The Usual Suspects

There was more, but it came too fast, memory piling on top of forgotten memory. At five, I couldn't handle it, and I'd tucked everything away in some secret part of me even I didn't know existed. I still didn't feel ready, but there was too much now, and it all just came, unbidden and unwanted.

I realized Draco's arm was over me, and he was whispering, though I couldn't make out the words over my own quiet sobs. I took gulping breaths, and he smoothed back my hair. I shuddered.

"Tell me," Draco said, and I looked up at him. There was something different in his eyes, as though for once he was looking outside himself.

"You don't want to know," I said, and chuckled, wiping the tears from my face.

"Tell me anyway."

I buried my face in his chest.

"Remember when I said I'd met your dad?"

"Yeah."

"I knew him better than I let on."

Draco's body tensed, and he inhaled sharply. I spoke quickly, before he lost his temper. "Haven't you wondered why we didn't meet before Hogwarts?"

Draco exhaled in a rush of air. I'd gotten him thinking rather than fuming at me. "The meetings were at my house the whole spring that I was five, and then they just stopped happening. My father didn't go out anymore, and Mum was always quiet. We just stayed at home. I was discouraged from talking to anyone. That's why I'm so shy."

Draco let out a blast of laughter.

"What?" I sat and looked down at him.

"Who told you that you were shy?" To prove a point, he reached out and fingered the curls at the joint of my thighs. I slapped his hand away and reached for a blanket before realizing we were lying on top of them, then crossed my arms over my chest and pouted, which threw Draco into further laughter.

"I'm glad my misery entertains you," I said dryly.

Draco stopped laughing. "You don't know the half of misery," he murmured.

"Conceited git!" I scooted off the bed and stood, going after my clothes. As I picked them up, I glanced back at Draco, who was propped on one elbow. "Almost as bad as your father," I said.

Draco had crossed the room in a heartbeat. He threw me against the wall, his hands pinning my wrists beside me. "HOW DARE YOU?" he spat, face red with fury. "I AM NOT MY FATHER!"

I struggled, afraid for once, but Draco's body held mine, and I was trapped.

Draco's voice lowered, but I could still feel the anger pulsing through him. "My father is a failure, Mary."

I turned my head to look at him, at the storm in those gray eyes beneath pale drawn eyebrows.

"I am not my father."

I had to smother a burst of nervous laughter. They were more alike than he could ever know. Draco was Lucius, a stripped-down, exposed version missing only the rigid sense of propriety.

I felt sudden dampness at the juncture of my thighs and lowered my lashes, hiding my thoughts from Draco. I couldn't tell him I'd had a sort of twisted crush on Lucius. At five, he was tall and commanding, sinfully beautiful, silky and oh-so-proper. I'd sensed that something was wrong with him, but wasn't old enough, experienced enough, to see what that was.

Somewhere deep inside, I must have held onto that.

I looked up at Draco, and I felt myself slide away, until all that was left was a shell of me, my thoughts and memories present, but numb. I had what I wanted, what I had always wanted, though I never knew.

I stretched, bringing my lips to his, and his grip on my wrists loosened as my tongue met the soft pads of his lips. They parted for me, and I rushed in, sweeping into the dance of our kiss.

Draco's hands began to slide up my arms, and I pulled away.
"Take me," I said, pleading with my eyes. His hands stopped, then circled my wrists again. I dropped my voice to a soft, high-pitched purr. "Take me, Lucius."

Draco's hands were hard on my wrists, and his mouth smothered mine. It was like he was trying to make me forget, but it was too late! There was no going back now.

I closed my eyes and forgot myself. I was just MarySue, little MarySue, and this was both punishment and reward.

Draco slid my hands up the wall above my head, pinning them, and I felt so exposed, so much more naked. His lips left mine and skipped down my chin and neck. I felt the loss of his body heat as he moved back so he could bend to take one tight nipple into his mouth. I gasped, shifting my weight so that my own thighs rubbed against the sensitive spot between them.

