Broken Toy

Warnings: angst, violence, abuse, some romance, hurt/comfort, simply NC17…
Author's Notes:
At first, of course, special thanks for awesome ravenqueen55 for betaing. Where would I be without you???!

Again it took me quite a while to update, sorry about that. Had to stay at hospital, and it wasn’t any fun…
However, here’s another chapter of Broken Toy. I left you - again - with a cliffhanger… Seems since I once started to finish a chap with one, I simply can’t end them any other way, *g* It became an addiction, sorry…
To make up, with chap 31 you’ll get a long one. And if you liked accompany Draco’s thoughts, fears and insecurities so far, I just hope you will like the next chapter as well.

Enjoy.

And, yes. This time I’m sure. *g* There will be one more chapter, and an epilogue.

And, most important of all… *hugs* you all for your amazing comments. You haven’t got the slightest idea how much they mean to me. Thank you. *hugs you tight*


Chapter Thirty-One

The sudden noise in Callidus’s office was ear-deafening; spells and curses hissed through the air, furniture was thrown over, somewhere glass was splintering, and everybody seemed to yell at the same time.

Hermione hadn’t even finished screaming for help; the long-drawn-out “EEEEE” was still ringing in Draco’s ears as Harry was already up, wand drawn, rushing forwards, still holding fast to Draco’s hand, dragging him along.

Neville’s body was blocking their view.

“What has happened?” Harry’s bellow made Neville spin around.

Looking ahead instead of at the horror-stricken face of Neville, Harry corrected himself at once. “How could that have happened?” His question was a mere hiss. “Answer. Quick!”

Following Harry’s stare, Draco’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t believe his eyes. How could that have happened?

Several Aurors, wands outstretched, were keeping Blaise covered in the far corner of the room. Draco didn’t recognize Blaise at first; his grimace was strange, even weird, and his loud, repeated laughter sounded bizarre, almost insane.

Close by, at their feet, Pickles lay.

Draco’s mouth went dry. He knew a dead body when he saw it. And Pickles was dead, all right. There was no mistaking the gaping, empty eyes and the open mouth for anything but death.

Ron was standing next to the body, wide-eyed, shoulders slumped down. His usual fair complexion was more pronounced than ever; its sallow colour standing out in extreme contrast to his freckles and flaming red hair. Hermione held her arms wrapped around him, lowly talking on and on, but he didn’t seem to notice. He seemed beyond noticing anything.

“Well, hum, they renervated Blaise and re-transfigured Pickles at the same time.” Neville hastened to explain. “They wanted to confront them with each other and…”

Harry fidgeted, but restrained himself. “Go on. Faster.”

“Right. Err. Sorry…” When Harry snorted, Neville hurried on. “They started an interrogation, but Blaise and Pick… -- err -- Peens refused to answer.” Harry shook his head in disbelief. Draco agreed with him. What had they expected, teary confessions? Bloody idiots!

“Suddenly Peens started talking like a waterfall; he ridiculed the Ministry, declared his unwavering loyalty to the Dark Lord and his beliefs, affirmed that anybody other than pure-bloods are scum and stated that luckily there were enough of the true believers left to carry on.” Harry got impatient again; his wand was hectically tapping his knee. Every now and then, he cast a nervous glance towards the group around Blaise, especially eyeing Shacklebolt suspiciously, who had joined them. Neville continued, talking as fast as he could.

“Well. Peens raved on and on and finally added that no true believer would ever disgrace himself and go to Azkaban to receive the kiss. There were ways to prevent that. Blaise, as a real son, would know what to do.”

Harry nodded grimly. “Whose wand?” he shot out, but he knew the answer already. As did Draco.

“Blaise snatched Ron’s…” Neville almost sobbed.

Harry shut his eyes for a second. Then, gritting his teeth, he dashed forward, dragging Draco along. It was only then that Draco realized Harry was still holding onto his hand.

Draco stumbled when Harry came to a halt. His mind was whirling. What kind of a son killed his own father? How sick was that??? Although Draco’s cheeks were burning hot due to agitation, he felt cold inside.

He almost screamed in pain when Harry crushed his hand. What…? He was on alert right away, registering the words Shacklebolt had just addressed to Blaise.

“Legilimens! Blaise Zabini, I demand you to tell me all about Alldrick Peens, aka Lander Pickles!”

“Nooooo!” Harry roared, but it was too late.

Draco remembered all too vividly the effects of legilimenting for Pickles’s name.

