The Open Door

*warning* Bloodplay in this chapter *warning*

The night is lit with the glow of distant fires, the faint sparkles of embers being thrown up in the rising hot air, dancing to the tune of death and destruction. The scent of burning flesh is everywhere and the world surrounding the men is surreal with the destruction and death surrounding them in a land of eternal beauty.

“Run Potter!” Draco hissed, his arm clutching Harry’s ragged robe sleeve. “We have to go before they find you’re gone.”

Draco didn’t wait for Harry to answer, but pulled him along as he broke into a trot. There wasn’t much time before the Dark Lord’s Death Eaters would be alerted to Harry’s escape. If he had planned this correctly, they would be able to vanish before the alarm was sounded and the hunt would begin.

They passed a bonfire where bodies lay stacked like cords of firewood. The stench was horrendous. Draco heard the gasp from the man behind him and he pulled him along even faster. There was no time for grief, or mourning. There was only time to run.

The grounds of Hogwarts were littered with branches and stonework from the castle. The battle had been horrific. He had survived and he had witnessed the downfall of Potter. It had been a lovely, completely fulfilling moment, one that he would never forget. His cock had hardened when Potter had been defeated and had been bound, cowering before the Dark Lord.

But, now it was Draco’s time. His façade as a sniveling schoolboy was crumbling. He was much more than what the Dark Lord considered him. He was more than Voldemort’s pet. He would be the one to take power, take what Voldemort had won. He would say the name now. He was more powerful than his master. He would be the master.

He had Potter. He had his magic. He had his power. He had his obedience. He would be the master now.

Potter was wheezing. There was no time, Draco needed him to run faster, to reach the edge of the grounds where Draco could Apparate them away. The man was weak from his ordeal, but there was no time for weakness. They were close, the woods were thinning. The desolate howl of a wolf sounded in the distance. Whether it was a werewolf or the non-magical kind, Draco had no idea.
The sound was chilling and yet, the sound echoed the desperateness of their situation. There was more to do to complete the spell. There was still more power to leach from Potter.

“Faster!” Draco hissed, turning his head to look at the other man. “What’s wrong Potter? The little half-blood can’t keep up with the Pureblood?”

“I can’t run much further, Draco,” Harry wheezed, his sides heaving, his feet stumbling over one another.

Draco cuffed the dark-haired man across his face. Hard enough to let him know he was in charge, that there was no discussion. “You will call me Master! When you have earned the right to call me by my given name, I will let you know!”

Cringing, Harry nodded, his hand rubbing the red mark starting to form

Draco could smell the fear emanating from him. It was like an aphrodisiac, and his flesh hardened. The urge to take him, here in this ruined place overwhelmed him. Draco licked his lips, the taste of Harry’s arse still upon them. He wanted the darkness, the heat, the musky flavor of man. He was hungry. He would be the wolf.

“Come!” Draco commanded, his scarred face twisting into something that would have been called a sneer in days past. The pain from the raw cut ran from one side of his forehead to his chin, his lips mis-matched by the line slashed across his face.

“Yes… master,” Harry replied reluctantly.

The rush of power filled his chest and Draco grinned. Potter was his.

The streak of green light passed between the two men, and they turned in unison.

“There they are! Get them!” the voices screamed from the darkness.

“Run!” Draco yelled. He pulled Harry to his feet and gave him a hard shove.

The voices were coming closer and the streaks of spells lit the air around them. Draco turned his head, still running. He could fight, he could win. But, now was not the time to reveal his power.

Ahead of him Potter was running for his life. They would soon be past the walls of the great school and freedom would be theirs.

Just a little further….

PAIN… hot and bright and burning in his shoulder. The web of the spell tightening around him, and Draco stumbled. He was dizzy from the hot shock of pain coursing through his veins, tearing into him, biting at his heart. He was slipping away, the world was spinning around him, the flashes of starlight mixing with darkness and musty dampness and Potter’s face looming over him.

