to talk about it, if you want. You don’t have to suffer through this alone.”

Then strong arms were around him, holding him and providing comfort. For the first time in ages, Harry felt safe. Someone finally understood what he was going through. Someone else was hurting like he was. Everyone that had died was someone’s son or daughter, mother or father, sister or brother, husband or wife, and Harry had felt so responsible for each and every loss. But Draco felt that responsibility too. Harry wasn’t alone in his grief.

It started with one, escaping from the corner of Harry’s eye. Then another, and another, until finally the dam burst and the tears fell – tears for the dead and tears for those still alive who had to live on without their loved ones.

As Draco continued to hold the shaking boy, his shirt wet with Harry’s tears, the church bells started to ring in midnight. It was Christmas Day.

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

When Harry had finally cried himself out, Draco stood and offered his hand to Harry to help him up. Harry couldn’t stop himself from thinking of that time on the Hogwarts Express when Draco had offered his hand to Harry in a similar fashion.   If only Harry had taken that hand back then, all those years ago, would it had made a difference?

Draco, as if reading Harry’s thoughts, talked to him softly. “Harry, we can’t dwell on it. We can’t beat ourselves up wondering how things might have been if only we’d done something different. We can learn from it, but we have to move on.

“Come back to the Manor with me. We have plenty of rooms. Mother and Father would like to have you stay for Christmas. You shouldn’t be alone. No one should, not at Christmas.”

Taking Draco’s hand and standing, he gave Draco a watery smile. “I didn’t know anyone could even begin to understand how I felt until now. I’m sorry for taking you away from your party, but I’m glad you came to find me.”

Smiling back, Draco took Harry in his arms and Apparated them both to the Manor.

Fic: First Dance, Chapter 2 (Harry Potter - DM/HP, NC-17)

2007-11-25T03:56:12Z

Fic: First Dance (Harry Potter - DM/HP, NC17) Chapter 2

Title: First Dance – Chapter 2, NC-17

Author: hpstrangelove

Pairing: Harry Potter - DM/HP

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 5163

Summary: After Harry’s encounter with Draco at a nightclub, he can’t forget.

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

Warning: Imagined hand-job, blow-job, M/M sex, no DH spoilers.

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

AN Note: Dedicated to lhug_bereth, who works very hard to bring us all great HP/DM fic links, and furiosity, whose writing steps helped me get rid of at least 20+ 'really' and 'only' and 'just' from this fic so that you don't have to suffer through them.

Part 1

First Dance, Chapter 2

Harry couldn’t move. Draco had cast some sort of spell on him that kept him paralyzed, unable to do anything but accept Draco’s mouth and hands as they roamed over his body. Harry lay on his back, blindfolded, Draco’s tongue leisurely invading, probing, claiming, owning. Releasing Harry’s mouth, Draco planted feathered kisses over his face, then moved down to lightly bite and suck at his neck. Harry could do nothing but moan, his cock obviously not affected by the spell.

“I want to worship your body,” Draco whispered, parting Harry’s legs and sliding between them. Leaning on his elbows for support, Draco laid a path of marks from Harry’s neck, down Harry’s chest, pausing at his navel to dip his tongue inside. Harry surrendered to the sensations, making sweet mewling sounds, punctuated with words like ‘please’ and ‘more’ and ‘don’t stop’.

“I want you hear you call me Draco. I want you to scream Draco as I make you come.”

Draco took Harry’s hardened cock in his mouth, running his tongue over and around the head, teasing at the slit, then engulfing Harry completely in warm moistness.

It was too much for Harry and he did what Draco commanded, screaming out Draco’s name as he came in hot pulses of white.

Gasping, able to move again, Harry reached down to touch Draco’s head. He wanted Draco to move back up and lay next to him, but all Harry’s hand found was wet stickiness on his stomach.

Slowly opening his eyes, Harry glanced around his room and groaned, rubbing his clean hand over his face.

Everything that had happened the night before came flooding back as Harry’s sleep filled brain returned to consciousness. Looking at his wrists and seeing the bruises, he realized that yes, last night had been real.

Oh god, what had he done? What was he thinking? Letting Draco, Draco of all people, touch him so intimately had to be the stupidest, sexiest, thing he had ever done in his life! Not only that, he’d agreed to go to dinner with Draco this week, invited Draco to come by work, then proceeded to ask Draco to accompany him to Ron and Hermione’s wedding next Saturday.

‘Murder me, Merlin! How many drinks did I have last night?’ he wondered out loud.

Casting a quick Tempus charm, he saw it was already two o’clock in the afternoon. Sundays he usually spent visiting at the Burrow, but with everyone busy making final arrangements for the wedding, he wanted to keep as far away as possible. The memory of what it’d been like before Fleur and Bill’s wedding hadn’t dimmed after all this time.

It still wasn’t too late to go into the office. He wasn’t much in the mood to do docuwork, but he had such a backlog, thanks to his high success rate, that the only way he got the next weekend guaranteed off duty was if he made some progress in docusieving all his pending cases.

