Here & Now

Chapter Four

~ Flashback ~ August 1997~

Harry sits quietly, hands folded on his lap.

The pain is intense but he pushes it away angrily. Instead he chooses to concentrate on the fact that he feels embarrassingly naked dressed only in the low riding pyjama bottoms; whilst the medi-wizard pulls the shards of glass out of his back.

An evil medi-wizard, in the pay of Lucius Malfoy, Harry muses, it doesn’t bear thinking about. Evil or not Harry cannot help notice that he is a very handsome medi-wizard with lush sandy coloured hair and kind blue eyes. It takes all sorts, Harry supposes bitterly, annoyed that bad guys refuse to be ugly and mean looking.

Lucius watches Harry closely throughout the treatment, seemingly amused by something.

‘You may leave now Dorian, but before you go, a quiet word’, he tells the man when he has finished treating Harry’s wounds. Dorian obeys Lucius but not before flashing Harry a devilish smile, which causes him to blush spectacularly.

They converse in whispers and Harry passes the time thinking that Lucius is also incredibly good looking, and that it really shouldn’t be allowed. Just like Draco; absolutely mind meltingly gorgeous, but such a complete and utter twat. Tainted beauty.

‘Good looking or not they are evil’, he tells himself sternly and drags his eyes away from Dorian’s arse.

When he looks up again Dorian as gone and Lucius is looking at him grimly.

‘You know Harry, what you just did was extremely stupid, but I can’t help but admire your stubbornness not to mention your open defiance, it’s awfully refreshing.’

Harry glares at the wizard and reaches for the pyjama top but Lucius picks it up first and tosses it out of reach.

‘I don’t think so.’ The older man smirks. ‘I like you like this; all ruffled and helpless.’

Out of insolence, more than any hope of real success, Harry pushes against the magical dampeners and Lucius frowns menacingly.

Harry decides not to push his luck any further. Trying to overpower Lucius physically had been incredibly stupid; the man was over a foot taller than him and strong regardless of his deceptively delicate frame. But he had panicked when he realised that he was being led into a bedroom. But being push through the glass door of a huge grandfather clock had effectively knocked the panic clean out of him.

Lucius had then punished him by making him wait in agony, ranting for a full half hour about how much the clock was worth, before he’d let the medi-wizard attend to his wounds.

‘I don’t understand’, Harry says quietly, looking down at his hands, ever aware of the cold grey eyes on his body.

‘Of course you don’t, you’re exceedingly stupid; bloody Gryffindors.’

Harry scowls.

‘I have every intention of fulfilling the prophecy and killing Voldemort. So why kidnap me just so that I can do what I already intend to do in the first place.’

Lucius sighs dramatically. ‘Because dear boy, I want him dead now, not in ten years time when the Ministry and that fool of an Headmaster decides to pull their fingers out of their arses. Plus, you see Harry,’ he lowers his voice in a intimate whisper and Harry as to lean forward to catch the words, ‘I know how to kill him. And when I say kill, I mean till he is dead with no hope of ever returning.’

‘How.’

‘All in good time’. he tells Harry, rising from his chair. ‘Get some rest. You’re going to need it’, he warns.

‘Wait! Harry shouts out, as Lucius starts to walk to the door. ‘Why do you want Voldemort dead?’

Lucius looked uncertain for a second.

‘The dark lord as, of late, become… how shall I put this?’ He says with uncharacteristic hesitation, ‘…extremely unstable, making increasing bizarre demands. Asking things of his loyal subjects that are impossible.’ He starts to speak again but seems to change his mind.

‘Sleep.’ he orders after a long pause.

‘Oh and Harry, be a good boy and leave the dampeners alone. They’re not just there to prevent you from waving those tricky little hands of yours. They’re also there for your own protection. Without them the Dark Lord would know precisely where you are and that would never do, would it?’

And with that parting shot he is gone.

Harry stares at the door for a moment and then looks around, curious of his new surroundings. The room is incredible. Harry has never seen such opulence. The bed is a vast sea of plush bedding, pillows and drapes. The rest of the room is decorated with a collection of antique furniture and priceless ornaments. The hearth is blazing and the chaise lounge, he rests on, is surprisingly comfortable despite the abundance of fancy bits of gilded wood on every available corner. It is no surprise that the cloth that surrounds the bed and the widows are Slytherin green. It doesn’t bother him; he has always found green to be a calming colour, in spite of its connotations.

