Twisted Faerie Tales

Author’s Note: Many thanks to Deb and Shannon for working on this chapter for me and thanks to all the readers who have commented so far.

Part 4

“We should tell the Weasleys that you’re okay,” Draco murmured against Harry’s swollen lips. He practically preened at the idea that he had made them that way through what seemed like hours of snogging.

“Would that involve stopping?” Harry asked, his arms wound tightly around the blond’s waist as Draco hovered above him, straddling his lap.

“Well, yes,” Draco regrettably answered, trying to shift off of Harry so that the man could get up, but Harry’s grip only tightened, trailing from his thin waist to his angular hips.

“Then it can wait,” Harry decided and pulled Draco into another heated kiss.

Harry’s erection was prominent between them, and Draco couldn’t seem to help himself as he moved against it, grinding down to feel it throb and eliciting delicious moans from Harry’s ruby lips.

Eyes half-lidded, Draco tugged randomly at Harry’s robes, frustrated noises sounding when he couldn’t manage to free the brunet. Draco wanted to see him, all of him. Harry chuckled mildly and reached down to help before moving to Draco’s own clasps and exposing both their naked chests to the cool night air.

Not that it remained cool for long.

Soon the air around them seemed to boil and crackle with the heat of their gazes and their magic. Lithe fingers explored Harry’s chest, marveling at the chiseled expanse. “I had to keep fit in secret,” Harry whispered, following Draco’s gaze. “Voldemort wanted to keep me soft and malleable, but Mum wouldn’t hear of it. She knew that a day would come that I would need to defend myself against him and she did everything she could to prepare me.”

Draco swallowed thickly, the lust in his eyes melting away to be replaced with solemn apology. “About that, Harry,” he began, but Harry shook his head sadly, holding a finger to Draco’s lips.

“I figured it out already,” he whispered. “For you to have lived at Riddle Manor with your mum, that means my mum was gone when you arrived. Voldemort told me he’d killed her, but I tried not to believe him, I tried to hold to hope that he was lying, but something tells me she didn’t escape him like I did,” he sighed. “I owe her everything.”

“We’ll stop him, Harry,” Draco promised, his voice cold as steel. “I’ll avenge my father and you can take revenge for both of the parents he stole from you. Nothing can stop us from killing him now.”

A slow curve of a smile returned to those lips, casting Harry’s entire face in a soft glow. “With you by my side, I’m invincible.”

Their lips crashed together with a ferocity that hadn’t been there before. Both men seemed spurred by a sudden urgency, as if they each wanted to claim and be claimed by the other, as if they had a lifelong destiny to fulfill. Harry’s cock was already leaking when Draco first took it in his hand, trailing soft fingers along the shaft before he gently squeezed and stroked.

“Yes,” Harry sighed, fumbling at Draco’s trousers and exclaiming in triumph when he successfully disrobed the pale god above him. “Yours,” he rasped, “Make me yours.”

A desperate groan flew from Draco’s lips before they smashed back into Harry’s and he lifted the man, bringing their erections together. Harry hissed as Draco’s hand encircled them both and stroked, grinning wildly as Harry began bucking into his hand. Neither of them wanted it to end so quickly, so Draco backed off, his precome-slicked fingers trailing down to the crevice of Harry’s arse.

The brunet let loose a strangled cry when Draco’s first finger breached him, but he soon found himself grinding down against the digit, eager for more – and more Draco gave. Suddenly there was nothing else in the world, no birds, no trees, no sky, no ground, only Draco and those perfect fingers, fucking him until he couldn’t see straight.

When the fingers pulled away, Harry snarled with displeasure, his eyes flaring wide as if he’d curse Draco for withholding his magnificent touch, but he was quickly put to ease by the sight that met his eyes. Above him, Draco balanced, covered in a thin sheen of sweat and panting with lips parted and eyes half closed. He was stunning, and Harry knew that all of Draco’s pale brilliance belonged to him. He sighed and relaxed completely; content in his knew knowledge, content with his new love. When Draco lined himself up and pressed forward, Harry waited for the pain, but if it came, he couldn’t feel it because Draco’s startling gray gaze had locked onto his own and anchored Harry in place, stealing his breath from his lungs and stilling his heart for a single precious moment in time.

