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Once and For All
By Anne Phoenix
E-mail: AnnePhoenix@yahoo.com
“Still dwelling on Diggory, Potter?”
The smug patronising voice hit the back of Harry’s head like a brutal ball of
ice, propagating its bitter venom viciously until his blood froze in his veins.
It was the second week of Harry’s fifth year at Hogwarts, and a never-ending
misery swamped his being, threatening to flood and drown him at any moment. Try
as he might, he could not wrench his mind away from the memory of Cedric - bleak
grey eyes, clawed fingers… Whenever he closed his eyes he saw Voldemort’s
pitiless red iris’ telling him he was going to breathe his last breath… heard
that high-pitched voice hissing the fateful words that made Harry fall to the
ground, red-hot knives piercing his skin, raking along his very bones.
Peaceful sleep was a comfort long forgotten, replaced by the choice between
interminable nights spent wide-awake, staring blankly through the window at the
stars above, mind shut down against the invading images, or in a pitiful attempt
at sleeping, tossing and turning in his twisted, sweat-drenched sheets, tortured
over and over by the haunting black figure and the devastating agony burning
behind his scar.
And now, when he was starting to believe that death might be a preferable
solution to the everlasting torment… He had dared taunt him…
With clenched muscle and wrenched gut, Harry swung round to face the smirking
figure of Draco Malfoy with an expression of cold detestation. The platinum
Slytherin snickered slightly, then twisted his mouth cruelly to speak again. But
Harry suddenly stepped forward, and before Malfoy could even blink, iron
knuckles had connected squarely with his jaw, sending him staggering back in
surprise.
Catching himself, Draco shook his head forbiddingly at Crabbe and Goyle. He
glared thunderously at Harry, touching his lip with two fingers self-consciously
to check the damage.
Having expected Harry’s usual blank resignation, or even guilt, the dangerous
expression blazing in the famous green eyes almost made Draco step back again,
own eyes widening in astonishment; the emeralds sparkled and flitted as though
driven by a force of their own, drawing Draco irresistibly, so that he couldn’t
tear himself away.
Licking his blood gingerly, the blond boy stared, helpless, as though rooted to
the spot, an expression of revelation clear on his usually impassive features.
Harry’s gaze darkened, molars grinding against each other in quiet incertitude
as he tried to decipher the expression on Draco’s face. Blood on his lip…
if he was right, then… blood on his lip…
With a sudden gulp, Harry flushed furiously and struggled to clear his throat.
“Tonight, Malfoy. You and me, once and for all,” he spat, and forced himself to
turn away from Malfoy, away from that pale face (tainted crimson…), that
silken hair (liquid gold…) …that slender, vulnerable body (mine.)…
“Trophy Room,” he managed to croak over his shoulder before hastening away down
the corridor, leaving Draco standing between his faithful thugs in wide-eyed
amazement.
Slowly, Draco felt his heart resuming its normal beat again, albeit a little
shakily. He couldn’t understand what this unsettled feeling was, tearing at his
innards, ripping at his heart, constricting his breathing. Did he fear five
years of unleashed hatred? Or did he fear angst-ridden green eyes, heated red
lips, urgent fingers pulling frenetically at velvet, clawing at sweating flesh…
making him surrender, making him beg for forgiveness, supplicate for release…
Drawing a ragged breath through his desiccated windpipe, Draco gave Crabbe and
Goyle a confident smile to mask his inner confusion and set off towards
transfigurations class.
*** ***
Night. Draco slipped cautiously into the Trophy Room, scanning the dimly lighted
surroundings vigilantly before sighing in relief – no sign of Harry yet. Draco
had turned up early to give himself an advantage in the duel, but in reality, he
felt less than sure of himself, and paced the room nervously, wondering what to
expect of this encounter. He had had to hotly defend his right to face Potter
alone from his trigger-happy sidekicks, yet he felt uneasy… exposed, and
started feeling the claustrophobic burden of his heavy winter robes weighing
down his shoulders, restricting his movements.
Draco halted by a large desk, and gently lay down his wand before shrugging out
of his cloak, revealing black jeans and a white woollen roll-neck. He carefully
draped the cloak over a chair and wanted to take back his wand but… it was
gone! Instant fear gripped the blond boy and gasping, he swung round wildly
only to find the room as deserted as before.
The thunderous slamming of the door made him jump and stare at the oak barricade
between himself and safety of Hogwarts. He bit his lip, and glared angrily at
the surrounding nothingness, seeing nothing, hearing nothing but his own
consciously over-controlled breathing. He was determined to not let his
discomfort show… desperate to retain his Malfoy pride.