Harry tries to relax but finds it impossible and little wonder. It’s not every day that you’re kidnapped by a senior Death Eater and asked to join a coup to relieve the wizarding world of its current Dark Lord.

‘Well actually’, Harry thinks, suddenly annoyed, ‘that’s exactly what I have been told I must do. By Albus Dumbledore and a prophecy, no less.’

But to do it in the name of Lucius Malfoy? It was all to ridicules for words.

Harry sighs and gazes into the fire.

Lucius’s reasons for wanting Voldemort dead are plausible, no one knows more than Harry that The Dark Lord is a total maniac, but Harry is no idiot. He knows he cannot trust Lucius Malfoy, but he is starting to wonder if it matters how or why he destroys Voldemort; as long as he does, and as soon as possible. What was that saying? ‘The end justifies the means?’ ‘A means to an end?’

Harry is roused from his thoughts by the bedroom door opening. A house elf walks in carrying a tray laden with fruit and a pitcher of pumpkin juice. Draco Malfoy follows closely.

Harry jumps to his feet immediately on guard and watches helplessly as Draco shuts then locks the door.

The House elf places the tray on a table and disappears with a tiny pop.

The boys eye each other for an excruciating long minute.

‘Hello Potter,’ Draco says with a smirk that could only be inherited from his father.

Harry just stares, totally not prepared for this particular situation. Angry scuffles in school hallways are one thing but standing in front of Draco Malfoy in a locked room without his wand and practically naked is something else entirely.

Harry notes that Draco’s pyjamas are exactly the same as his own, but Draco is spared the indignity of being minus the top, and where Harry’s are green, Draco’s are silver. It suddenly occurs to him that he is wearing Draco Malfoy’s pyjamas, which explains why the silk covers his feet till only his toes peek out. Draco seems inexplicably fascinated by this and stares at the tips of Harry’s toes until Harry as a silly urge to wiggle them. He clears his throat. This draws Draco’s eyes away from his feet but not away from him entirely.

Harry watches, stunned as Draco’s eyes travel from the tips of his toes, up his legs, to the drawstring of the bottoms. They linger there momentarily then continue passed the flat of his stomach. Harry shivers as the silver gaze grazes over his nipples and up his neck, to linger once more, this time on his lips.

Harry as another silly urge, this time to lick his lips.

Instead, he coughs loudly until Draco finally looks him in the eyes.

‘What do you want Malfoy?”

‘To welcome you’, he says with a shrug, his voice husky, ‘now that you’ve come to your senses.’ He smiles warmly at the bewildered Gryffindor. ‘Voldemort will be most pleased.’

He takes a hesitant step forward.

‘I always knew you were better than the Weasel and the Mudblood. I knew you were different the first time I ever set eyes on you. You were so…’

Draco stops abruptly and his eyes dart nervously around the room, then he looks back at Harry coyly, a blush highlighting his fine cheekbones.

Harry’s eyes widen.

‘I’d appreciate it if you’d refrained from calling my best friends Malfoy. And if you want to know the real reason for me being here then I suggest that you talk to your father, because I think you’ve been sorely mislead.’

Draco’s seems genuinely taken back by the anger in Harry’s voice and his cheeks flame brighter.

Harry walks slowly towards the taller boy, ‘And just to set the record straight, so that there’s no confusion in the future; I hate you Malfoy, and I would never, ever let you touch me.’

Harry takes great satisfaction from the hurt look on Draco’s face. But Draco masks it in an instant.

‘Touch you’, he splutters, indignant. ‘I have no idea what your talking about you filthy half blood. As if I have any desire to lay my hands on a Muggle reared orphan with an repulsive scar on his forehead.’

‘Oh really?’ Harry asks and steps in front of the blonde. They are toe to toe and he has to tilt his head in order to look up into the other boys’ eyes. He leans forward slightly until his lips almost graze Draco’s.

Almost.

The desire that suffuses Draco’s delicate features almost takes Harry’s breath away.

Almost.

Harry laughs and steps back and Draco’s desire turns into anger in a heartbeat.

‘Fuck you Potter’, he snarls, silver eyes flashing.

‘In order for that to ever happen I’d have to bound, gagged and unconscious Malfoy’, Harry spits out and turns his back in dismissal.

Harry hears the echoed slamming of doors reverberate throughout the Manor long after Draco as left.

~End flashback ~

~Present Day~ June 2004 ~

‘Lets play a game.’

The liquid falls from the pipette – drip - drip - drip. It breaks the surface tension of the whisky, clouding the beverage; changing its colour from amber to black.