Taking a quick shower (no reason to waste time on a wank since that need had been satisfied), Harry flooed into the office, unable to keep his thoughts from wandering back to his dream, wishing so very much that it had been real.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Monday dawned bright and sunny. Normally Harry didn’t go into the office unless it was for a briefing. He spent his days in the field, but there’d been an eerie lull in violent activity since The Incident, and Kingsley was using it as an opportunity, along with next weekend’s guaranteed time off, to coerce Harry into finally filing his docuwork. Harry thought it rather unfair that not only did he have to risk his life while out in the field, he had to relive the horrors all over again as he authenticated his memories in his Docusieve.

It was his own fault, though. The Docusieve was a fairly recent invention that Harry had come up with. It combined Muggle recording technology with a Pensieve to create a magically authenticated record of any memories placed in it. After seeing the way Tom Riddle had been able to plant false memories, and the way Professor Slughorn had been able to alter his, Harry wanted a way to determine if a memory was true or not. The Docusieve had been an accident. It wasn’t what he had been trying to create, but he immediately saw its potential. When it had been fully tested and proven to the Wizengamot, it became standard equipment for all Aurors to use to legally document their cases. However, the drawback to using it was having to provide verification of the memory, which was time consuming. The memory first had to be placed into the Docusieve, then, in order to authenticate it, the owner had to view the Docusieve memory. As the owner viewed it, an unalterable recording was made. If any deviation occurred in the Docusieve memory to the actual memory, it was flagged in the recording. Harry didn’t mind the time it took as much as he did having to relive the memories. Most of his cases were dealing with the worst of the worse. Who wouldn’t want to put off viewing them again?

This morning, it wasn’t avoidance that made him arrive late, though. It simply had taken him longer than normal to decide what he wanted to wear. At least the things he had in his closet all fit now that Ginny helped him with his clothes buying. Most of his work clothing for out in the field was specialized, designed to help protect him from basic curses and hexes. Today, since he was going into the office, and since he wasn’t sure if Draco might (hopefully) stop by, he decided to take his time in choosing just the right thing to wear.

Forty-five minutes, six shirts, three trousers, and four robes later, Harry was finally ready. Ginny had always said the forest green robe with the black shirt and trousers made his eyes stand out. Nothing to be done about his hair though. He tried to fix it so it would at least hide as much of his scar as possible. Even though it’d been years since they’d left Hogwarts, he could still hear Draco’s contemptuous, “All right there, Scarhead?” ringing in his ears.

Harry was allowed his own receptionist if he’d wanted one, but since he was rarely in the office, he didn’t see the point. About the only way one could help him was in organizing and filing his Docusieve output, but he simply couldn’t put anyone through witnessing the types of things he had to deal with. Instead, the section receptionist, Kathy Michaels, took care of screening his calls whenever he was in the office.

Today as he walked in, he stopped by her desk first. He wanted to be sure she knew Draco might be coming by to see him. The last thing he needed was to inadvertently offend Draco by Kathy’s refusing to let him see Harry.

Kathy raised her eyebrows as he approached, looking him up and down appraisingly when he stopped in front of her desk. Self-consciously, Harry looked down at his robe. Was there left over soot on it from the floo? He’d gotten pretty good at getting the extra ash off, but maybe he’d missed some somewhere.

“What’s wrong? Is something on my robe?” he asked, twisting around and trying to see if anything was on the back.

“Oh no, Mr. Potter,” she said with a smile. “Interview today?”

“What?” he asked, thoroughly confused by her question.

“Well, you’re dressed so – nice – I thought you might be interviewing today for the DEPOM job.”

“The DEPOM job?”

“Yes, you know, Ms. Randolph was promoted from Assistant to Head of the Department of Mysteries when Mr. Johnson retired, so she’s interviewing for her replacement this week.”

“Kathy! How do you know all that? No one’s suppose to know who works there! It’s top secret.”

“Come now, Mr. Potter. I know everything that goes on around here. Haven’t you learned that by now? Besides, I know everyone’s clearance level, and I have to have the same level as the highest level attained in this office. That would be Mr. Shacklebolt. And since he sees who’s eligible to interview, I see who’s eligible to interview. And you’re eligible to interview.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize. Well, I’ve already told Kingsley that I’m not interested in doing any other kind of work, so no, I’m not interviewing. So, um…I look O.K. then?” Harry was sure he’d made a major mistake in wearing this now.

“Yes, Mr. Potter, you look quite presentable,” the unsaid ‘for a change’ being implied.

“Well, I have someone who might be coming by to see me today. He doesn’t have an appointment, but it’s all right to let him up. Just give me a quick buzz first, so I know when he’s here.”

“All right Mr. Potter. Have a good morning.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning dragged on and on. If he cast one more Tempus, he’d be ticketed with a warning for excessive use of unnecessary magic in the office. Some of it had to do with his waiting on Draco, but also, he was delaying having to look at The Incident again. He knew he had to Docusieve it, but since they hadn’t caught the perpetrator yet, he didn’t feel a pressing need to do so.

