The Death of a Soul

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Chapter Twenty Seven

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Contrary to what people believed, Draco Malfoy loved mornings. Early mornings. It would be understandable for people to assume that since he was a Death Eater’s son and a Slytherin, that he would naturally love the night - the darkness. But they were wrong.

It was a cool Saturday morn, and the sun was just peeking over the skyline, casting brilliant shades of orange, pink, and red. The young man smiled, delighting in its beauty. He mounted his broom, and darted off towards it, as if to bid it hello. Draco never noticed that he had flown past the boundaries of Hogwarts, or that he was nearing the edge of the forbidden forest. All he saw was that magnificent sunrise.

Suddenly, a distant scream coming from below caused Draco to nearly fall off his broom. He quickly steadied himself, and then searched the grounds trying to locate the source. It was a blood-curdling cry, and it had sent an electrifying shudder throughout his body. Whoever it was, they were in excruciating pain.

Draco looked frantically for any signs of life, and soon his eyes locked onto three figures positioned in an open field. He didn’t need glasses to see who they were. It was obvious. A redheaded boy sitting on the ground, a bushy-haired girl hunched over, and facing them… Potter. He also didn’t need to hear the words that were being said. The wand pointed at the boy’s freckled face had said it all.

‘Is he mad?’ Draco’s mind screamed.

Draco Malfoy watched distantly as Ronald Weasley rose to his feet, and Harry Potter's wand followed. At this point, the blond wished he could hear; his breath caught in his throat when the redhead took a step forward, and the wand pushed deep into his forehead.

A heartbeat later, the famous Boy-Who-Lived took a step back, then turned and ran away from his friends - and straight into the forest.

‘Merlin's blood, he is mad!’

Draco bent over level with his broom, and quickly sped after him. It didn’t matter that he was afraid of the unknown that was surely lying within the forest. Or that the branches were cutting into his hands and his face as he raced by. What mattered was finding that reckless boy called Harry Potter.

The blond weaved in and out, to and fro until he finally caught a glimpse of a faded red jumper off to his right. The young wizard was crouched down, leaning against a tree. Draco made a wide swoop, and landed a few feet in front of him. The crackling of the leaves alerted Harry, and he was instantly on his feet, wand drawn. A second later, Draco's wand was in his hand, pointed directly at Harry’s heart.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Potter.”

“Don’t come any closer, Malfoy,” he hissed. Harry eyed the wand, leaving the steel-grey eyes for only a moment. “Lower your wand,” he ordered sharply.

“Not until you do,” came the cold reply.

“I mean it, Malfoy. Lower. Your. Wand,” he repeated.

Draco's eyes hardened. “You forget who raised me, Potter. I will kill you.”

However Draco may have felt for Harry, his instincts for survival and self-defense would kick in, and he really would be able to kill Harry with no regret. The two boys stared at one another, locked in a stalemate. Draco then took a step closer, never breaking eye contact. Harry’s arm wavered.

“I came here to talk to you, Potter. Not to fight.”

“Talk? What's there to talk about?” he spat.

“For starters, tell me why haven’t you lowered your wand?” the blond asked calmly.

“Why haven't you?”

“Sheath yours, and I will.”

Harry considered for a moment then slid his wand into his back pocket. Draco followed suit. They studied each other carefully, trying to anticipate the other’s next move. Finally, Harry sighed, fell back against a tree, and closed his eyes.

“Go away, Malfoy,” he said tiredly.

Draco firmly stood where he was. Harry glanced over out of the corner of his eye. He sighed again.

“What, Malfoy? What do you want?”

“I want to know why Harry Potter felt the need to threaten his best friend.”

“We had a difference of opinion,” he stated blandly, as if saying it for the hundredth time.

“I see,” Malfoy drawled. “Well, then. Remind me never to disagree with you.”

Harry snorted.

“So what was it, Potter? Was the weasel finally tired of all your pathetic whinging?”

“What does it matter?” he sighed. “I don’t need them anyway,” he muttered.