Harry belonged. He belonged to Draco, to the woods, to the Weasleys, to his tragically departed family, to the earth and the air and water and the fires that blazed through his entire form. He was claimed and it was nothing but beauty.

Draco thrust forward with a snap of his hips, his eyes clouded with lust and love and raw power. Together they felt like a mighty conduit and, with eyes glazed and lips parted, Harry could see his future rushing before his eyes. Hand in hand he and Draco would rule in Riddle’s place, and together they would be fair and pure and loved. They would put an end to an era of tyranny and fear and they would know a world free of hate mongering and strife.

When climax took him, he could feel Draco’s surprised response as he thrust one last time and emptied himself inside Harry’s waiting body. Legs still twined together, the air fogging with their gasping breath, Draco fell into his rightful place in Harry’s arms and they remained that way – chests heaving and fingers twined – for longer than either knew.

It wasn’t until a girlish shriek erupted from the edge of the clearing that Draco even remembered that they weren’t entirely alone in this forest, and that anyone could have come upon them at anytime.

“Malfoy, you sick fuck!” Ginny yelled. “How could you defile poor Harry’s body that way?!”

Draco’s curious expression met Ginny’s for a brief moment before the words made some sort of twisted sense and he couldn’t help but laugh. “Ginny, this isn’t what you think.”

“How could you laugh about this? We trusted you, we thought you cared about Harry…but not this much!” she spat, stalking forward.

“I’m not…Harry’s not dead,” he rasped, still choking on his own chortle.

“I feel dead,” Harry groaned and yawned.

Ginny screamed at the sound, her eyes widening to bright blue saucers. “Harry! You-you’re alive?”

“Apparently,” he muttered. “Although I’m having trouble breathing at the moment.”

Draco winced and slid from Harry’s chest with a soft thud before he snuggled up beside him instead. “He’s cured,” Draco elaborated. “I tested him, he’s fine,” he added with a cheeky grin.

“I-I can’t believe you did it! You saved him…and…well, I don’t exactly know what to say about the rest but…congratulations, I suppose,” she murmured, clearly at a loss for words.

“Why don’t you run along and tell the rest while I get Harry presentable,” Draco suggested, smiling down at Harry’s snickering face.

“Um, right,” she agreed and hurried off.

“She’s a bit sweet on you, I think,” Draco muttered when the redhead had gone.

“So I’ve been told,” Harry replied. “Is she the only one?”

“No,” Draco breathed, his gaze boring into Harry’s with a heavy weight that might have crushed his chest had Harry not thought it felt so perfect. Draco pulled a ring from his own finger; a platinum bauble that bore what Harry could only assume was the Malfoy family crest. “Marry me.”

“You realize I only just woke up a moment ago,” Harry pointed out with a wry grin.

“If you don’t say yes, I’ll just put you to sleep again and sneak it on your finger,” Draco threatened mildly, his grin betraying his words.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that,” Harry supplied. “So, I suppose I’ll just have to say yes.”

Draco slipped the ring onto Harry’s finger with no further prompting and kissed him long and lingering, only pausing when a throat cleared from behind them. Draco blushed, remembering that they were both supposed to be properly dressed by now.

“We’ll turn around,” Arthur’s voice announced. “Just make it quick.”

Draco thanked him and set about redressing while Harry did the same. “Okay,” Harry announced. “We’re decent.” Neither could help the embarrassed chuckle that followed, or the fact that their hands never parted while the Weasleys fawned over Harry’s newly wakened state.

The entire family celebrated that night. Molly and Ginny made an elaborate feast, which they ate in the glade under the stars, while the twins told stories and entertained everyone with their humorous ends. Ron attached himself to Harry’s other side, telling Harry about all he’d missed while asleep and Draco fought off the admiring thanks from everyone in the family for bringing Harry back to them. Even Percy seemed pleased.

