Broken Toy

Warnings: Language, smut, just NC17
Author's Notes:
Yesterday I freaked out a bit… It was the first time I really realized that DH will be out next week and there’s this maddening possibility that Harry won’t survive. Or Draco. Or Snape. *SOBS* And there’s the possibility that the plot takes a dramatic turn. Maybe this dramatic that no fic will ever make sense afterwards. Will I be able to still love my H/D-characters as much as I do now (oh, yes, I have to admit that I fell in love with them whilst writing… *blushes*)?

So I wrote the whole night through to get at least the next chap ready before – whatever will happen. Hm, but on the other hand... *winks* I'm too much addicted to H/D right now to let go of them... regardless whoever will die. In fandom, everything is possible. *g*

Enjoy!

And... HUGS you all for your awesome comments! I wish I could respond to them, it's a shame it's not possible. Thank you all!

Chapter Seventeen

Draco was thankful when they were at home again. Luckily they hadn’t met anybody until they had been able to Disapparate from the Ministry. Nobody they knew, that is.

Harry got rid of his cloak and flung himself on the sofa. With a relieved sigh, he pulled his shirt out of his trousers, kicked his shoes off and snuggled deep into the cushions.

Instead of sitting beside him, Draco settled down on the floor and leaned his back against the rim of the furniture. He hadn’t removed his cloak. Although the high temperature of the hot summer day was noticeable even in the living room, he felt cold inside.

“What a day!” Harry grunted. Draco perceived another noisily exhale as well as the rustling of cushions. Apparently Harry had accepted that Draco wouldn’t join him on the sofa and had stretched out.

“The only thing I want to do now is hang around.” Harry’s voice sounded sleepy.

Draco pulled his knees up and slung his arms around his shinbones.

“Maybe we grab some food later on… But what? I couldn’t say what I’d like to have right now. And honestly, I am too lazy to cook anything…” Harry definitely appeared to be exhausted.

Draco rested his chin upon his knees and fixed the edge of the living room table.

“Do you have any idea?” Harry’s question was followed by a stifled yawn.

“No.” Draco responded curtly.

“Are you hungry at all?” Another yawn could be heard.

“No.” Draco kept on fixing the edge of the table. It seemed to be very pointed. He wondered why nobody had hurt himself on this sharp edge before. Sheer luck, evidently.

“What if I ask Gwenny to prepare us something?” The low squeak of springs indicated that Harry had adjusted his position. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Yes.” The huge glass vase with the neatly arranged sun-flowers looked beautiful upon the table. But there was some dust... Not much, but it was visible nonetheless.

“Maybe she’s got some soup in the fridge. I don’t think I want more than that tonight. Something light would be quite all right, don’t you think so?” Harry had stopped his moving around at last, there wasn’t any sound to be heard from behind.

“Yes.” It wasn’t dust. The tiny shades of grey were animal hairs. No wonder, with all the cats and dogs running around, shaking themselves constantly.

“A vegetable stew would be exactly right, correct?” Harry’s voice was agreeably low and monotonous.

“Yes.” But of course animals couldn’t help themselves. They had to shake.

“Or better something like the pus of a Blast-Ended Screwt, freshly butchered, mixed up with some Bundimuns? And of course I would like some chipped Kneazle talons going along with it. This sounds great, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Draco?”

“Yes.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Noth…” Before Draco had realized it, Harry was sitting right beside him on the floor, eyeing him closely. “Draco, what’s wrong?” he inquired softly again.

Draco knew if he didn’t answer right away, Harry would touch him. He would lay his hand on his arm or would touch his hair or, worse, caress his cheek.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Draco retorted quickly and instinctively tried to back off from Harry and his maddening close presence. His sidewards movement was too hasty; his head bumped hard against the solid armrest of the darned sofa. Draco winced involuntarily.

“Draco…” Harry shifted slightly, reducing the secure distance again.

Don’t touch me!

Draco was up on his feet just in time; Harry’s outstretched hand groped into thin air.