A harsh shove sent him tripping over his own feet and crashing to the floor.
So much for Malfoy pride, he thought as he shambolically scrambled to his
feet, hissing “Potter” tersely under his breath.
He had almost regained balance when a solid fist struck him in the right
shoulder. He instinctively twirled away, grasping for a wand that wasn’t there
and clutching at his aching tendon. His pupils were dilated with fear now,
pulsating with the adrenalin of pain and anticipation, all semblance of bravura,
or even composure, forgotten.
Draco yelped as the invisible attacker gripped at his hair, seizing the long
strands and dragging him backwards with unforgiving brutality. He was flung him
against the sharp edge of a table. It dug into his back, deadening the skin as
dark pain rippled through the cells, leaving an undulating black bruise to mark
its passage of pain. Draco struggled to catch his breath and blink away the
sharpness of the impact. Deathly quiet governed the room once more.
He forced his knees to straighten, to hold him upright, and flinched a little as
the skin over his back was pulled taunt, painfully aware of where the cutting
corner had sliced into it. Then rubbing some life into the dulled area and
clasping his hand against his shoulder once more, he scowled. “Afraid of a fair
fight, Potter?”
He could sense the other boy’s presence… could hear irregular heavy breathing.
“Have to steal my wand before you dare confront me?” he sneered again, almost
swallowing his tongue when a hard and unexpected hand slapped him across the
lips, filling his mouth with warm blood.
Draco shut up, and stood still, apprehensively waiting for whatever was to come
next.
He must have closed his eyes for when he opened them it was to find a certain
raven-haired Gryffindor standing before him, shimmering invisibility cloak
hanging loosely from his shoulders. Both wands were sticking from a pocket, all
but forgotten. Harry Potter stared at the smaller Slytherin unflinchingly,
expression illegible. His glasses had a slipped down his nose from the sweat
shining on his face, but he appeared not to have noticed. Or not to care.
Draco spat red onto the floor between them and studied the way in which it
stained the white marble of the stone floor, refusing to let his own eyes rise
to meet Potter’s out of sheer self-preservation instinct.
Harry had gained measurably in size and build since the end of the fourth year.
His shoulders had broadened, filling out with a bulky strength that matched the
height from which he now looked down at Draco’s slight frame. The blond boy
seemed to not have evolved much since he had first set eyes on him, slight and
fragile looking. Although Harry wasn’t fooled into thinking of Malfoy as frail
or weak, he nevertheless realised he now had a significant physical advantage
over his archenemy. Just not an emotional advantage. Indeed, despite the fact
that his body language was emanating pure aggression, Harry’s face seemed weary,
bearing the haggard lines of suffering inflicted by Voldemort, by memories.
“You look worried, Malfoy,” he understated, and Draco’s head snapped up sharply,
eyes narrow with anger, ignoring survival instinct to glare boldly at his
attacker.
“Not half as scared as you’re going to be should I ever get my hands on my wand
again,” he vowed with sullen defiance and Harry smiled coldly. “No, Malfoy. I’m
through with dealing with your type.”
He cracked a knuckle meaningfully, mind flashing back to his muggle life… before
he knew who… what he was. How things had been then, hunted by Dudley and
mistreated by his Aunt and Uncle… still somehow so much simpler that life seemed
now.
“And I’m through dealing with you.”
He stopped abruptly, taking a threatening step forward, eyes sweeping up and
down over Malfoy’s body before settling upon the indistinct haze of the past.
“Do you have any idea how I feel, Malfoy? Do you have any idea how badly I want
to hurt you when I see you? How I want to make you scream in pain… the way I
screamed hopelessly when you watched, laughing. Every time I see you, every time
I catch a glimpse of that sinful silver halo of yours, I feel the agony burning
inside me, inextinguishably consuming me…”
He trailed off thoughtfully, looking right through Draco as he digested his own
words.
The smaller boy looked very pale, his features drawn, breathing harsh as though
living the torment promised by Harry’s words. His throat felt chokingly dry, his
clenched hands clammy, fingers slick against each other within the fists they
had curled into. Red hot stinging on his cheek where Potter had slapped him. He
hardly noticed, pain was an easy sensation to contain.
Potter… crazy Potter… standing before him, beautiful eyes sealed
forbiddingly and lips twisted in horrific flashback.