Just like Perkins the pimp, Blaise fell over backwards.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco had crouched down beneath the windows with his legs crossed and his elbows propped up on his knees. His chin was resting in his palms; he was staring ahead without really seeing anything.

He felt numb. He had thought he had already seen every imaginable horror, every possible nightmare alive. He had thought nothing but his own fears could shake him.

He had been wrong.

The last events had been simply too much to digest.

Reality was cruel. Because reality was merciless when it hit you with its truth.

Draco had always known that Father had been a Death Eater. For a Malfoy, being a pure-blood just meant being a Death Eater; it was as simple as that. There had been a time when Draco had admired Father endlessly for being that dedicated to a cause, being so sure about his beliefs. Draco hadn’t been interested in the cause itself, not really. He had just been in awe of Father for his vigour, and Draco hadn’t given a second thought about what was triggering it. Each Malfoy was proud about their ancestry, and so, of course, Draco had been proud, too. Pride meant vigour, strength, and power.

What kind of a man had Father really been?

The Last League… Father had told him about similar methods, educating the softheads and toughening the weaklings. Father had actually used some of those methods on Draco. He still had marks on his body…

What kind of a man had Father really been?

Had Father been “educated” the same? Draco preferred this thought, imagining Father having been a kind hearted man some time before he accepted the demands of his ancestry. He must have been! Why had his mother married him, if not for love? His mother must have been attracted to Father, or else she wouldn’t have agreed to the marriage.

He ignored the roaring sound of laughter inside his head. Matchmaking, silly. Family bonds!

Suddenly Draco wasn’t ashamed of his recent past anymore. So what if he was a whore? He had managed to live, inept as he had been. And he had survived. It had almost broken him, but he had found ways to cope. He could be proud of himself. He had survived!

He lifted his head resolutely, straightening his shoulders.

His eyes surveyed the room.

The corpses were gone. Good riddance. The Zabini’s and Peens’s of this world only made him sick.

Neville -- Neville?! -- was engaged in a heated discussion with Shacklebolt; it seemed Neville had more to say than the Head of Aurors. Interesting fact…

Ron and Hermione were still standing close together, now hugging each other. Behind them, his face hidden in a mass of red and brown hair, Harry stood, his arms wrapped around the pair. Friends. True friends, not just allies. Draco swallowed hard.

Half-bloods and Mudbloods.

For the first time, Draco was ashamed of being a pure-blood. He wasn’t ashamed at having been born one. He wasn’t responsible for that. But until now, Draco had been proud of being pure; he had been raised to be proud and to look down on anybody less. He had never questioned Father’s doctrines, and he had always taken them as a natural privilege. He had never asked for the reason why.

Draco had to face the truth. If the Dark Lord hadn’t been defeated, and Draco hadn’t been caught and convicted, if he hadn’t been forced to struggle to survive, where would he be today? What would he be today?

Thinking of the mad glint in Blaise’s eyes when he last saw him, Draco shuddered.

Instinctively, his eyes searched for Harry.

He froze when he saw Harry tense up, then raise his head. Before those bothering green eyes could meet his, Draco covered his face casually with his hands.

Now he was more convinced than ever.

He was scum. He wasn’t worth Harry committing himself for him, and Draco wouldn’t allow him to go on with it.

Draco straightened up determinedly. He had pretended to have forgotten all about it, but he hadn’t, not really. There was just one thing left for him to do. He had to get up, march over to Shacklebolt, and state his offences.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Let’s go.”

Startled by the low voice close to him, Draco looked up. Harry was kneeling beside him, and his eyes glinted with badly concealed annoyance.

“Don’t dare even think about it.”

Vehement protest flared up instantly, “But I’ve got to…”

“…surrender to the officials? Are you mad?” Harry’s face went grave. “You heard them. We don’t know how many of ‘them’ are still here, infiltrating the Ministry; so how safe do you think you are?” Harry sneered, then went on, the hard expression never leaving his face. “I already settled matters with the Judge. We’ll get an extraordinary general meeting of the Wizengamot on Monday. Then you can spill out all of your offences as you please. You are officially put under my guard until then. I guaranteed for you. Cool, isn’t it?”

Impatiently, Harry grabbed Draco’s arm and unceremoniously forced him up to his feet.

“C’mon!”

That was a direct command, and Draco didn’t stand a chance of rejecting it. Like a beaten dog obeying his master, he followed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They Apparated in the front garden of Harry’s cottage. Shaken by their hastened departure and the discomfort of their way of travel, they remained motionless where they had landed, still holding onto each other’s arms.