Don’t dare to get up and follow me.

“Draco!”

He didn’t care for the concern in Harry’s voice. Fuck your concern, Perfect Potter.

Draco started to stride aimlessly through the living room. He shook his head in disbelief. How could Harry be so blind? Why couldn’t he see?

Draco took a wild turn in his march and tripped right over the heap of Harry’s discarded cloak. Excruciating pain hit his shinbone and shot up his thigh, letting his testicles shrink. Fucking pointed edge of the fucking table!

“Aahhh…” A quick aim, a fierce kick, and the living room table lifted up like in slow motion, quivered a bit, then crashed down to the floor. The big glass vase of flowers didn’t have a chance. It shot high up into the air and crashed down upon the remains of the table, exploding into hundreds of tiny fragments, but luckily not hitting Draco. Water sprayed into every direction, soaking the floor fast, and the heads of the sunflowers crushed when they hit the ground.

Draco stood in the middle of the living room, unable to move.

Some minute piece of glass caused a last jingle when it fell down, then it was deadly quiet.

Draco had lost all sense of time. He didn’t know how long he stood and stared at the heap of wood and glass and beheaded sunflowers.

He sank down to the ground, pulled his legs up once more and enclosed his knees with his arms tightly. His eyes never left the devastation he had caused when he started to rock slowly back and forth.

The only sound he could manage was a whisper.

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

“Pardon?”

Harry‘s cautious response enraged Draco once more. How thick could one be?

Draco’s head jerked around in anger. Harry was still sitting cross-legged in front of the sofa. It seemed as if he hadn’t moved an inch since the demolition of his living room table.

One table-leg was leaning against his thigh in a curious position. There were pink, wet blotches on his shirt, and his jet-black hair was glimmering with tiny pieces of broken glass. His face… His face was unscathed.

Draco swallowed hard.

“Why didn’t you ask me?” He repeated quietly.

Comprehension dawned on Harry’s face. “You mean…”

“It was my life and my future you were discussing so animatedly with Hermione. And you behaved as if I wasn’t there! You made up your mind quickly, cool! Efficient Potter, head of the Ministry, never shrinks back from unpleasant decisions. Have you for one moment, just for one single moment, thought about what I may want? Why, POTTER, tell me, why do you think everything’s up to you? You already saved the Wizarding World! If somebody needs a saviour, it’s YOU!”

Harry’s hand flew up to his mouth as if he was going to be sick.

Well, let him be, then.

Draco was determined to continue, and he neither cared for the hurt in Harry’s eyes nor gave he a damn as some of the tiny pieces of glass tumbled down Harry’s hair as he instinctively made a move towards him.

Draco ignored the low wince, as pitiful as it sounded. Let the glass cut his arms, his hands, whatever. He didn’t care.

“I know what I am. Ron was right. I am a piece of shit. I’m a whore and an outcast, I’m just nothing. But even shit like me has feelings, wishes and dreams, did you know that?” Another piece of glass dropped out of Harry’s black strands. Neither of them noticed; their wide-opened eyes were locked.

“I want to be a member of Wizard society again. You can’t imagine how much I want that. But I brought the situation I’m in upon myself. I am responsible. Not you.” Harry’s left eye blinked rapidly.

“So if somebody has to take a risk, it’s me. It’s my risk, not yours. You were worried that maybe I want to move on after some time and then will be disgraced again? So be it. This will then be my decision. Mine, you heard me?” Harry nodded hastily. His hands jolted, and he folded them quickly.

“I have to admit; at first I was happy – no, I was simply euphoric! I couldn’t think of anything else than the aspect of becoming a respected member of Wizard society again. And I even felt honoured and proud that you volunteered as guarantor. But… after consideration I don’t like the prize you are paying. I don’t want you to take a risk because of me, okay? I don’t want it!” Harry’s mouth twitched, but he remained quiet and continued to stare at Draco.

