Sags Nicht

As the blonde took his wand back, Harry said softly. "You aren't the only one with a task to do. A task you hate."

"I don't hate my task, Potter." Draco corrected without thinking, though he made no move to get up from the floor. "I'm not afraid of doing it, either. I'm afraid of not doing it. I'm afraid I'm not strong enough to and I'll fail. He doesn't accept failure, Harry." The first name slipped out before he could stop it, but Harry didn't seem to mind.

"I hate my task." Harry said it simply, like it was just a part of him, the same way his eyes or his hair or his scar were. "Because I'm 16 and Albus asks too much of me. Expects too much of me. At least with Voldemort," Draco visibly flinched but Harry didn't falter. "You know an order is an order. Albus twists it all around until you're doing what he wants and by the time you figure out that it was never your idea to begin with and you don’t actually want to do it, you're up to your arse in trouble and you don't have a choice." He smiled grimly at the ceiling. "Albus doesn't accept failure either, Draco. If you fail him, you still end up dead. He just does it in such a way that there's no blood on his hands. At least, not directly."

The blonde nodded slowly, rolling onto his side and propping his head on his hand to stare down at Harry. "Whose Master is crueler, do you think? The one who openly demands the impossible from a 16 year old, " He smirked down at Harry as he pointed out the similarities in their situations. He'd always been jealous of Harry's "Chosen One" status...not so much anymore. "Or the one who manipulates a 16 year old into doing his dirty work while pretending to guide and protect?"

Harry shrugged awkwardly - he somehow managed the appearance of the gesture without actually moving his shoulders. He was staring up at those smirking pink lips. He'd never realized how full Draco's mouth was. Was Ginny's that full? For some reason, he couldn't remember.

Suddenly remembering the question, he answered. "I think they're equally cruel, in different ways. Just like I think we are." He smiled a little, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "We use curses and words to hurt each other - to try to make each other bleed - because inside we're both slowly dying and we don't want to do it alone." He closed his eyes, the smile falling from his lips. "We both know death is coming for us, so we get in what hits we can before it comes, and if it's only to each other than at least we'll go down together."

Draco stared down at Harry in shock. This boy was so much more jaded than he'd ever realized and seemed to be backed into much the same sort of corner he was. "Harry, I..." Those green eyes opened and Draco realized he was lost.

Maybe he'd been lost the first time those green eyes had looked up at him in Madam Malkin's robe shop. Maybe this was the first time he'd ever really seen Harry since then - since he'd found out that the lost-looking little boy was 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'. Maybe he was just tired of being alone and scared and feeling like no one understood. Maybe he wanted to be damned to hell for something really worth it.

Whatever the reason, he murmured softly. "Forgive me, please." Then he leaned down and pressed his mouth to the smooth, warm lips of the Savior of the Wizarding World without knowing if he was asking forgiveness from Harry or himself or his family or the Dark Lord or God - and he didn't care.

Harry froze for a moment as soft lips pressed to his, Draco's words echoing in his mind; 'Forgive me, please...'like some sort of heartbroken plea for salvation. And although he didn't know what Draco was asking forgiveness for, he knew in that moment - had known the moment he'd touched Draco's tear-stained cheek, really - that he would give it to him. He felt Draco's warm, wet tongue slide over his bottom lip and gasped, unintentionally opening to the other boy. Draco's tongue felt hot in his mouth and he tasted salty and sharp and bitter and somehow that just made it better.

Clumsily, Harry pressed closer, fisting his hands in Draco's shirt and banging their teeth together in the process. Draco hissed out a sharp little breath as he pulled back, running his tongue over his teeth to check for damage. Harry flushed darkly in embarrassment. Then Draco's eyes met his and went from silver to thundercloud grey in an instant and their mouths were pressed hotly together and Draco's teeth banged Harry's again and this time neither boy could bring himself to care. Suddenly Harry felt his lip split from where it was crushed between their teeth and the coppery tang of his blood mixed with the bitter salt of Draco's nearly-dried tears just made it seem more real and more edgy and more dangerous.

Draco slid his body over Harry's, straddling the other teen's hips and kissing him again. He could taste Harry's blood and his own tears from before and the sweet flavor that seemed to be simply Harry and it just urged him on. He had no right...no right to kiss those maddening cherry-red lips or taste that tongue or trace those teeth. No right to grind his ass down onto the growing hardness beneath him, or to press his own aching erection against Harry's stomach. No right to hear that soft, breathy moan pass those bruised lips - stained with blood - as they broke their kiss for air.

He, Draco Malfoy, son of a Death Eater and now one himself, had no right to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to Harry's cheek and jaw and neck. He, who bore the Dark Mark on his arm, had no right to lick the shell of Harry's ear before panting hot breath across the dampened skin and making Harry shudder beneath him. He, who had so shortly ago nearly cast an Unforgivable on Harry, had no right to suck on his earlobe and then gently bite the skin just below Harry's ear, causing the Gryffindor to make a choked screaming sound and arch up against him. He had no right to do any of this...and he didn't care.