Undesirable - COMPLETE
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
31
Views:
43,526
Reviews:
301
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
31
Views:
43,526
Reviews:
301
Recommended:
1
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.
A Sacrifice of Love
Chapter Number/Total: 29/31
Chapter Title: A Sacrifice of Love
Words: 2453 Words
Days, maybe weeks, went by again and Voldemort grew increasingly permissive with Harry – often petting him while he sat on his throne conducting Death Eater business. Even the sex seemed different, with the Dark Lord increasingly taking the time to fondle Harry either before or during the times he fucked him.
"On the bed," Voldemort ordered, dinner completed and rising from his chair. Harry moved up on the bed obediently, laying down and waiting for Voldemort to join him. Even with his plan, Harry had felt himself getting closer to his Master. Closer than he had ever thought would be possible – even with being the whore he obviously was.
Voldemort smiled, red eyes sliding over Harry's naked body. "On your back," he said.
It was an unusual command and startled Harry. He turned onto his back for him, looking curious as to what Voldemort had planned. The Dark Lord positioned himself between Harry's legs and, slicking his cock, began pushing into him. Voldemort had never faced Harry while fucking him like this and his red eyes were intent on Harry's face. Harry blinked up at him in surprise, his cheeks colouring and not in shame for once. He bit his lip and reached out to touch Voldemort's cheek, his hips tilting up as his legs opened wider.
"Yes, my pretty whore," Voldemort encouraged as Harry responded to him. He slid slow and deep, each thrust actually rubbing his body against Harry's cock in a way that the other positions didn't.
Sex with Voldemort had changed over the past few weeks, turning into something that Harry found himself enjoying. He whimpered softly and arched his back, wanting more. Voldemort kept thrusting, while Harry sighed and whimpered. When the Dark Lord came, instead of waiting until after, he released Harry at the same time. Harry's eyes widened as he came with a long moan, never having felt pleasure like this with his previous orgasms. Voldemort actually waited until both of them had finished shuddering before withdrawing and lying back on the bed.
Harry lay there for a few moments before he turned and moved closer to him, resting his head on Voldemort's chest. "Thank you," he whispered.
Voldemort tensed but then seemed to relax, putting one arm around Harry. "Yes, my whore," he whispered.
And it was all Harry wanted, to be held like this. "Master," he said lovingly, sighing and rubbing his cheek against his chest. It would probably hurt more than he had thought it would to kill him, but it had to be done.
The days that followed were actually some of the most pleasant Harry could remember. He ate well, was allowed to bathe and relax, and the Dark Lord allowed him his release as often as he was taken by him. The idea of killing Voldemort seemed less appealing, something that could wait. But then Voldemort began to keep Harry in the room with him when he held his strategy meetings. The Death Eaters had apparently taken over much of the Ministry. And now, thanks to a spy, they had the location of many of the Order of the Phoenix members. They planned to kill them all within the next two days.
Hearing the new plans made Harry remember his own, even though thinking about it now made his heart ache. Yet, he couldn't wait any longer. More people's lives were at stake, and he couldn't let it happen. He just couldn't. Too many lives had been sacrificed already.
Harry managed to take a knife during one of the dinners and stash it away, waiting until Voldemort left the room for yet another meeting before climbing back onto the bed and pushing it under one of the pillows. He would do it that night, before they killed more people, more people who had been Harry's friends. He just hoped he would be able to go through with it, to kill the man he hated and blamed for everything wrong in his life, yet ... had fallen in love with.
The Dark Lord was smiling when he returned. Harry could feel Voldemort was excited and happy with his plans. He climbed into the bed where Harry waited, murmuring his approval. His white hands touched and stroked Harry, taking his time before mounting him. Harry spread his legs and sighed at the feeling of him pushing inside, staring up at the other man the entire time. He waited until his Master was completely inside him before he leaned up, biting his lip and sliding one hand around the back of his neck in a soft caress. "Master?"
"Yes, my pretty whore," Voldemort gasped as he thrust into him again.
"I love you," Harry whispered, feeling the need to get it out before this was all over. It was his way of asking for forgiveness before he attacked.
"Good," Voldemort responded, smiling as he reached to caress Harry's face. His thrusts were deeper and faster now and Harry could tell he would come soon.
Harry felt his heart swell with love at the touch, nearly stopping and thinking that maybe it wasn't worth killing him, that he could sacrifice the others' lives for this feeling. Yet, Harry had never been selfish and he wouldn't start now. He turned his head and kissed Voldemort's fingers gently, knowing how close he was. How close to being dead, as well. Harry reached under the pillow for the knife once he was sure that Voldemort wasn't paying attention to what he was doing, gripping it in his hand.