It was amazingly quiet. After the racket at the Ministry, the sudden, peaceful silence hurt Draco’s ears, as paradox as that was. Nothing could be heard except a few crickets chirping and the occasional movement of one of the chicks in the nearby henhouse. What time was it? Draco had lost all sense of time. Slowly he raised his head, looking up at the night sky. He held his breath in wonder at the beauty of the sight. It was pitch black above him, but thousands of tiny dots were glittering, some of them sparkling more brightly than others. Draco sighed, taking the pure, fresh air of the countryside in deeply. He hadn’t known how much he had missed all that.

Grinning, he looked around him, absorbing the quiet surroundings by the flickering candle at the front porch. Everything seemed so normal, so peaceful, so… Draco was lost for words, and instinctively he turned around towards Harry.

“Welcome home,” Harry whispered with a shy smile on his lips.

Home… Now how good did that sound? It was an instinctive reaction, but before Draco could bend down and kiss Harry, the hands holding him were drawn away.

“Listen.” Harry’s self-controlled voice was like a bucket of ice water, poured over Draco’s flushed head. Draco pressed his lips together to prevent a scream of disappointment.

“It’s late, and we are done. We badly need some rest. I suggest that… I’ve seen there’s still a light on in the twin’s cottage, so I will just rush over and tell them that everything’s all right, ok? In the meantime, you can take a shower and go to bed, ok?”

WHAT?

Draco’s nostrils flared with anger, but he replied just as controlled, “That seems to be a good idea.”

His hot fury lessened the moment Harry touched his cheek gently. “I won’t be long, I promise.” The shy smile was back on his face. “I can’t wait to take you into my arms.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The shower really had been a good idea. The warm, constant flow pouring down on him helped Draco come back to his senses. It was as if the water was washing the stress off and took it down along his body to vanish in the drain.

Feeling like he’d been born anew, Draco enjoyed putting on a spotless white, clean T-shirt and boxers. It would be wonderful now to snuggle up in bed, their bed!

But before he gave in to his longing for comfort, he cleaned the shower, albeit not thoroughly. Then he laid out a T-Shirt and boxers for Harry. He grinned, satisfied. The sooner Harry found everything he needed when he returned, the sooner he would join Draco.

It felt like heaven when he crept under the sheets and stretched out.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco didn’t pretend to be asleep when Harry finally entered the bedroom. As soon as Harry reached the bed, Draco lifted the sheets, motioning him to join him.

There was that boyish, shy smile back on Harry’s face, so Draco took him into his arms as soon as Harry crept in under the sheets beside him. When Harry put his head on Draco’s shoulder, Draco felt, for the first time today, that he could actually relax. His heart skipped a beat when Harry’s hand sneaked up gently under Draco’s T-shirt and started to stroke his bare chest.

Oh, yes. It felt so good and so right, and he couldn’t get enough of the touch. He liked Harry’s head on his shoulder, close to Draco’s face, Harry’s hair tickling his nose when he moved, his breathing against his throat, their breathing simultaneously. Draco had started to stroke Harry’s hair, and for the hundredth time wondered how anybody could have such thick hair. Harry seemed to like his caress; after a hearty yawn, he moved closer to Draco.

It didn’t take long; Draco couldn’t help it. Blood was pouring rapidly into his loins, and his member twitched expectantly. Of course, he hadn’t even tried to prevent it. Actually, he hadn’t thought of anything else waiting for Harry. His member twitched again, now at full size.

Harry would be his tonight. He had said that he was ready.

The muscles on Draco’s thighs tightened when Harry’s hand moved slowly up and down his chest, caressing his nipples, probing his ribcage. Draco’s excitement increased when Harry’s hand moved slowly downwards, then came to a halt at his bellybutton, moving one fingertip leisurely around and around.

Draco’s heart was beating in his throat with anticipation. He wanted to groan loudly, show his expectation openly, but then thought better of it. With all his might he restrained himself and waited for Harry to continue.

And waited.

When Harry’s hand didn’t move on, Draco pushed up his hips invitingly. His penis jolted when his over-sensitive glans scratched the fabric of his boxers.

No reaction from Harry. His hand weighed heavily on Draco’s belly.

Getting impatient, Draco first stroked, then tugged on Harry’s hair. Holding his breath, he forced himself to wait once more.

