Lost In A Nightmare (ON HOLD)
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
3,228
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
3,228
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter Two
Further Warnings: Un-beta’d, my first story, Angst, Dark fic, Evil Harry and bear OOCness really
Author’s note:I am just making this up as I go along. Right now there is no set plot but one will come to me as I continue, so please bear with me. Thanks to the lovely people who reviewed. Now, on with the fic.
Lost in a Nightmare
Chapter Two
“Malfoy!”
The harsh bark brought me out of my day dreaming and I found myself the subject of a glare of a fully clothed and highly annoyed Potter. Shit, it seems he had been trying to get my attention for a while now. That wasn’t good since he shouldn’t have to try at all; I’m actually supposed to be his lap dog jumping at the first glance he throws my way.
If I had my wand I would hex him.
But I’m not stupid. I don’t let even a flicker of the anger and fear I feel for him show: the Malfoy mask perfectly in place. It was never a good thing to upset him. Over the years I’ve realized this the hard way. At first it was all defiance and retaliation from me but I’ve learnt.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not a passive, not in the least. And he isn’t a vicious fuck who tortures everyone just because it’s Wednesday and it gives him sadistic pleasure, but when he does…lets just say he leaves you a reminder to never screw up like that again. Because if Harry Potter said, jump you better ask ‘how high’. And if Harry Potter said he wants to shit, you better ask which way he’d like his arse wiped.
The evil git.
And ALWAYS after thinking of that day I get a bit defiant, as if contradicting that which fate have befall upon me. Today was no exception. But I tried to curb the habit. It really isn’t wise to upset him especially as we have been doing fine these past days, which is why I’ll respond in a dignified manner worthy of my station as the Malfoy heir.
“What?!” I snapped.
…Okay, *maybe* not the best response.
I had to quell the urge to step back as he crossed the room in three long strides. His arm snaked out, wrapping around my neck to pull my resisting body closer into his unwanted embrace. With his body so close, I could smell the soap he used, peppermint and musk; he smelled…
Wait what the fuck am I thinking?
You want to know something funny? He isn’t all that intimidating per se. A little heavier and muscular than my lean form obviously, but we were about the same in height (when did that happen?). But it was his power…
I trembled; and I hated him for it.
“Watch yourself Malfoy.”
Go fuck yourself Potter.
I cocked my head slightly, trying to calm my temper a bit. It seems as if I probably could get away with a little bit of arrogance today seeing that I haven’t been punched in the face for my cheek beyond a half arsed threat. I tested my theory.
“Well now Potter, it’s kind of hard to do that since you are by no means a mirror and I already know how gorgeous I am, so I see no reason to ‘watch’ myself.” I stupid comeback but at the moment wit has left me.
“You’re pushing it,” he all but growled.
“What? What will you do? Spank me?” I sneered.
The arm around my throat tightened to the point where all I could see were blurred spots but that didn’t stop me. Merlin, I really should shut up but…
“If you don’t like my company Potter, there is always that tramp over on the next wing that’s always up to servicing you.” There was *no* bitterness in my voice when I said that.
The hand that backhands me came as no surprise; I had taken it one step too far. My head snaps to the right from the force of the blow, my eyes going cross and for a split second all I could see was black. I feel the blood seeping out of the wound in my lip and suddenly I’m jerked forward, a warm tongue lapping at the blood running down the side of my jaw. His mouth sucking on the bruise, almost soothing the wound except for the little nip I get.
“Don’t make me angry with you Malfoy,” he hissed; his hot breath against my ear, electricity run from his touch onto my body making me shiver at the barely veiled anger in his tone. My body arched a little seeking more of the blissful sensations that it knows this person can create in me.
Another reason why I hate him; this power he has to make my body respond to his touch whether made in anger or a purposeful seduction. The control he has gets to me all the time and I can’t help but want him more everyday even though I wish to see him dead.
He walks forward, forcing me against the wall; his body aligned with mine, chest to chest, cock to cock. And it galls me to admit this but Potter is one well developed motherfucker. And he knows how to use it, building pleasure until I’ll do almost anything to cum.
He pushes a leg between mine and presses upwards, the pressure making me hard no matter how much I don’t want to be. The heat from our bodies and the anticipation of what might come making me tremble
He feels the tremor that flows through me and he smirks against my cheek, letting me know that he understands the conflict going on between my body and my pride and that my body has won as it always does. He gave a little chuckle as he pushed away from me and made his way back across the room.
