Magia Scura

Draco lay on his bed feeling a bit chilled. It seemed like it had been hours since Potter ... Voldemort ... had sent him here, for reasons unknown. It was strange to think of Potter as being dead, he realized. The Gryffindor had been such a huge presence in his life for so long, always there, always two steps in front of him in everything they ever did, that thinking of him as being gone was almost...

Sad.

Before he had a chance to consider this idea further, his bedroom door swept open, and in swept one of the most attractive people Draco'd ever seen. Pity he was his worst enemy, in every sense of the word. Voldemort/Potter had done...something to his hair. It no longer stuck up in every direction possible, but arced out in graceful curves. The length at the back had been pulled into a ponytail and tied by a ribbon, and he was wearing one of Draco's school uniforms. The white shirt was unbuttoned, and he'd adorned his neck with a slytherin tie. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, giving him a sexily 'workerish' look. The top button was undone on his pants, and he was barefoot. If the real Harry Potter had come into his bedroom dressed like this, Draco might have forgotten years of enmity just for the chance to ogle him some more. The cold, calculated look in Potter's eyes killed any beginnings of a mood before he had a chance to realize it was there.

Unbidden, Draco's eyes were drawn to Potter's forearm. The Dark Mark lay there as though it had been born to grace his skin, and Draco's mouth went dry.

"Do you like it?" Harry asked, his voice shy and uncertain, and so very Potterish, that Draco almost forgot.

"Get out of my room," he whispered hoarsely, and the tentative smile on Potter's face dripped into a smirk. "Nervous, Draco?" he asked, the icy tone he'd come to associate with Voldemort returning. "I can make it good,"

Draco was surprised by the sudden weight on the bed. He hadn't realized Potter was so close, but then he was kneeling above him, the dark mark disturbingly close to his face.

"I can make it feel so good you'll never want another person," he whispered, lowering his lips to Draco's throat and planting a small kiss there. Draco shivered, more out of disgust than pleasure. Harry smiled again, and dragged the tip of his tongue along Draco's jawline before planting little kisses to the skin, occasionally sucking gently. Moving, he nibbled on Draco's earlobe, and nipped at a spot behind the ear that Draco didn't even know was sensitive until that moment.

Against his will, Draco could feel the beginnings of an erection stirring against his leg, and hated himself for it. "Get off me," he said, earning himself a light smack against his hip.

"Hush," Harr-Voldemort whispered, and moved down. Draco was horrified to realize that this was turning him on, seeing Harry on his knees, licking his way down Draco's body. Only the knowledge that Potter was dead was keeping him from enjoying it. He made an abrupt about-face with this thought when a warm, wet tongue found his nipple, teasing it before blowing gently. Draco shivered, and tried to pull away from the almost ticklish sensation. Lips followed breath, and teeth followed lips, and it was a perfect blend of pain and pleasure, and Draco whimpered. The silk of the Slytherin tie dragged along his stomach, tickling him, and becoming a sharp contrast to the deliberate strokes of Harry's tongue. Not Harry.

A hand wrapping gently around his semi-hard cock drove all thoughts of who was who from his mind, and when it was followed by a hot wet mouth he moaned loudly. His thoughts whited out in a haze of movement and slippery fingers squeezing perfectly and then there was noise and the sensations around his groin tightened somehow and then exploded as he jerked upwards.
A few seconds later brought him back to reality and he realized that he'd been moaning almost constantly, growing louder and whimpering like a dog, and his face flushed horribly as he realized what exactly had happened.

"Satisfied?" he asked, glaring up at the boy still kneeling above him, licking his lips.

"Not yet. Are you?" It was just something that Harry would say, if he were here, and Draco thought again of Voldemort's comment.

He's been in love with you since second year.

It's a lie, he told himself resolutely. He's just trying to get under your skin. Draco jumped as something small, yet hard and cold pressed against the tight ring of muscle nestled at the crook of his ass. Glancing down, he noticed an abandoned tube, and Harry's hand in very interesting places, and then he felt it again, this time recognizing it for a finger wiggling against him, seeking entrance slowly. Almost as though he didn't want to hurt him.

"I don't want to hurt you, Draco," he said, and Draco realized with a start that he'd never heard Harry call him that before. It was always something derogatory, or simply "Malfoy" at best. "I want you to follow me willingly."

"Are you going to fuck all your Death Eaters, then?" Draco quipped, and was punished by the finger ceasing it's gentle quest and slamming into him. "Augh! Fuck! Get off of me!"

