Two weddings and a funeral

Of course, Draco had always known Harry had been treated badly by the Dursleys; and he had been angry a lot whenever he thought of those idiotic Muggles mistreating his beautiful, kind love.

But when, on their wedding night, his beloved tensed up in panic at his intimate touches, when he discovered scarring on his entrance, and who was to blame for that, he became furious. Not with Harry, who was crying in a corner of the room, sheltering himself, as if he expected to be beaten after his confession.

Dudley Dursley. Fat, cruel, stupid, rapist Dudley Dursley. He pushed away thoughts of violence and revenge, to concentrate on his frightened, trembling lover.

He led Harry back to bed, soothing him with gentle words and even gentler caresses. He sensed he'd have to be very careful, go very slow tonight if he ever wanted Harry to forget the violence and pain this act had brought him; and learn the joy and pleasure it could bring instead.


He held Harry close to him, showering him with light kisses and light touches until the trembling finally subsided. It took a while, but eventually Harry calmed down, and became aroused by all these loving gestures. Draco knew he was ready for more when shy hands started returning those touches, stroking lightly on his shoulders, then his arms, then his chest… Draco leaned back, and encouraged Harry to continue his explorations. Harry was clearly totally inexperienced, but his innocent touches were all the more arousing for it. When he accidentally brushed over Draco's nipple, he was surprised, but very pleased by the reaction it caused. Wanting to hear the soft gasp again and again, he kept touching it, rubbing softly, and finally kissing it. Draco moaned loudly when the sensitive little nub was suddenly surrounded by delicious wet heat; and when his lover started sucking it, he knew he couldn't take much more. He gently pulled back, away from those teasing lips and teeth; and returned the received pleasures, adding a few creative touches.

Harry was ticklish, he discovered. Not wanting to bring back unwanted memories, he didn't restrain him to tickle him anyway, but instead took his hands away from those sensitive spots, and gradually moved on to Harry's lovely cock. He encircled the throbbing erection, stroking up and down. Cries, soft cries, like a lost little bird might make, drove him wild with desire. He gave the nipple he still was holding between his lips a last, quick lick; and squirmed downwards to take the weeping cock in his mouth. Harry bucked, screaming his name once, twice; froze completely then, and exploded into his greedy mouth. Draco swallowed all Harry had to give; pleased that his lover was so responsive to his touch, and convinced this early orgasm would relax the insecure boy even more.

Indeed, all the previous tension seemed to have vanished, he discovered. When he gently parted Harry's totally relaxed legs, when he caressed the inside of his thighs, circled the damaged entrance; all Harry did was sigh with contentment and spread his legs a little more.

Draco was deeply touched by the trust, mutely demonstrated in that small gesture. Wandlessly he renewed the lubrication spell, and slowly he slipped the tip of his finger inside his lover's unresisting body. Harry's breath hitched for a moment, but he didn't cramp up as earlier; and when he held the intruding finger still, Harry relaxed soon enough and tried to push himself down on the finger. He gladly obliged and started moving the finger back- and forwards, going deeper with each stroke, and changing angles slightly again and again, carefully stretching the tight muscle. A second finger joined the first when the opening was stretched enough, causing Harry to moan in pleasure. The moaning only got louder as he continued his ministrations; and by the time a third was seeking his way in, they had muted in words. Harry was encouraging him, gasping how good it was, how much he wanted this and more, and demanding him to go harder and deeper.

Despite his own excitement, Draco managed to keep up the stretching until he was quite sure he wouldn't hurt his lover when taking him. But oh, it was so hard; to see his husband wanting him so much, to hear him begging him to take him, take him now…

He gave in to those desperate cries only when he felt he had done all he could to make this a pleasurable experience for Harry. He slathered his own erection generously with more lubrication, and gently eased his way in.

Hot! Tight!! And so eager to have more of him, claiming him, dragging him deeper into that heavenly haven. He screamed out, not caring if the whole castle, the whole town, the whole world for that matter could hear his bliss. He slid his whole length in, rejoicing in his lover's undulating body, faintly hearing Harry's cries behind the noise he was making himself. He had hoped to make this last, make this first night together worth remembering for the rest of their lives, but he just couldn't resist. Swept along on the tides of desire; knowing such delights couldn't last long, he grabbed Harry's weeping, twitching cock; bringing him to his second orgasm. Harry was cursing, laughing, weeping, wailing like a banshee; tensing around him, gripping and letting go; and he couldn't wait anymore but slammed one more last time into the eager body below him and exploded, yelling his lover's name over and over again, until the fire receded and he fell into darkness.

