Harry Potter and The Secret Keeper (BP2)
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Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
44
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32,319
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209
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
44
Views:
32,319
Reviews:
209
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
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.
Double-Edged Blade
Chapter Number/Total: 36/44
Chapter Title: Double-Edged Blade
Words: 2334 Words
Harry wrapped his arms around Draco, still feeling weak and shaky. "Hold me, please," he whispered, his eyes falling shut again.
"Oh, yes," Draco whispered, climbing onto the bed with Harry and pulling him close against his own body. He was still trembling from the experience and he looked at Harry with undisguised awe.
"I can't describe the way you make me feel, Draco," Harry said quietly. "I've never felt so in love with anyone in my life; I've never felt this way ever, not even close. It's almost terrifying."
"Do you understand now?" Draco asked quietly. "Understand why they are wrong about me not choosing this? Can you see how much I wanted you?"
Harry nodded. "I'm sorry it took me so long," he whispered.
"Now is good," Draco said. "Although that would have been fantastic in the Slytherin dungeons, too." He smirked and waggled his eyebrows. Then he was serious for a moment. "You know I wouldn't actually hurt you."
Harry smiled. "Of course," he said. "Draco Malfoy, you are the sexiest man to ever walk the earth; I think that even with a knife pressed to my throat." He chuckled a bit.
Draco grinned and then Summoned the knife from the floor, placing the blade against his own throat, pressing in and sliding it across. He watched Harry's eyes widen at the reckless act but kept grinning as the knife left not a mark on his skin.
Harry let out a sigh of relief as he took in the fact that nothing happened to Draco's skin. "I should have known," he said, shaking his head. "You'd never want to mark this perfection," he joked, tilting his head up to expose his throat again.
Draco grinned and ran that sharp edge along Harry's skin. It hurt but didn't cut. "It's charmed not to cut living flesh," Draco explained, "that's why it could still cut the shirt."
"Ow!" Harry yelped as Draco 'cut' him. "How did you drag that across your own throat?"
Draco shrugged. "I am used to physical pain. Had to learn to be."
Harry frowned at that, wondering if perhaps he should ... "Draco..." he began slowly, "what did your father... do to you? Why are you so afraid of him? You don't have to answer if you don't want to; it's just, you reacted so ... badly when the paper said he'd escaped Azkaban."
Draco studied the knife in his hand for a moment, letting the light glint off the cruel looking blade. "He's a lot like this blade actually, very pretty and very painful. He doesn't like to leave marks, especially where they can be seen."
Harry stared at Draco's face, still frowning. "Did he - what did he hurt you for?"
"My father has pretty exacting standards, of anyone around him," Draco said in a kind of far-away voice. "His only son more than anyone. Displeasing him in any way was met with punishment. Pleasing him was rewarded. There was a time I would have done ... anything, or so it seemed ... to please him."
"I always thought - I always thought he gave you everything you wanted," Harry said quietly. "You never acted like anything was wrong."
"He did give me what I wanted," Draco sighed, "when I pleased him. He taught me nothing was free. You want something, you earn it. Like those brooms..." The blond stopped suddenly, his breath catching.
Harry's eyes widened. "What?" he whispered, holding Draco close. He was almost afraid to hear it.
"I showed him something I had learnt in school," he whispered. "Something I knew would please him."
Harry furrowed his brow. "Something you learnt in school...?" he whispered. He felt like saying it louder might make it worse somehow.
"Well, I lied a bit earlier to you about how old I was, but remember that Truth or Dare game we talked about?" Draco asked.
Harry's heart began pounding as he nodded slowly. "Yes."
"I did say I was precocious, remember?" Draco said, his face flushing again.
Harry simply stared, eyes wide and breathing shallow.
Draco looked away from him, staring anywhere but at Harry. He was still holding the knife and pressing it against his skin as he talked.
"He didn't, Draco," Harry whispered. "Please say he didn't."
Draco's voice was hard. "He didn't fuck me if that is what you are asking. You really were the first, and only, cock in my arse."
Harry's eyes filled with tears and he shut them tightly. "Oh, my - I didn't know," he gasped. "Oh, God, I didn't know." He felt like he was going to throw up. New, intense hatred for Lucius Malfoy flared up inside him.
Draco rolled away from Harry, sitting up on the edge of the bed with his back to him and playing with the knife in his hand. He ran the blade up the centre line of his body, watching it's progress and gritting his teeth.
Harry opened his eyes and sat up too. "Draco, what are you doing?" he asked, still feeling sick.