“And please don’t suggest the marriage-option now. Me moving on? What if you want to move on? But of course you would never do that, right? Saviour-Potter would stay and keep the word he has given, come what may. What kind of marriage will that be then? Tell me!” Still Harry didn’t say a word.

“Why didn’t you ask me, Potter? Why?”

“I’m sorry, Draco. I really am.” Harry’s voice was almost inaudible.

Draco snorted.

“I told you I’m bad with relation-…”

“Codswallop!” Draco cut in. “This has got nothing to do with relationships. It’s respect for others, Potter. Social behaviour, for Merlin’s sake.” Harry gulped visibly, opened his mouth then shut it again.

“And stop staring at me like this!”

“Sorry…” Harry bent his head down. Draco could see him swallowing hard. His head shook a little, and another piece off glass fell down to the ground. “But… what am I going to do now? Cancel the request? What?” The black head shook again, this time without any glass tumbling down. His next words were almost a whisper, “What… do you want?”

“I think we will leave matters as they are for the time being,“ Draco couldn’t believe he was saying this, but he continued. “It will take some time until we get a hearing in front of the Wizengamot. You can cancel your request anytime until then. This will give us some time to think things over. Maybe another option will turn up? And by the way, I lived now for so many years as an outcast; I don’t care if it’s a while longer. Maybe we should first find a solution to the contracts. I’m fed up with taking showers for hours.”

Draco stood up and smoothed his jeans; the bottom was soaked, he had been sitting in a pool of water. ‘Brilliant,’ his Slytherin mind applauded, ‘what a clever move! Until the hearing a month will go by at least, and no one knows what will happen until then. You will succeed, don’t you worry!’

“Okay.” Harry smiled shyly and got up too. “Ouch.” Instinctively he reached for his chest.

“What…?” Draco anticipated something horrid when he regarded the pink blotches on the white fabric closer. At once he shoved Harry’s hands away and pulled his shirt up. There were several ugly bleeding cuts on Harry’s chest and stomach.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been sitting here like this all of the time?” Draco hissed.

Harry cast his eyes down and nodded.

“You’re hopeless, Potter, you know that?”

Harry’s hand flew up to his neck and scratched it vigorously.

“Come on, we’ve got to do something about it!” Draco headed for the door.

Harry came directly after him and held him back by his shoulder. “Can you do me a favour? Can you promise me something first?”

“What is it?” Draco was a little bit impatient. The cuts had looked bad.

“If I ever make a complete fool of myself again, please nudge me or shout at me or whatever you want. And I don’t care if people are present. Will you? Please?”

“Okay. And I will choose the nudging, I think. It seems that you need a good trashing every now and then.” Draco grinned and reached for Harry’s arm. “Come on now.”

But Harry didn’t move.

“What else?” Draco was exasperated.

“Only when you call me Harry again.”

“Aargh, get yourself going, stupid git!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Take your shirt off and sit down. We have to stop the bleeding first.”

Harry pulled his stained shirt over his head at once and sat down on the edge of the bathtub obediently. The expression upon Harry’s face reminded Draco strongly of a certain shy eleven-year old boy-wizard he had known ages ago at Hogwarts. He wouldn’t be surprised if he looked over his shoulder to see Professor Snape standing there, relishing just another chance to humiliate the unsure boy. Yes, without doubt, Snape had never missed a chance to ridicule the young wizard. And Draco had given his very best to laugh the loudest …

“This looks bad. A healing ointment won’t be sufficient. We need a spell!” Draco eyed a special deep cut right beside Harry’s left nipple with concern. What if any scars would be visible afterwards? He would never be able to forgive himself!

Harry didn’t move. He remained sitting with his head slightly upturned, watching Draco attentively. His hands were folded in his lap.

“A spell, Harry! You’ve got to do it yourself, remember?” Draco felt the urgent desire to grab the other by his shoulders and shake some sense into him. There wasn’t any time to loose or scars would remain. Didn’t Harry know that?

“What?” Harry gaped up at Draco, not comprehending.