Still no reaction.

Draco tugged harder.

Harry’s hand still rested on Draco’s belly.

That -- that simply couldn’t be!

Draco nudged Harry’s head with his shoulder.

Draco wasn’t mistaken.

Harry was deep asleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The aggressive frustration spreading through Draco’s body hurt more than his swollen penis, throbbing with unfulfilled need. Draco wanted to shout, rave, and howl. He wanted to shake Harry, wanted to show him he couldn’t do that, not now, not tonight. Draco wanted, he needed to make him his tonight. Once more, he was rejected.

Harry kept on breathing evenly, his head weighing heavily on Draco’s shoulder.

Not now, not tonight.

Harry murmured something, then sighed and, moving one leg in between Draco’s, his hand left Draco’s stomach and slid at a maddening slow pace up over his chest to his shoulder to enclose Draco’s neck, gently groping his skin before relaxing and coming to a halt once more.

Draco swallowed, hard.

There wouldn’t be any sex tonight.

Fierce fury pierced his stomach. There wouldn’t be any sex, indeed. Draco hated to accept the fact.

He had waited for Harry. I can’t wait to take you into my arms. He had taken Harry’s last words as a promise. I’m ready. Draco hadn’t forgotten those words, spoken what seemed to be ages ago, too. And after all Draco had been through, he had been convinced he deserved a little fun tonight.

But instead of hot, satisfying sex, Draco held a trusting pet in his arms! Where was the tough Gryffindor, the efficient Head of the Law Enforcement Squad? Where was the hero who had saved the Wizarding world? Where was the daring lover? Oh, sure, the competent wizard was there whenever somebody required his support. Unless that somebody was Draco Malfoy. For Perfect Potter surely had missed Draco’s needs tonight!

Trying to get his rage under control, Draco gritted his teeth and stared at the ceiling, seeing nothing.

He had wanted him so badly tonight.

I’m ready.

He hadn’t thought of anything else but making him his at last.

I won’t be long. I can’t wait to take you into my arms.

Resignedly, Draco closed his eyes.

He had to accept it.

After what seemed to be an endless amount of time consisting of fruitless attempts at conscious breathing, Draco found out it helped to match his intakes of breath with Harry’s. It was then that he noticed he could feel the constant beat of Harry’s heart faintly against his chest.

In spite of himself, Draco had to smile.

Hesitantly, he allowed himself to accept the irresistible warmth passing from Harry’s body. Subconsciously, Draco’s fingers started to pat Harry’s hair again. Take you into my arms. Draco’s smile intensified, and protectively, he slung his arms around the sleeping Harry.

A strange feeling, a mixture of happy contentment and deep satisfaction, spread through his system, enfolding him like a cosy, warm blanket on a cold winter’s night.

Before Draco drifted off to sleep at last, he was sure that feeling was more intense than any orgasm could ever be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Suck it. C’mon, slut, suck it.

The men were holding him; he couldn’t escape.

He tried to wriggle out of the tight hold, he didn’t want to be raped, he didn’t want to feel any more pain, he…

You are a disgrace. You are no son of mine.

Father’s face loomed out in the darkness; his features were stern, forbidding.

I didn’t raise a sissy, pull yourself together; what are you, a cry baby?

But Draco didn’t let loose of his teddy; no, he wouldn’t, ever. The teddy was his, the only friend he had that was smiling at him, regardless of what he did, regardless of what he looked like, regardless of how weak he was, regardless that he couldn’t hold his bladder at nights. The teddy was his friend, and he wouldn’t let go of him, he wouldn’t give it up. Never.

Mummy loves her little dragon boy; she will take care of you, cute, little dragon baby, mummy’s little dragon boy.

Without doubt his mummy was the most beautiful lady in the whole world. And each time she smiled at him, Draco’s heart leapt with joy.

One lash with the cane for sissy behaviour, one lash for the tears, one lash for any further movement.

Draco shrieked.

One more sound, and it’s one lash for your embarrassing, bourgeoisie mother. And an extra lash if she cries.

Oh, no.

NO!

Please, mummy, smile at me. Please, take care of me. You promised. I swear I’ll be good. I swear I won’t cry. But, please, smile at me again. And please, please tell me that I’m your little dragon boy again. I will be good. I swear.

Please, mummy, touch me. Just once. Hug me like you did before. Father won’t know. I won’t tell. I swear I won’t tell. I’ll give anything for a hug, just one hug. Please? Have my teddy. Here, you can have it, but just please, one hug?