"He didn't force me to do it," Draco whispered. "He was very pleased with me. I had only asked for one broom, but he gave the whole team brooms. That's how I learnt it paid to please him."
"You were fucking twelve!" Harry shouted. "Don't you dare blame yourself!" Tears escaped his eyes and his hands shook. He moved closer and saw what Draco was doing and wrenched the knife from his hands.
Draco was startled when Harry took the knife away. He flinched and stood up, striding across the room and grabbing his robe. He'd turned his back to Harry because he couldn't face him, and said, "You see, that's the hell of it, isn't it? Severus was right. I am a whore."
"Draco, please don't leave," Harry said, watching him. "Please don't."
Draco sighed, holding his robe in his hand and trembling, his back still to Harry. He had no idea what to do now. "You can't want me now," Draco said. "Now that you know. I won't blame you."
Harry let out a gasping sob and crawled from the bed quickly. He came up behind Draco and wrapped his arms very tightly around him. "I'll always want you. I don't think any less of you because of this. It only makes me realise how much a monster your father is. How much he doesn't deserve to live. I'll never leave you. And you're not a whore; you're not. I love you, I swear I do."
Draco froze when Harry touched him, unable to move either to pull away or to return his embrace. "Harry, don't you understand? I kept doing it, to get what I wanted. Right up until you sent him to Azkaban. I didn't just use it to stop the beatings, I used it to get things I wanted."
Harry stilled. He didn't know what to say. He stared blankly at nothing. "Why?" he asked, voice breaking. He didn't let go of Draco though; he couldn't.
"Why not? It made everything easier. He seemed happy with me then," Draco whispered. "And I wanted him to be happy with me. To approve of me."
Silent tears ran down Harry’s cheeks as he held Draco. "He's your father," he whispered. This was all too much; so much to take in.
"I wasn't the only one," Draco said. "It's not that unusual, you know. I wasn't Pansy's first, her father was."
Harry let go of Draco and stumbled back from him, his face nearly green. He bent over, hands on his knees and spat on the floor, an awful taste in his mouth. "That's - that's -" He couldn't even find the words.
"Disgusting," Draco snorted, "I know. Gryffindor sensibilities." He shook his head and put the robe on, belting it, still not facing the other man.
Harry looked up at Draco. "Please don't tell me you think that's okay," he said weakly. "That it's okay for someone who's supposed to protect you to do that to you. Please, Draco."
Draco shuddered. "Who is supposed to protect us?" Draco asked. "Not my father or hers. Their job was to prepare us to serve their Master. Remember?"
Harry finally vomited, heaving up his breakfast. He fell back and sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, breaking out in a cold sweat.
Draco's skin crawled when he heard Harry be sick like that, knowing he had caused it. He knew how disgusting he was -- and now Harry knew too. As long as his father had been in prison, he had been able to avoid thinking about any of this. To pretend he was the kind of person Harry wanted him to be. So many times Harry had said he didn't want to know how Draco had got so good at the things he liked. Now he had the answer and he was right: he didn't want to know.
"Don't leave this room," Harry said weakly, but it was all he could manage as his stomach turned again. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.
Draco hissed as the compulsion took over. He trembled. What would Harry do to him now that he knew? He had no idea. And that frightened him more than anything.
Harry swallowed and took deep, even breaths, trying to clear his head. "Just sit on the bed, love," he said, using the word love on purpose.
Draco's body moved without his even thinking. He sat down on the bed and bowed is head, finding it easier to hide behind his hair than have Harry look at him.
Harry Summoned his wand and did a half-arsed Cleaning Charm on the mess on the floor and got shakily to his feet to sit on the bed too. "It is disgusting," he said quietly. "It's fucking disgusting as hell, but you're not and Pansy's not or whoever the fuck else had to do what you both did. What's disgusting is that no matter how it happened or why it did, you were fucking children and should have never been taught that that's what you'd have to do to fucking get things. It makes me sick to know that you had your mouth on that bastard, but not because you did it; because he allowed it. He didn't tell you no, and fuck what you say, Draco, if you tell me it was your fault. You didn't just think that for no fucking reason. It was put in your head."
Draco kept his face hidden behind that veil of blond hair, his body shaking again as Harry spoke. He wasn't sure if he believed what Harry said. It all sounded very ... Gryffindor. He couldn't explain to Harry that he had wanted to please his father so much that he had enjoyed doing it. He had got good at it and been proud of that. That the only time his father ever made him feel like he loved him was after he did it.