Draco hands the tumbler to Harry; whose innate curiosity is well and truly roused judging by the look on his face as he peers into the glass.

‘What is it’, he asks cautiously.

‘It’s a present.’

‘A present’ asks Harry wide eyed.

‘Yes, it’s very special. I stole it from Sev’s supplies’.

‘You stole a potion from Snape?’

Draco chuckles, ‘and the fire whisky.’

‘You’re evil.’ Harry admonishes, finally looking up from the swirling liquid.

Draco’s expression is suddenly solemn.

‘No, not evil, merely an opportunist’.

Harry barks out a laugh and asks, ‘and what pray tell am I to do with these stolen goods?’

‘Drink them, silly’, Draco says with affection, taking in Harry’s prim expression.

Harry sighs and peers down at the glass again ‘Why do you steel these things, you’re disgustingly wealthy, why not buy your own.’

Draco’s face is pensive as he pours out another measure of whisky and deftly adds the potion from the glass tube.

He finally looks at Harry and grins. ‘Things taste so much better when they’re stolen.’

He swoops and steels a kiss from Harry’s parted lips, illustrating his point most affectively.

Their tongues entwine and stroke, thrust and parry.

When he pulls away, he looks extremely smug.

Harry’s eyes uncross and he glares at his lover, ’you think you’re so clever.’

‘Not think…’ Draco raises an eyebrow ‘…know. Now drink’.

‘You first.’ Harry demands stubbornly.

‘As you wish.’

Draco knocks Harry’s glass with his own and takes a small sip.

Harry raises his own glass and then stops suddenly remembering previous experience with both Firewhisky and Potions.

‘I’m not sure this is such a good idea.’

Draco focuses on Harry with apparent difficulty, his eyes glazed. He looks slightly horrified.

‘Drink it Potter.’

Harry sees the sudden intent in Draco eyes and backs away from the blonde carefully.

‘I…I … don’t want to’, he stutters.

He turns to flee, but he is too late; Draco pounces.

He grabs the tumbler from Harry’s hand and roughly pulls the smaller boy towards him. Pushing his fingers through the messy shock of black hair he shoves the glass between Harry’s lips before he can protest. Some of the black liquid escapes out of the sides of his mouth and runs from his cheeks to his neck but most of it is gulped down with chokes and splutters.

Draco then proceeds to lick his startled lovers cheeks, neck and collar bone clean with lazy swipes of his tongue.

Harry finally manages to push Draco to the floor, but it’s too late.

‘What the fuck have you done’. He yells, shaking with indignant anger.

The room is moving and there are tiny little flecks of gold and red at the edge of his vision.

Draco sits where he as fallen and is looking up at Harry carefully.

‘I told you; it’s a present. I want to play a little game. Call it payback for your little stunt the other day’, he says quietly, his voice has a muffled far away quality to it and Harry looses track of what Draco is saying when a wave of intense euphoria hits him.

‘What stunt?’ Harry asks thickly, trying to track back, what the hell is Draco talking about?

‘Torturing me into agreeing to be there when you told the Weasleys. You didn’t think that I’d let that pass, did you?’

Draco’s voice also sounds thick but he seems to have more command of the English language than Harry.

Harry slides down the wall unable to stand on his legs anymore. They feel charged with electrical currents.

Draco stands slowly and approaches Harry carefully. Harry’s eyes are close, his lips parted and a very gentle flush speckles his cheeks. His breath expels from his lips in sweet little puffs

Elated, Draco takes a swig of the remaining liquid and throws the glass at the wall.

Harry’s eyes snap open when the tumbler explodes on impact.

The sight of his lover stalking towards him with fluid animal grace causes him to shake with anticipation. He feels amazing. Like he could fly, like his heart has wings. And, ‘oh’, Draco is giving him the look, the look that usually accompanies a ravishing. And he really can’t find it in him to complain when Draco grabs both of his legs and pulls then until he is flat on his back in front of the huge ornate freestanding mirror.

He crawls over Harry’s prone body and pins his unresisting arms above his head.

‘I think I’m dying’, Harry says and starts to giggle. He looks adorable and Draco as to breath in and out carefully in order to focus on his task. The potion is beginning to kick in something fierce. He hasn’t imbibed as much as Harry but he’s still feeling deliciously shaky and more than a little horny.

Ooohhh, m’hard’, Harry groans, ‘really fucking hard. What the fuck was in that stuff.’

‘Oh this and that. Turnera diffusa, Epimedium grandiflorum, some other minor ingredients.’

Harry as no idea what Draco is talking about.