Please?

PLEASE!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Draco!”

Little kisses rained down on his face. Oh yes, please, hold your dragon baby, mummy.

“Draco!!!”

“Mummy?”

Oh no! He wasn’t allowed to call her that name…

“Draco, darling, for Merlin’s sake, wake up. WAKE UP!”

Draco didn’t want to wake up. He wanted his mummy. He wanted to be told that all would be well, and mummy would always love him and take care of him, and Father wouldn’t catch them, and…

“Wake up! Draco! Damn! I’m freaking out… Shit! -- I COMMAND YOU TO WAKE UP. NOW!”

Draco resigned. He couldn’t resist a command. He wasn’t allowed to resist any command.

Helplessly, he had to give in, as usual.

And mummy had lied.

She hadn’t taken care of him.

Draco opened his eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Draco?”

It took Draco some time to recognize Harry’s worried face in front of him.

“Draco!”

Draco’s shoulders hurt. Why was Harry shaking him like a maniac? It HURT!

“Thanks to Merlin, you’re awake!”

Congrats on that very smart realization! What else could Draco be other than wide awake, staring into Harry’s eyes? 100 points to…

Draco was enfolded in strong arms, taking him up from his safe, comfortable position off the bed by an embrace that was almost suffocating him.

“Draco…”

Draco definitely couldn’t breathe any more. It was too tight.

He sensed the touch of Harry’s lips on his face before his kisses actually rained down on him. Too much. Too tight.

Too much!

It didn’t take much strength to push Harry away. Just a pointed punch into his chest, taking his breath away, and Harry slumped backwards onto the bed. Draco didn’t care about the yelp of pain. As fast as he could he scrambled out of bed, stumbling over his own feet as he headed towards the open windows, trying to get as much distance between himself and the bed. Clutching the window sill, he poked his head out.

He needed air. He needed to breathe freely. He had to get rid of that foul taste in his mouth.

“Draco?”

Couldn’t he be left alone, just for once? Draco inhaled more deeply. Fresh air, that was all he needed now.

“Draco, are you all right?”

Fuck! He couldn’t grab a single, coherent thought if Harry kept on with his nerve-racking babble. Plus he would be very grateful if Harry stopped repeating his name over and over again.

“Draco, I’m worried…”

He couldn’t stand the sudden touch of Harry’s hand on his shoulder. He simply couldn’t stand anybody’s touch right now! Draco jerked around, fists flying widely. He didn’t know where he had hit Harry, but he was satisfied Harry was now somewhere down on the floor instead of standing close to him, demanding replies in conversations Draco didn’t care to have.

“Draco, please, talk to me!”

Why couldn’t Harry just keep his mouth shut? He should care about himself, writhering on the floor, clutching his middle. But of course Harry had to keep on.

“Draco?”

“WHAT?” Draco bellowed.

“Please, Draco. You had a nightmare.” The silly idiot tried to get to his feet, but failed. “You look terrible, you…”

Draco had enough. A good aimed kick, and the voice stopped. Breathing heavily, Draco turned around towards the window again.

“Please talk to me.” Harry’s low voice sounded strained.

Draco sighed resignedly. Harry wouldn’t stop. He would keep getting on his nerves until he got what he wanted. He was like that. Without seeing anything, Draco stared out of the window. “Why can’t you just leave me alone? Just for once?”

Silence.

Then Draco heard some movement behind him. Harry tried to get into a sitting position, no doubt.
“Because I care for you.”

Hah! And that entitled Harry to keep on bugging Draco? Because Harry cared for him? If Harry really cared for him, he would grant him some peace! Draco snorted loudly.

“Because I love you.”

“Love?” Draco couldn’t control a hysterical laughter.

Slowly he turned around. Harry was indeed sitting on the floor, legs crossed, arms clutching his middle. Eyes reduced to slits, Draco let his gaze move appraisingly over Harry’s body.

Face upturned, Harry nodded vehemently.

A slow, malicious smile made Draco’s lips curl. “Then prove it.”

With satisfaction Draco saw Harry’s eyes widen with surprise. His mouth opened, but no words came out. Good.

“Prove your love for me,” Draco repeated coolly, watching Harry’s face closely.

Harry didn’t know how to react; Draco could see his eyes blink once or twice behind his glasses. Then Harry bit his lip quickly and opened his mouth again, but only to breathe audibly. His bewilderment was just too amusing. Then he spoke at last, albeit lowly.