“Master?” Harry’s anguished voice was coming from somewhere far away. The magic in him was fading, dimming; the pain was burning deep into where the spell had hit his shoulder.

“…Gaunt hou….” Draco gasped. Potter wouldn’t understand, it was over. They were both dead.

Swirling blackness and squeezing pain crushed the awareness from Draco.

XXXXXX

….. blackness. Coldness… the smell of dirt, of filth, of his own blood filled Draco’s nostrils. Slowly, he opened his eyes. He was…. Where?

“Master?”

Draco couldn’t help the curve of his lips. The one word was worth it all.

“Are you alright? I… I don’t know what to do,” Harry whispered, his eyes wide with fear and… concern?

“Wh…what …” Draco gasped. The pain was wrapped around his chest and his arm. The feeling of a heavy weight crushing him in its tight vice of misery stole the air from his chest.

“You were hit with a spell. I don’t know what kind. I was running like you told me to, and I heard you fall,” Harry said, a bit fearfully. “I ran back and the Death Eaters were coming, and you… you were bleeding. I heard you say something. I hope I did all right.”

Swallowing and feeling as if a cotton ball was in his mouth, Draco tried to speak. It hurt to even move his lips. “Where are we?” Draco finally got out.

“I thought you said the ‘Gaunt House’ and that’s where I Apparated us to,” Harry said, lifting Draco’s hand to his face, placing the cold, pale fingers against his cheek. “I was so afraid that I would splinch us. I barely got us here. Please, please Master, have I done what you wished?”

Draco allowed the damp heat from Harry’s face soak into his fingers. Harry was sweating, from fear or exertion, it didn’t matter, and it was the fire of being alive that crept into Draco from that tenuous touch.

“Yes,” Draco whispered. He could feel the dampness against his skin, the smell of hot copper in the air around him. “What’s wrong with me?” he asked weakly.

“You’re bleeding…. Your shoulder. There’s a hole blown through it. Malfoy… Master, what…” Harry said, the question dying on his lips.

“You have to… clean the magic… from the wound,” Draco panted, his voice shaking from the pain.

Harry glanced about wildly. The cottage was in disrepair, cobwebs, and rubbish covering the floors and furniture. The man in his arms was turning paler by the second, and the pump at the sink looked rusted into place. There was no time to leave the cottage and find water.

Draco felt fingers pushing his robes aside, warm fingers touching him, and he turned his head. Potter’s fingers were coated in his blood. He glanced back up at Harry, his eyes meeting Harry’s worried green ones. Draco looked back toward the oozing wound in his shoulder.

Harry bent lower and his dark matted hair blocked Draco’s view. Without warning, Draco felt something soft and soothing moving over the edges of his torn flesh; the flick of a gentle tongue against his ragged and weeping flesh. Draco moaned, but not from pain. It was incredibly hot and he wanted to be licked and touched by those lips more.

“Har…ry,” Draco stuttered, his good arm reaching up, his fingers cupping the nape of Harry’s neck.

Harry turned, the fearful, lost look gone and one of hunger replacing it. His mouth was stained red and a trickle of Draco’s blood ran down from the corner of his mouth to his chin, and then dripped unto his filthy robes. “I would take the pain for you…. Master,” Harry whispered, the quick flick of his tongue across his blood-coated lips drawing Draco’s attention from the pain.

“My… my wand,” Draco ordered shakily. The loss of blood was causing him to feel dizzy, weak, and scared. He could not be weak, nor fearful, nor scared. He had to survive.

The feel of wood being placed into his had was reassuring, the warmth of the residual magic in it flowing into his hand and up his arm, finally connecting with his very being. “Adflictatio alieno”, Draco whispered, moving his wand in a jagged figure eight and then pointing at Harry.

The pain immediately receded, drawing back into itself, leaving Draco. The torn, ruined flesh knitted and reformed, his skin stretching over the raw muscle. The gasp from Potter wasn’t unexpected.