"Yesss, Harry," Voldemort gasped, moments away now.
Harry slowly pulled the knife out and blinked away the tears that were welling up in his eyes, thinking about what good he'd get from this. Or at least the good that everyone else would get from this. "I love you," Harry gasped again, gritting his teeth and raising the knife, leaning up and using all of his strength to stab Voldemort in the neck, letting out a small cry of pain himself.
Voldemort's eyes had been half closed, but now they popped open wide and his hand reached blindly for the knife embedded in his throat. He gurgled, apparently unable to scream, and objects in the room began to fly around wildly.
Harry froze for only a moment, his eyes wide at what he had done. He wanted to say that he was sorry, to try and fix everything back to normal, but it was too late for that. He quickly scrambled out from under Voldemort and reached for the wand his Master always laid on the side table and pointed it at the man, swallowing before he spoke. "Avada Kedavra!" Harry screamed.
Voldemort had rolled to his side when Harry had shoved him off, reaching a hand out to Harry, his face a mask of shock and anger. The green light enveloped him and the room was suddenly still and silent. Voldemort was dead.
***
Draco took a shaky breath, and then reached for Harry's hand, leading him back to their room. He perched on the edge of the bed, pulling Harry down to sit beside him. Draco simply sat there, staring at the wall for a minute. He felt lost and sickened, unable to decide what he should do now.
Harry sat there quiet and motionless, staring at the floor. That was what he couldn't remember, the final secret that he didn't know he had been keeping. Draco always said that it was good to talk about what had happened to him, but something like confessing that he had been in love with a monster that lived to torture him was just too much. Harry bowed his head while covering his face with both hands, beginning to cry again.
Draco shivered, still struggling with his own feelings about this revelation. But when Harry began to cry, his own fears and revulsion seemed petty. He put a hand to his lover's back once more, rubbing and offering comfort if Harry wanted it.
Harry turned and pressed himself against Draco, crying harder while seeking safety from his own memories. He didn't want to remember now.
Draco felt like his heart would break as Harry sobbed against him. As a Healer he should push Harry to recount the rest of it, but as his lover he just wanted to comfort him. He didn't want to know the details or make Harry relive it. He forced himself to think about the long term, about Harry's health. The blond started to speak several times before he managed it. "How did you kill him, Harry?" he asked, voice trembling as he did.
Harry swallowed against the lump in his throat, shuddering softly at the memory of that night. "I ... we were ...” He let out another sob, having to stop so he could catch his breath. "I waited and then ... I told him. Then I ... I stabbed him."
"You were ... he was ... on top of you when it happened?" Draco asked, shuddering again.
"Inside me," Harry whispered, biting his lip harder. "He gave me this look right before I said the Killing Curse ... I almost wanted to stop and beg for forgiveness, but I didn't ....”
Draco shook then, rocking Harry, arms around him and tears falling on his own face now. It was a horror and Draco didn't know how Harry could bear remembering. He truly understood now why Harry's sanity had cracked and his mind had suppressed the memory. He was speechless for a moment.
"And then I said it," Harry continued, tears still running down his face. "And everything ... everything went quiet and I wanted to take it back, I remember that ....”
Draco let him continue, let him finally tell his story. The blond was surprised to realise it hurt more to hear this than it had to hear about his own father's death. It hurt in a terrible way to know that a man he loved had gone through these horrible things. And it felt wrong, sickening, to hear Harry talk about loving that monster even after he had killed him. Draco was a trained Healer, he knew the psychological effects of torture and imprisonment. He knew it. And still it twisted like a knife in his gut.
"I stayed there for a long time, just watching him ... and then I left," Harry whispered, closing his eyes. The rest was a little more blurry, but he remembered getting out of where he was being kept by using Voldemort's wand, killing anyone who got in his way and then ... next thing he knew he was found and sent to St Mungo’s. He stopped talking not long after that.
Tears continued down both their cheeks and Draco didn't even try to stop himself from crying now. He pulled back enough to look into Harry's face. "Harry, do you think you really loved him? Do you understand what love really means?"
"He was nice to me," Harry said after a few minutes, opening his eyes to look at Draco. "He ... he cared ...."
"Being a little nicer to someone you have tortured is one of the ways they get you to believe they care, to make you do what they want, Harry. The Dark Lord wasn't capable of love," Draco tried to explain. "If he really loved you, would he have continued to use you the way he did?"
"That was how he showed me," Harry said, feeling confused. He closed his eyes, remembering all those little moments with the man.