“Draco?”

Draco didn’t care at all for the pleading expression of those huge, emerald eyes. He returned the intense gaze without any discernible reaction.

Harry swallowed, then pressed his lips together. He stared at Draco for what seemed to be an endless time. It was amazing to see his eyes changing. Suddenly Harry was appraising him just like Draco had done before.

Harry’s gaze didn’t waver when he inquired quietly, “How?”

Draco smirked broadly. At last, he was in charge. “Well,” he drawled, “you promised me something, remember?”

“What?” Harry’s voice didn’t show any emotion.

“You told me that you were ready,” Draco answered slyly.

At first, Draco could see Harry frowning slightly. Then realization dawned on Harry.

His face an unreadable mask, Harry scrambled up to his feet.

He undressed as he stalked towards the bed, throwing his clothes left and right to the floor. Unceremoniously, he plopped on the bed, tossed his glasses on the bedside table, stuffed a pillow under his backside and spread his legs wide.

“Can I have some lubricant, please?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco collapsed down on Harry’s body, shaking all over. A sob rose in his throat, and he didn’t have any strength left to hold it back.

What had Draco almost done? What, for Merlin’s sake, had he almost done?

Over and over again he relived in his mind how he had reacted to Harry’s evident surrender. There had been just one notion, one goal. Draco was in charge, and at last, after waiting for so long, he would claim Harry as his.

Harry shifted slightly, and Draco hastened to roll off his body. Tears were forming in his eyes, and he swallowed hard to force back the overwhelming urge to bawl. Despondently, Draco peered through his fringe at the immobile form beside him.

Harry’s face was flushed, but expressionless. Breathing heavily, he was fixating on the ceiling.

Tears were tumbling down, but Draco wasn’t aware of them.

What had he almost done?

He had been hard immediately. Draco had to own him now, and he had dashed over to the bedside table to get the jar of lubricant out. In his frenzy he had pulled too vehemently; the drawer broke apart with a crash when it hit the ground. But that hadn’t been important, not important at all.

He had hastily smeared a sufficient amount of lube on both of them; half of the jar, in fact. There wouldn’t be any foreplay; there wasn’t any time for that. Draco had to make him his.

Shaking with anticipation, Draco had leaned down, knowing that any minute now he would adjust himself and then…

He had looked down into Harry’s impassive face.

Realization of what he almost had let himself do hit him like a blow.

He felt sick.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

What had he almost done?

Still Harry hadn’t moved. And his eyes were still staring unblinkingly at the ceiling.

Draco wanted to touch Harry, stroke him, ask his forgiveness, beg for his forgiveness. He couldn’t do it. Reality was cruel when it hit with its truth.

He had messed it up. It was over. Everything was over. There was nothing left for him to do or say. There was no way to make up what he had done. Never again.

Draco turned on his stomach and buried his head in one of the pillows. He didn’t want to see anything any more, and above all, he would never be able to look into Harry’s face again.

Father had been right, all along. Draco had always been a failure, and he would never be anything other than a failure.

Tears were flowing more easily now, and Draco simply gave in. What bloody idiot had ever asserted that crying had a cleansing effect? His shoulders shook violently, he had problems getting air, his stomach cramped, his face swelled, and his heart felt as if it was going to crack any minute. It hurt, crying hurt, and it felt as if the flow would never stop again.

But eventually, it did. Draco didn’t have any idea how long it took, but after awhile there just weren’t any tears left. He could even get his breathing back under control. It was difficult, and he had to inhale deeply more than a few times, but at last he almost felt normal again.

Heart pounding, he raised his head hesitantly from his cover.

Harry was watching him. He was lying on his side, propped up on his crooked elbow. He had put on his specs again, and it was difficult to read the expression in his eyes behind the reflecting glass. Draco couldn’t tell if he was furious, hurt, or disgusted.

“Finished?” Harry’s indifferent tone was like a punch into Draco’s stomach. But he deserved it.

“Harry…” Draco could only snivel.

It wasn’t encouraging at all to see Harry raise an eyebrow.

“I’m so sorry,” Draco managed to choke out. When Harry’s eyebrow rose even higher, Draco lost control again. He couldn’t stand looking into Harry’s uncaring face for one minute longer. Bawling like a baby, he hid his head once more in the pillow.