Draco sat up, whole and strong. Potter was staring at him, wide-eyed, the pain evident from the grimace of his lips.

Blood was staining the mean rags Harry wore. The slick, hot fluid ran in dark crimson rivulets down his arm from his shoulder. The shivers of pain were tearing through him, leaving him shaking from both fear and anger.

“You… you did this?” Harry said, his question becoming a statement, a tremor of pain wracking his body.

“You said you wanted my pain,” Draco said, his eyes never leaving the dark stain blossoming across Harry’s pitiful robes. “I gave it to you.”

“Damn,” Harry whimpered, writhing from a sudden streak of pain down his back. Draco knew, he’d felt it first.

Draco watched for a moment, then straddled Harry, sitting on his stomach, stopping his agonized turning. “Stop,” Draco ordered, his voice hard and soft at the same time. His fingers were already undoing Harry’s robes, slipping over his shoulders, lifting the dirty, ragged clothing from Harry’s shoulders, sliding the rotten material down his chest. Draco watched as the thin red rivulets pooled in the hollows of his ribs, accenting the painful thinness the man possessed. The blood had also spattered across Harry’s chest, leaving thick red smears across his pecs leaving his nipples pale pink spots in a mottled sea of red.

Scooting down Harry’s body, he knelt and undid his ragged trousers, the torn and ruined material coming apart in his hands. He tossed the pieces to the side; the wet material oozing its liquid to the dry earth beneath it. He removed Harry’s shoes and tossed them over his shoulder. The dark-haired man now lay, quivering on the dirt floor of the Gaunt House.

“Reveal,” Draco said, rising and lifting Harry into his arms. He staggered under the weight of the man and carried him to the bed sitting in the corner of the room. With Draco’s simple words, the room had shifted, reformed and transfigured itself from a dirty, rough room into a room of sumptuous furnishings. An ornate silver bed with satin and silk coverings, a dark wood table set with china and hand-wrought elven silverware, a huge fireplace with an handsome mantle; small dark art objects lined across it.

He laid Harry on the bed, no thought to the blood seeping from the man’s ruined shoulder. He knew the pain Harry was suffering, he had felt it; but he was impressed by the stoic silence in which the man suffered. Harry had not been fortunate enough to black out when Draco lifted him, and the jolts of pain had to have been intense.

“Dra… Master,” Harry moaned, his head twisting from side to side in agony. “Please…. please.”

“Tonight, you may call me Draco. You have earned it for willingly taking the pain from my body. The spell would only have worked if you wanted it to, and by your acknowledgement, it did,” Draco said, studying Harry intently, while he laid his hand flat on Harry’s quivering stomach. “Accio! Draco whispered and bandages, ointments, and potions flew toward his outstretched hand, circled then landed in an orderly fashion on the nearby bed table.

Draco sat down beside Harry and lifted an ointment, changed his mind and set it back. He reached for a potion instead. Gently, he lifted Harry’s head and poured a small amount of the liquid into Harry’s mouth, which the man swallowed greedily.

“Now, my pet, I shall reward you for your loyalty to me,” Draco said in an almost kind tone.

“The pain… I don’t hurt anymore,’ Harry said in amazement. A tear slipped from his eye and ran down his grimy face, leaving a light line down Harry’s cheek.

Smiling, Draco leaned over and kissed Harry full on the mouth, tasting his own blood still smeared on the man’s lips, then Draco allowed his lips to brush over the man’s chin, down his neck, pausing only to lick at a small red smear at the juncture of his neck and collarbone. His lips ended their journey pressed against the torn wound in Harry’s shoulder; in imitation of what Harry had done freely. He tasted the darkness, the coppery, warm liquid and licked gently, getting the salty fluid on his lips and across his chin. A hank of Draco’s hair brushed the place as Draco raised his head and was dyed a dark red against its natural silvery color.