He was making good progress on his other cases when he was jolted out of his Docusieve by Kathy’s voice coming over the intercom.

“Someone here to see you, Mr. Potter. Says he doesn’t have an appointment but you should be expecting him.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. Adrenaline pumping, his hands shaking, it took every effort to keep his voice even and not allow his excitement to betray him.

“Thanks Kathy. Give me a minute, then send him up please.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Potter.”

Harry was a bundle of nerves. He felt like a silly schoolgirl, getting all worked up over Draco’s visit like this, but he couldn’t help himself. For the first time in a while, something good was happening in his personal life, and he intended to fully give in and enjoy it.

When the knock came, he couldn’t suppress his smile as he quickly went to open the door.

“I’m so glad you decided to come by in per - ,” and stopped dead when he looked into familiar, non-Draco, eyes.

“Of course, Harry. It was my pleasure. I wanted to ensure that everything was right, and Ron told me you were in the office this week. It’s no problem bringing your robe by to do the final fitting here instead of at the shop.”

It was a second before the words sank in, and with a start, Harry moved out of the doorway to let the man pass.

“Edward! I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were stopping by today. I thought you were someone else. Please, come in, come in.”

“Really? Ron said he’d let you know I was coming. Do you have time for me today?”

“Oh yes, thanks,” he said, taking the robe from Edward.

Edward was Madam Malkin’s grandson, taking over her design duties now that her eyesight became too poor for her to continue. He was younger than Harry and Ron, and had attended some kind of Muggle fashion school in America after leaving Hogwarts. When he returned, he had created his own line of magically charmed robes. The result was beautifully crafted fabrics that interacted with the wearer in subtle ways, bringing out the wearer’s best features. Edward had several apprentices, all sworn to secrecy about his method. His robes were in high demand, rarely affordable by anyone other than the very well to do.

The robes for the Weasley-Granger wedding, though, were all being done by Edward himself, and for free. They were worth a small fortune, but Edward was more than happy to do it. It was a way of showing his gratitude for Ron’s saving his life and the robe shop during The Incident.

A tingle of magic caressed Harry as he tried it on. It was wonderful, and his disappointment at Edward not being Draco faded.

“Edward, it’s beautiful! You’ve outdone yourself. It fits perfectly too.”

Edward had Harry twirling around slowly, checking the robe for any final adjustments, when Ron came bounding into the room.

“Sorry mate,” he said breathlessly. “I tried to get here before Edward to let you know he was…Wow! Don’t you look – hot. And I’m not even into blokes!” Ron gushed, looking Harry up and down.

Shaking Edward’s hand, Ron asked, “Is it ready then?”

“Oh yes,” Edward replied, as he joined Ron in critiquing Harry’s appearance. “If it looked any better, the guests would think he was the one getting married instead of you.”

Ron laughed. “That’s a good one, Harry getting married. He’s married to his work, aren’t you there Harry?”

Harry laughed with them, but a small twinge of sadness churned in Harry’s heart at the thought of his never having someone of his own to love the way all his friends did. He knew he should be happy for Ron and Hermione – and he was, really, he was – but sometimes, sometimes if he let his guard down, it could just hurt so much, watching everyone else as they moved on without him.

“Well, let me take your robe back to the shop for final cleaning and pressing. Would you like delivery to be made here or to your home?”

“Here will be fine Edward. Thank you so much. You do beautiful work.”

“All right then, gentlemen. Good day.”

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

It was a glorious day to sit outside and enjoy the warm breeze and sunny skies. The café was right across the street from the visitor’s entrance, so if Draco did happen to come by while Harry was out to lunch, Harry would know. He’d almost turned Ron down, falling back on his docuwork as an excuse, until Ron suggested coming here.

“So I see you got home all in one piece on Saturday,” Harry mused, a sly grin on his face.

“Yeah, no problems. We all had a great time, too. I know you get bored at those kind of things though, so thanks for coming along.”

“Well, I did have fun. I danced a little too. I just didn’t want to bring everyone down with my mood, plus I really wanted to get to the office yesterday. You know how docuwork’s my favorite thing to do,” he added facetiously.

“Oy, I almost forgot,” Ron said excitedly. “It’s too bad you didn’t stay just a bit longer. You’ll never believe who was there – Malfoy!”

Harry had been about to take a bite, his hand now frozen midway between his plate and his mouth as he stared at Ron incredulously. Harry had thought Draco had left for home Saturday after they’d walked out of the club together. Apparently not.

“Yeah, can you believe it? He’s the last person I expected to see back in England. And then to have him show up at the same club on one of the few nights we’re there. I mean, what are the odds?”

“Er, yeah, what are the odds?” Harry couldn’t even find it in himself to fake a laugh. It came out more of a smirk, which Ron thought to be a normal reaction to his news.

“We almost missed him, but a couple of the girls we were dancing with started dancing with him after we told them we were getting ready to go. Looked exactly the same as he did back in school, too – poncy git – but I have to say, he sure knows how to make the moves on the ladies. In the few minutes or so that we were finishing up our drinks, he must have had at least five taking turns dancing with him, not counting our two. I hate him, but I wish I had his style.”