"He kept you naked, chained and drugged. He not only raped you but encouraged others to do so, Harry," Draco whispered, stomach clenching at the images in his mind. "I believe, that if you love someone, you want what is best for them. I am glad he wasn't as brutal toward the end, and that you found a way to live through it all." The blond paused, swallowing hard and caressing Harry's face with one hand. "You deserve love, Harry."
Harry winced when he realised the truth of Draco's words. He didn't want to believe, but .... "He didn't love me?" he asked quietly, looking down at his lap. "He let me take baths and he fed me and ... and ... I only had to be good ...."
Draco swallowed back the lump in his throat and the sob that would have followed it. "You deserve love, real love, that doesn't make you have to perform and debase yourself. Voldemort was never capable of giving that. He wanted you to serve his needs, his ego and his sick desire to hurt and control. Harry, do you think you have to earn the right to eat or sleep or be free of pain?"
"I ... I don't have to anymore," Harry answered softly, looking up at Draco. "Right?"
Draco cradled Harry's cheeks with both hands now. "No, never again. No one has the right to hurt you or starve you or use you again. And I mean no one, not even those who think it is for some 'greater good'."
Harry stared at Draco for a long moment, things starting to somehow fall into place. Voldemort couldn't have loved him. If he did he wouldn't have punished him so badly when he did something wrong. He wouldn't have given him that potion that had him drugged that entire time, but no, he did all that and worse. "He didn't love me ... but then ... why did I ... love him?"
This is where Draco was grateful that he had training in this. It didn't make him hurt less, but at least he understood. "I think you needed to believe it was love, to help you get through it all. Did it seem easier to be with him when you thought that?"
"I ... think so. It was easier to do as he said, at least," Harry murmured, biting his lip gently.
"You needed love, even if it wasn't real love, to help you keep living through that nightmare," Draco whispered. "And you are strong to have been able to do that. Someday you may find you can have someone worthy of your love, Harry."
"Someday," Harry said softly, watching Draco as he leaned in closer to rest his forehead against the other man's. "Soon, I hope."
"You amaze me," Draco whispered. "You survived so much."
"But at what cost?" Harry asked quietly, feeling and looking drained.
"The cost was too high," Draco agreed. "But it is already paid. It's over." He stroked Harry's hair off his face.
"It's over," Harry repeated, letting out a long sigh. "I don't know how I'll be able to forget now, though."
"You don't forget this time," Draco whispered. "You let it go, let it be part of your past. It's the only way you can have a future."
Chapter Title: A Sacrifice of Love
Words: 2453 Words
Days, maybe weeks, went by again and Voldemort grew increasingly permissive with Harry – often petting him while he sat on his throne conducting Death Eater business. Even the sex seemed different, with the Dark Lord increasingly taking the time to fondle Harry either before or during the times he fucked him.
"On the bed," Voldemort ordered, dinner completed and rising from his chair. Harry moved up on the bed obediently, laying down and waiting for Voldemort to join him. Even with his plan, Harry had felt himself getting closer to his Master. Closer than he had ever thought would be possible – even with being the whore he obviously was.
Voldemort smiled, red eyes sliding over Harry's naked body. "On your back," he said.
It was an unusual command and startled Harry. He turned onto his back for him, looking curious as to what Voldemort had planned. The Dark Lord positioned himself between Harry's legs and, slicking his cock, began pushing into him. Voldemort had never faced Harry while fucking him like this and his red eyes were intent on Harry's face. Harry blinked up at him in surprise, his cheeks colouring and not in shame for once. He bit his lip and reached out to touch Voldemort's cheek, his hips tilting up as his legs opened wider.
"Yes, my pretty whore," Voldemort encouraged as Harry responded to him. He slid slow and deep, each thrust actually rubbing his body against Harry's cock in a way that the other positions didn't.
Sex with Voldemort had changed over the past few weeks, turning into something that Harry found himself enjoying. He whimpered softly and arched his back, wanting more. Voldemort kept thrusting, while Harry sighed and whimpered. When the Dark Lord came, instead of waiting until after, he released Harry at the same time. Harry's eyes widened as he came with a long moan, never having felt pleasure like this with his previous orgasms. Voldemort actually waited until both of them had finished shuddering before withdrawing and lying back on the bed.
Harry lay there for a few moments before he turned and moved closer to him, resting his head on Voldemort's chest. "Thank you," he whispered.
Voldemort tensed but then seemed to relax, putting one arm around Harry. "Yes, my whore," he whispered.
And it was all Harry wanted, to be held like this. "Master," he said lovingly, sighing and rubbing his cheek against his chest. It would probably hurt more than he had thought it would to kill him, but it had to be done.