They toasted to Harry’s renewed health and to his and Draco’s engagement and for a single night, all was well with the world. The next morning, Harry and Draco would set out to make sure it stayed that way.

“An army, Sir! There is an army on our doorstep!” shouted Riddle’s servant Pettigrew as he burst into the room.

Voldemort ignored him for a moment as he finished toying with strategic statues on a giant table painted with the topography of Britain. A dark metal figure resided in the place marked Riddle Manor, and all around it little red pieces showed armies of Death Eaters moving out, searching the plains for followers to capture and Muggles to incinerate. This was his plan, and soon he would put it into action.

He already had a garrison preparing to set out for the outlying villages and take out the Weasleys and others of their kind. Filthy Muggle-lovers, all of them. They deserved to burn.

“Impossible,” Voldemort remarked at last with a disregarding wave of his hand. “There isn’t a resistance foolish enough to stand against me on my own grounds.” Pettigrew worried at his hands, his gaze flicking from his Master’s face to the window overlooking the front gate. Voldemort rolled his eyes and stood, striding over to the window. “Very well. Show me this army.”

It wasn’t an army. It was hardly enough to be called a gathering, much less an army. His eyes narrowed as he tried to pick out who they were, and only their brilliant ginger hair gave him the answer.

Voldemort cackled to himself at the sight. “If they think they have come here to avenge Potter, I’ll make sure they leave here without their heads.”

Quickly, Voldemort marched downstairs, his servant in tow. By the time he reached the ground floor he had at least a dozen men at his back. Snape and Narcissa hung back, carefully keeping themselves out of the fray as they watched. Narcissa’s hand found the Potion Master’s and clung to it desperately. She’d never been fond of the penniless Weasley family, but she dreaded to think what would happen to them at Voldemort’s hand.

As he made his way over to the gate, his grin only grew more menacing. “Tell me, what are a group of peasant Weasleys doing at my door?”

The gate swung wide, admitting them through. That was how confident Voldemort was that he could beat these people down. He wagered that no magic would even graze his skin while his servants stood loyally around him.

“It’s not just Weasleys,” called a voice from the back and Riddle laughed heartily.

“Oh? Did you bring a few other ragtag townsfolk along as well?” he asked, not even bothering to suppress a smirk.

“Something like that,” the voice called back, and then suddenly a dark-haired man stood in front of the redheaded contingent, smiling with wild, powerful eyes. Voldemort scarcely recognized this as the same boy he’d tricked three times and killed the last. It was like being haunted by the very thing he hated most - Mortality.

This boy was his end. He’d felt it in his bones all those years ago and he should have dispatched of Potter when he was just a defenseless child. Now the man practically glowed with raw energy, his fingertips crackling with power.

Riddle tried to have the gates slammed shut on them, but it was too late. Harry was already through, and at his side was Draco Malfoy, his missing stepson. “Draco, come to me,” Riddle demanded, gesturing to the place at his side.

Draco laughed, a wicked, scoffing sound, and shook his head, reaching over to twine his fingers together with Potter’s until they both hummed with raw magic. “We’re here to kill you, Tom,” Harry said, speaking for all of them apparently.

“You’re just a boy, Potter,” Voldemort spat, but his wide eyes betrayed him. “You cannot best me.”

“Are we betting on that?” Harry asked, his voice low and threatening as his hand flicked out and nearly scalded Voldemort’s skin with his power. Harry took an ominous step forward; Draco’s own gate matching exactly as if they’d choreographed the tyrant’s defeat. “You stole my family from me,” Harry growled. “You tried to take my life as well. Tell me, Tom, why should I spare yours?”

“I could give you immortality,” Voldemort said, standing taller now that he thought he had something the boys might want. “I could give you power over death.”

“I’ve seen death, Tom,” Harry replied lightly. “It’s not something that I need to fear. You on the other hand,” he added, “should be running and screaming for your life, because that’s what you’ll be doing in hell for the rest of eternity.”