Harry felt sick. How could he have been so incredibly stupid, thinking he was someone special to Draco, falling for Draco’s lines? All he was was another conquest, another notch on Draco’s belt.

“Harry, you feeling O.k? You’re not looking so well.”

“I’m fine Ron. I think I just ate too fast, ” Harry replied, taking a drink of his water. He was torn between wanting to interrogate Ron for every detail and not wanting to make Ron suspicious that his interest was anything other than idol curiosity.

“So, um, you seem to know what Malfoy’s been up to and all. Why the surprise that he’s back in England?”

“Blimey, Harry, he’s been traveling with Victor Krum. They’re always in the Daily Prophet making news together. How could you miss that?”

“Ron,” Harry said, as if talking to a two-year old, “you know I avoid reading the Daily Prophet when I can. It’s not like I’d ever believe anything they print. Why bother wasting my time and Galleons on it?”

“Well, I guess I see your point. But most of what I know of them comes from Hermione, anyway.”

“Hermione?”

“Well, yeah. She and Victor write to each other still. We use to have our biggest rows over it, but then I realized I was the one who ended up with her, and he had Malfoy, so really – who got the better deal, right? But Malfoy and Victor, I guess they became friends during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and after the war ended and everything, Malfoy and him started up together. I always wondered if they weren’t, you know, more than friends.”

Ron looked at Harry and added quickly, “Not that that would be a problem, other than it being Malfoy of course. But Hermione assures me that they’re really only friends, even though neither one has anyone steady. I think Hermione broke Victor’s heart, and Malfoy’s had a thing for someone for years now, someone who apparently doesn’t return his feelings – like, who would ever fall for that git. Hermione says Malfoy told Victor everything about it, but Victor won’t tell Hermione who the girl is. So, Malfoy just travels around and parties with Victor wherever the team goes for their games. They have their one night stands, then move on to the next city and their next conquest. Must be nice to have that kind of money so all you have to do is worry about how to spend it and if you’re taking the blond, brunette, or redhead home tonight!

“I looked around the club Saturday to see if maybe Victor was there with Malfoy, but no such luck. Still, now that I think more on it, I really wonder what Malfoy was doing there. I hope none of our girls went home with him. They were too nice for him.”

Harry felt awful. His appetite had completely disappeared. All he wanted to do was to crawl into bed, pull the covers over his head, and never come out! He didn’t understand any of it. Draco had sounded so sincere, saying such beautiful, hopeful things to him Saturday night. Harry should have known better than to trust anything that Draco said. Draco had always hated Harry. It had to be some plot, some plan of Draco’s, to get revenge.

“Harry, honestly, you’re not looking well at all. I think we should get back.”

“Yeah, maybe something I ate was bad. I think I’m just going to head on home. Will you let Kathy know I’m gone for the day and I’ll be in a few hours early tomorrow, to make up for it?”

“Sure mate. Take it easy. Last thing we need is for you to be sick and miss the wedding!”

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

“Good afternoon. I’m here to see Mr. Potter.”

Kathy looked up, taken aback by the fact that the young man had been able to walk up to her desk so quietly that she hadn’t even known he was there until he spoke.

Giving him a quick once over, she determined that he was no threat and replied politely, but firmly, “You don’t have an appointment, sir.”

“True, but he invited me to come by. He should be expecting me.”

He sounded so hopeful. Kathy hated to disappoint him by having to tell him Harry wasn’t here. He must be someone special to Harry for Harry to come into work looking so nice this morning. It was too bad Harry had eaten something that didn’t agree with him. He would be upset to have missed his friend.

“Oh, yes. He did say someone might be by today, but I assumed that was Mr. Malkin. I’m very sorry, but he left for the day already. Would you like to leave him a message?” The smile on the man’s face twitched slightly. He tried to hide it, but years of reading people’s mood allowed Kathy to detect the change. This man obviously wanted to see Harry as much as Harry had wanted to see him. What could it hurt if she helped them along?

“Or…well, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I do think Harry was looking forward to seeing you. He would have been here but he went home sick. You could come back tomorrow, before regular hours. He said he would be in early to make up the time he missed this afternoon. He’s just doing docuwork, so he should be going straight to his office as soon as he arrives – no field work this week.”

The young man’s eyes brightened. She could see why Harry would be interested in him. She had never thought of the word ‘pretty’ in regards to a man before, but it was the only way to describe this one.

“What a splendid idea. Thank you so much for suggesting it. Can you tell me where his office is?”

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

Harry had had a restless night. He finally gave up on sleep and went into the office. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d swallowed a large rock, which now took up permanent residency in his stomach. He hated the way he felt about Draco and everything he learned from Ron yesterday. Why should he let it matter anyway? He should go ahead and use Draco the same way Draco was using him. Draco was obviously an experienced lover. Why not keep it simple, make it a learning experience, and move on? Maybe he could get Draco out of his system once and for all. As long as he kept obsessing over Draco, he’d never find someone he could commit to.