The days that followed were actually some of the most pleasant Harry could remember. He ate well, was allowed to bathe and relax, and the Dark Lord allowed him his release as often as he was taken by him. The idea of killing Voldemort seemed less appealing, something that could wait. But then Voldemort began to keep Harry in the room with him when he held his strategy meetings. The Death Eaters had apparently taken over much of the Ministry. And now, thanks to a spy, they had the location of many of the Order of the Phoenix members. They planned to kill them all within the next two days.
Hearing the new plans made Harry remember his own, even though thinking about it now made his heart ache. Yet, he couldn't wait any longer. More people's lives were at stake, and he couldn't let it happen. He just couldn't. Too many lives had been sacrificed already.
Harry managed to take a knife during one of the dinners and stash it away, waiting until Voldemort left the room for yet another meeting before climbing back onto the bed and pushing it under one of the pillows. He would do it that night, before they killed more people, more people who had been Harry's friends. He just hoped he would be able to go through with it, to kill the man he hated and blamed for everything wrong in his life, yet ... had fallen in love with.
The Dark Lord was smiling when he returned. Harry could feel Voldemort was excited and happy with his plans. He climbed into the bed where Harry waited, murmuring his approval. His white hands touched and stroked Harry, taking his time before mounting him. Harry spread his legs and sighed at the feeling of him pushing inside, staring up at the other man the entire time. He waited until his Master was completely inside him before he leaned up, biting his lip and sliding one hand around the back of his neck in a soft caress. "Master?"
"Yes, my pretty whore," Voldemort gasped as he thrust into him again.
"I love you," Harry whispered, feeling the need to get it out before this was all over. It was his way of asking for forgiveness before he attacked.
"Good," Voldemort responded, smiling as he reached to caress Harry's face. His thrusts were deeper and faster now and Harry could tell he would come soon.
Harry felt his heart swell with love at the touch, nearly stopping and thinking that maybe it wasn't worth killing him, that he could sacrifice the others' lives for this feeling. Yet, Harry had never been selfish and he wouldn't start now. He turned his head and kissed Voldemort's fingers gently, knowing how close he was. How close to being dead, as well. Harry reached under the pillow for the knife once he was sure that Voldemort wasn't paying attention to what he was doing, gripping it in his hand.
"Yesss, Harry," Voldemort gasped, moments away now.
Harry slowly pulled the knife out and blinked away the tears that were welling up in his eyes, thinking about what good he'd get from this. Or at least the good that everyone else would get from this. "I love you," Harry gasped again, gritting his teeth and raising the knife, leaning up and using all of his strength to stab Voldemort in the neck, letting out a small cry of pain himself.
Voldemort's eyes had been half closed, but now they popped open wide and his hand reached blindly for the knife embedded in his throat. He gurgled, apparently unable to scream, and objects in the room began to fly around wildly.
Harry froze for only a moment, his eyes wide at what he had done. He wanted to say that he was sorry, to try and fix everything back to normal, but it was too late for that. He quickly scrambled out from under Voldemort and reached for the wand his Master always laid on the side table and pointed it at the man, swallowing before he spoke. "Avada Kedavra!" Harry screamed.
Voldemort had rolled to his side when Harry had shoved him off, reaching a hand out to Harry, his face a mask of shock and anger. The green light enveloped him and the room was suddenly still and silent. Voldemort was dead.
***
Draco took a shaky breath, and then reached for Harry's hand, leading him back to their room. He perched on the edge of the bed, pulling Harry down to sit beside him. Draco simply sat there, staring at the wall for a minute. He felt lost and sickened, unable to decide what he should do now.
Harry sat there quiet and motionless, staring at the floor. That was what he couldn't remember, the final secret that he didn't know he had been keeping. Draco always said that it was good to talk about what had happened to him, but something like confessing that he had been in love with a monster that lived to torture him was just too much. Harry bowed his head while covering his face with both hands, beginning to cry again.
Draco shivered, still struggling with his own feelings about this revelation. But when Harry began to cry, his own fears and revulsion seemed petty. He put a hand to his lover's back once more, rubbing and offering comfort if Harry wanted it.
Harry turned and pressed himself against Draco, crying harder while seeking safety from his own memories. He didn't want to remember now.
Draco felt like his heart would break as Harry sobbed against him. As a Healer he should push Harry to recount the rest of it, but as his lover he just wanted to comfort him. He didn't want to know the details or make Harry relive it. He forced himself to think about the long term, about Harry's health. The blond started to speak several times before he managed it. "How did you kill him, Harry?" he asked, voice trembling as he did.