Uncounted heartbeats later, Draco climbed back to reality. Harry still was out, those two orgasms clearly having taken a high toll on the inexperienced youth. Draco carefully withdrew, summoned his wand, and got them cleaned up. After checking he hadn't hurt Harry with those last hard thrusts, he held his still dazed lover close to him, and covered the both of them with the blankets. While Harry gently drifted into sleep, safely ensconced in his arms, Draco started planning the revenge he'd take on Dudley Dursley.

*-*-*

The first thing he needed to do was to register his Claim for Justified Vengeance. Also, he'd need information. Yes, he knew Dudley's name, and that he was fat, and that he was three months older than Harry. But that was about all, and it wasn't enough.

For starters, if he was only three months older, it meant he still was at school, just like them. Where did he go to school? How were the arrangements there? Would he be able to get close to him, close enough to take his revenge??

And the bastard was fat, horribly fat if Harry was to be believed. Of course, Harry wouldn't lie to him, but perhaps his vision was distorted by hate. If it were true though, something would have to be done about it. No matter his desire for revenge, he had his esthetical demands - even for rape. He needed his prey to be at least marginally attractive; and grotesquely obese was not part of his view of attractiveness.

Draco was sure his father could help him out with his need for information, once he had explained - under oath of confidence of course - why he needed to know. He'd tell Lucius, and Lucius would make it possible, he trusted, and all he would have to do was continue loving his dear Harry and make sure they did both well at their NEWTS.

He'd write his father the next morning, he decided. Lucius would start his investigations, and he and Harry would have the rest of the Yule holidays as their honeymoon, just as they had planned. He yawned, snuggled closer to his Harry, and fell asleep.

*-*-*

A week before Valentine he had his interview with the Adjucator. The man was very unimpressed with the Malfoy name, and possibly slightly biased against whatever Draco might have to say. But his hypercritical attitude melted like snow for the sun, once Draco had stated the reasons for his claim by showing him the memory he had stored in a Pensieve. He filled in the necessary forms in anger, and even went so far as to wish Draco good luck.

In the first week of March he got a reply from his father. The investigations had been thorough, albeit somewhat slower than expected, due to the fact that the detectives his father had employed knew next to nothing from the Muggle world. A thick folder was sent to him, holding all that they had discovered. It also included a picture of the "subject", as the reports referred to consistently. Draco swallowed, trying to keep his breakfast down.

Hideous. The creature on the picture was even more repulsive than Harry had claimed him to be. Straw-coloured hair was slicked down around a face that belonged in a medical textbook. Draco couldn't tell the colour of the eyes, since the face was so swollen that the bulging cheeks pressed them nearly shut. A weak, childishly pouting mouth, and a fine collection of double chins were the most remarkable traits in the rest of the face - the nose was also pressed into near invisibility by the bloated cheeks.

Lucky for Draco, the picture was copied from Dudley's school files. Therefore, it didn't move; and it showed only his head, mercifully omitting the rest of his body. He could make an educated guess as to how it would look, though, extrapolating from the face; and the dry mention from the boy's medical file, that he weighed about 41 stone.

Draco pushed away the revolting thought of taking his revenge on that tub of lard; he did want to get an erection later that night when he joined Harry, thank you very much. It didn't stop him from working at his plans for said revenge, though. Clearly, Dudley needed to be more presentable before he got to the actual settling of scores, and therefore he needed to work fast.

The following week was extremely tiresome for Draco. He had to send and receive and absurd amount of mail, write out detailed schemes, contact a variety of people - and hide all said activities from a highly intelligent, loving husband. But he did manage it, and by the end of that week "Operation Dudley" started.

*-*-*

Dudley Dursley left the diner hall of Smeltings after a hearty breakfast, apparently to visit nearby living friends, and join them in their favourite pastime: hanging around and harassing younger boys. He never showed up at their house, and didn't return to Smeltings either.

Dudley awoke in a strange bedroom, dressed in strange clothes, and a strange face staring at him. He was very confused. One moment, he had been walking to his friends' house, planning with delight all the ways he would torture weaker kids, showing his friends, and the rest of the world, how powerful he was. The next moment, he was somewhere else, with a very handsome, but somehow frightening man staring at him as if he was something the cat dragged in.

His fear doubled, quadrupled when he saw the rest of the man. Black robes… ROBES! A WIZARD! Dudley shrieked, certain that this was his last moment on earth. He desperately tried to get up, get away; but was hindered by his own weight and the blankets piled on top of him.

