The Foundation

The Foundation

By Newshound

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and company belong exclusively to J. K. Rowling. This fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no money is being made from it.

Chapter 4 Three Sides to Every Story

Draco picked up his his tea cup – made of the finest porcelein and handed down through the Malfoys for the last five generations – and threw it angrily into the fireplace. It broke and then exploded into a shower of fragments littering both the fireplace and hearth with so much white, it looked like snow.

Nothing had changed. Not one motherfucking thing. He thought he'd come so far; God, what a fool he'd been. He was the same spoiled, over-indulged little boy he'd always been.

He thought he'd started the foundation to help others. He snorted and shook his head at this naïve thought. Who was he kidding? He wasn't doing it to help other wizards – he was doing it to assuage his guilt over the privileges he'd been given, but had done nothing to earn.

It had become just a better way to gain attention – attention that, deep down he'd always craved.

Growing up he'd resented and envied Harry and all his titles - The Savior of the Wizarding World; The Boy Who Lived; The Chosen One; Voldemort's Downfall. What titles had he earned? Not a damn one!

Now he realized what he'd really been jealous of was Harry's nature, unselfish and noble. No matter how hard he tried, he was never going to be those things. If he had any doubt about that all he had to do was review last night's behavior.

He liked helping people because it gave him not only a sense of control, but – God how he hated to admit it – a sense of superiority. Oh, now there was a good title – The Benevolent Patron.

His marriage had failed because of his inability to sacrifice his own immediate gratification. As a result, his daughter would never have the security of living in a happy home with both parents.

He'd told himself he'd married Daphne to benefit the foundation. That was only partly true. He'd married her so he'd have a token wife; a status symbol; so everyone would know how different he was, how he'd changed.

See everyone? See how successful Draco is? See, he's not your average reformed Death Eater - your average Malfoy.

Everyone loved the notion of redemption and that was exactly what he'd given them. He'd gone from notorious teen Death Eater to undercover spy to shining philanthropist. See, everyone? I'm not about wealth and power; I'm about fairness and equality and, most importantly, giving back to the Wizarding community.

He was nothing but a big, fat fraud.

He'd wanted Harry not for the enjoyment of the experience, but the satisfaction of knowing he'd “had” him. Harry was just another notch on his bedpost. There was an unattainable quality about Harry that had made him even more desirable to Draco. He could probably count Harry his biggest success yet.

He felt sick thinking about the way he'd taken advantage of Harry. He had said and done whatever was necessary to get what he wanted – Harry in his bed. He'd plied him with alcohol – or whatever that God-awful crap Davinci had slipped in the punch – and marijuana to lower his inhibitions and then pressured and manipulated him into sex. All just to satisfy his curiosity.

“You are nothing but a total prick,” he thought.


* * * * *


The dream state Harry found himself in was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. It reminded him a little of the dreams he'd had when he'd been in Voldemort's mind, but the sensations were more similar to the one's he'd felt visiting Dumbledore's pensieve.

He was sitting on a balcony in the warm night air with none other than Draco Malfoy. They'd been out there a while and he couldn't remember when he'd had more fun.

Unlike Draco, who appeared to be floating on a cloud of happiness, the combo of punch and pot had made him feel only slightly lightheaded, but in some ways more relaxed.

They spent an hour or so talking and laughing. Draco had a dry sense of humor and Harry found his observations about some of the people they knew and experiences they'd had genuinely entertaining and even amusing at times.

He began noticing how Draco's smile now reached his eyes, how expressive his once deliberately blank face had become and how his voice held no sarcasm or contempt.

He also noticed how Draco was finding excuses to touch him, how Draco's eyes held his for just a few seconds longer than necessary and how Draco gave him his full attention. He found the attention was was both flattering and encouraging.

He debated just being honest with Draco, but he now realized that Draco had developed a conscience somewhere along the way and he would probably be reluctant, in his present state, to have sex with someone who had never done that. He'd have to keep Draco in the dark. Besides, what difference would it make anyway? It wasn't like he had a sign flashing on his forehead.

So when Draco leaned over and tentatively kissed him, he responded eagerly – well as eagerly as he knew how.

The kisses were at first sweet and tender. He felt soft, feathery kisses against first his top lip then his bottom. He felt Draco rest his mouth lightly against his lips, then slowly trace the outline of his lips with what Harry was finding to be an incredibly talented tongue. He felt Draco's curious, seeking tongue flick out; it seemed almost shy and Harry opened his mouth welcoming that tongue, first massaging it, then gently sucking on it.

He was a little surprised to hear Draco moan and suddenly, to his delight, the kiss became incredibly passionate. Draco's lips sought his hungrily, the tongue eagerly exploring every delectable pleasure hidden inside his mouth.