The air around them suddenly became tense. Harry could feel it, and turned to look. The blond’s fists were shaking by his sides. Harry looked questioningly at him, unaware he said something wrong.

“You really are pathetic, Potter. Do you know that?” Draco said angrily.

“I’m pathetic?” he said defensively.

“Yes, you. Not everyone is your enemy, Potter. It isn’t the world against Harry Potter,” Malfoy hissed.

Harry pushed himself away from the tree. “Shut up, Malfoy.”

“No, I won't shut up. Somebody needs to talk some sense into you, and if I’m the one to do it, then so be it.”

Harry trembled with rage, but remained quiet.

Draco continued. “All right, the Ministry lied to you and everyone else. All right, a selfish bastard forced you into a marriage. But your friends did not abandon you!”

“Yes, they did!”

“Oh, really,” he said dryly. “So what would you have done if the situation was reversed? Wouldn’t you have stopped Weasley from writing his own death sentence?”

“That’s different!” Harry shouted. “I would have tried to find a way to help him!”

“They did try, you idiot! What more do you want from them?”

Harry wrapped his arms tightly across his chest, suddenly cold. He shook his head, and looked away. “Nothing,” he whispered.

“You know, Potter, the only one who’s abandoned you is you. You’re just too blind to see that. What I see is someone who is so caught up in his ‘fate’ that he’s forgotten how to live.” Harry shrugged indifferently. “Does Snape have that much control over you to make you change who you are or are you just that fucking weak?”

“Fuck you, Malfoy!”

“No! Fuck you, Potter! Snape's not killing you. You are. Just what the fuck are you going to do when all of this is over? Crawl under a rock, and hide like the coward you are?”

“How DARE you!”

“So you were forced into marriage. So what? Did you have to let it destroy who you are in the process?” Draco shouted.

Harry fell silent, and stood there blinking. His blood ran cold.

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it, Potter?” Draco smirked, seeing that he was finally able to get through to the stubborn Gryffindor. Suddenly, he paused and thought a moment. “Or maybe all you fucking care about is worrying what the world thinks of you because you’re married to a man,” the blond sneered. “Are you that embarrassed by it, Potter?”

“Fuck you!” Harry spat, getting angry again.

“Or perhaps you’re just too ashamed to admit that you actually enjoyed it. I hear that that’s one thing that arsehole is good at.”

“It’s always about sex with you, isn’t it Malfoy?” Harry snapped. “That all you ever think about. Well, let me tell you something, Malfoy. You can have it.” He stopped for a moment, teeth gritting. “Do you want to know what sex is to me? It’s shoving your dick up some hairy arse, and fucking it till your legs hurt, hoping it will soon be all over. Then, to add insult to injury, you’re expected to reach around, and wank his cock until he spurts his slimy come all over your hand. Afterwards, you can't decide whether to scrub yourself raw to get his foul stench off you, or to vomit all over him. That’s what sex is to me,” Harry declared.

Draco stared at him in disbelief then sank to his knees. “Bastard,” he said softly, shaking his head.

“What did you call me?” Harry asked accusingly.

Draco continued on as if he didn’t hear him. “That bloody bastard had to ruin the one thing that made life worth living for.”

“Ha! That’s not worth living for.”

The blond looked up at him sadly. “So what is, Potter?”

Harry’s face softened then pushed his head against the rough tree bark and closed his eyes. “Love,” he said, his words barely over a whisper.

“What?” Draco asked softly, not sure if he heard correctly.

Harry spun around. “Love, Malfoy! Surely you’ve heard of that!” he cried. “Have you even felt that, Malfoy, because I have! And I had that once!”

Draco froze, now unable to speak.

“I don’t care about fame or money! I don’t give a damn what people think of me! I don’t care whether or not I have friends! And I don’t even care if I live or die! In fact, I honestly wish that Voldemort were here right now so he could hurry up and end my pathetic life! People keep asking me what I want. All I’ve ever wanted was… was…” Harry choked and closed his eyes as a tear ran down his cheek. “Was her.”