“I have business at the ministry,” he said; as if he didn’t just slap the shit out of me a minute ago and made me crave his cock the next. Ministry business? I can’t help but give a quite snort. More likely there is another uprising of wizards trying to take down ‘the all powerful Potty’. The only reason there is still a Ministry is to create some kind of feeling of safety among the people. As for the Ministry itself, their too busy trying to stay on Potter’s good side and too damn scared of him to help in any uprising against him.
He takes up the coat from the chair by the door and puts it on to ward off the November chill. “Behave yourself Malfoy. I really am not going to be in the mood to deal with you if I hear you screwed up in any way.” I watch him finish with the buttons and he turned one last time to stare me dead in the eye, “Remember what I said.” And with that he was gone in a swirl of billowing black robes that would have put Snape to shame.
Dramatic bastard.
And yes he would know what I’ve been up to, the ‘guards’ he had station everywhere reported back to him the slightest fart anyone makes in the damned place.
Sighing, I sat on the bed left leg propped up against the post and I felt the heavy weight of the collar around my ankle shift. Pulling back the leg of my pants I stared at the silver metal as I oft do.
It’s simply designed. No intricate carvings of snitches in flight or dragons battling or any such crap; a simple solitary snake wove around my ankle. It was not put there for decorating purposes (though I suspect possession did have something to do with it). No, with this seemingly simple device, if ever I was away from this place for more than 24 hours had the power to…well Potter never really said anything but the underlining threat has kept me from testing its potential.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
After about an hour of thinking about how foul a git Potter is, the isolation got to me. If I didn’t get out of the fucking room I swear I’d kill myself! It was just a matter of out smarting the ‘guards’ outside the door and that wouldn’t be too hard. Especially that huge motherfucker called Ace while huge and dumb looking, he did seem to posses half a brain unlike the rest.
I knew this place inside out; all of its secrets and all its passages that if I wanted to take a piss without it being reported back to King Potty, then by Merlin that’s what I would do.
But right now all I wanted was to get out of this fucking room. And prisoner or no, no piece of shit guard looking favors with Potter is going to keep me in here. After all, this is Malfoy Manor.
Yes surprise, surprise; Harry Potter chose one of Voldemorts bases as his very own. Well not much of a shock when you think about it, where else could he go if he wanted to be safe from other wizards trying to kill him while he ruled the fucking world? Plus I think *because* it was a base of Voldemort, that’s why he chose it.
Accessing the passage hidden behind the cabinet in the room by whispering the incantation, I stepped through the now corporeal cabinet and into the tunnel. Being careful to not set off the many wards in these passageways, I silently creped along the way to the West Wing corridor where I knew hardly anyone goes.
Walking for quite a good while, I finally came upon the connecting Greek rug hanging in front of a wall which I knew on the other side, was the top of the stair well of the West Wing.
Passing through the seemingly solid object as only one with Malfoy blood can do, I came out the other side brushing dust and spider webs from my person. Slightly disgusted by the filth but too satisfied with myself to complain much, I didn’t here the person approach until they we practically on top of me.
“Well, well. If it isn’t everyone’s favorite bouncing ferret.”
I stiffened and can’t (and don’t want to) help the sneer that automatically contorts my face at the voice.
“Weaselete.”
************
FLASHBACK
************
The sound of pained grunts fills the air and the spell that had us locked together in each other’s eyes is broken. Giving myself a mental shake, I looked around to see …someone limping towards us; left arm hanging useless at the side and covered in blood.
Potter seemed frozen in place and for the life of me I can’t seem to figure out why. My first thought was that this was one of the stray Death Eaters that had got away come back to avenge the death of their Lord. But as the person got closer I could swear that I saw a shock of red…
That’s not possible.
“Harry is it over?” The voice, full of understandable hatred asks. “Is he dead?” It was almost a demand.
Potter, staring for a moment looking like he hadn’t heard, finally gave one jerk of the head.
But unfortunately it is. The fucking Weasely girl is standing before us with a half smile on her face and satisfaction burning in her eyes. I thought she was dead, since the last time I saw her she was spread eagled on a table with my Father between her legs, and a horde of other Death Eaters lining up for a taste of ‘Potters whore’. Speaking of which…
I glanced back to where Father was…but he was gone
*********************
END OF FLASHBACK
*********************
Ok I know you all are waiting for slashy goodness
But that won’t be here until anther chapter…or two (maybe three).