“Stop it. It’s enough,” Harry’s grim command did it. The new flow of tears dried up at once, but Draco couldn’t get himself to turn and face Harry again. He lay still, hoping Harry would say something, anything. Draco would be glad if Harry shouted at him, hit him, or stunned him with all kinds of horrific curses. If he just did something, then Draco would have a chance to react, and maybe he could make him see how much he regretted what he almost had done.

“It’s nice to hear you’re sorry.”

That was the chance Draco had been hoping for, and, emerging from the depths of his pillow, he blurted out, “I really am. Harry, please, believe me. I didn’t want to -- I never meant -- I -- never…” Unnerved by the detached look on Harry’s face, Draco’s voice trailed away. There. He really had done it. It was over. Tears threatened in his eyes again.

“Ah, stop it, Draco.” There was no sympathy in Harry’s tone. Draco gulped hard.

Sissy, pull yourself together; what are you, a cry baby? One lash for the tears, one lash for any movement.

Numbness was spreading through his excited system. He knew it. Any minute now, Harry was throwing him out of his home, kicking him out of his life. He was done.

“Stop your damn self-pity,“ Harry’s low voice, cold as ice, cut into Draco’s soul like a sharp knife. Without forewarning, Harry sat up and crossed his legs. Draco cringed when he saw Harry wince as he sat, then adjusted his position more carefully. Draco had hurt him; oh Merlin, he definitely had hurt Harry.

“You think you are clever, do you? You think your plan worked out all right?” Harry’s accusation came out of the blue. Clever? Plan? What did he mean? Draco’s stomach cramped with sudden fear. Feeling thoroughly uncomfortable, Draco hastened to sit up. Nervously folding his hands in his lap, he waited for Harry to continue.

“You wanted proof? Proof of my love? For Merlin’s sake, sometimes I think you don’t even know what love is!” Harry spat out.

At last Draco could see emotion behind the glasses. The green eyes were dark with unconcealed fury, and Draco wasn’t sure if he was happy about that.

“Well, I have to disappoint you,” Harry’s lips curled up into a sneer. “Your plan didn’t work out. You can’t scare me off.”

Still at a total loss what Harry meant, Draco started to knead his hands. He found it safer to cast his eyes down to inspect the wild movement of his hands.

“You think if you treat me like shit, I will return you the favour? Treat you like shit? That’s what you want, do you?” The indifference was gone for good. Draco sensed that Harry had difficulties keep his anger out of his voice. “Just to make sure that you’ve been right all along, right? Want me to assure you that you are nothing like scum? YOU MAKE ME SICK!”

Harry jumped out of bed, dashed towards the windows and thrust one of the curtains aside. Head still cowered, Draco watched his every move without daring to breathe loudly.

With a jolt, Harry tore down the curtain off of its hinges and threw it carelessly out of the window. Draco was convinced Harry wasn’t aware of what he was doing.

Poking his head outside the window, gasping for air, just like Draco had done before, Harry shook his head.

“It’s not that simple, I’m afraid,” Draco saw the muscles of Harry’s shoulders tense as he grabbed the window sill. Draco had found it difficult to understand Harry’s low voice. “I simply won’t allow you destroy everything that’s really important. I won’t let you escape that easily.”

Turning around with a jerk, Harry started to roam restlessly through the room, kicking his boxers and T-shirt aside, picking his wand up from the bed side table. Draco got nervous when Harry started fingering it aimlessly.

“What you did right now; what you tried --“

“I’m so sorry, Harry, I really am,” Draco had to break in. It was time to speak the truth. “It’s -- I really tried hard, but I’m nothing but -- I know I’m not worthy of your -- consideration,” Draco mumbled, eyes cast down again.

“I said, stop your self-pity!” Harry bellowed. His wand produced a hollow, almost protesting sound when Harry tossed it carelessly to the ground. The next second Harry was kneeling in front of the bed and grabbed Draco’s hands into a tight grip.

“Draco. What you did just now -- I can understand.” Harry’s insistent voice made Draco look up. He should have known he would have to endure the stare of those intense, incredible green eyes.

“Draco, I’m well aware of what you went through. It makes me sick --,” Harry broke off to inhale deeply. Then he laughed humourlessly. “‘Sick’ isn’t at all the word to describe what I feel about it,” Draco’s hands were squeezed, hard. “There’s so much I want to tell you… but not now.” Harry’s expression turned serious.

“You tried to use me as a vessel. I can understand that. If it helped you in any way, it’s okay with me.”

Draco tried to say something, but was interrupted.