‘Damiana leaves and horny goats weed’, Draco elaborates as he strips Harry naked.

‘An aphrodisiac?’

‘Amongst other things.’

Harry concentrates with all his might so that he can choke out the next sentence.

‘I would like for it to go on record, that this is completely non consensual, you bastard.’ Harry says dragging himself from under the larger figure of his lover.

Draco looks unrepentant but dazed. He effortlessly drags the squirming man back under him and continues to divest him of his clothes.

For Harry things have taken on a distinct dreamlike quality, and he forgets to struggle.

‘What’s the name of the game’, he asks suddenly intrigued.

‘Secrets.’ Draco tells him with a feral smile.

‘Secrets?’

‘Mmmmmm,’ Draco, satisfied now that his lover is naked, begins to lick Harry’s bruised lips.

Harry giggles and squirms. ‘What’s causing the electric shocks’ he asks between licks and kisses.

‘What are eclectic socks’, Draco asks curiously, his tongue slurs around the strange words.

Harry giggles again and then moans when Draco latches on to one of his nipples and sucks it into his mouth.

‘I mean the tingly feeling ‘sin me arms and leggies’ he say in between groans.

‘Oh that’ll be the amphetamine I added to the potion,’

‘What?’ Harry yelps trying to rise, using his elbows as leverage.

‘Relax, it’s only a little’, Draco says pushing Harry back down.

‘You probably shouldn’t have mixed it with alcohol’ Harry scolds in a musical voice. Draco is licking his stomach, thrusting his tongue onto Harry’s belly button in a harsh fucking motion. It makes him wriggle, cock drilling into Draco’s chin.

‘Probably’, says Draco though gritted teeth as he pins Harry harder to the floor.

Harry’s eyes snap open, suddenly remembering an important detail.

‘Secrets?’

He tries to feel worried but he just can’t be bothered. Especially not when Draco begins to run the tip of his tongue up his cock.

It’s Draco’s turn to come to his senses ‘Yes, secrets’. He says breathlessly. ‘Whoever comes first get to ask a question, the other person must answer it honestly. Simple.’

That said, he resumes his task of blowing Harry’s cock and mind.

Harry watches, rapt as the tongue travels up his shaft and then circles the tip. Wet and hot but lacking the friction Harry must have. He thrust his hips up, indicating his need and the heavenly hot mouth immediately swallows him whole. Harry calls out Draco’s name rapturously. But Draco isn’t paying attention he is looking off to Harry’s right. It’s a moment before he realises that Draco is looking in the mirror. Watching him self suck on Harry’s cock.

‘Oh God, oh fuck’ he cries out.

Without even bothering to look away Draco places the flat of his hand against Harry’s cheek and pushes his face to turn towards the mirror until he is also forced to look at their reflection.

And what a sight.

Draco is sucking him whole heartily now, sliding his mouth up and down, not once taking his eyes away from their reflection. He stops, so caught up in the image in the mirror that he starts moaning around Harry’s throbbing flesh.

Harry is about to come, he knows it, feels it in his gut, but something stops him.

‘Secrets, secrets, secrets’.

The word echoes in Harry head and he panics. There are things he is not ready to tell Draco. Not yet.

Draco is suddenly flipped over, pinned and soundly snogged to within an inch of his life, in a dramatic reversal of roles.

‘This wasn’t part of the plan’ he thinks as Harry flips him again this time onto his stomach. Harry hastily pulls off Draco’s trousers and pulls him up onto all fours, bunching up his t-shirt so that he can get access to Draco’s sensitive spine, which Harry traces with the tip of his tongue.

Draco almost passes out when he feels the wet slide of that clever tongue lick first one buttock then the other before taking a swipe at his coccyx bone. Then Harry sinks lower, a flat lick straight down between his cheeks and over his hole. When he works his tongue inside Draco yelps. Harry thrusts the agile muscle in rhythmically and uses a finger to find the place inside that makes Draco scream. Draco rocks back, sobbing out his pleasure in an incoherent babble. And when Harry strokes his prostate whilst licking around the sensitised pucker, Draco comes all over the floor.

Without hesitation Harry grasps Draco hips and slams in with one thrust. It takes little more than three jabs before he comes inside his lover.

When Harry can finally speak he is ecstatic.

‘I win’ he say delighted, then eyes Draco soberly.

‘Fuck, you win’, Draco mumbles into the floor and Harry helps him up and drags him to the bed.

‘So, your question’ asks Draco sullenly.