And if you have any tips to offer on my writing, I’m listening.
REVIEW!!!
Author’s note:I am just making this up as I go along. Right now there is no set plot but one will come to me as I continue, so please bear with me. Thanks to the lovely people who reviewed. Now, on with the fic.
Lost in a Nightmare
Chapter Two
“Malfoy!”
The harsh bark brought me out of my day dreaming and I found myself the subject of a glare of a fully clothed and highly annoyed Potter. Shit, it seems he had been trying to get my attention for a while now. That wasn’t good since he shouldn’t have to try at all; I’m actually supposed to be his lap dog jumping at the first glance he throws my way.
If I had my wand I would hex him.
But I’m not stupid. I don’t let even a flicker of the anger and fear I feel for him show: the Malfoy mask perfectly in place. It was never a good thing to upset him. Over the years I’ve realized this the hard way. At first it was all defiance and retaliation from me but I’ve learnt.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not a passive, not in the least. And he isn’t a vicious fuck who tortures everyone just because it’s Wednesday and it gives him sadistic pleasure, but when he does…lets just say he leaves you a reminder to never screw up like that again. Because if Harry Potter said, jump you better ask ‘how high’. And if Harry Potter said he wants to shit, you better ask which way he’d like his arse wiped.
The evil git.
And ALWAYS after thinking of that day I get a bit defiant, as if contradicting that which fate have befall upon me. Today was no exception. But I tried to curb the habit. It really isn’t wise to upset him especially as we have been doing fine these past days, which is why I’ll respond in a dignified manner worthy of my station as the Malfoy heir.
“What?!” I snapped.
…Okay, *maybe* not the best response.
I had to quell the urge to step back as he crossed the room in three long strides. His arm snaked out, wrapping around my neck to pull my resisting body closer into his unwanted embrace. With his body so close, I could smell the soap he used, peppermint and musk; he smelled…
Wait what the fuck am I thinking?
You want to know something funny? He isn’t all that intimidating per se. A little heavier and muscular than my lean form obviously, but we were about the same in height (when did that happen?). But it was his power…
I trembled; and I hated him for it.
“Watch yourself Malfoy.”
Go fuck yourself Potter.
I cocked my head slightly, trying to calm my temper a bit. It seems as if I probably could get away with a little bit of arrogance today seeing that I haven’t been punched in the face for my cheek beyond a half arsed threat. I tested my theory.
“Well now Potter, it’s kind of hard to do that since you are by no means a mirror and I already know how gorgeous I am, so I see no reason to ‘watch’ myself.” I stupid comeback but at the moment wit has left me.
“You’re pushing it,” he all but growled.
“What? What will you do? Spank me?” I sneered.
The arm around my throat tightened to the point where all I could see were blurred spots but that didn’t stop me. Merlin, I really should shut up but…
“If you don’t like my company Potter, there is always that tramp over on the next wing that’s always up to servicing you.” There was *no* bitterness in my voice when I said that.
The hand that backhands me came as no surprise; I had taken it one step too far. My head snaps to the right from the force of the blow, my eyes going cross and for a split second all I could see was black. I feel the blood seeping out of the wound in my lip and suddenly I’m jerked forward, a warm tongue lapping at the blood running down the side of my jaw. His mouth sucking on the bruise, almost soothing the wound except for the little nip I get.
“Don’t make me angry with you Malfoy,” he hissed; his hot breath against my ear, electricity run from his touch onto my body making me shiver at the barely veiled anger in his tone. My body arched a little seeking more of the blissful sensations that it knows this person can create in me.
Another reason why I hate him; this power he has to make my body respond to his touch whether made in anger or a purposeful seduction. The control he has gets to me all the time and I can’t help but want him more everyday even though I wish to see him dead.
He walks forward, forcing me against the wall; his body aligned with mine, chest to chest, cock to cock. And it galls me to admit this but Potter is one well developed motherfucker. And he knows how to use it, building pleasure until I’ll do almost anything to cum.
He pushes a leg between mine and presses upwards, the pressure making me hard no matter how much I don’t want to be. The heat from our bodies and the anticipation of what might come making me tremble
He feels the tremor that flows through me and he smirks against my cheek, letting me know that he understands the conflict going on between my body and my pride and that my body has won as it always does. He gave a little chuckle as he pushed away from me and made his way back across the room.