The man tsk-ed at his vain attempts of escape, took out a wand, and pointed it at him. Dudley fainted. He was harshly pulled back to consciousness, and noticed right away he had wet himself. The wizard must have been aware of this fact too, as the contempt expressed on his face was at least doubled now.

Again he started his hopeless struggle with the blankets, babbling nonsense in his panic. The wizard moved his wand, and mumbled some vaguely Latin-sounding phrases. Dudley was still panicking, still desperate to get away or cry for help, but he couldn't move anymore, and his vocal cords had gone silent.

The wizard was trying to explain something to him, but soon saw he wasn't understood. Dudley was into full hysterics now, crying and hyperventilating, and in no shape to understand anything. A sharp blow on his tearstained cheek broke into the thickening fog clouding his mind, and the angry voice coolly demanding that he'd pay attention, or else.

Dudley swallowed, and obeyed. If that wizard needed him to listen, he at least wouldn't kill him right away, he reasoned. Perhaps, if he cooperated really well, he'd get out of this alive.

To his surprise, the wizard introduced himself as his freak cousin's father-in-law. He claimed to have heard of Dudley's condition, and that it was a source of great worry for him: all that weight would shorten his life, and he wanted to make sure Dudley would live a long, happy life. Magic could help him, he said, but since he knew of his ahem… attitude problem with all things Magic, he had decided he'd force this help on him. For his own good of course - didn't he want to be a svelte, attractive, healthy young man? Did he prefer being this fat and risk an early grave? Of course not, the wizard continued, surely he was far too smart for that.

The wizard - "call me Lucius, we're family after all" - said he'd release him now, but he would have to behave, or the spells would be back. Dudley blinked furiously, willing his tears away. Soon, the invisible ties keeping his body motionless disappeared, but he still couldn't speak.

Lucius seemed to understand his distress, and explained: he would have to call in what he called a Mediwizard - something like a doctor, Dudley assumed - and they normally only treated wizards and witches. Should the Mediwizard know he was treating a Muggle, he would be forced to report it to the authorities, and Lucius preferred the Ministry not to interfere.

Dudley thought he understood: while not strictly forbidden, this treatment was heavily frowned upon. Lucius enlightened him about the way he would protect his "dear cousin": he would be given an obscure drug, which would mask his lack of magic abilities, and make it seem he was slightly mentally disturbed. This might seem over the top, he admitted, but it would make his claim that Dudley was in fact a Squib, not a Muggle, more acceptable. Dudley knew very well, that should he be able to speak coherently, he would make some stupid mistake giving away his origins, therefore he nodded his agreement.

He readily swallowed the vile looking draught Lucius offered him, and from that moment everything went hazy for Dudley. He heard himself talk and sing nonsense, saw other Wizards and Witches entering and leaving his room, drank the potions he was given, slept and woke without any regularity; and awoke at an unknown point in time, feeling incredibly light. He whipped away the bedspread covering him, and stared at his new body. He'd never be a fashion model, he saw, he was indeed as his Mother had claimed heavy-boned, but now those heavy bones weren't covered with layers of fat - just some nicely defined muscles.

He jumped out of the bed - lightly, almost weightless - and strolled over to a mirror. The mirror was magic, and was very enthusiastic about his looks. For once, Dudley didn't mind Magic, not if it made your mirror give you compliments.

He still was preening in front of the friendly mirror, when the door opened, and Lucius walked in. He turned over to thank the man, when the wizard took out his wand and, with a single word, knocked him out cold.

*-*-*

Dudley awoke, back in the bed he had been in earlier - but this time, his hands were chained to one of its posts. His fears of magic came back with a vengeance. He knew those freaks weren't to be trusted! And yet - they had somehow effortlessly more than halved his weight. It was all so confusing, just thinking about it made his head hurt. He closed his eyes, refusing to take in new information, his mind shutting down.

A cold voice drew him back to this harsh reality. His eyes flew open, and searched for the source of this threatening sound. A young man, looking a lot like his host, stood sneering at the foot of his bed. The hate and disgust, expressed in the man's face made him cringe. Dudley was clueless. What had he ever done wrong to this man that he hated him so badly?

His blissful ignorance was short-lived. Draco whipped out a scroll of parchment, and read it out.