“No further apologies. You hear me?” Draco nodded slowly. Harry went on, squeezing Draco’s hands once more. “But one thing should be clear. I’m crazy about you, but not crazy enough to be your punching ball. Any other further assault along that line, and you will have to expect a severe reaction. Is that understood?”

Draco could only nod faintly in response.

He was disappointed when Harry let go of his hands and got up. Anxiously his eyes followed Harry, who was once more moving towards the windows.

“You wanted proof of my love?” Harry’s inquiry was rhetoric; Draco knew it when Harry leaned on the window sill and faced him appraisingly.

“Sorry, but I had to get some distance between us to continue…” Harry’s smile was sad. Instantly, Draco’s heart started to pound loudly in his chest.

“You see,” Harry went on with that same sad smile on his face, “for me, real love means being able to let loose.”

Draco’s heart stopped beating; at least it felt like it. He had to swallow to stop himself from howling. Let loose. What was Harry trying to tell him? What? For Merlin’s sake, what???

“Draco, I’ve got to admit that I’m not perfect.” Draco hated Harry’s little laugh.

“Not at all...” Harry sighed, and Draco held his breath to catch everything that was to follow.

“The bond, that bloody contract, is without doubt cruel, inhuman, and wretched. Believe me when I say that I worked hard to find a way to break it.” Again Harry laughed, but through tightly pressed lips.

“Draco, I have to admit that a part of me relished it,” Now it was Harry’s turn to cast his eyes down. “All I ever wanted… A partner never leaving me…” Draco’s heart almost exploded; it was beating too fast.

“But it’s not fair, not fair to you!” Harry exclaimed, searching Draco’s eyes imploringly.

“You know I did a lot of thinking in Pickles’s cellar. Possessio Sempra. Everlasting possession. I think I found -- no, I’m sure I found a way out.” Harry nodded to stress his point. Draco could only swallow in response; he was too excited to reply anything.

“I ‘bought’ you, right?” Harry fired his words out rapidly. “I offered a prize, and Pickles agreed. It has to be as simple as that. Offer and acceptance. Draco, you just have to offer me a prize, and I will accept it. I know it sounds weird, idiotic, but -- but let’s give it a try. And what’s important, you’ve got to mean it. You have to be determined to own yourself. Give me an offer, and I will sell you to yourself. Then you will be the Owner, forever; Possessio Sempra. It doesn’t matter then that the contract cannot be destroyed, because you will own it. Okay? Okay?” Harry seemed to be frantic waiting for Draco’s reaction.

Freedom? Draco could only stare.

Possessio Sempra? He was to be the solely owner of his soul, forever?

His heart sank. “But I don’t own anything. There’s nothing I have to offer.“

Harry shrugged and smiled, “But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I have to agree to whatever you offer me. We could try it with a strand of hair, perhaps? Though I don’t want to be responsible for destroying your cute hairstyle.” His smile intensified.

Draco didn’t pay any attention; he was too excited. He thought long and hard. There was something that he called his own…

As fast as he could, he hastened out.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Draco returned with his little trunk, Harry was sitting cross-legged on the bed, the contract in front of him.

“I almost forgot all about it,“ Draco placed the box in front of Harry. “It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got,” he added pointedly.

Harry wanted to argue, but Draco cut him short, determined, “It’s worth nothing, but it means a lot to me. So I can offer you something valuable. Will you accept it?”

Harry nodded without hesitance, “I will.“

“Bargain done?”

“Bargain done.“

After a firm handshake, they exchanged trunk and contract with solemn faces, too excited to risk a hopeful smile at each other.

The parchment in Draco’s hand shook a little, rapidly changed colour into a burning red, then to dirty white again. It went still and fitted snugly in his fist. Draco hastily unrolled it. Without doubt, it read “Draco Malfoy” as the owner.

“I think we did it!” Harry exclaimed, “But we will still need final proof. - Are you ready?”

Smiling dreamily, Draco replied, “Yes.”

Watching him closely, Harry said slowly, “Draco, I command you to sit down and not leave the room.”

Like a sleepwalker, Draco toddled over to the bedroom door, and, with a deep intake of breath, stepped through and shut the door behind him with a loud bang.

Outside, panting heavily, he instinctively held his waist, bracing himself for the well known, all consuming pain to start.

It never came.

As fast as he could, Draco ran down the steps, through the hallway, and through the destroyed living room out into the garden.

The warm midday sun was shining brightly on his face.

Draco smiled.

He was free.