Maybe he had read more into Draco’s words than Draco had intended. Maybe he had heard what he wanted to hear and not what Draco had said. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d misinterpreted someones actions just because he’d wanted to be wanted – if only for a night.

Leaning his head back and closing his eyes, the Docusieve on the desk ignored, he thought about the last, disastrous time he’d taken a chance and been burned. He’d vowed then that no sex was worth being humiliated like that again, and he’d been able to keep that vow until Saturday when he’d acted so recklessly. He couldn’t even blame it on his obsession with Draco because at first, he hadn’t known it was Draco. All he knew was that it had felt surprisingly good to be overpowered like that, to have that other, anonymous body pressing against him and holding him tight, kissing and biting his neck, the smooth hand moving into his pants and massaging and squeezing him along his hard length….

Harry couldn’t suppress a low moan as he thought of the stranger, his captor, who’d made Harry lose himself, in every sense of the word. He was stupid and foolish, risking his life by allowing himself to be put in such a vulnerable position. What was worse, that night he hadn’t cared. If he acted that carelessly in the field, he’d be dead by now. Why had he done it? In the back of his mind, he knew it had something to do with what happened during The Incident, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Maybe if he viewed the memory in the Docusieve, he might find something that he was trying to suppress or lie to himself about. If he wasn’t remembering it in its true form, the Docusieve would flag it for him and he could try again.

Taking his wand and placing it against his temple, he concentrated on the period of time from his saying good-bye to Ron to where Draco walked him out into the alley. Depositing the silver strand into the Docusieve, he set it to record and began to watch.

He saw himself saying good-bye to Ron. He could remember how depressed he felt about not having a lover of his own to go home to. He’d been so deep in thought, he hadn’t noticed he was being followed. He still couldn’t see the man – Draco – clearly. It was much too dark. Suddenly, the man’s arm wound around Harry’s waist and quickly pulled him backward into an empty passage.

The memory of strong arms holding him, an unmistakable hardness pressing against his arse, a hand massaging him through his jeans…

Harry checked the Docusieve. Nothing in the recording was being flagged, yet somehow the memory wasn’t right. But if he didn’t remember it exactly the way it happened, the Docusieve would know.

He went back to viewing, the recording now up to the point where his captor had pushed Harry’s pants down and was rutting his own freed cock against Harry’s bare arse. His captor’s hand was pumping Harry’s cock with the same rhythm as the rutting. Harry thrusted into the warm moistness of the hand, then back against the hard cock pressing between his cheeks. He clearly remembered his desire for that cock to be deep inside him instead of pressing up against him.

The memory was so intense. He was feeling everything, right now, here in his office, the same as he had that night in the club. The sensations were overwhelming him. Hot breath tickled his ear when his captor finally whispered, “Harry, come. Come for me now.” Harry couldn’t stop himself, didn’t want to stop himself, and gave into his own orgasm, pulsing hot and white at the same time memory Harry did.

Before he could recover, Harry’s head was pulled back and turned to the side, his captor pressing his tongue between Harry’s lips. Harry parted them, letting the stranger invade his mouth. It was savage and claiming, tasting of coffee and vanilla…

And it was no memory.

Harry jerked away from the kiss and found himself staring up into the soft, grey eyes of Draco, the real Draco, not a memory. Harry quickly switched off the Docusieve, but knew it was too late. Harry had been so consumed by the memory, he hadn’t even been aware of Draco’s entering the room. He didn’t know when Draco had started watching with him, but it didn’t matter. Draco had been there. He already knew everything that had happened.

His face burning in embarrassment, aware of the sticky mess now starting to show through his trousers, Harry could barely speak above a whisper as he asked, “What are you doing here?”

Draco slowly swiveled Harry’s chair around, placing his hands on the side arms for support. His face inches from Harry, he smiled and replied, “You invited me, remember?”

Harry couldn’t move, frozen in place by Draco’s intense gaze. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breath. His mouth was dry and his heart was pounding so hard he was sure it could be heard throughout the entire Ministry.

As he continued to stare at Draco dumbly, Draco spoke again, this time in that seductive voice he’d used at the club.

“I stopped by yesterday, but you were already gone. I was very disappointed that I’d missed you. I’ve been dreaming about you, Harry. I’ve waited so long to have you. I can’t stop thinking about how your cock felt in my hand, the pretty sounds you made, the way your mouth tasted and they way you struggled to be free of me once you knew who I was.”

Glancing over at the Docusieve, then back at Harry, he added, “It seems you can’t stop thinking of me either.”

Closing the distance between them, Draco gently nuzzled Harry’s neck, sending a shiver through Harry’s body.

Reluctantly pulling away, Draco went back to his normal, Draco voice.

“So tomorrow - dinner. Should I meet you at your place or stop by here?”

“Um, you know where I live?” Harry asked, licking his bottom lip nervously, unable to keep the surprise from his voice as he continued to stare up at Draco.

“Harry, Grimmauld Place was Black family property for ages. I didn’t spend much time there, but I do know where it is. My mother was a Black, after all.”