“Episkey, you imbecile!” Draco bellowed. “Now who’s the wizard, you or me?“

The shouting helped. Harry seemed to awake out of his trancelike state and hastened to cast the spell. The bleeding stopped, and the cuts diminished until only minute marks were visible. Draco wasn’t satisfied.

“Where’s the healing ointment?”

Harry indicated the cupboard beside the mirror. Whilst Draco searched for the right jar, he heard a quiet “Thank you” behind him.

“You’d better get out of your jeans or it’ll get wet,” Draco suggested, ignoring Harry’s remark completely, “We’ll have to get rid of the blood before I can apply the ointment.”

With the jar in one hand, Draco turned around swiftly. The healing ointment almost slipped out of his grip when he caught a glimpse of Harry’s face. It surely was contorted with pain when he stepped out of his jeans and laid it down neatly beside the bathtub.

A bruise of the size of a palm was shining in red and blue upon Harry’s right thigh. The table-leg!

“Galloping Gargoyles,” Draco hissed under his breath. “Episkey won’t help with bruises. Let’s hope the ointment will do some good!” He gestured towards the bathtub.

Harry remained standing in front of him, looking anywhere but at Draco. His hands were picking nervously at the rim of his boxers.

There wasn’t any time for embarrassment now.

“Sit down, for Merlin’s sake!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco shook his head thoughtfully. He had finished cleansing Harry’s skin and now started to apply the ointment with what he hoped gentle strokes.

“What I can’t understand…” Draco’s hand glided up and down Harry’s chest, trying to ignore the sensation of a pronounced hard nipple under his touch, “…you were trained as an Auror, right?” Harry’s nipple felt good under his open palm, especially with the rich lubricant as an ingredient of the healing stuff. It was kind of… softening the contact. “Where were your legendary reflexes? I mean, as an Auror, you should have seen it coming. You should have cast a Protego the second the glass vase exploded!”

“But I…” Harry’s body fidgeted beneath his hand then went still again.

“Would you please try to communicate in complete sentences with me?” Draco’s hand moved over towards the other nipple. It felt exactly as exciting as the other one. Not to speak of the hard muscles beneath. “But I – what?”

“Forget it.” Harry cleared his throat audibly, and interestingly the muscles of his chest tensed under Draco’s touch. Draco would have enjoyed the sensation thoroughly, if it hadn’t been for the once more bent down head.

“But I – what!” Draco intensified the pressure of his hand involuntarily. He didn’t intend to hurt Harry. He wanted an explanation.

“Sorry,” Harry’s head almost touched his chest, “But I… I did it again.”

Draco stopped his movements and waited. His hand never left Harry’s chest. Draco could feel Harry’s heart beating beneath his open palm. It was beating fast.

“I, err…” Another harrumph, “…seems like I did the saviour-thing again. I’m sorry. As soon as I realized the vase would crash, I cast the Protego upon, err, you. Err, I’m sorry.”

Draco closed his eyes in exasperation. That’s why he hadn’t been harmed by the flying splinters… Hopeless! Harry was simply hopeless! Instead of shielding himself, he protected someone else. Even if this was the one who had caused all the damage.

Draco forced Harry to look at him by pushing his chin up with his ointment-free hand.

The incredible green eyes were pleading for sympathy. “I just can’t help it! It is some kind of reflex! I’m not doing it on purpose. Every time I…”

“Oh, shut up, silly!”

Draco didn’t kiss him. He wanted to, very badly. The slightly open mouth was too alluring, too soft not to be kissed. But he had a job to do. He didn’t want any additional scars upon Harry’s skin. So he just shook his head grimly and continued to apply some more of the healing ointment to Harry’s flat stomach, forcing himself not to let his hand glide downwards but to remain near the cute little bellybutton.

“Draco?”

“Hm?” Every distraction was welcomed now.

“I just wondered…” Of course Harry couldn’t ask what he wanted to know with a direct question.