"An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. Thus has been the law since the days of Hammurabi, and thus can still be claimed today, should there be just cause. In the case of Draco Malfoy, claiming Justified Vengeance on Dudley Dursley for the rape of claimer’s beloved husband Harry Potter, it has been decided such is the case. I, Adjudicator Edmund Ansom, having heard the claim without prejudice, have ruled said claim to be valid, and accordingly grant to Draco Malfoy the right to violently rape the offender. Said offender shall afterwards receive no medical care beyond hygienic necessities, and shall have no right to claim Justified Vengeance himself for this act. Signed, blah blah blah… I believe this makes things quite clear." Draco put the scroll aside, and Dudley would gladly have sunk through the mattress.

Harry. Of course, Harry. Always Harry.

It had been fun, at the time. He had shown him exactly what he thought of the little freak, and there had been little or no chance of retribution. He had threatened his victim into silence - forever, he had believed. He had said nobody would believe him, and if they did, they'd only despise him. They'd laugh at his weakness, would consider him damaged goods. Nobody wanted a second hand lover; nobody wanted a dirty slut. He had felt good, afterwards, for a long time. No matter how snooty the boy came across, he knew he was better, stronger than his freak cousin.

And now, this. Draco claimed vengeance on his husband's, Harry's behalf - and declared him lucky to get away so easily. It was purely from the kindness of his heart Draco would take his revenge this way, and only because he didn't want Harry to suffer because of this; something that would surely happen should they drag this into court. It would have been very satisfying to know Dudley was rotting in Azkaban for twenty years, but Draco didn't want his lover to undergo the publicity that would surround a case like this.

Dudley wasn't too sure - but twenty years spent in what sounded like a very unpleasant prison didn't have too many attractions either. He wondered how that pale, weak-looking kid could possibly rape him.

All the variables his galloping fantasy could come up with, fell short of what did happen, though. There was magic involved, but only for the details: a spell to remove their clothes, a spell to get Draco aroused, another one to tie Dudley in the desired kneeling position… and then, searing, burning pain; tearing him apart, causing him to scream again and again. He begged for it to stop, tugged at the invisible bonds in vain, wanted his quaking body to move away, but all his efforts only got him ridiculed.

To his utter humiliation his body seemed to find some twisted pleasure in what was going on. Time and again the painful burning was interlaced with impossible pleasure, each time his rapist thrust in under a certain angle. Soon his treacherous body tried to feel more of this pleasure, pushing back into his torturer in hopes of having that special spot touched again, moaning in abject pleasure if he succeeded.

His brain kept screaming refusal of what was happening, but his body neglected those instructions, and gladly cooperated. Dudley never knew when his cries of pain muted to shouts of encouragement and begging for more, he only knew that he never, never had felt this good despite feeling this bad; and that his prostate was having the time of its life, being stroked and hit over and over, until the contradictory feelings melted into a mind shattering orgasm. He fainted.

He regained his senses in a body wrecked with pain. His throat was sore from screaming, his arms and legs were trembling with weakness and riddled with cramps, and his arse felt as if someone had rammed his Smeltings stick in it - repeatedly. He tried wriggling to a more comfortable position, but found he still was tied down. To his horror, the signs of his awakening alerted his rapist into renewed action. The still hard cock was harshly withdrawn, tearing him up even more. He yelped, and panicked. The wizard hadn't come! Would he be forced to suck him until he came?

Roughly a piece of cloth was wiped over his arse, taking away blood and filth. The young wizard's icy voice informed him that Harry's scars were much worse than what he was seeing now, and wanted to know what he had done to tear up his husband so badly. Dudley froze. He really, really didn't want to answer this question. He simply knew that if he told him the truth, that he had been so carried away by what he was doing that he had fist-fucked his cousin, the wizard would do the same to him.

He desperately bit his lips, and said nothing. He would say nothing, would not incriminate himself, and then the wizard wouldn't know and he wouldn't get hurt even worse than he was now, he promised himself. But then the wizard did a spell again, and he told him to truthfully answer the question, and he simply did, to his dismay.

His cousin's husband left the bed, and walked over to stand in his line of view. He refused to look at him, frightened of what he might see. The odd spell must still be in effect, he found, for when he was told to open his ugly eyes and look at his rapist, he immediately obeyed.

Dudley's tears had dried long ago, so his view wasn't blurred; a thing he regretted deeply. Right in front of him was a bloodied, fully erect cock. He whimpered, wanted to turn away his eyes from this frightening sight, but was ordered to keep looking.