“Oh, um, yeah. O.K. My place is fine. About seven?”

“Seven would be fine. I’ll see you then.”

Draco reached forward and touched the side of Harry’s face with his palm, tenderly running his thumb up and down along Harry’s cheekbone, right at the place he’d been injured during The Incident. Harry was sure the small scar couldn’t be seen through the glamour; it was just a coincidence that Draco was rubbing at the exact same place it was located, but still, it was disconcerting.

Then Draco was going, leaving Harry to stare at his retreating back. Just as Draco got to the door, though, he stopped and turned, pointing his wand straight at Harry. “I’m sorry, Harry. I almost forgot.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes widened in surprise, fearfully meeting Draco’s. He wondered if Draco was so bold as to try and kill him right here in the middle of the Ministry. Well, it was early; no one was around. Draco could probably get away with it.

“Tergeo.”

Then Draco was gone, along with the sticky wetness in Harry’s trousers.

Harry dropped his head to his desk as the adrenaline started to leave his system.

Why, oh why, does Draco have this affect on me? he wondered.

Dinner.

Tomorrow.

Harry just knew he was going to make a fool of himself.

He was doomed.

Fic: First Dance (Harry Potter - DM/HP, NC17) Happy Birthday Ms. Ravenqueen55

2007-10-03T15:59:22Z

Title: First Dance, NC-17

Author: hpstrangelove

Pairing: Harry Potter - DM/HP

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 2824

Summary: Harry has an encounter with a stranger at a nightclub. The stranger isn’t really a stranger after all.

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

Warning: Hand-job, Sickening Sweet Fluff (hey, it’s a birthday fic – what do you expect?) , M/M sex, no DH spoilers.

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

AN Note: Written for ravenqueen55 's birthday, October 3 (and no matter how old you get, just remember – you’ll always be younger than me!).

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

Harry had to shout to be heard above the loud music pulsing over the dance floor.

“Hey Ron, I had a good time, but I really need to get going. I have work to catch up on tomorrow if I’m going to get next weekend off for the wedding.”

“Sure mate, sure,” Ron slurred. “Just be careful to not splinch yourself on the way home. You know what a few drinks do to your concentration.”

“I will Ron. Catch up with you later. Seamus, Neville…take care of him, O.K.?”

“Sure Harry, no problem,” Neville replied with a smile.

They’d been at the club celebrating Ron’s last Saturday night of freedom - his last Saturday night as a bachelor - before he and Hermione were married the next weekend. Although Ron had made a big deal about his plans for setting a shagging record tonight, he wouldn’t have dreamt of having sex with anyone but Hermione. He danced and had fun flirting with all the girls, but did more drinking and boasting than actual touching.

Anyone watching Harry might think his avoidance of the dance floor and the opposite sex was to keep from showing up Ron, and that was just fine with Harry. He wasn’t ashamed of the fact that he liked blokes better; he just didn’t want to be reading it as a headline in the Daily Prophet tomorrow.

For appearances sake, Harry had done his share of dancing, but his heart wasn’t in it. After a while, he found himself alone, nursing his drink and feeling a bit sorry for himself. Every one of his friends had paired up by now. Ron was the last. Harry always thought he’d end up with Ginny, but she was a smart girl. It was she who made him aware of the type of person that turned him on, and also that in the Wizarding World, it was totally acceptable to love someone of the same sex. She, Ron, and Hermione were the only ones who knew, though. It was difficult for Harry to overcome his years of living with the Dursleys and their attitudes towards same sex relationships, so Harry had never gone about seriously looking for a partner. He could normally deal with his singleness, but at times like these, when everyone else had someone but him, he found himself getting depressed. It was time to go home before Ron noticed.

When it didn’t seem like Ron was about to head back to their table anytime soon, Harry made his way out onto the crowded dance floor to say his good-byes. After being assured by Seamus and Neville that they’d see Ron got safely home, Harry made his way to the back alley exit where he’d be able to safely Apparate without the chance of being seen by any Muggles on the main street.

Even with the blaring music and the noises coming from couples groping each other in the dark passages off the main hallway, Harry should have been more alert to the sound of someone following him. His mind was on other things, though, his senses dulled by the drinks and his moroseness. Just as he was about to press the exit door open, a hand snaked around his waist and pulled him backwards into one of the empty passageways. Startled, adrenaline pumping, Harry reached for his wand but froze when his captor’s hand moved from Harry’s waist to his groin and began to massage Harry though the material of his jeans.

His captor held Harry firmly against his own body, an unmistakable hardness pressing against Harry’s arse. A soft voice began to whisper into Harry’s ear. “You’re not leaving so soon, are you beautiful? You never gave me a chance to ask you for a dance. It’s not too late. How about we have our own private dance right here.” The words were followed by a playful lick and pull at Harry’s ear, then a tickle of wetness as his captor’s tongue made its way down Harry’s neck. A soft moan escaped Harry’s mouth as he felt teeth lightly bite and suck, and when the hand on his crotch undid the zip and slid inside his pants, Harry would have fallen if his captor hadn’t manoeuvred them up against the wall.