Harry swallowed against the lump in his throat, shuddering softly at the memory of that night. "I ... we were ...” He let out another sob, having to stop so he could catch his breath. "I waited and then ... I told him. Then I ... I stabbed him."
"You were ... he was ... on top of you when it happened?" Draco asked, shuddering again.
"Inside me," Harry whispered, biting his lip harder. "He gave me this look right before I said the Killing Curse ... I almost wanted to stop and beg for forgiveness, but I didn't ....”
Draco shook then, rocking Harry, arms around him and tears falling on his own face now. It was a horror and Draco didn't know how Harry could bear remembering. He truly understood now why Harry's sanity had cracked and his mind had suppressed the memory. He was speechless for a moment.
"And then I said it," Harry continued, tears still running down his face. "And everything ... everything went quiet and I wanted to take it back, I remember that ....”
Draco let him continue, let him finally tell his story. The blond was surprised to realise it hurt more to hear this than it had to hear about his own father's death. It hurt in a terrible way to know that a man he loved had gone through these horrible things. And it felt wrong, sickening, to hear Harry talk about loving that monster even after he had killed him. Draco was a trained Healer, he knew the psychological effects of torture and imprisonment. He knew it. And still it twisted like a knife in his gut.
"I stayed there for a long time, just watching him ... and then I left," Harry whispered, closing his eyes. The rest was a little more blurry, but he remembered getting out of where he was being kept by using Voldemort's wand, killing anyone who got in his way and then ... next thing he knew he was found and sent to St Mungo’s. He stopped talking not long after that.
Tears continued down both their cheeks and Draco didn't even try to stop himself from crying now. He pulled back enough to look into Harry's face. "Harry, do you think you really loved him? Do you understand what love really means?"
"He was nice to me," Harry said after a few minutes, opening his eyes to look at Draco. "He ... he cared ...."
"Being a little nicer to someone you have tortured is one of the ways they get you to believe they care, to make you do what they want, Harry. The Dark Lord wasn't capable of love," Draco tried to explain. "If he really loved you, would he have continued to use you the way he did?"
"That was how he showed me," Harry said, feeling confused. He closed his eyes, remembering all those little moments with the man.
"He kept you naked, chained and drugged. He not only raped you but encouraged others to do so, Harry," Draco whispered, stomach clenching at the images in his mind. "I believe, that if you love someone, you want what is best for them. I am glad he wasn't as brutal toward the end, and that you found a way to live through it all." The blond paused, swallowing hard and caressing Harry's face with one hand. "You deserve love, Harry."
Harry winced when he realised the truth of Draco's words. He didn't want to believe, but .... "He didn't love me?" he asked quietly, looking down at his lap. "He let me take baths and he fed me and ... and ... I only had to be good ...."
Draco swallowed back the lump in his throat and the sob that would have followed it. "You deserve love, real love, that doesn't make you have to perform and debase yourself. Voldemort was never capable of giving that. He wanted you to serve his needs, his ego and his sick desire to hurt and control. Harry, do you think you have to earn the right to eat or sleep or be free of pain?"
"I ... I don't have to anymore," Harry answered softly, looking up at Draco. "Right?"
Draco cradled Harry's cheeks with both hands now. "No, never again. No one has the right to hurt you or starve you or use you again. And I mean no one, not even those who think it is for some 'greater good'."
Harry stared at Draco for a long moment, things starting to somehow fall into place. Voldemort couldn't have loved him. If he did he wouldn't have punished him so badly when he did something wrong. He wouldn't have given him that potion that had him drugged that entire time, but no, he did all that and worse. "He didn't love me ... but then ... why did I ... love him?"
This is where Draco was grateful that he had training in this. It didn't make him hurt less, but at least he understood. "I think you needed to believe it was love, to help you get through it all. Did it seem easier to be with him when you thought that?"
"I ... think so. It was easier to do as he said, at least," Harry murmured, biting his lip gently.
"You needed love, even if it wasn't real love, to help you keep living through that nightmare," Draco whispered. "And you are strong to have been able to do that. Someday you may find you can have someone worthy of your love, Harry."
"Someday," Harry said softly, watching Draco as he leaned in closer to rest his forehead against the other man's. "Soon, I hope."
"You amaze me," Draco whispered. "You survived so much."
"But at what cost?" Harry asked quietly, feeling and looking drained.
"The cost was too high," Draco agreed. "But it is already paid. It's over." He stroked Harry's hair off his face.
"It's over," Harry repeated, letting out a long sigh. "I don't know how I'll be able to forget now, though."
"You don't forget this time," Draco whispered. "You let it go, let it be part of your past. It's the only way you can have a future."