Surely, the aristocratic voice drawled, he didn't expect a Wizard to dirty his hands by taking his revenge in exactly the same way he had molested Harry? He dumbly shook his head, thinking he'd be spared that pain at least; and then, his nightmare got even worse. Another spell was whispered, and the threatening cock jutting in front of his eyes doubled, quadrupled in volume. "However", the cold drawl added, "since I've already soiled another part of my anatomy…"

The wizard walked away, back to his former position, and Dudley shook off the shock keeping him silent, and started begging. The first agonizing plunge of the monstrous cock inside his quaking body stopped the begging. No words were possible when there was so much pain. Dudley felt and heard skin and muscle tear with each new thrust, he felt the damage that was done to his entrails, and screamed and screamed, knowing he wouldn't be able to survive if this would go on much longer.

His screams had died down to a whisper, his voice was probably damaged forever; and still his body was being ripped apart by the wizard's enlarged cock. He had lost hope this would ever stop; he had started thinking this agony would continue until he died from it, when the torture came to an end. The pace of the pounding heightened, the thrusts became even more violent, and then, with a loud shout, the wizard reached his peak, and burning liquids spurted into his abused insides. Dudley vaguely heard his rapist's voice cursing him, wishing this would ruin his life, and the burning feeling inside worsened, became unbearable. He gratefully sank into the welcoming darkness, hoping never to wake up again.

*-*-*

Dudley felt miserable. He reckoned he had been locked up in this room for at least a month now, and there was no sign he was getting out shortly. His hate for the Wizarding world had steadily grown during that time.

What kind of people did this sort of things? First, he got treated almost kindly, this Lucius character had treated him well, and had cured his obesity; and then his son had come along, and had… Dudley shuddered, even in the privacy of his own mind he didn't want to say the word. Anyway, he had *hurt* him, and left him unconscious, and when he woke up the room had changed. It was still the same room, he recognized the sculpted fireplace, but nearly all else had changed. Gone were the luxurious carpets, gone the grand four-poster bed.

In fact, all furniture had disappeared, and had been replaced by a wobbly cot, a small table and one very hard wooden chair. The cot had a tendency to collapse if he didn't keep perfectly still, so he had the choice of spending his days sitting on the chair or sitting on the floor. The nature of his injuries made both possibilities equally painful, so he had taken the habit of lying on the floor as long as possible, until the chill and the hardness of the marble tiles chased him into painfully sitting on the chair.

A washbasin and water jug were standing on a small side table where the flattering mirror had stood, and close to his perilous cot stood a chamber pot. Both items were magic, it seemed, they cleaned and filled themselves each time he had used one of them.

For the rest he was allowed two very obviously second-hand robes, one threadbare towel, one washcloth, all the soap he wanted, and three meals a day. The meals should be enough to sustain him, he readily admitted, but of late the chamber pot enjoyed more of them than he did.

He gave the hated porcelain a hard stare. It was only recently he could use the item without crying out in pain, and now again it gave him bad feelings, with all the vomiting he did. He was sure the thing was cursed.

He closed his eyes. He was so tired, and the way he was curled up on the floor in front of the miserly fire was actually quite comfortable. Perhaps he'd feel better after a little nap.

Dudley awoke abruptly as the opened door of his room banged into the wall. He released a shuddering breath - it was Lucius, the one that had treated him kind. He did look a bit scary though, and Dudley kept as quiet as he could.

Lucius didn't talk to him, didn't explain why he was held here so long, didn't offer excuses. Once again, Dudley felt invisible ropes wrap themselves around him, and froze completely. He already saw himself abused by this man like he had been by his son, and swore that, if it did happen, he'd kill himself.

But the spell the older Wizard articulated, didn't hurt at all. The only thing it did was envelop him in a cloud of coloured lights, all pretty gold and green. Involuntary he smiled; it felt warm and good. Lucius frowned though; perhaps he didn't like gold and green.

Again he waved the wand; again he spoke the same words. The results stayed the same, and his frown was replaced by a stunned expression. He also visibly paled, and screamed some absurd name.

Dudley yelped at the resulting bang. A small, ugly creature had appeared in his room, and Lucius called it closer to him, and softly spoke to it. The creature squeaked, turned its ugly little head, and watched him with huge, aquamarine eyes. It turned back to its master, nodded and disappeared with another loud explosion.

Lucius magicked a chair out of thin air, and sat down to stare at him. There was some kind of fascinated horror in his eyes, and Dudley wondered what could be so terribly wrong, that it had this cold, frightening wizard looking… scared, he'd almost say.

They both waited for long moments, uncomfortable with the silence between them, and yet unwilling to break it. Running feet ultimately broke the silence.
(tbc)