“You feel so nice in my hand, so hard and firm. You make such pretty sounds, too. You like this, what I’m doing, don’t you?” the voice asked in a low, sensual tone. Reaching under Harry’s shirt with the free hand, the stranger began to pinch and tease Harry’s nipples, causing them to harden under the touch. Harry was barely able to form words, so lost in the pleasure and heat of these new sensations. Nothing in his fantasies had ever come close to what the real thing felt like.

“Yes, I…gods, don’t stop…” he replied breathlessly. Harry knew he should put up a struggle. He had no idea who this was, and there were many rouge Voldemort sympathisers who would go to great lengths to harm or kill the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice-To-Kill-The-Dark-Lord, but what was being done to him just felt too good for him to want it to stop. If he was going to die, at least he would enjoy himself before he went.

The next thing he knew, the stranger had pushed Harry’s jeans and pants down to where they fell around his ankles, exposing Harry to the cool air of the club. The stranger began pumping his own freed cock against Harry’s bare arse, keeping the same rhythm his hand had in stroking Harry’s hardness. His captor’s hand was working magic, massaging and squeezing, moving up and around the head, rubbing over the slit as it began to drip wet with precome. Harry couldn’t help himself and thrusted wantonly into the warm moistness of the hand, then back into the erection rubbing between his cheeks. He couldn’t keep himself from imagining how good it would feel to have that hard cock breaching his entrance instead. He was so close, his breath coming in short, panting gasps, the beating of his heart roaring in his ears.

“Harry, come. Come for me now,” his captor commanded. With a shout, shocks of electricity raced through Harry’s veins, explosions of light going off behind his eyes, his cock pulsing his seed into the stranger’s hand and onto the wall. Harry heard a groan, then felt a wet flow of warmth against his own arse as the stranger came right after. Harry’s head was pulled back and turned to the side, his captor pressing his tongue between Harry’s lips. Harry parted them, letting the stranger invade his mouth, their tongues exploring, tasting, sucking. The kiss was savage and tender at the same time, seeming to go on forever. It ended all too soon, but the stranger continued to embrace Harry from behind, holding him and nuzzling his neck as they both recovered from their orgasms.

Suddenly, it hit Harry and he tensed, his body on full alert – the stranger had used his name!

Harry started to reach down for his wand, then felt stupid! It was in his side pocket of his jeans, which were still down around his ankles. His captor must have felt him tense, though. The other man grabbed both of Harry’s wrists and pinned them behind Harry’s back, pressing Harry hard against the wall.

“So you realise I know who you are, do you?” the man asked, then sighed heavily and continued.

“Harry, look. Don’t worry. I really don’t want to hurt you. Just give me a chance to explain.”

Now that his captor was using his normal voice instead of the seductive whisper, Harry knew immediately who it was. Closing his eyes, he prepared for the worse.

“Malfoy,” Harry said flatly.

“Harry, I mean it. I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m not going to let you go so you can just turn around and hex me. I want your word you’ll listen to what I have to say.”

“If I listen, Malfoy,” Harry spat, “can I hex you when you’re through?”

Malfoy made a strange sound, a sound that Harry never expected to hear coming from Malfoy, of all people. Malfoy laughed!

“How Slytherin of you Harry. Yes, I suppose that’s only fair. If I can’t convince you of my good intentions, that I mean you no harm, then you can hex me!”

With that, Malfoy slowly released Harry’s wrists, allowing Harry to turn around so they could see each other face to face for the first time that night. It was very dark, but Harry could see the brightness of Malfoy’s eyes. He had to fight an irresistible urge to lean in and taste Malfoy’s mouth again.

Harry pulled his pants and jeans back up, not quite sure of what to think now that he knew his passionate captor was Malfoy. Malfoy had less work to do in making himself presentable as he’d only freed his cock from his pants, not fully removing his trousers. It figured! Malfoy would do anything to have Harry at a disadvantage, including getting Harry naked in public while he stayed fully clothed.

“Come with me. This isn’t a good place to have this talk,” Malfoy stated, as he touched Harry’s arm.

“No Malfoy, I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t trust you. The deal was to listen, and only to listen! If you have something to say, then say it,” he hissed. “And quit calling me Harry. It’s Potter to you, Malfoy.”

With the quickness of a Seeker, Malfoy had Harry’s wrists pinned again, only this time they were facing each other and Harry struggled instead of just giving in to the heat he felt as his body pressed against Malfoy’s. Malfoy’s grip was like iron, though, and eventually Harry tired. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, panting from exhaustion and trying to catch his breath. How he hated Malfoy right now!

“Let me go, Malfoy. I don’t believe that you don’t want to hurt me, and this just proves it. Thought you’d have a laugh at my expense, did you? Fine! Go back to all your friends and tell them what a slut I am, that I’m so desperate for sex that I let a stranger get me off in public. Or better yet, just give the Daily Prophet an exclusive interview! That will get the word out the quickest.” Damn, he was so frustrated by it all. It took everything he had to not fucking cry! To think that his first experience with a man, so hot and so satisfying, was simply Malfoy toying with him!