“At the ministry… when Hermione explained to us… you know, when she was a bit circumstantial about finding out about the options… you… I thought I heard you. In my mind, I mean.”

“Yes?” Draco continued to apply some extra ointment near the lovely trail of thick black hair disappearing underneath the white boxers. And he didn’t mind when one or two of his fingertips slipped underneath the rim of the pants accidentally.

“This was amazing! I… You… I really was kind of upset, and suddenly I was under the impression that you were trying to calm me. Thank you.” Harry’s voice was soft, just like the skin Draco could feel beneath his sensitive palm.

“Well, you were sweating a lot, and Hermione didn’t come to a point with her enervating tale, so I have to admit I got a little bit nervous.” Draco’s hand got slower in his movements. When he thought about what he really had felt he could puke right now. He laughed a little. “Actually I… I thought you would strangle her or something. You seemed to be so furious.”

“You… what?” Harry grabbed for Draco’s hand, tearing it away from his belly.

“You thought I was impatient with Mione? With Hermione? Never! She’s my friend!” Harry got up, still clutching Draco’s hand.

“I was furious about what I saw in the Pensieve… I couldn’t forget it, and I couldn’t get over it, as hard as I tried.” Harry’s eyes bore into Draco’s. “Don’t you remember what happened before you signed the contract?”

Draco’s stomach turned. No, he didn’t. And. He. Didn’t. Want. To. His head started to shake in negation.

“Pickles said he didn’t want to buy a pig in a poke. He wanted to make sure of your abilities before he...”

“NO!” Draco’s head got dizzy. (He had been so alone, so alone.) No wonder, he was shaking it violently. This never had happened (so young and desperate and no one to turn to), this never could have happened. He couldn’t remember Pickles “checking him” (and it had hurt so much, yes, he knew it had hurt so much) in any form (he had been so alone) , so it simply could never had happened.

Relief set in at once when little waves of warmth flooded through his body, starting at his hand enfolded inside Harry’s. Draco was even able to meet Harry’s eyes again. And the eyes were laughing, actually laughing!

“You know, I’m not freaking out every time I sweat more than usual…”

Draco’s hand was squeezed. Another wave of comforting warmth rushed through his body.

“Thinking about the table…” Harry chuckled infectiously. “It’s good to know you can freak out at times, too…”

Draco couldn’t help himself, he had to grin proudly. Harry had succeeded with his distraction.

“Seems like we both are a little bit mental, aren’t we?” Harry laughed out loud now. “That’s a good start, isn’t it?”

After a second or two, Draco cackled hysterically. “Yes. A compulsive saviour and a psychotic whore!”

“What will happen if we freak out simultaneously?”

“Let’s try!”

“Just imagine their faces…”

“The Daily Prophet will have some headlines at last…”

Alerted by the uproarious guffaw that followed, the dogs started to bark frantically somewhere downstairs.

Which only caused further hysterical laughter.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco could have spared himself the effort of rubbing the healing ointment down Harry’s skin.

Still giggling madly, they had found themselves suddenly in a tight embrace.

Draco had held Harry’s body close to him, all at once too aware of the fact that Harry was only apparelled with thin boxers and his face was just one inch apart from his own.

It had been Harry who had started with a shy but firm kiss.

And now Harry was lying underneath him, right here on the bathroom floor. Draco was riding him hard, his buttocks were clenched with the strain, and he was groping harshly into Harry’s chest, pinching his nipples, scratching his skin, digging his fingers deep into his shoulders. Harry’s violent thrusts made him wince, but that was exactly what he wanted, what he needed now. Harry’s hands held his hips in a tight grip, it hurt, but it didn’t matter. Ruthlessly Harry’s hands pushed him up and down, again and again, until Draco’s muscles tightened, far too soon, oh, far too soon. Harry’s hand shot out and clutched Draco’s ready-to-burst member and started to tug. Just once. The desperate cry of both of them sounded like one. Draco jerked off with such an all-consuming orgasm he collapsed onto Harry’s twitching body, relishing the feeling of sudden wetness inside himself.