The blond’s heart sank to his stomach, and felt his own tears welling up in his eyes.

“God, Malfoy, I miss her,” he confessed, his voice breaking. “I miss her so much it hurts. It hurts,” he repeated quietly. Suddenly, Harry began pacing and wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. “And you know the worst part of it? Everyone forgot that I was in love. That I had someone already. Someone that meant everything to me… Ginny,” he whispered softly.

He looked back at Draco. “No one cared that my heart was breaking after I lost. No one was there for me. No one. Not even my friends. You’d think that out of everybody, they would be the ones who’d be there to comfort me, help me through that. They knew how much pain I was in, and still they said nothing. It was like she never even existed.”

Then Harry’s voice lowered. “No one ever spoke of her again.” He stopped to look at Draco again, directly into his eyes. “No one.”

Harry sunk to the ground and curled up, legs pressed into his chest. “I loved her so much,” he murmured.

Harry laid his head on top of his knees, and cried openly. Instinctively, Draco crawled over, and placed his arm around the trembling boy. Harry unconsciously leaned into him, and his tears flowed continuously. His breathing soon accelerated to the point of hyperventilating.

“Shh. It’s all right, Potter. I do understand,” Draco whispered. “I lost someone, as well. About a year ago. It almost killed me,” Draco admitted. “The pain cut me worse than a thousand knives so I do understand. I do,” he whispered gently into Harry's ear, one hand rubbing gentle circles on his back.

Harry was now shaking violently.

“Come on, Potter. You need to slow your breathing. Come on. Take a deep breath with me.”

Draco took a deep breath, and Harry followed a second behind. “That’s it. Another one. Come on.”

They both inhaled deeper. “Good. Just one more.”

Harry shuddered one last time as he exhaled an unsteady breath. Draco sighed, relieved, and then hugged him tighter. He kissed the top of his head. Harry nuzzled under the blond’s chin and nodded, not really knowing why. Draco reached down and cupped Harry’s chin tenderly, lifting it to wipe some of his lingering tears away with his thumb. This time he placed another gentle kiss on Harry’s forehead, and smiled warmly. Harry returned the smile then leaned in, and rested his cheek next to Draco's. Draco inhaled sharply at that touch, and then he couldn’t help but taking in Harry’s scent. He smelled so good.

Draco continued stroking Harry unconsciously, sliding his hand up and down his arm. He felt another tear when it reached the juncture of their skin. Harry drew back slowly until he could focus in on the blond’s face, looking as if he was seeing Draco for the first time. The shiny steel eyes were staring back at him. Harry’s eyes lingered a bit longer before dropping his gaze to pale boy’s lips. The intensity of his stare caused Draco to shiver and hold his breath.

Harry leaned in, and whilst his lips never did touch Draco's cheek, it was close enough for the blond to feel Harry’s warm breath. He softly gasped, heartbeat accelerating. The raven-haired boy lowered his mouth even further to close the small gap, and brushed his lips against Draco's jaw. Draco trembled at the tender assault, and clung onto Harry’s jumper, twisting it in his fists. Harry’s lips ghosted over Draco's skin, moving forward until they grazed over a pair of soft pliant ones.

Draco fluttered his eyes closed, wanting this unbearable tension to end, and to simply devour Harry’s mouth in a burning passionate kiss. He restrained himself, not giving in to temptation, and shattering this fragile moment. ‘Harry, I’ve wanted to do this for so long,’ he silently confessed to himself.

Suddenly, Draco snapped his eyes open, seconds before the inevitable kiss. He pushed Harry back by the shoulders, and watched as the glazed-over green eyes turn sharp and confused.

‘No. This is wrong.’

The blond scooted back, panicking, and abruptly pulled himself to his feet, and walked briskly to his broom, turning his back on Harry.

“Come on, Potter. We have to get back,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Harry frowned and whispered, “Have I done something wrong?”

