Healing

Chapter 4 New Treatment



“Tell me about your scars, Potter,” Draco demanded.



Harry didn’t like being demanded to do anything, yet there he was, sitting in a chair across from Draco Malfoy and being told to share his feelings. He wasn’t the type to get all gooey and emotional, especially not in front of his most hated nemesis.



“There’s nothing to tell, Malfoy,” he answered.



“It looks like you tried to kill yourself,” Draco mused, an inappropriate twinge of concern in his eyes. Harry hated when he saw that in the other man’s eyes. He wasn’t there to be pitied. He was there to clear his head.



“I didn’t, so you don’t have to worry about your precious savior,” Harry replied, using the same name Draco insisted on applying to him whenever he could.



“I wasn’t worried,” he said, quickly banishing the look from his eyes. Harry almost nodded in triumph. “It’s just that if you weren’t trying to do yourself in, then the cuts would be going horizontal, not vertical,” he added, gesturing to the long thin slicing running up and down Harry’s forearm.



“Look Malfoy, I’m not here to be psychoanalyzed, so can we just get on with it already? I know you must be anxious to start hurting me.”



Draco yawned. “It’s really not as much fun as I had hoped. You black out after just a few nasty whip cracks. I thought the savior would be able to handle more pain. Here I thought the rumors of Voldemort hitting you with cruciatus were true. Must have been just rumors after all,” he mused, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up on the desk, making it obvious that they were going nowhere fast.



Harry jumped to his feet. “You should know for sure, Malfoy. Your father was there the night he cast it on me in the graveyard. Didn’t he tell you all about it? How the brave Harry Potter lay broken and screaming and writhing…” his voice trailed off as Draco’s concerned look resurfaced and he sat back down heavily.



Draco didn’t say anything, but merely studied the look of complex agony on his client’s face. Harry couldn’t take the silence and interrupted it the first chance he got. “Isn’t this where you ask me how that made me feel and write it down in your little notebook? Or maybe you just plan to tell Lexi later so she can add it to my file,” he spat.



A slightly amused smirk curled at Draco’s lips. “Lexi doesn’t have a file on you, none of us do. It’s not what we’re about.”



“What? But she said-“



“She was just fucking with you, Potter. She does that to all the clients. She has a way of reading people, of being able to tell them things that they need to hear… plus I heard you hit on her,” Draco added laughing.



Harry blushed slightly and looked down.



“So tell me about your scars,” Draco said again, this time his tone was low and firm.



“Let’s start with this one,” Harry said, pointing to a jagged pink line on his arm. “That’s where Wormtail took my blood to bring Voldemort back to life.” Draco was the only person Harry had met, who didn’t naturally flinch at the name.



“I’m more interested in the ones that were self-inflicted,” Draco corrected.



Harry sighed and nodded. “I was trying to kill myself. There is a cut here for every year that has gone by after the war. Each one symbolizes another year of anguish… of pain. I can’t get the deaths out of my head. I can’t close my eyes for even a second without vibrant images of people dying, like it’s happening in front of me all over again.” His voice was strangled and choked but Malfoy didn’t mock him, he just nodded. The look on his face seemed to relay a hundred horror stories that Harry knew nothing of.



“What about your friends, surely they tried to help you?” Malfoy asked. “I can’t imagine a book Granger didn’t read to find a cure for your depression or a Quidditch game Weasel didn’t try to take you to in order to get your mind off of it.”



Harry laughed harshly. “You got it spot on. You knew us better than I thought.”



“Just them,” Draco amended. “I thought I knew you just as well, but…”



Harry cut him off. He didn’t want to hear Draco’s words. They were laced with pity and he couldn’t take that, not from him, of all people. “Well, that’s exactly what they did. Hermione sought out shrinks and large tomes on mental magic and Ron did everything he could think of to distract me.” Harry shook his head. “They slowly gave up after a few years, until they just stopped coming to visit, then they stopped calling… I haven’t seen either of them in four years.”



Draco nodded curtly and stood. “Is that what you’ll be forgetting today? Your former friends?”



“Among other things,” Harry replied. “What about you? Any scars on that pale white body of yours?” Harry asked, not sure why he had the sudden interest.