Harry accepted the next kiss eagerly, and Draco knew he was tasting himself as Draco had. Without meaning to, Harry had given him access to the next step of the spell; the spell that would take his power from him and make Draco the most powerful wizard alive. As before, it had be approved and even desired by the one receiving. Harry had taken freely the blood that had poured from Draco’s shoulder, and Draco had taken freely from Harry and had mixed it together with this last kiss.

“Harry,” Draco said softly when the kiss ended. I want to pleasure you, I want to fuck you until you cry, I want to be so far inside you, you have no idea where you end and I begin. I want you to feel as you never have felt before. Do you understand me?” Draco finished, his fingers drifting along the still sticky smears of blood along Harry’s ribs. He traced a trail of blood to the dark curls surrounding Harry’s stiffening cock.

“I do… but Mas… Draco, your bed, the blood?” Harry whimpered as Draco’s hand closed around him.

“As if I care,” Draco said then laughed. He watched as Harry bit his lip, the hard flesh in Draco’s hand sliding freely under his fingers with its blood lubricant. Draco pressed his palm flat to the wound, smearing the slowly oozing blood over his palm, wetting his fingers generously with it.

“You will suffer no ill effects from blood loss, Harry. The potion is two fold, to prevent pain from the wound and to replenish your blood. I will bandage you and apply ointments that will complete the healing process… later.” Draco said with a satisfied smirk.

“Thank you,” Harry gasped, as Draco’s hand did something unexpected on his cock. He had encircled the base and was slowly tightening around it. Draco slowly stroked it, watching the reactions on Harry’s face, gauging what he would do next by the pleased sounds coming from Harry.

Harry whimpered when Draco removed his hand from his cock, and stood beside the bed. Deft fingers undid the robe fastenings, and it was pitched to the floor to land in a heap near the fireplace. Harry began to sit up, but Draco pushed him back down. “Stay still for now, there will be a time for moving soon,” Draco said, smiling. Harry obeyed, but his eyes never left Draco, and Draco knew he was studying the unmarred flesh of his shoulder, the trail of blood the wound had left, and most importantly, his hard dick. Draco pushed down his trousers and briefs and his cock sprung free, bobbing slightly as he toed off his last bit of clothing and shoes.

“Do you want to be pleasured, Harry?” Draco asked silkily. “I think you do.”

Harry said nothing, but turned over stiffly, as if the movement would cause him pain. From the untightening of his movements Draco knew he was in no pain. Harry positioned himself on the bed, head down on his arms, as if he were praying, and his arse up in the air toward Draco. When at last he was comfortable in the way he propped up on the bed, Harry answered. Only two words, but to Draco it was the equivalent of a declaration of total obedience. “Please… Draco.”

Draco didn’t need to be told twice. He climbed up on the bed, pressing his body against Harry’s willing arse and ran his hands over the man’s body, feeling the tremor in his arms as he held himself still, the slight hitch in his breath as Draco’s hands touched his chest, his stomach, his cock, and then back up to his shoulder, which was now just barely seeping blood. Although Draco knew Harry had a good body, the way he accepted Draco’s touch made him seem all that much more desirable. Perhaps, he would reconsider how far he would take Harry down the spell’s path. If it would be worth keeping this man in his life. He had, without question, saved Draco as he’d lain there nearly unconscious and vulnerable.

But there were other things to consider first.

Draco pressed his blood stained fingers against Harry’s entrance, feeling the warmth emanating from the man, knowing that he wanted this, and he pressed them into the hot flesh. Harry moaned and wriggled slightly. Moving his fingers in the moist heat, Draco was rewarded with a sharp ‘Ah!’ from Harry and he added another finger, stretching the man and giving him the first reward for his unselfishness. Harry appeared to be very, very sensitive there. He moved back, as Draco began to remove his fingers, and Draco knew he wanted him in there , filling him, driving his cock into his flesh, and finally giving him untold pleasure.

“Patience, my pet, your reward will be with you soon,” Draco murmured, slowly pulling his fingers free. He crouched over Harry and turned his face with his man-scented hand. “Smell how you want me, Harry,” Draco whispered, as his fingers trailed gently over Harry’s cheekbone, his lips and then his jawline.