“When you writhe on the floor in agony, Malfoy… when you scream for mercy until
you are drowning in your own blood, choking in your bile… when you cry, whimper,
unable to control the sobs that tear you apart… that’s when I’ll laugh… That’s
when I’ll inflict the torture all over again, only a thousand times worse. And
you will know you can’t escape. You will know it wasn’t just luck that saved me
from your Master, oh yes, you’ll know…”
Harry’s eyes suddenly focused and he looked almost surprised to find small,
delicate Draco Malfoy standing there rather than Lucius. Nervous little dragon
watching him intently, fear and horror mingled with a sense of understanding
apparent on his usually guarded face.
“I feel the pain too,” Draco suddenly spoke up, almost quenching his words when
Harry’s eyes flickered angrily at this intrusion of reality in his flashback.
“Flames that scorch me from the inside, fierily burning down all the defences I
spent my entire life building up…. I feel weak, tortured… it’s killing me…
slowly… to know whenever I see you that I am nothing but a Malfoy, created to
serve… built to hate… like my Father, nothing but a meaningless pawn… used…
crushed… evil… that because of it, I can never have the one thing I would die to
have”
His sorrowful, almost intimate whisper trailed off slowly. Knowing he had gone
way too far to back down now, Draco ventured a look into Harry’s eyes, not
caring he wouldn’t be able to tear himself away from their magnetic energy,
because right now he needed this power to go on.
“What is the one thing you would die for?” Harry asked, tone deepening, flicking
his tongue oh so slightly over tightly drawn lips. His body had stopped heaving
in erratic fury and he was quite motionless, staring intently into Draco’s
overcast eyes, studying the melting mask of ice that suddenly wrenched itself
away in a final moment of resistance, flickering with self-loathing.
“Just give me my wand, Potter, and let’s get it over with. Once and for all, no?
Isn’t that what you said, isn’t that what you want?”
Harry snarled at the sudden provocation… at the destruction of the beautiful
image he had been contemplating. Without warning he threw himself at Malfoy,
toppling them both with a crash to the stony cold floor, where they rolled,
grappling and flaying, until Harry used his superior mass to weight down the
enemy.
“Don’t you dare assume what I want, Malfoy,” he growled threateningly before
drawing in a deep breath of acceptance, feeling emotion travel through his
lungs, through his veins, to his head… floating…
As though in a dream, Harry felt himself sinking down towards Malfoy, eyes
closing, lips parting… flesh meeting flesh in unresisting tender enmity, tongues
entwined, hands desperately running along skin to cup soft hot cheeks, fingers
raking needily through silky hair.
Draco groaned as his body melded perfectly with Harry’s. When he felt the bigger
boy press him into the floor, he couldn’t help but think back on his dreams,
nightmares, fantasies…. Harry overpowering him, Harry taking him, Harry
wanting him, saving him.
“Why are you doing this?” he managed to mumble through ever deepening kisses not
realising how openly the words betrayed his fierce fear of rejection, and Harry
drew back to observe the expression of yearning desire.
“Because every time I see you… I feel that pain” Harry repeated in a
trance-like tone, hand unconsciously moving momentarily to his heart, eyes
focused into the distance, before claiming Draco’s sweet mouth again, clawing
gently down the side of his face. “Because… you will writhe… you will scream for
mercy… you will cry… for me.” His words were whispered into the hot mouth, and
he did not hear Draco’s ragged breath of arousal as the blond boy murmured,
“I already do”.
Harry slithered his tongue hungrily into the readily offered sweet mouth,
running it over Draco’s teeth, and ferociously encircling his tongue, making it
submit to the forceful invasion of its own fiery cave. Strong hands under white
wool ran sharply filed nails over soft skin, making the blond Slytherin draw in
a sharp hissing breath and slightly arch his back as his muscles tensed against
the cold touch, then yelp as Harry pinched his nipples and bit his lip at the
same time.
Harry pulled away and paused, absently laying his glasses on floor before
turning his full attention to Draco who stared up at him with unadulterated
adoration, craving the green of his eyes to engulf him with the same intensity
of passion as that that had formerly feared it.
The cold misdirected rage had long left Harry, leaving him calm and thoughtful.
For as long as he could remember, he had been disconcertingly, lustfully
attracted to Draco Malfoy and looking down at the smaller boy now, he felt the
familiar jolt of electrical energy in his groin that accompanied nocturnal
fantasies of Draco at his mercy… on his knees… begging for more as Harry
pitilessly touched and tore.