Harry was silent and staring for a few moments. "If you still want to leave, you can, but I don't want you to," he said finally. "You can't leave the house, though."
Draco sat still, thinking. He whispered so low that it was barely audible, "Never said I wanted to leave."
Harry turned his head and looked at Draco before scooting more onto the bed and laying back against the pillows. "Then don't, and come here, please," he said, opening his arms.
Draco looked sideways through his hair at Harry, laying naked with his arms open. He sobbed at the sight. The most beautiful thing he had ever seen and he was terrified. He felt frozen to the spot.
Harry closed his eyes. "Draco, please," he whispered.
Tears ran down his cheeks now as Draco took a big breath and crawled up the bed until he hovered beside the other man.
Harry opened his eyes and stared at Draco. "I love you as much as I did before," he said quietly. "I promise."
"You c-can't," Draco stammered, still unable to close the short distance between them.
"Don’t doubt me, Draco," Harry said, using Draco's own words. "Please, don't doubt me."
Draco shuddered and allowed himself to fall to the bed next to Harry, burying his face against his side.
Harry let out a quiet sigh of relief and put an arm around Draco. "I love you," he whispered. "I know it was hard to tell me that, but I'm - well, I don't know if I'm glad that you did, but I'm glad that you want me to know everything about you."
Draco just kept crying, not having any idea what to say to that. He hadn't even considered the idea that he would tell Harry, let alone that he would accept him afterwards. It was horrendous and it was a relief.
"Nothing can pull us apart right?" Harry asked. "Nothing can take this away from us."
Draco shut his eyes, willing himself to calm down and stop crying. He took several shaky breaths and then pushed himself up a bit so he could see Harry's face. "I am yours," he whispered.
"Very mine," Harry said. "And no one else's."
Draco lay his head on Harry's chest and curled his body against the other man's side. He could hear Harry's heartbeat against his face.
Harry still felt very confused about how Draco felt about his father, so he didn't tell him that he was going to kill him, but he was. If he ever saw that man again, he was going to kill him and he knew it. He could feel it in his fingertips.
Draco allowed himself to relax slowly, releasing the tension in his body as he molded to Harry's. He felt safe.
Harry lay quiet, stroking Draco's back. He tried to think calming thoughts, hoping to sooth Draco with the strange connection he had with his magic.
Chapter Title: Double-Edged Blade
Words: 2334 Words
Harry wrapped his arms around Draco, still feeling weak and shaky. "Hold me, please," he whispered, his eyes falling shut again.
"Oh, yes," Draco whispered, climbing onto the bed with Harry and pulling him close against his own body. He was still trembling from the experience and he looked at Harry with undisguised awe.
"I can't describe the way you make me feel, Draco," Harry said quietly. "I've never felt so in love with anyone in my life; I've never felt this way ever, not even close. It's almost terrifying."
"Do you understand now?" Draco asked quietly. "Understand why they are wrong about me not choosing this? Can you see how much I wanted you?"
Harry nodded. "I'm sorry it took me so long," he whispered.
"Now is good," Draco said. "Although that would have been fantastic in the Slytherin dungeons, too." He smirked and waggled his eyebrows. Then he was serious for a moment. "You know I wouldn't actually hurt you."
Harry smiled. "Of course," he said. "Draco Malfoy, you are the sexiest man to ever walk the earth; I think that even with a knife pressed to my throat." He chuckled a bit.
Draco grinned and then Summoned the knife from the floor, placing the blade against his own throat, pressing in and sliding it across. He watched Harry's eyes widen at the reckless act but kept grinning as the knife left not a mark on his skin.
Harry let out a sigh of relief as he took in the fact that nothing happened to Draco's skin. "I should have known," he said, shaking his head. "You'd never want to mark this perfection," he joked, tilting his head up to expose his throat again.
Draco grinned and ran that sharp edge along Harry's skin. It hurt but didn't cut. "It's charmed not to cut living flesh," Draco explained, "that's why it could still cut the shirt."
"Ow!" Harry yelped as Draco 'cut' him. "How did you drag that across your own throat?"
Draco shrugged. "I am used to physical pain. Had to learn to be."
Harry frowned at that, wondering if perhaps he should ... "Draco..." he began slowly, "what did your father... do to you? Why are you so afraid of him? You don't have to answer if you don't want to; it's just, you reacted so ... badly when the paper said he'd escaped Azkaban."