Draco turned his head to the side but refused to look back. “No. No. We just have to get back. Everyone will be looking for you.” Draco mounted his broom, and griped it tight, staring straight ahead. He hoped his pink-tinted face wasn’t too noticeable.

Harry gingerly pulled himself to his feet, and stood motionless, looking unsure of what to do next. He slowly closed the distance and stopped at Draco's side. The blond still wouldn’t look at him. Harry swung one of his legs over the back of the broom, and brought his hand to rest lightly on Draco's hips.

“What did I do?” Harry asked softly.

“Nothing,” Draco insisted. “Now hang on.”

Draco shot up in the air, and pinched his eyes tightly as he felt arms wrap around his waist. Harry was pressing himself tight against his back. The blond had to force his eyes to open to make sure they weren't going to hit anything. It seemed like mere seconds had gone by when they finally landed just outside the Quidditch changing room entrance. He really did want Harry to hold on forever.

He waited till Harry dismounted before he did.

“It might be best if you go in through the main doors,” Draco said evenly and then quickly disappeared inside, afraid he’d stay if Harry said anything.


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Harry glanced at the main doors of Hogwarts, then back to the door in front of him. A hundred questions flooded in and out of his mind.

What had he done wrong?

He didn’t know how long he remained there, but he finally took a deep breath, and decided once and for all that he was going to get some answers. Harry marched in, and headed to straight to the Slytherin changing room. He rounded one aisle then another before coming to a halt. There, in front of him, laid a familiar stack of clothes, and a locker door that was wide open. But Draco was nowhere to be found.

It was obvious where Draco was. The showers. Of course, it didn’t cross Harry’s mind what the blond was probably in the middle of when he came face-to-face with the boy standing under the spray – or front-to-back as it were. But Harry softly gasped when he saw him.

The hot water was sliding down the pale body sensuously, and seemed to glisten in the soft lighting. Harry drank in the sight of the slim male physique standing before him, and was mesmerised by the way the broad shoulders rose and fell gracefully. Draco's feet were planted firmly on the ground, and he was bracing himself on one arm, whilst the other was hidden in front of him. It finally occurred to Harry exactly what the blond was doing. His eyes widened, and he slowly backed up and away, still not able to tear his shocked gaze away from the heaving back. Harry could hear Draco's breathing now, and froze when the boy’s body tensed.

“Damn you, Potter,” Draco hissed.

Panicking, Harry stumbled then turned around, and ran as fast as he could back to Draco's locker. He had to suppress his impulse to escape by reminding himself of the reason he was there. He sat down on the bench, and waited for the other boy to appear. He had a sinking feeling that Malfoy had heard him so he covered his face, and leaned into his palms, elbows resting on his knees. He didn’t hear the other boy approach.

“So, Potter, did you enjoy yourself?” Draco sneered.

Harry jumped to his feet. The boy’s arms were crossed over his chest, and a towel was wrapped just as tight around his waist. The blond locks hung loosely, framing his face. Harry swallowed hard.

“I don’t appreciate having my privacy invaded upon.”

“I…I was just…” Harry stammered.

“Just what, Potter? Just getting your kicks by playing with someone?”

“No! I was only…”

“Tell me, Potter. Did you get a good look? Are you now waiting for a close-up?”

“NO!”

“No? You knew I’d be in here. You knew what I’d probably be doing. Isn’t that the reason you came? To humiliate me further?”

“NO!”

Draco glared at Harry then scoffed. He reached down, hooked his thumbs under his towel, and gently pulled it apart. It fell silently to the floor. Harry quickly turned his head.

“Oh, come on, Potter. Don’t get all shy on me now. You’ve already seen my backside,” Draco said mockingly. “Now finish your examination and go.”

He should have left. He should have run. He should have, but he didn’t. Harry’s eyes fell to the floor, and turned his head back to Draco. He couldn’t help it. He had to look.

The first thing Harry saw was a pair of milky white legs covered with a bit of almost invisible curls of light blond hair. His gaze rose higher to the contours of his shin, then to the dimples of his knees, and finally rested at the lean but well-muscled thighs. At this point Harry had to close his eyes. He was too close to temptation and he knew it.