The troubled grey eyes swirled with blue whirlpools of uncertainty mingled with
incontrovertible raw want. Draco writhed a little and moaned, long white-blond
lashes fluttering like butterfly wings as though they could not stay still in
the exquisite light of Harry’s image. He was sucking at the numb cuts on his
lips, although the bleeding had stopped a while ago replaced by a pleasant
tingling sensation, not noticing how the little noises that escaped him were
driving Harry near to wild with abandoned lust.
Not able to restrain his obsessive urges any longer, Harry gave a one-sided
smile of wonder before pulling the white wool over the boy’s head, exposing his
lean milky-white torso. Harry dipped his head to lick a protruding collar-bone
and drag his rough tongue down the finely muscled chest to swirl it around his
navel, amazed and pleased at the way Draco’s salty skin jumped up to meet his
touch, melting into its moist attention. His hands played along the waistline of
Draco’s jeans making him tremble with as much trepidation as desire, and he
slowly licked upwards again, crawling up Draco slowly, disallowing any movement
of the smaller boy by keeping his wrists tightly trapped by his own supporting
arms.
Harry’s tongue lingered at the sensitive skin where vulnerable neck meets sturdy
jaw, before trailing up and catching Draco’s ear fully in his mouth, sucking
hard as the other boy’s eyes opened in delighted surprise at the unusual
sensation. No part of it was left unexplored, tongue digging deep into the
ridges and folds of skin before withdrawing to leave the ear cold and lonely.
Draco moaned in protest, stretching up to follow Harry. A small peck rewarded
him but then, Harry again paused to observe his captive. He radiated arousal,
yet the apprehension was still evident on his face, as though he feared Harry,
but was unable to stay in charge of the responses of his own desperately needy
body.
“You’re terrified,” Harry whispered soothingly, and Draco swallowed heavily,
deliberately forcing his haywire breathing to slow down. Useless when the
heartbeat controlling his existence thundered its dominance of this situation
against the mind. Heart versus reason? Draco winced, unwilling to give in to
emotion when overwhelming sensation was so close at hand.
“I…” he tried but involuntarily arched his back with a little shudder as Harry
slid a hand along his hip, caressing its sharp bone before playing his fingers
around the top of his thigh.
“What?” Harry wanted to know with a small smile, fingers twisting pubic curls
and moving tantalisingly closer to Draco’s risen cock.
Draco shifted nervously, eyes downcast, observing the rippling of muscles
beneath the fabric covering Harry’s arms, and torn between thrusting towards
Harry’s warm hand and the desire to disappear into thin air. “I’ve never…” he
turned his head aside, giving Harry a beautiful view of his profile, small nose
slightly turned up, eyes closed and cheeks flushed to match faintly pouting red
lips. His features had softened in their arousal; the chiselled arc of his cheek
almost gentle, sharpness moulded into a feminine delicacy.
The dark-haired boy stared raptly at this attractive face… in his power… mine…
he couldn’t hold back a gentle chuckle. “With a boy?”
“Ever,” Draco mouthed, deliciously flushing a deeper shade of pink.
Harry smirked slightly… one lived and learned after all, but he didn’t relax his
teasing toying beneath Draco’s boxers.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Would you?”
A cold expression swept ephemerally across Harry’s features, as though it
angered him that Draco should answer back with a question in this manner…
challenging his authority… but it was quickly replaced by amusement again.
“Do you?” he repeated pointedly, running his fingers swiftly past Draco’s shaft
in a feather-light move.
Moaning irrepressibly, Draco shook his head, eyes still closed, concentrating on
the fingers creeping ever closer, fearful of missing the ghost of a touch that
could control his entire being. Harry kissed his cheek softly, and with
dexterity unbuttoned Draco’s black slacks, pushing them down to his knees, along
with his boxers. Draco kicked them away. He felt timid, lying naked on this
floor, and opened his eyes in fear of seeing disgust upon the other boy’s face,
but there was none.
On the contrary, Harry licked his lips, his eyes glowed with the intent of
devouring the soft fine boned body stretched out before him… so long had he
waited for this moment, there was no way he was going to squander it when it was
offered on a silver platter… well a marble slab… His hand finally closed around
Draco’s swollen erection and stroked the pulsating skin, tentatively letting his
fingers explore the responsive flesh.
The blond boy held his breath, still not daring to give himself up, and raised a
hand to touch Harry’s face, but the wrist was caught and severely pushed back
down into the stone with bruising force.
“Surrender,” Harry ordered in a stern whisper before resuming his task, and
Draco wordlessly obeyed; not moving as Harry’s strokes got steadily firmer and
faster, his own breathing erratically trying to keep up with the pressure; not
moving when Harry lowed his face to take the throbbing organ into his mouth,
continuing the strokes with his burning tongue.
