All I Ever Wanted

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write…are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.


"All I Ever Wanted"....Chap. 42 'Sorrow And Solace'


Lucius Malfoy rocked in his cell, save for when he slept or ate, and soon he lost even the strength to rock. After that, the will to eat soon left him as well. One morning, the jewel he'd clutched so desperately, and stared into so intently, slid from his hand and tumbled to the floor. A fluttering sensation in his chest troubled him little, as his mind was almost gone, and the knowledge of anything less than great pain was quite beyond him.

He leaned forward and reached for the jewel but, for some reason, it escaped his grasp. He stood and looked about, suddenly realizing that the shabby husk curled on the floor had once been his body. So much was clear now; so many things no longer mattered. If he could have drawn breath, he'd have sighed with relief. His time was over. There had been much to regret, but there had also been so very much to treasure.

There were people calling to him; voices he hadn't heard in years, and one that was more recent...achingly familiar...Narcissa. The sound of it was like music; like nothing he'd ever heard before, and yet wonderfully comforting. He was going home; where he belonged, where he had been missed, and would suffer no more of the world's indignities.

He gave a last well-wish to the world he'd dwelt in so briefly, looked one last time at the wreckage that had once been his spirit's home, then drifted away as casually as if he were taking a stroll in the park. Had he possessed the flesh and bone for such a thing, a smile would have been upon his face as he left the world behind for good.

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The letter came at breakfast with the usual owl post. Draco signaled Harry with a pained glance, and they left the table without as much as a word between them. When they reached their suite, they sat at the table while Draco opened the letter he'd known would soon come. Harry remained silent beside his lover, painfully aware of Draco's jangled nerves.

Seconds later, Draco put the opened parchment down and sighed. "It's over. Last night...they found him this morning. He's finally free."

Despite Harry's worst fears, Draco held up well, a few quiet tears into Harry's shoulder and it was past. Draco had been well prepared for this loss. In truth, he felt as though his father had died the day he received the Kiss. Lucius Malfoy had ceased to live weeks before his actual death and, though Draco mourned him anew, it was a far gentler sorrow than the shock of his mother's passing.

Draco penned a series of letters and made a list of things he'd have to see to for his father's funeral, then parted company with Harry for the day, after a few lingering and needy kisses for support.

The remains of the week passed in a blur. Letters of condolence came daily, Floo calls were made, and orders placed. A tiny handful of invitations were sent out, and participants for this far quieter funeral were notified. It would be a short and dignified affair as Draco planned it. No viewing and no wake, but formal and thorough none the less.

Harry took over Draco's DADA tutoring for Slytherin students who, being mostly first and second-years, actually listened intently to the dark haired, scar-marked, 'Legend of the Wizarding World'. All well and good, but still slightly embarrassing for Harry.

Pansy and Blaise picked up the rest of Draco's duties in spite of the seventh-year workload that burdened them all, which left Harry just enough time to keep practicing 'amplified spells' in the little private time he had left.

Dumbledore sent a brief flurry of owls before losing contact suddenly and completely, leaving Minerva McGonagall a nervous wreck. While her exterior was as placid and collected as ever, those who knew her well could see the strain of command eating away at her. She still found the time and strength to drill the Order on its emergency Apparition points, fallback plans, safe houses and battle tactics. In the midst of this she even found a safe spell research room in a well reinforced part of the castle, just for Harry.

There, Harry spent nearly every evening after supper working on finer control of the skills he had already mastered. He'd reached the point where a simple Warming Spell could be augmented without accidentally creating a tropical zone in the heart of Scotland, and was rapidly working through his best known spells.

Harry's counter-spells had become extremely formidable, as they could be easily practiced without harming students, and he had the sneaking suspicion that, if he tried hard enough, he could probably dispel or block anything a Death Eater could cast.

His hexes and curses could affect whole areas rather than single targets, and his Expelliarmus had become a force to be reckoned with. Ron had been his dueling partner for an outdoor session, and had wound up being thrown across the grounds and into the lake.

In spite of having to remove a fish and several slimy weeds from his soaked clothes, Ron maintained a cheerful disposition. No one really enjoys being a practice dummy, but it was a rather exciting way to help Harry, and that was enough for Ron.