Draco studied the knife in his hand for a moment, letting the light glint off the cruel looking blade. "He's a lot like this blade actually, very pretty and very painful. He doesn't like to leave marks, especially where they can be seen."
Harry stared at Draco's face, still frowning. "Did he - what did he hurt you for?"
"My father has pretty exacting standards, of anyone around him," Draco said in a kind of far-away voice. "His only son more than anyone. Displeasing him in any way was met with punishment. Pleasing him was rewarded. There was a time I would have done ... anything, or so it seemed ... to please him."
"I always thought - I always thought he gave you everything you wanted," Harry said quietly. "You never acted like anything was wrong."
"He did give me what I wanted," Draco sighed, "when I pleased him. He taught me nothing was free. You want something, you earn it. Like those brooms..." The blond stopped suddenly, his breath catching.
Harry's eyes widened. "What?" he whispered, holding Draco close. He was almost afraid to hear it.
"I showed him something I had learnt in school," he whispered. "Something I knew would please him."
Harry furrowed his brow. "Something you learnt in school...?" he whispered. He felt like saying it louder might make it worse somehow.
"Well, I lied a bit earlier to you about how old I was, but remember that Truth or Dare game we talked about?" Draco asked.
Harry's heart began pounding as he nodded slowly. "Yes."
"I did say I was precocious, remember?" Draco said, his face flushing again.
Harry simply stared, eyes wide and breathing shallow.
Draco looked away from him, staring anywhere but at Harry. He was still holding the knife and pressing it against his skin as he talked.
"He didn't, Draco," Harry whispered. "Please say he didn't."
Draco's voice was hard. "He didn't fuck me if that is what you are asking. You really were the first, and only, cock in my arse."
Harry's eyes filled with tears and he shut them tightly. "Oh, my - I didn't know," he gasped. "Oh, God, I didn't know." He felt like he was going to throw up. New, intense hatred for Lucius Malfoy flared up inside him.
Draco rolled away from Harry, sitting up on the edge of the bed with his back to him and playing with the knife in his hand. He ran the blade up the centre line of his body, watching it's progress and gritting his teeth.
Harry opened his eyes and sat up too. "Draco, what are you doing?" he asked, still feeling sick.
"He didn't force me to do it," Draco whispered. "He was very pleased with me. I had only asked for one broom, but he gave the whole team brooms. That's how I learnt it paid to please him."
"You were fucking twelve!" Harry shouted. "Don't you dare blame yourself!" Tears escaped his eyes and his hands shook. He moved closer and saw what Draco was doing and wrenched the knife from his hands.
Draco was startled when Harry took the knife away. He flinched and stood up, striding across the room and grabbing his robe. He'd turned his back to Harry because he couldn't face him, and said, "You see, that's the hell of it, isn't it? Severus was right. I am a whore."
"Draco, please don't leave," Harry said, watching him. "Please don't."
Draco sighed, holding his robe in his hand and trembling, his back still to Harry. He had no idea what to do now. "You can't want me now," Draco said. "Now that you know. I won't blame you."
Harry let out a gasping sob and crawled from the bed quickly. He came up behind Draco and wrapped his arms very tightly around him. "I'll always want you. I don't think any less of you because of this. It only makes me realise how much a monster your father is. How much he doesn't deserve to live. I'll never leave you. And you're not a whore; you're not. I love you, I swear I do."
Draco froze when Harry touched him, unable to move either to pull away or to return his embrace. "Harry, don't you understand? I kept doing it, to get what I wanted. Right up until you sent him to Azkaban. I didn't just use it to stop the beatings, I used it to get things I wanted."
Harry stilled. He didn't know what to say. He stared blankly at nothing. "Why?" he asked, voice breaking. He didn't let go of Draco though; he couldn't.
"Why not? It made everything easier. He seemed happy with me then," Draco whispered. "And I wanted him to be happy with me. To approve of me."
Silent tears ran down Harry’s cheeks as he held Draco. "He's your father," he whispered. This was all too much; so much to take in.
"I wasn't the only one," Draco said. "It's not that unusual, you know. I wasn't Pansy's first, her father was."
Harry let go of Draco and stumbled back from him, his face nearly green. He bent over, hands on his knees and spat on the floor, an awful taste in his mouth. "That's - that's -" He couldn't even find the words.
"Disgusting," Draco snorted, "I know. Gryffindor sensibilities." He shook his head and put the robe on, belting it, still not facing the other man.