Harry takes a deep breath, ‘Who was he?’

Draco looks puzzled, ‘Who.’

‘The man in Diagon Ally.’

‘Oh’ he says suddenly understanding.

‘An ex-boyfriend, no one you know, he went to Dermstrung’, Draco’s eyes look depressingly hollow when he says this.

‘Oh.’

Draco nods, ‘Indeed.’

‘Lovers?’

‘My first?’

‘Oh’ says Harry again, feeling sick. ‘Did you and he… this time…did you…’, he can’t get the words out through his suddenly constricted throat.

‘NO’, the word explodes from Draco’s chest, ‘It wasn’t like that’ he says earnestly pulling Harry into his arms.

‘Look, he paid me a couple of visits, we talk about old times and that was it, I don’t want to talk about him, ok. It’s over.’

Harry feels suddenly very cold. There is something Draco is not telling him. He pulls away but Draco won’t let him go.

‘Don’t you trust me?’

‘I don’t know Draco. You’ve just force-fed me an illegal potion and now your being cagey about an ex-lover. What do you think?’

‘I’m not being cagey and don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy what we just did.’

Harry pushes away from Draco and crawls off the bed.

‘You are being cagey; you just said you didn’t want to talk about him. That’s being cagey.’ Harry voice is getting louder with each sentence. ‘Tell me Draco, if you didn’t want us to have a conversation like this why did you make us play that stupid game in the first place, you must have know something like this would come up.’ Harry yells.

‘Because you should have lost’. Draco yells back,

Harry looks at Draco suspiciously then at the remaining glass on the floor. ‘You gave me a higher dose’, Harry says, stunned by the deception. ‘Fuck me, once a filthy cheating Slytherin always a filth…’

Draco leaps off the bed and grabs Harry roughly by his forearms, pushing him against the wall.

‘And once a sanctimonious Gryffindor always a sanctimonious Gryffindor.’

‘Why didn’t you just ask me?’

‘What?’

‘Whatever it is you’re so desperate to know. I mean it as to be something important or you wouldn’t have rigged the game. Why didn’t you just ask me?’

‘Because you won’t tell me,’ Draco says with conviction. He releases Harry and step back. ‘I thought if you lost, your stupid Gryffindor sense of fair play would make you tell me.’

‘Tell you what?’

‘Forget it.’

‘God damn it ask me’, Harry screams at the top of his lungs. The fire in the grate is suddenly sucked up the floo causing an eerie vacuum before shooting back down and flaring up dramatically in a flash of green light.

Draco stares at Harry who was trembling, so small yet so powerful.

‘Harry love’, he says tentatively.

Harry looks up at Draco, ‘It’s ok we’ll talk about it when your ready.’ He says with a sad smile.

~Flashback ~ August 1997 ~

Draco runs from Harry’s bedroom. ‘I won’t cry, I won’t cry, I won’t cry, Malfoy’s do not cry’, he chants as he slams his way through rooms and hallways and finally halts at the top of a tower in the east wing.

He tries to calm himself, after all, Harry as rejected him before. At least this time there were no witnesses. He thinks of the fun Harry and the Weasel will have discussing this new humiliation.

Lost in thought Draco doesn’t hear the dark haired man walk into the room.

‘Hello Draco.’

Draco spins around so fast he almost losses his balance.

‘Tobias’, he breathes out willing his tears not to fall.

‘Are you ok Draco’, the man questions in a soothing voice.

Tobias Black is the son of his mother sister, Bellatrix, he is very handsome and an ardent supporter of The Dark Lord. Surely here is someone Draco can relate to?

Draco sniffles and nods not yet trusting his voice. He turns back towards the window feeling absolutely wretched but he as been raise to keep his own council, ‘it wouldn’t do to discuss ones emotions’, Draco hears his Mother whisper in his ear.

Draco feels a tentative hand on his shoulder and he shivers. But he doesn’t pull away. Comfort would be nice.

He doesn’t protest when his body is pulled into a warm embrace. He sighs and relaxes against the solid chest behind him. He is not stupid; he has seen the way Tobias looks at him over the dinner table, at the social gatherings and at the meetings.

Draco has been taught never to discuss his emotions; it simply isn’t done. But no one has ever taught him that it is wrong to fuck ones cousin.

All Draco knows for sure is that Harry doesn’t want him. Never wanted him. Never will.

Tobias strokes Draco stomach and tells him he’s beautiful.

Draco doesn’t resist, he takes the pleasure offered but it is Harry’s name he screams in his head.

tbc