Before he knew what was happening, Malfoy was kissing him again, as hungrily and demanding as the first time. Harry couldn’t help himself – Malfoy’s mouth was so sweet and moist – and simply surrendered, giving into the wonderful sensations and power of the kiss.

Slowly breaking away, their lips still only an inch apart, Malfoy started to talk. Not with the Malfoy voice, though: it was his captor’s seductive whisper again, and it sent shivers up and down Harry’s spine.

“I want to call you Harry, not Potter, and I don’t want to be Malfoy to you anymore. I want to hear you call me Draco. I want to hear you scream Draco as I make you come. I want to show you what it can be like to have me as your lover. I want to worship your body every night before we go to sleep and in the morning, I want to wake-up holding you in my arms. With our history, I can’t promise you we could have something that would last forever, but I can promise you we could have fun trying. I know you don’t believe a word of this, but this was planned, in a way. I knew you would be here tonight. I wanted to properly seduce you, not take you to a back room, but when I heard you tell Weasley you were leaving, I panicked. I didn’t know when I might ever get another chance. I had to stop you, and when I felt you in my arms, I just lost control.

“But I’m not going to say I’m sorry it happened, either. I’ve never done anything like this before. I thoroughly enjoyed it,” adding with a slight smirk, “and so did you. Don’t even try to deny it, Harry. Your body can’t lie.”

Harry wasn’t about to admit to anything, and changed the subject instead to the one thing Malfoy had said that shocked him to the core.

“What do you mean, that this was planned?” Harry asked.

“Let’s just say you have friends that care about you very much, Harry, and they want to see you happy.”

“Oh please, Malfoy. If you want me to believe anything you say, you have to tell me how you knew we’d be here tonight. We don’t usually come to this place.”

“Come now, Harry. I promised I wouldn’t say anything. But think about it – how many people know you that well that they’d think you might be open to my overtures? The list can’t be that long.”

Harry’s head was swimming. This was planned! The only people who really knew about the party tonight were the guys, and none of them would have said anything to Malfoy. Hermione and Ginny knew, but Harry’s love life was the last thing on Hermione’s mind and Ginny…Ginny?

It had to be her. During one of their long nights of introspection, he’d confessed to her how hot he thought Malfoy was, but he didn’t think she really knew his true feelings. He didn’t even really know his true feelings. But then again, she’d realised he was interested in blokes long before he had. It wouldn’t be surprising if she figured things out about Malfoy from his one comment. And she always was trying to get him to take a chance and go out when he was asked. He just was never sure that when someone showed him any attention, if they weren’t only interested in ‘Harry Potter, the Hero’ rather than ‘Harry Potter, the person’.

At least with Malfoy, he was sure the interest was in ‘the person’.

“I did enjoy tonight, Malfoy, but you have to understand. I don’t know if I can trust you. I’ve never trusted anyone before, and I certainly am having a hard time in thinking you might be the first. I just don’t know if this is the right time to make a decision that has so much potential to explode in my face.”

Malfoy finally relaxed his grip on Harry’s wrists, again, and reluctantly let him go. He wanted to keep Harry in his arms and never set him free. But he could take his time. He’d make Harry his yet.

“Fair enough, Harry. We can take things slow. We’ll start with, say, dinner one day next week. How does that sound?”

Rubbing his sore wrists – there were sure to be bruises tomorrow – Harry had trouble looking away from Malfoy’s hypnotic eyes. Could he dare hope? There was so much risk in allowing Malfoy into his life at all, and even more so if Malfoy became his lover. If Harry started to really care, the pain of betrayal if Malfoy was only using him could be devastating. On the other hand, if the relationship didn’t last, he could still have a bit of fun for a change. He was sure Malfoy would be an excellent lover, teaching him what physical pleasure was all about. Harry had been wanting someone like Malfoy for a long time now.

No, that was wrong. Harry had been wanting Malfoy for a long time now.

“All right, dinner then. Send me an owl at the office, or, er…stop by…you know, in person…if you’d like,” he replied, then added, “Draco.”

Draco’s smile lit his entire face, unable to mask his obvious happiness at Harry’s words. It made Draco look – beautiful.

Harry decided maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, seeing more of these kinds of smiles on Draco’s face, especially if Harry was the one responsible for them.

“Right, then,” Harry began. “So, Draco...what are you doing next Saturday afternoon?”

Fic: A Fine Line (DM/HP, NC17)

2007-09-02T04:59:33Z

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.

Quick Post on who I am

2007-08-16T14:00:06Z

In case you don't look at my profile, I'm the same as on Live Journal...I've been on vacation so haven't had time to transfer my content from there. Not like there is much to transfer, but I just haven't had time.

If you're coming over from LJ, please friend me when you have time. It's going to be a pain to try and recreate the whole fandom friend structure I had over in LJ, but I just don't see sticking around there.

Thanks so much - sorry this journal looks so ugly too. Hopefully I can make it better looking in the next few weeks.