Harry looked up at Draco. "Please don't tell me you think that's okay," he said weakly. "That it's okay for someone who's supposed to protect you to do that to you. Please, Draco."
Draco shuddered. "Who is supposed to protect us?" Draco asked. "Not my father or hers. Their job was to prepare us to serve their Master. Remember?"
Harry finally vomited, heaving up his breakfast. He fell back and sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, breaking out in a cold sweat.
Draco's skin crawled when he heard Harry be sick like that, knowing he had caused it. He knew how disgusting he was -- and now Harry knew too. As long as his father had been in prison, he had been able to avoid thinking about any of this. To pretend he was the kind of person Harry wanted him to be. So many times Harry had said he didn't want to know how Draco had got so good at the things he liked. Now he had the answer and he was right: he didn't want to know.
"Don't leave this room," Harry said weakly, but it was all he could manage as his stomach turned again. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.
Draco hissed as the compulsion took over. He trembled. What would Harry do to him now that he knew? He had no idea. And that frightened him more than anything.
Harry swallowed and took deep, even breaths, trying to clear his head. "Just sit on the bed, love," he said, using the word love on purpose.
Draco's body moved without his even thinking. He sat down on the bed and bowed is head, finding it easier to hide behind his hair than have Harry look at him.
Harry Summoned his wand and did a half-arsed Cleaning Charm on the mess on the floor and got shakily to his feet to sit on the bed too. "It is disgusting," he said quietly. "It's fucking disgusting as hell, but you're not and Pansy's not or whoever the fuck else had to do what you both did. What's disgusting is that no matter how it happened or why it did, you were fucking children and should have never been taught that that's what you'd have to do to fucking get things. It makes me sick to know that you had your mouth on that bastard, but not because you did it; because he allowed it. He didn't tell you no, and fuck what you say, Draco, if you tell me it was your fault. You didn't just think that for no fucking reason. It was put in your head."
Draco kept his face hidden behind that veil of blond hair, his body shaking again as Harry spoke. He wasn't sure if he believed what Harry said. It all sounded very ... Gryffindor. He couldn't explain to Harry that he had wanted to please his father so much that he had enjoyed doing it. He had got good at it and been proud of that. That the only time his father ever made him feel like he loved him was after he did it.
Harry was silent and staring for a few moments. "If you still want to leave, you can, but I don't want you to," he said finally. "You can't leave the house, though."
Draco sat still, thinking. He whispered so low that it was barely audible, "Never said I wanted to leave."
Harry turned his head and looked at Draco before scooting more onto the bed and laying back against the pillows. "Then don't, and come here, please," he said, opening his arms.
Draco looked sideways through his hair at Harry, laying naked with his arms open. He sobbed at the sight. The most beautiful thing he had ever seen and he was terrified. He felt frozen to the spot.
Harry closed his eyes. "Draco, please," he whispered.
Tears ran down his cheeks now as Draco took a big breath and crawled up the bed until he hovered beside the other man.
Harry opened his eyes and stared at Draco. "I love you as much as I did before," he said quietly. "I promise."
"You c-can't," Draco stammered, still unable to close the short distance between them.
"Don’t doubt me, Draco," Harry said, using Draco's own words. "Please, don't doubt me."
Draco shuddered and allowed himself to fall to the bed next to Harry, burying his face against his side.
Harry let out a quiet sigh of relief and put an arm around Draco. "I love you," he whispered. "I know it was hard to tell me that, but I'm - well, I don't know if I'm glad that you did, but I'm glad that you want me to know everything about you."
Draco just kept crying, not having any idea what to say to that. He hadn't even considered the idea that he would tell Harry, let alone that he would accept him afterwards. It was horrendous and it was a relief.
"Nothing can pull us apart right?" Harry asked. "Nothing can take this away from us."
Draco shut his eyes, willing himself to calm down and stop crying. He took several shaky breaths and then pushed himself up a bit so he could see Harry's face. "I am yours," he whispered.
"Very mine," Harry said. "And no one else's."
Draco lay his head on Harry's chest and curled his body against the other man's side. He could hear Harry's heartbeat against his face.
Harry still felt very confused about how Draco felt about his father, so he didn't tell him that he was going to kill him, but he was. If he ever saw that man again, he was going to kill him and he knew it. He could feel it in his fingertips.
Draco allowed himself to relax slowly, releasing the tension in his body as he molded to Harry's. He felt safe.
Harry lay quiet, stroking Draco's back. He tried to think calming thoughts, hoping to sooth Draco with the strange connection he had with his magic.