Harry moaned and shivered because Draco’s cock was pressed between his arse cheeks and now the one hand that had trailed over his face was on his dick, stroking it again.

“Yes, my pet,” Draco whispered, his lips tasting the back of Harry’s neck. “Soon…. soon.”

Harry only shivered. But, Draco thought he heard him whisper.

“Master.”

Or was it only in his mind that he heard Harry’s strangled word? The sounds from his mouth now were ones of passion, and pleasure. Draco would only torture him a little longer before both of them would find release.

Draco licked after the one small rivulet of blood than ran from Harry’s shoulder, the torn flesh beginning to clot, the bleeding slowing. He traced it down Harry’s back, watching it as the trail lightened and finally vanished between Harry’s arse cheeks. Harry’s whimpers, moans and little strangled noises were turning him on and it was time.

Carefully this time, Draco pressed his cock against Harry and entered him. He felt the man tense around him and then relax as Draco slid in. He stopped when his full length was embedded in Harry, and felt the tightness envelop him and Harry hear whimper “Oh God.”

“Does it hurt, my precious pet?” Draco whispered softly. Pain and pleasure would become one and Draco would make it so for this man beneath him.

“A little, Master,” Harry moaned, but his body told a different story. Draco could feel him pushing back, wanting more of his cock in him. Draco smiled.

“Pleasure and pain are yours, Harry,” Draco said, and pulled back and then thrust forward, hard. Harry cried out but continued to meet Draco’s thrusts. His body was taking Draco along as he fucked him. Jolts of pleasure raced through Draco, and from Harry’s reactions, he was giving his pet the best reward ever given.

Draco was close, and Harry was shaking beneath him. Draco’s hand on Harry’s cock was coated with come and it flew across the twitching flesh. Draco slowed his strokes, his need was great, but pleasure and pain would be entwined in his reward. It was necessary for their bonding.

Draco lowered his mouth to Harry’s shoulder and bit and thrust his cock in the full way. The blood behind the clot gushed over his teeth and slipped down his throat. Harry cried out in pain and then moaned piteously.

But, Draco heard Harry’s thoughts in his head. “Oh yes… oh God yes!” and the unformed feelings of pain and pleasure that were flashes in Harry’s mind became known to Draco. His pet was rewarded.

The men collapsed on the bed, unmindful of the mess of blood, sweat, and come over the sheets. Draco could only feel the heat from Harry’s body along his front, his hands holding his around his body, and the rapid beat of Harry’s heart through his back. Harry’s breathing slowed and Draco held him until he was asleep.

Draco disentangled himself from Harry’s grasp and got the ointment and bandages from the night table. Harry’s shoulder needed attention. He had promised to tend to it and he would. The ointment was rubbed in gently and Draco watched as the flesh painstakingly mended, the muscles knitting, the skin reforming until there was only a pink stretched piece of skin over where there was once ruined, bloody flesh. He applied a light bandage to the new skin, only to protect it until morning. He would be fully healed then.

Draco watched Harry sleep, the sleep of the satisfied, the sleep of the loved. He didn’t love Harry. How could he? He was his master, and that was all he would be. But, watching this man, who could have left him to die and who could have freed himself, Draco knew now that the spell would be even harder to complete. He would have to steel himself to complete it.

For Draco Malfoy, once a scarred pet of a Dark Wizard was now on his way to becoming the most powerful wizard alive. And no man, no matter how much pleasure he gave him, nor any snake-faced pervert would stop him.

Draco spelled the bedding clean and pulled the covers over himself and his sleeping pet. Sleep was needed now, and his pet was tended, and the rest of what needed to be done could wait until tomorrow. The wards were strong and there was no fear, or pain to come for the rest of the night.

**And...since you all seemed to like the first two chapters so well, I thought I'd continue it on...**

Reviews are always appreciated.