"You have such bad manners," Harry said. "One might question your upbringing." As he spoke, Draco felt the finger curl inside him, and lost the last word in a burst of pleasure shooting up his spine from a spot inside him. The finger moved a little bit, and Draco was again reduced to helpless whimpers and moaning insensible words. He'd never imagined something like this could feel like that, and like a puppet on strings, he felt Voldemort commanding his body the way he now commanded Potter's.

Moan, Draco. Good, like that. Jerk a little to the right, just for effect. Maybe close your eyes and pant while you get hard again, they'll like that.

Amazingly, he was getting hard again, and then it nearly wilted away when another two fingers joined the first. A few murmured spells, and suddenly it didn't hurt at all and the fingers slid easily in and out of him a few strokes, and then were gone.

"No, don't sto--" He needn't have bothered, as the fingers were suddenly replaced by something much larger. Draco found his legs draped over Potter's broad shoulders - when was he so large seeming? - and then his prick hit that same spot and Draco saw stars.

It was over impossibly fast, and they lay next to eachother panting. Draco rolled over, and discovered he could, and realized that at some point, Potter's clothes had been removed, and discarded onto the floor. Ignoring the Dark Mark, he studied Potter's body. Knowing it was Voldemort behind those cold green eyes kept him from lingering to long in any one spot. A quick glance at the scar and then he looked away, but almost immediately, his eyes were drawn to it. It was... gone. The mark Voldemort had bestowed upon the infant Harry, the mark that had made him famous throughout the entire wizarding world was just...

Gone.

Just like Harry himself.

Gods and angels, what the fuck had he just done?

His door opened, and Draco scrambled to cover himself, glaring at 'Harry' who lay there in all his glory, smirking. Lucius strode in, Bellatrix lingering at the door frame, and tossed his school robes onto his bed. "Get dressed, Draco. You've done well tonight. You're to take Potter-" his eyes flicked to his Lord, still lounging gloriously, "-back to Hogwarts, and explain that you rescued him from Death Eaters. He will explain to you any gaps you may need to fill as you need to fill them, but do not reveal any of what you have seen here tonight." His eyes flashed, and Draco understood that if he mentioned so much as a breath to anyone of it, and he'd die. And Hogwarts would still fall, and Harry would still be dead. Lowering his eyes, he nodded.

"Yes sir," he bit out gently, and Lucius left, Bellatrix following like a collared puppy.

"Don't worry," 'Harry' said. "I'll transfer to Slytherin. After all, I was meant to be there in the first place."

"You can transfer?" Draco asked, feeling like someone had Stupified him.

"I don't know," Harry said, shrugging. "But I WILL. After all, you rescued me despite our years of enmity, and I don't feel safe anywhere else."

Not Harry, it's not Harry, it's not him, stop acting like that! Draco repeated it to himself vehemently. Beseeching green eyes, and a soft tone, the light flush on his cheeks so very, achingly familiar, and then the Dark Mark, glaring at him from Harry's arm, reminding him that Harry was dead.

"How are you going to cover that?" he asked, gesturing, and Harry frowned down at it.

"I don't know. I don't even know how it got there; I was rooting through your clothes, and it just...appeared." He looked perplexed, and Draco was thrown off. The Dark Lord of the Century didn't even know how his own mark got onto his stolen body?

"Does it hurt?" Harry looked up at him then, and something in his eyes changed, almost imperceptibly. They turned completely black, reminding Draco of the spell Voldemort had used, and then turned brilliant green, then black again, and they finally settled on a very familiar shade of emerald, and Draco realized what he was witnessing. Potter wasn't dead, just trapped. Maybe he was fighting? That sounds like him, he realized. As good as dead, Marked for life, losing the War to his great enemy, and he was still fighting.

It was part of what Draco had admired about him, underneath those layers of hate.

He blinked, and looked around, like he didn't recognize where he was, and then lunged for Draco. "MALFOY! PLEASE! Don't let them win! Please kill me first! Don't let him into Hog--" He made a choked noise, and collapsed over Draco's lap. Draco sat frozen, horrified. He'd never felt the tugging between the two sides so acutely, and knew that his decision would affect the entire war.

The entire Wizarding World...
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Okay, so this was originally a ONE SHOT *glares at the few, but awesome reviewers* But I couldn't stay away from it. Besides, I forgot that Harry/Voldy was meant to be in a slytherin tie. It's completely gotten away from me, but I think this is where it will end.

EDIT: Nevermind! It's not over yet! The muses have returned, and here it is again. ^_^ Maybe we'll get some resolution before the writer's block overwhelms me again.