Draco's tongue circled and flicked, drawing moans from my lips. His body wasn't touching mine, and I craved contact, more than his unmoving hands provided. It felt so good, but it was nothing short of torture.

I chewed my lip, then softly whispered, "Lucius."

Draco stood straight, his hands like manacles. "NO!"

I turned my head away from him, closing my eyes against his voice.

"Did my father touch you like this?" Draco asked, sliding his hands down my arms to my breasts.

"No," I breathed.

"Did he kiss you? Did he ache for you?"

I looked at Draco then. There was pain in his eyes, and I could almost believe he did ache for me.

"No," I said.

Draco's hands kneaded my breasts, and his thumbs circled, teasing the sensitive tips. I closed my eyes, leaning completely against the wall.

"Did you ache for him?"

I opened my eyes again. "I ache for you," I said softly. "Only you," I lied.

I saw it in his eyes; comprehension and some kind of understanding. How did it end up like this? I asked myself.

It didn't matter. Draco kissed me again, if it could be called a kiss. Our lips met, our tongues warred, and Draco's hands hardened on my breasts. My hands were free now, and I ran my fingers through silken blond hair, loving the feel as it slid through.

His knee parted my legs, then his other knee, and he pressed me to the wall, left me gripping his hips with my thighs. I rocked forward until I felt the tip of him touch me, bringing a drop of moisture of its own.

I opened my eyes, and it was Draco staring back at me, his narrow face made narrower by the expression of pained need etched across it.

"Take me," I said, and his body tensed. "Draco, please!"

He thrust in, hard with lust and anger. My body met his with eagerness, and we ground together, then parted, Draco's strokes long and near agonizing with pleasure. He pounded into me, the rhythm moving faster, more desperate with each stroke until there was nothing left but a frenzy of sensation and need.

I broke first, clenching around him as he continued to drive into my body. As the world shattered, I tightened, and Draco groaned, jerking out of me, leaving a trail of dampness on my inner thigh.

I pressed against him, so that he rested along the cleft between my legs, and I shifted, rubbing him against me, feeling the ecstasy well up again. Draco throbbed against me, and I moved my hips faster, harder, my shoulders tightening as I pushed myself over the edge, as I heard my own scream echo through the room. I collapsed in Draco's arms. I could feel the pulse against me as Draco spent himself again, dampening the curls below my belly.

He held me, cradled between him and the wall, his body slumped against mine, and we caught our breath.

I felt so complete, like everything I'd ever done had only been a prelude to me and Draco. There was no me now, only us. The life I'd had before Draco was nothing, just an act, doing what I should so that I wouldn't have to remember that life could never be what I truly wanted.

Yet here I was. I had what I wanted, and I hadn't gotten it by following the rules. If only father had told me, I'd have done things so differently. I could have gotten to this point much sooner.

Father. I didn't want to think about him. He was a bastard, a liar, and a coward. Lucius had had to step in as a father figure, and when the meetings stopped, father had stopped. He'd ruled from the shadows, manipulating mum, I was sure, manipulating me so that I would do what he wanted without the others having to step in.

I sighed as Draco stepped back and I found my footing. We knew it would be late by now. Actually, it could be morning for all we knew. We'd slept for some time after supper.

We dressed and left the cocoon of the Room of Requirement. The corridor was silent and empty, dark but for the occasional torch on the wall. I felt suddenly awkward, then disgusted with myself. What did I have to feel awkward about? That was the old Mary, and she was gone. Some time in the past couple weeks, she had died, and she was never coming back. I wouldn't let her.

Draco and I kissed and parted silently. We didn't need to arrange anything; we both knew we'd be back. I returned to the dormitory and sat on my bed, knees drawn to my chest, staring into the room. I couldn't stop the thoughts from coming. What had my father done? What had I done? And why, when I finally had what I'd always wanted, did I still feel so numb?