Several minutes passed until they were able to move.

Trembling, careful not to meet each other’s eyes, they got up and stumbled towards the bedroom.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They were breathing evenly again, at last.

Draco had snuggled up against Harry’s backside, enfolding him with his arm. Draco’s groin was resting comfortably against Harry’s bum, and his chest leaned close to Harry’s back. His head lay directly behind Harry’s, whose thick black strands were tickling his nose whenever he made a slight movement. Draco could smell sweat and the typical scent of sex, mixed with the special odour that was simply Harry. Gently Draco caressed the spare hairs on Harry’s chest. A hesitant, but contented smile spread over Draco’s face. He let his hand wander slowly downwards. It felt so good, this trail of thick hairs leading towards Harry’s member. His searching fingers found the now limp piece of flesh, and playfully he started to knead it. Every now and then, his hand drifted off to pick at the full thick pubic hairs, only to return to Harry’s beautiful penis again.

“Draco?”

Of course. Harry would have to say something now to spoil the peace. And of course Harry didn’t wait for an answer and continued right away.

“I would like to know you better. I really would.”

Harry turned around to lie on his back. Draco didn’t let go of his member and continued with his fondling.

“The only thing I know for sure about you is that I stop to think coherently whenever you touch me.”

Draco started to caress the thick pubics again. He had to grin.

“But I really don’t know anything about you… What makes you happy? What do you wish? What makes you angry? What are your worst fears?”

Draco’s heart-beat started to speed up.

Harry sighed.

“I know you aren’t able to tell me something about yourself...” Harry’s voice sounded resigned, almost sad. “But maybe it helps if I start? Maybe it’s good idea if I tell you about my fears? My wishes? Each one tells something in turn? Is this a bargain?”

Draco lay absolutely still. After some minutes, or had it been just seconds, the silence started to hurt in his ears.

Harry sighed again.

“Okay. No bargain. But I’ll start anyway. My worst fear is…” Harry stopped. “You know, it isn’t easy for me too…” He stopped again.

It hit Draco like a bolt of lightening. Regardless whatever Harry would say now, Draco knew he would be absolutely sincere. He always had been absolutely sincere. Like Harry had said, he couldn’t help it. Draco used to sneer about fairy-tales mentioning heroes with hearts of gold, innocent minds and all possible virtues combined in one person. Nobody could be as pure as this. But he had been wrong. He had been so wrong.

“I guess my worst fear is feeling helpless again.” Harry spoke slowly, but without hesitance. “Like I was at the tower, the time when Dumbledore died. He put me under the Petrificus Totalus, you know? I was there, hidden under my Invisibility Cloak, all of the time, and had to witness everything that took place. No one could see me, and I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t talk. This is what still haunts me in my nightmares. This is what I fear most. If this ever…” here Harry’s voice broke a little, “If this ever happens again, I’m sure I will loose my mind. I will snap, just like this.” Harry clicked his fingers. “Yes. My worst fear is being petrified, not being able to defend someone who needs my support; and not being able to defend myself. Not being able to help.”

Draco’s stomach felt as if it didn’t belong to his belly. Only afterwards he had learned about Harry’s presence at the tower. He shuddered when he tried to imagine what Harry had gone through. It wasn’t difficult. Draco knew about helplessness…

“Oh, and you know already all about my other worst fear. At least I think so. It’s simply freaking out again. Forgetting myself. Hurting somebody,” Harry swallowed audibly then added tonelessly, “Killing somebody.”

Draco felt sick. Suddenly he realized that he was still holding Harry’s member in his hand. He didn’t let loose. Instead he squeezed it slightly to show that he understood.

The pressure upon Draco’s stomach increased. He definitely felt sick. And he was frightened.

He inhaled deeply.

It was time.

He would talk about his worst fear. And for the first time in his life, he was sure there was somebody who would really listen and care about what he had to say.