“I haven't got all day, Potter.”

Harry’s eyes flew open, and locked with an icy pair. He quickly broke eye contact, and continued his ‘examination’ in reverse. Draco's chest wasn’t as defined as Harry’s, but it definitely was sculpted. His ribs were slightly tapered, leading down to a flat stomach. Harry paused, knowing what was left. He could already see it in his peripheral vision. His attention was suddenly drawn to the slight wavering of Malfoy’s hips. Harry could tell that he wasn’t the only one getting nervous. He bit his lower lip and took a deep breath. Abruptly, Draco spun around, and grabbed his robe.

“Enough. Get out, Potter,” Draco ordered sharply.

Harry blinked as if he was just coming out of a trance – which wasn’t too far off from the truth. He watched as Draco donned his robe, and tied the belt in front. The blond whirled back around, now furious.

“I said get out! You had your laugh, now... Get. Out!”

Harry numbly shook his head.

“What?” Draco screamed. “What more do you want from me, Potter?” he yelled, almost hysterical.

“I…I don’t understand. First, you almost … in the forest, and then you…” he motioned with his head to the showers.

Draco's head snapped behind him to the shower, then back to a bewildered Harry.

“First of all, you were the one who was going to kiss me,” he countered, voice somewhat back in control. “Secondly, that,” he said pointing behind him, “was my business!”

“But I thought…”

Draco rushed forward, and slammed Harry into the opposite locker, pinning him by his arms.

“What the fuck don’t you understand, Potter? You’re married! Do you understand that? You're fucking married! Maybe that doesn’t bother you, but it does me!”

Draco pushed himself away, blinked, and a tear fell.

“Now, please. Please get out, and stop playing with me.” He turned around and then whispered, “And don’t ever come near me again.”

Harry stood there shaking, and swallowed hard. “Malfoy, I didn’t mean to...”

In a blink of an eye, Harry choked as the tip of Draco's wand dug into his throat.

“I’m not telling you again, Potter,” Malfoy said, voice lowering dangerously.

The shocked wizard nodded once, and slid sideways breaking free. Draco wasn’t trembling anymore, but the tears were now flowing. Harry moved as fast as he could, heart beating frantically, and shame filling him. He turned and looked one last time at Draco before ducking out the door. The blond was cowering on the floor, arms wrapped around his head. Harry heard his muffled cries of pain all the way down the hall.


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Harry threw open the door to his and Snape’s quarters, cursing all the way to the bedroom.

“God! How could I have been so stupid! How could I have done that to him!”

He gripped the bathroom knob then spun around, hearing that dreaded voice.

“Harry?” Snape asked concerned.

“You!”

Severus raised a brow and scowled. “Harry,” he began calmly. “Just because you're angry at Ron does not give you the right to take it out on your husband.”

‘Ron?’ Harry thought relieved.

Thank the Gods Harry didn’t say Malfoy’s name aloud. “I don’t want to talk about it if that’s why you are standing there,” he said shortly.

Snape took a step forward, and Harry tensed involuntarily.

“Actually, I want to talk about you.”

“I don’t want to talk about that either,” Harry said, narrowing his eyes.

His husband sighed. “Harry,” Snape said quietly. “It’s not healthy to keep all this anger bottled up inside.”

Harry felt his face redden as he felt a rush of fury storming through his veins. And Snape noticed.

“Look at you, Harry. Take a good look at yourself.”

Harry’s body began to shake.

“Please, Harry. Let me help you. Talk to me. Tell me what's going on. Tell me what you want.”

That was the last straw. No more hiding. No more games.

Harry crossed the short distance, and placed his hand on Severus’s face.

“Do you really want to know what I want, Severus?” he purred.

His husband paled. That was the first time Harry ever called Snape by his given name. EVER. Snape’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open, but all he could do was nod.