“I have business at the ministry,” he said; as if he didn’t just slap the shit out of me a minute ago and made me crave his cock the next. Ministry business? I can’t help but give a quite snort. More likely there is another uprising of wizards trying to take down ‘the all powerful Potty’. The only reason there is still a Ministry is to create some kind of feeling of safety among the people. As for the Ministry itself, their too busy trying to stay on Potter’s good side and too damn scared of him to help in any uprising against him.
He takes up the coat from the chair by the door and puts it on to ward off the November chill. “Behave yourself Malfoy. I really am not going to be in the mood to deal with you if I hear you screwed up in any way.” I watch him finish with the buttons and he turned one last time to stare me dead in the eye, “Remember what I said.” And with that he was gone in a swirl of billowing black robes that would have put Snape to shame.
Dramatic bastard.
And yes he would know what I’ve been up to, the ‘guards’ he had station everywhere reported back to him the slightest fart anyone makes in the damned place.
Sighing, I sat on the bed left leg propped up against the post and I felt the heavy weight of the collar around my ankle shift. Pulling back the leg of my pants I stared at the silver metal as I oft do.
It’s simply designed. No intricate carvings of snitches in flight or dragons battling or any such crap; a simple solitary snake wove around my ankle. It was not put there for decorating purposes (though I suspect possession did have something to do with it). No, with this seemingly simple device, if ever I was away from this place for more than 24 hours had the power to…well Potter never really said anything but the underlining threat has kept me from testing its potential.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
After about an hour of thinking about how foul a git Potter is, the isolation got to me. If I didn’t get out of the fucking room I swear I’d kill myself! It was just a matter of out smarting the ‘guards’ outside the door and that wouldn’t be too hard. Especially that huge motherfucker called Ace while huge and dumb looking, he did seem to posses half a brain unlike the rest.
I knew this place inside out; all of its secrets and all its passages that if I wanted to take a piss without it being reported back to King Potty, then by Merlin that’s what I would do.
But right now all I wanted was to get out of this fucking room. And prisoner or no, no piece of shit guard looking favors with Potter is going to keep me in here. After all, this is Malfoy Manor.
Yes surprise, surprise; Harry Potter chose one of Voldemorts bases as his very own. Well not much of a shock when you think about it, where else could he go if he wanted to be safe from other wizards trying to kill him while he ruled the fucking world? Plus I think *because* it was a base of Voldemort, that’s why he chose it.
Accessing the passage hidden behind the cabinet in the room by whispering the incantation, I stepped through the now corporeal cabinet and into the tunnel. Being careful to not set off the many wards in these passageways, I silently creped along the way to the West Wing corridor where I knew hardly anyone goes.
Walking for quite a good while, I finally came upon the connecting Greek rug hanging in front of a wall which I knew on the other side, was the top of the stair well of the West Wing.
Passing through the seemingly solid object as only one with Malfoy blood can do, I came out the other side brushing dust and spider webs from my person. Slightly disgusted by the filth but too satisfied with myself to complain much, I didn’t here the person approach until they we practically on top of me.
“Well, well. If it isn’t everyone’s favorite bouncing ferret.”
I stiffened and can’t (and don’t want to) help the sneer that automatically contorts my face at the voice.
“Weaselete.”
************
FLASHBACK
************
The sound of pained grunts fills the air and the spell that had us locked together in each other’s eyes is broken. Giving myself a mental shake, I looked around to see …someone limping towards us; left arm hanging useless at the side and covered in blood.
Potter seemed frozen in place and for the life of me I can’t seem to figure out why. My first thought was that this was one of the stray Death Eaters that had got away come back to avenge the death of their Lord. But as the person got closer I could swear that I saw a shock of red…
That’s not possible.
“Harry is it over?” The voice, full of understandable hatred asks. “Is he dead?” It was almost a demand.
Potter, staring for a moment looking like he hadn’t heard, finally gave one jerk of the head.
But unfortunately it is. The fucking Weasely girl is standing before us with a half smile on her face and satisfaction burning in her eyes. I thought she was dead, since the last time I saw her she was spread eagled on a table with my Father between her legs, and a horde of other Death Eaters lining up for a taste of ‘Potters whore’. Speaking of which…
I glanced back to where Father was…but he was gone
*********************
END OF FLASHBACK
*********************
Ok I know you all are waiting for slashy goodness
But that won’t be here until anther chapter…or two (maybe three).
And if you have any tips to offer on my writing, I’m listening.
REVIEW!!!