“I only have one physical scar, the rest are internal,” Draco responded easily, as if it cost him nothing to give Harry that information, and perhaps it didn’t.



“Let me see,” Harry asked. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to see Draco expose himself, not just his bare flesh, but also his mind, his emotions.



Draco chuckled and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He laid his chest bare and looked Harry directly in the eyes.



Harry heard a loud gasp and realized that it had come from his own mouth. Draco’s eyes sparkled with metallic fury and when Harry looked down at the ragged zigzag pattern of scars across Draco’s chest he knew exactly what had caused them without even having to ask for the story.



He had done that brutal and lasting harm to Draco’s chest. Not Voldemort or a Death Eater, not even a Slytherin. He, Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Golden Boy, had maimed and nearly killed another student.



“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.



Draco narrowed his eyes. “I’m not interested in your apologies, Potter.” He scrutinized Harry for some time before saying anything more. “Touch them,” he commanded, his voice soft yet firm.



Harry didn’t hesitate for even a second. He had already wanted to run his fingertips over the ruined skin and see the difference between it and the smoothness of the rest. He closed the gap between them in a couple steps and reached out a tentative hand.



The scars were raised from the rest of his chest, a bright pink against the white. He let his fingertips drift down the scar and realized it was a large, broken version of his own lightning bolt scar. He winced as he thought about how he was just as capable to take a human life as Voldemort had been.



Draco took his wince to mean something else though and swatted Harry’s hand away. “If it disgusts you so much then-“



But Harry cut him off and replaced his hand on Draco’s chest. “They don’t,” he said firmly, looking directly into Draco’s fiery gray eyes. “I was just thinking that Voldemort and I were not so different.”



Draco sighed. “You’re a fool if you believe that.”



“Look at what I did to you, your beautiful skin is forever marred by something I did to you,” Harry replied softly, his fingertips still trailing across Draco’s skin, eliciting a shiver every so often.



He looked up and Draco’s eyes were slightly widened and his eyebrow was raised in amusement. “Did you just say I have beautiful skin?”



Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled slightly. “Pfft. You would pick up on that. Did you not hear anything else I said?”



“Voldemort threatened to kill my mother. He made me watch as he killed muggles and even other purebloods. He had a small boy attacked and eaten by Fenrir right in front of me just to show what he would do with me if I disobeyed him. You are not him,” Draco stated, emotionless.



Harry only nodded, not saying a word. Deep down he knew that Voldemort was worse, and that the world was a better place since Harry took him out of it, but should Harry have gone with him? That was the question that burned his mind consistently. It seemed that some mistake had happened when he came back, some balance thrown out of whack, something keeping Harry from having a real life.



“Lick them,” Draco said, interrupting Harry’s thoughts.



He flinched and looked up into Draco’s eyes. “What?”



Draco rolled his eyes. “The scars, lick them,” he repeated.



Harry blinked rapidly as if trying to process the request. He moved his hands to Draco’s shoulders and leaned toward him, flicking a hesitant tongue out and grazing the rough skin of his scars. Draco didn’t stop him, so he continued, soaking in the scent of him. He smelled like citrus and vanilla, and tasted like fresh nectarines.



“Lower,” Draco whispered, and Harry immediately and unthinkingly obeyed.



He traced circles around the smooth firm flesh of Draco’s abdomen, marveling at the muscles tensing beneath his tongue. He switched then, and began nipping and sucking lightly on the pale skin, dipping his tongue into his navel and smiling to himself when Draco groaned.



Suddenly nothing existed outside of pleasing Draco.



“Unbuckle my trousers,” Draco whispered. Harry fumbled with the metal clasp for a moment, but eventually freed the belt from its place, then unbuttoned the rest, and pushed the trousers over Draco’s slim hip, letting them fall to the ground around his ankles.



Harry looked up, awaiting his next order, feeling the blissful peace surround him that normally only came with physical pain. Draco only smirked at him and indicated that he should continue to undress him.