Harry engulfed Draco, liberating him from his frozen submission, deep-throating
him as though his very existence depended on it. His tongue played around the
head of the weeping cock, lapping at the bitter pre-cum, before sweeping up and
down and the shaft strongly. He could feel the vein throbbing against his mouth,
could hear his little dragon gasping and whining urgently and holding back
squirms of pleasure.
Harry’s arms trembled under the weight of his body, sweat running down them in
rivulets, but he was intoxicated by passionate power, sucking and licking for
all he was worth, building rhythm, not even slowing when the cramps crept from
his quaking shoulders into his neck and along his jaw, blinding him with pain
that fused with the breathless burning of his arousal.
Suddenly Draco could feel it, a tingling swirling in his entire lower stomach.
It made him writhe, it made him gasp, tears leaping to his eyes as his face
flushed and his hands uselessly clawed the ground beside him. With a vigorous
buck towards Harry, a scream was wrenched from his throat as a tornado unleashed
its force through his body, making him tense and spasm with mounting cries,
arching deep into Harry’s mouth as he came. Then he collapsed into a panting
wreck, feeling as though he had imploded, small shudders still running through
his entire frame, sweat pearling on his skin.
Harry sat up, trembling violently from tension, looking down at Draco
breathlessly through blurred vision and drenched hair. Grey eyes, revealing
completely dilated pupils. Immediate fear invaded his gaze, and Harry understood
he was afraid… afraid of having been used… tricked, to be deserted now.
He ran a finger over the smaller boy’s cheek, trailing it along Draco’s jaw and
finally lifting his chin with two still quivering fingers.
The wet lips felt soft, almost limp under his. “You’re mine now,” he whispered,
the tone of his voice possessive and surprisingly harsh, fingers still digging
into the pale skin hard enough to draw a whimper that emanated relief from his
spent lover. Harry’s erection was pressing urgently against his jeans, but he
had already made the decision to take it slow with Draco.
To alleviate the pressure on both arms and erection, he rolled onto his back
next to the blond boy and closed his eyes to relish the feeling of blood
pounding through his veins, in his ears, in his cock. He looked into Draco’s
eyes… steel grey, but glazed, adoring, aroused still. Harry reached out to brush
feathers of silken silver out of Draco’s face, and a slight shiver made the
smaller boy involuntarily jerk away. He quickly smiled to reassure Harry he was
ok. A sweet, satisfied smile, unrecognisable to anyone who knew the patented
Malfoy sneer of contempt, but Harry correctly interpreted the tremor of confused
desire. He reached up for Draco’s jumper, handing it to him meaningfully.
Draco accepted it and was about to pull it over his tousled hair but the
raven-haired boy intervened. “I want you to remember this,” he whispered
huskily, and before Draco could respond that there was no way he could ever
forget, Harry dropped and latched his lips to the exposed neck like a limpet to
rock. The suction made Draco draw back a little, first in surprise, then because
it enhanced the sensation, pulling out the skin till it stung.
When Harry’s triumphantly glowing face came into view he had left behind a dark
red love-bite. Draco touched it with a slight smile and swiftly got dressed.
“I’d better go” he said, rolling his shoulders and twisting his neck with a
crack, and Harry acquiesced.
A tradition was born, to be violated only two years later.
“Same time tomorrow. Don’t be late.”
Harry’s voice left no room for argument or arbitration, and Draco looked down to
where his lover still lay on the cold marble.
“I’ll be here,” Draco promised, making Harry snort with a contempt he did not
feel. “Of course you will. You’re mine, you’ll do as you’re told.”
A shiver of excitement tickled Draco and after a brief hesitation, caught in the
moment like a rabbit in the headlights, he wrenched himself away from Harry and
turned to go. Harry watched Draco leave, moving with the graceful stealth of a
prowling cat.
He closed his eyes and could still see his lover’s grey eyes blinking hazily in
the dark of his mind –how could he ever have thought them cold? His hands were
opening his jeans, driven by a mind of their own, releasing at last his frantic
organ. He could feel that soft skin bruising beneath his brutal touch
(stroke), hear the moans and groans of passionate pain (stroke), the
whimpers of lust (oh Merlin), smell the sweat (please), musky
scent of sex (Yes!), taste Draco (Draco)… Malfoy (Draco!!)…
Draco (DRACO!!)…
Harry slumped back, panting powerlessly in pleasure… his little dragon…
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