Draco's lips then abandoned their worship of his mouth to trail their way along his jaw to his ear where they nibbled gently.

“Oh Harry,” he'd whispered. “Do you know what you do to me?”

Harry tilted his head to the side offering Draco easier access and sighed. “Probably the same thing you're doing to me,” he whispered back.

Draco had suggested going to his place and Harry saw no reason to refuse. A harpy little voice whispered that he owed it to Draco to tell him about “his condition” before they went too far, but he shushed it firmly, reminding it of his earlier decision.

When Draco showed him the brooms, he was secretly thrilled at the idea of flying together – and not as competitors. The trip to Draco's home had been such fun, they'd played follow the leader for a bit and then both tried to outdo each other, showing off.

After they'd landed and were walking up the path to Draco's house, Draco had slipped his arm across Harry's shoulder and it felt to Harry like they were old friends.

Once inside the house Draco placed the brooms against the wall and lumosed the wall candles into life. He took Harry's hand and began to lead him into the parlor, but Harry stopped him, reaching up to kiss Draco.

Suddenly that voice piped up, “You really should tell him. He's going to wonder.” And again he quieted it. “Maybe he won't know,” he argued. “Maybe it'll just be – you know – a blow job or maybe – you know – hands or something. Why tell him if I don't have to?”

The next batch of kisses made Harry question why in the world he'd waited so long to experience this particular pleasure. Draco's lips were now doing the most unimaginably heavenly things, making him feel – and want – things he'd never dreamed existed. He was being kissed like he was the only thing in the world that mattered right now, all of Draco's attention was focused on him on tasting, exploring, almost claiming everything he'd ever wanted to offer.

Right on cue, that pesky voice interrupted, “Now's a good time, tell him.” He broke the kiss, hesitating, but Draco silenced the voice, teasing him about being impatient. “I'll tell him when we get into the bedroom,” Harry promised.

It was when Draco ushered him into the bedroom, that Harry felt his nerves kick into overdrive. Harry never imagined Draco would be so warm and affectionate; so patient and considerate. He gently took Harry's hand, intwining their fingers and led Harry to the bed. He sat down and pulled Harry next to him, reaching over, caressing Harry's face and kissing his lips briefly before moving on to his forehead and both eyelids. Draco's lips slowly kissed their way softly down his cheeks to his jaw, moving over his neck, occasionally giving gentle nips and swipes with his tongue. Draco's fingers traced over Harry's lips and then pushed into his hair, threading through it, coming to rest on the nape of Harry's neck.

He gently took Harry's face in his hands, now firmly kissing the willing, submissive lips and one hand slid behind Harry while the other continued caressing his face.

In an instant the kiss turned passionate and needy. Draco's lips hungrily devouring his as Draco leaned against him, pushing him back on the bed.

“Lay back, on the pillows,” Draco said smiling warmly and tenderly.

There was more of the phenomenal mind-blowing kisses followed by Draco's hands all over him. Draco tugged his shirt out of his trousers, his hand creeping in and exploring his stomach and then moving up to his chest. Draco had crawled on top of him straddling him and now that voice became loud and insistent.

“He won't know, huh? He'd have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to realize you don't know what you're doing. You better stop this and tell him, before this gets out of hand.”

Harry was beginning to think that maybe the voice finally had a point. Besides, Draco was grinding down into him, his erection obvious and Harry now realized he probably couldn't fake it from here on. The first problem he had was that he wasn't sure exactly what he was supposed to be doing, especially with his hands. Was he supposed to be undressing Draco, like Draco was him? He was also fighting the urge to just grab Draco's legs and grind himself up against their weight. He was developing serious doubts about his stamina. God would that be embarassing, having an orgasm three minutes into their lovemaking session.

He felt Draco tugging on his shirt and looking up at him he'd never seen anything so sexy in his life. He felt so stupid; he wanted to make Draco feel the same way Draco made him feel, but he just wasn't sure how to go about it. He'd never felt so clumsy and unsure in his life. When he heard Draco's comment, it actually made him feel a little better. Maybe Draco really was nervous, too.

When he tore the shirt, Harry stared at him transfixed. The release of power and the hint of Draco losing control was overwhelmingly erotic and he had the almost uncontrollable urge to reach between his legs, unzip his fly and bring himself off right then and there.

He shut his eyes and gave into the intense thrill of Draco unfastening his trousers and then yanking them down and throwing them over the foot of the bed. His boxers followed right behind, leaving him wearing nothing but his shirt and socks. Draco crouched at the end of the bed, carefully removed his socks, kissing and biting Harry's feet.