He did just that, slipping his fingers beneath the black silk fabric of his boxers, but was interrupted with a warm hand pressed against one of his own. “With your teeth,” Draco said. Harry smiled to himself and gripped the waistband at his hip between his teeth and tugged at the offending garment. It took several tries, but eventually they came off and fell into a pile with Draco’s trousers.



Draco stepped back, out of the leg holes and Harry was able to admire him. Draco’s beauty was otherworldly, his pale skin and almost silvery hair nearly blended together, causing his full red lips, small pink nipples and swollen purple cock to stand out in stark contrast, like a beacon, summoning Harry to them.



Harry licked his lips unconsciously, causing Draco to chuckle. “I thought you said you weren’t gay, Potter?”



Harry blinked, his headache returning in a sharp rush. “I’m not,” he said defensively.



“You’re practically salivating over the sight of my cock, Potter. I’d say that’s a pretty good indication of your sexual preference,” Draco chuckled.



“I…” Harry didn’t have anything else to say to that. He had technically never thought of it. It seemed terribly unlikely that he was gay, he had slept with Ginny after all… though thinking back he knew even then that he didn’t enjoy it, at least not the way he thought he should have.



“Do you want to taste it, Potter?” Draco asked.



Harry nodded dumbly, the headache fading and the clearness returning.



“Go on then,” he said, gesturing at his erection.



Harry dropped to his knees in front of his formal rival and flicked his tongue out, collecting the drop of semen that was already seeping out from the tiny slit in the head of Draco’s prick. It was slightly bitter, but not unpleasant, and tasted similar to the rest of him, only stronger. He ran the flat side of his tongue along Draco’s shaft, soaking in the sensation of it.



A rush of nervousness hit him and he panicked slightly. He had never done this before, what if he was awful at it? He looked up at Draco and the man’s cold eyes were half lidded and filled with lust.



Draco blinked a few times and scowled. “Don’t tell me I’m going to have to instruct you?” he said flatly. “Fine,” he continued after Harry didn’t answer. “Start by licking, slowly.”



Harry did as he was told and swirled his tongue around Draco’s cock. “Yes, that’s it. Focus on the head, then let your tongue lick down the shaft,” he hissed, the words choking on the pleasure in his throat.



“Now, take it into your mouth and suck lightly, just the head,” he amended when Harry tried for more. “Now pull back and start again,” he choked out between panting breaths.



“Press your tongue into the slit, harder,” he groaned and Harry made little moaning noises around his cock. “Now grip the base of me and slide your mouth down to meet it. Good,” he whispered, his head thrown back.



Harry was in heaven, the taste and feel of Draco filling his mouth drove away all the pain and the doubt and the worry. He just concentrated on Draco’s words and the sensation of him in his mouth.



“Just… like… that…” he whimpered, his voice cracking. He gave no more instruction and instead grabbed hold of Harry’s thick black mane and guided him up and down his shaft. He bucked against Harry’s face and moaned.



Harry made muffled sounds around Draco’s cock, sucking with all his might, just wanting to pour the pleasure through Draco and in return absorb back the white haze that made his mind clear and happy.



A moment later, Draco’s already large cock seemed to grow even larger and harder and Harry’s mouth and throat were coated with thick hot liquid.



Draco released his hold on Harry’s head and pulled away from him. “Swallow,” he said, his voice thick and raspy.



Harry obeyed, feeling the molten liquid drain down the back of his throat, making his entire mouth taste of Draco. He stood up on shaking legs and felt suddenly awkward. Draco looked at him appraisingly and wrapped a hand around the back of Harry’s neck and pulled him close.



They were nose to nose when Draco whispered. “Did you like that?”



Harry nodded, still feeling embarrassed and odd standing fully clothed in front of his arch rival, who he had just given head.



Draco kissed him then, and drove his tongue deep into Harry’s mouth, as if wanting to taste himself. Harry gave a muffled whimper when Draco pulled away.



With a flick of his wand Draco was fully clothed and heading toward the door. “Are my appointments always going to end with a kiss?” Harry asked sarcastically.



Draco turned around and leveled the full weight of his gaze onto Harry. “Would you like that?”



He swallowed thickly, realizing he would in fact like all his appointments to end that way, and nodded.



Draco merely laughed and walked out of the room, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.