“I don’t believe in hell, Potter,” Voldemort spat.

“Well, it believes in you, Tom, and it’s waiting for you now with open, hungry arms,” Harry whispered. Magic flared from his outstretched hand and seemed to rend Riddle into a hundred pieces, leaving him weak and powerless. His body was whole, but Harry had reached in and tore Voldemort’s power away, separating it from his flesh and holding it like a shimmering orb in between them.

With a blink, the ball of magic exploded and scattered. Pieces of it fell to the cobblestone at their feet, creating glittering patterns in the walkway that rising up into dancing statues. Other bits flew into the grass; sprouting up remarkable flowers and trees that no one had ever seen the likes of before. Everywhere the magic fell, Harry’s hand guided it and molded it into something beautiful while Voldemort watched his magic – his life force – drain away.

By the time Harry and Draco were finished, Voldemort was nothing but a weak old man kneeling at their feet. “Kill me,” he rasped. “Please, Potter. Finish me now.”

Harry looked upon the man who had stolen so much from him, stolen so much from Draco and stolen so much from the people he ruled over. He could show mercy and end the man’s life right there, but suddenly that seemed too kind.

Instead, Harry had him banished to the topmost tower of the castle, where he would live out the rest of his short days in pain and regret.

Voldemort’s men had never so much as lifted a hand against Harry or his small army of loved ones, and whether that was out of fear or cleverness, Harry didn’t know, nor did he care. They were free men now.

Draco squeezed his hand and led him inside the vast manor, tugging him up to the secret room that Harry had written about in his journals. That room had bound them together in tragedy and love.

Inside was the mirror Draco had first seen Harry’s image, the mirror that had cursed Harry’s youth with its prophecies and magic – driving Voldemort insane and power hungry. Harry’s fingers traced the golden frame, dipping along the intricate carvings. “I can feel it trembling with magic,” he whispered, glancing furtively at Draco. “It’s afraid of us.”

“It should be,” Draco huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “This mirror took away both of your parents and my father.”

“The mirror only did as it was bid,” Harry reminded him. “It was Tom Riddle’s hand that issued the killing blows.”

“This mirror only knows cruelty,” Draco replied, glaring into the reflective surface. He had to admit; he rather liked the way Harry’s skin seemed to glow from within, his power was ripe and as strong as the mirror had predicted.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall,” Harry whispered, stroking the frame lovingly. “Why do you exist at all?”

A violent crack accompanied Harry’s words, making the brunet step back. One massive fissure opened up in the center of the mirror, leaving a large, gaping wound in the metallic glass. The mirror shivered once and then all the light seemed to flee from within, sucked into darkness. “I think it’s dead,” Harry breathed, reaching out once more to feel the now tarnished frame.

His other hand was quickly caught by Draco’s and the engagement ring warmed on his finger. “It’s probably for the best,” he replied, and tugged Harry away from the broken artifact. “Let’s go and find mother. I’m eager to introduce you.”

Harry shot his fiancé a gallant smile before placing a chaste kiss against his lips. “Will she approve, do you think?”

“She’ll be ecstatic, Harry, maybe even as happy as I am,” Draco promised and pulled Harry out of the secret room before sealing it up behind them, never to be opened again.

“A new life,” Harry whispered as he followed Draco through the halls of the former Riddle Manor, “and a bright future.”

“Together,” Draco added, mirroring Harry’s sentiment. “Forever.”

FIN

Author’s Note: So, that’s the end, sappy as usual, but that’s my thing I suppose. (At least when I’m not tricking you all into thinking Harry’s shagged Lucius) Some of you have asked if I’m still taking requests for the next story, and the answer is yes. Although, I’m currently working on Rapunzel, which will be the next post, and after that I have Princess and the Pea, Goldilocks and I’m tossing around some ideas for Beauty and the Beast and the Frog Prince. I have no idea which of those stories will follow Rapunzel, or in what order, or what I’ll do after that…but I’ll be sure to update you when I do.