“God all-fucking mighty,” he whispered, turning his head, breathing slowly and deeply praying to whatever God there might be that he didn't come on the spot. He bit down on his lower lip and clenched the covers tightly between his fingers.

He felt Draco climb off the bed and against his better judgment, looked over at where he stood in front of the wardrobe. He watched in awe and wonder as Draco undressed and then begin playing with himself. The things he said, made concentrating on keeping himself under control nearly impossible and again, he turned his head away and clenched his teeth, willing his hands to stay where they were.

The voice was blaring in his ear now. “TELL HIM! TELL HIM RIGHT NOW! HE THINKS YOU'VE DONE THIS BEFORE, YOU MORON! NOW - BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!”

He would have listened to the voice, but he was scared. He watched in anxious silence as Draco walked over to small dresser next to the bed, opened a drawer, and removed a small jar. It was too late, he couldn't stop things now and he didn't even have a clue how to suggest an alternative activity.

“Oh, by the way, I've never done this before, can we just kiss, or maybe you could give me a – you know – a blow job?” Yeah, sure, that would work, Draco wouldn't mind giving him – or getting – a blow job rather than the all out fuck he'd intended receiving. What in the fuck had he been thinking? Why hadn't he listened to that voice?

He had never felt this scared, not even in the graveyard or at the ministry or in the final battle. He looked up at Draco; his heart sounded so loud in his own ears and he could feel it pounding. He couldn't stop his legs from shaking, either. He wanted to move his hands, at least try to hold his legs steady, but his hands were shaking, too and even his arms trembled. He stared up at Draco helplessly, he couldn't find his voice and he shut his eyes trying desperately to regain control over his wayward body.

When he felt Draco's fingers inside him, he grimaced and bit down hard on the soft skin inside his cheek. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, and he had a bad feeling that the discomfort was about to become a whole lot worse. When the fingers began stretching and pulling against him, the pain level shot into the realm of nearly unbearable and Harry, not wanting Draco to see any of this, turned his head away, pressing his lips together, hands convulsing around the covers, bunching them up and pulling on them.

He barely felt Draco spread his cheeks he was so relieved to have those fingers removed. The rest of the experience – he had no idea how long it was, if he had to guess he would say somewhere around forever – was sheer agony, the only thing comparable was when Voldemort had possessed him. He glanced down and to his horror discovered his erection had almost completed vanished and in an effort to restore it – another thing he didn't want Draco to know – he stared up at Draco, hoping it would at least distract him from the all-consuming pain he now felt.

Amazingly enough, it did. Draco looked like a god; head thrown back, face contorted in pleasure, groaning and moaning, that beautifully muscular chest and stomach expanding and contracting with every breath he took, the muscles tight and powerful. It was probably a good thing it hurt so much, because otherwise, he'd have come on the spot. At least he found his erection returning to a semi-acceptable state.

When he felt Draco withdraw, he felt such blessed relief, he let out a huge sigh. He was therefore, totally unprepared when Draco slammed into him, shoving his cock in balls deep. The pain was absolutely excrutiating and he couldn't control the gasp or the expression on his face. He forced his eyes open and watched as Draco's orgasm overtook him, and let the natural release his body had craved happen.

The next thing he knew, Draco had collapsed next to him, flinging an arm over his chest and pulling him close. Harry waited a few minutes and when he heard a slight snore from Draco, he began to lift Draco's arm.

“You're not leaving are you?” Draco asked in a plaintive voice. “Don't leave. Stay with me tonight.”

Draco sat up, shivering. “God it's freezing in here. No wonder you were shaking. Let's get a fire going.”

He walked out into the parlor, returning with his wand and got a nice fire going in the large fireplace in the corner of the bedroom. He used a spell Harry had never heard of before in a language he didn't recognize.

“It'll make the fire lower when it gets warm and then higher when it gets colder in here,” Draco explained with a smile. He flicked the wand toward Harry and he felt a dry warmth replace the sticky, cold residue of their lovemaking.

“Let's get you under those covers,” Draco said, cuddling up to Harry when he'd finally managed to pull them out from underneath his sore bum and crawl under the thick blankets. Draco rested his head on Harry's shoulder and threw a leg over Harry, tucking his foot behind Harry's knee.

The pain was slowly abating and Harry felt his heartbeat and breathing returning to normal. More than anything he wanted another of those phenomenal, heart-stopping kisses before he left and he pulled Draco's head toward his, kissing him shyly. Draco didn't disappoint him and when he finally broke their kiss, Harry was considering staying the night.

“Good night, Harry,” Draco whispered sweetly.

End of Chapter 3