“Are you sure, Severus?” he said, almost teasingly. His husband nodded again. “And you’ll allow it?” Another nod. “No questions asked?”

Severus shook his head. “No questions.”

Harry walked over to the back of the sofa. “Then come here.”


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No sooner than Severus stood in front of Harry, his shirt was ripped open, and pulled down his arms, stopping at his wrists. Harry held them tightly then spun him around, and bent him over the edge of the sofa. Severus gasped in shock. His belt was quickly undone, and his trousers were roughly pushed down to his knees, making it impossible to spread his legs but a foot. He heard a rustle of clothes behind him, and knew Harry was removing his trousers.

His breath caught in his throat as a cold and wet substance touched his opening. One finger was pushed in, followed by a second, then a third. Then they withdrew as fast they went in. It seemed to be the only preparation he was going to get. And he was right. The head of Harry’s cock pressed against him, and he willed himself not to tense. It slid in easily enough, but there was still discomfort. If he was honest with himself – it hurt. But he tried not to think about it. He thought only of Harry.

But was this really what Harry wanted?

Another push and Harry was fully inside Severus. Harry paused and pulled his hips back, withdrawing his cock slowly – just enough to get some leverage – and then hissed when he slammed back in. He dug his nails into Snape's hips, and yanked him forward then pushed him back, so technically Snape was the only one that was moving. Yes. It seemed that this was exactly what Harry wanted.

Severus’s stomach rubbed back and forth against the material that at one time he had thought felt smooth and soft. Another jab and Snape cried out just as Harry moaned in ecstasy. The thrusts were hard and fast, and Snape had to steady himself by holding his torso straight and level so he wouldn’t topple over. His wrists were still secure in his shirtsleeves behind his back. Incredibly, his cock had thickened, and bobbed up and down with each thrust. He fleetingly wondered if this experience would be more pleasant if he could get his hand on his cock to bring himself pleasure, but he didn’t think so.

Besides, this was for Harry, not him.


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Harry’s anger only grew with each thrust. It was filling every part of his sensory system that he possessed. He wanted this man to suffer, and that aroused him more than anything he’d ever experienced. He was getting close now. A few more rams ought to do it.

Harry thrust one last time, stilled, and emptied himself completely before pushing back, and carelessly shoving Snape sideways. His husband stumbled at the unexpected move, and landed on his hip with a soft thud. He looked up at Harry, surprised. The young wizard was fully dressed, and stood over him, arms casually crossed in front. He was leering down at Severus with an evil smirk playing on his lips. Severus stared back, brows crunched in confusion. Harry bent down, and loomed over him, inches away from his face.

“So tell me, Severus,” he said, smiling wickedly. “Did you enjoy that? Tell me honestly now.”

Instantly, Severus’s expression turned cold. “No,” he said flatly.

“No?” Harry echoed, raising his eyebrows in mock concern. “At all?” But before Snape had a chance to answer, Harry knelt before him, and stroked his jaw with his fingertips. “But you tried, didn’t you, Severus?”

His husband barely nodded.

Harry looked at him with a mock pout. “Did you feel lonely, Severus? Cold? Empty?” He paused to emphasise, “Angry?” His voice was now bitter.

“Yes,” Snape snarled.

Harry smiled and stood up. “Good.”

Severus stared at him, stunned.

“I wanted you to know how I feel each and every time you touch me,” Harry sneered. “Each time we fuck. And no matter how hard you tried to please me, I still feel empty, cold. And angry.”

Harry smiled again as he saw the light dawning in Snape’s eyes. Maybe this man had finally understood. Harry bowed his head to him with a cold sneer, then briskly walked to the door, and slammed it shut behind him.


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In the distance, Snape could hear something crackling. After freeing his arms from his shirt, and then using the sofa to brace himself, he gingerly rose to his feet, and pulled his trousers up over his bruised hip. Snape took a deep breath before entering into the lounge and then froze.

The gift he that was going to give Harry – the newest model of the Nimbus collection – was lying in the centre of the room, shattered into a thousand pieces.


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