The last day before Lucius' funeral, Harry sat alone in the spell research room with a list of new exercises from Hermione and Professor McGonagall. It was nice to have a little time alone, even in a basement corner of the castle. He knew he should be working as quickly as he could, but just this once he sat in trance and let his thoughts drift.

The last month had been hard, and occasionally downright exhausting, but now Harry had a sense of optimism that had once eluded him. So many things had changed in such a short time. Draco lit his life's path like a guiding star. He had a solid grasp on the magical technique that might make his final meeting with Voldemort a matter of short work. Slytherin House was slowly phasing into a normal social life with other houses, and Harry was even holding his grades up comfortably above the average, with a few exceptionally high marks as well.

His vision of Draco's death still crossed his mind, but he was fairly sure that Draco would take no chances, and visions were notoriously fickle in any case. Harry knew his own fears intimately now. Occlumency had helped him to know and master every part of his own mind, and the confidence and calm that came with that knowledge had smoothed his path through a month of tumultuous events.

In just another month, there would be a grand banquet and Leaving Ball for his year. A week after that, his school days would be done forever, and a life with Draco at the heart of it would begin.

Harry idly wondered what would have happened if he'd taken that offered hand on the train. Would he have been inclined to join Slytherin? Would Snape have terrified and tormented him so constantly? Would he and Draco have been a couple for years by now instead just a couple of months? How different would Draco's life have been if he'd had a friend who cared for him unconditionally, always by his side, from the first day of school?

It was pure woolgathering, and Harry knew it, but he let a few more minutes slide by while he ruminated on things that could have been. With a soft sigh of resignation, Harry raised his wand and went back to practicing new spells, counter-curses and hexes. When he was fairly sure he'd at least learned the basics, he folded his notes, pocketed his wand and headed back to the suite where his lover was waiting for him.

Tomorrow would bring a sorrowful occasion, but this time Draco was in a good place emotionally, and able to cope with what was coming. That security took the edge off Harry's nerves more than anything else could have.

Draco waited for Harry in the suite that was their home, laboring his way through a pile of homework and estate paperwork that threatened to do serious harm if it fell onto him. It seriously annoyed him that so much was required of his time when he needed it for himself so very badly, but he had to admit that he'd set himself up for most of it, and there was scarcely anything to be done for the rest.

Just a couple of months and he'd have much of this out of the way. No more classes and texts, no more Slytherin duties and endless paperwork, just a well settled estate to manage, and a lover to lavish his attention upon. If this stupid war would just hurry up and be done with, a life of peace, and uninterrupted sex with the man of his dreams, would be his to enjoy. This maddening, end-of-school-soon pace was devouring their time together (not to mention the sudden departure of his parents.)

Draco sat back and looked at the ceiling for a few seconds, blinking while his eyes teared. He was fine, just fine. He'd known this was coming; no reason not to be ready for it. This time he'd even planned everything himself. Snape had checked over his arrangements, and agreed to perform the service and give the eulogy for Lucius. Everything was in order...there wasn't any need for tears.

They came anyway. Draco indulged himself in one last bout of tears, punctuated by short, barking laughs at the painful irony of it all. Then he wiped his face clean, and headed to the bathroom to freshen up with a decent shower before Harry got back.

He lingered in the shower a bit longer than was strictly necessary, but it did his mood a world of good. He could hear Harry rattling about outside as he was drying off, and he wiped the mirror clean of steam and looked carefully as he groomed himself.

The boy in the mirror was unquestionably beautiful, but there was a subtle difference. Just a few months ago, that face had been so carefully schooled to appear neutral or disdainful, never sad or happy. Today, Draco saw himself looking so terrifyingly real, so nakedly honest, that it was almost frightening.

Everything had changed so much, so quickly, that his current life scarcely resembled his past. He wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out of the bathroom quietly. Harry looked up from his own studies and smiled broadly.

Harry looked at the faint wisps of steam rising off of Draco's cooling skin, and felt a familiar surge of blood to his groin. That criminally perfect expanse of pale skin was right in front of him, but with the gravity of tomorrow's event in front of them, Harry would never make demands for anything without a very clear invitation. Didn't mean he wasn't thinking of it, but he could curb his hormones for a little longer if he had to.

How fortunate for Harry that he didn't have to...and mostly because Draco was struck by the similarity to their first conscious encounter, and it was creating a sudden disturbance just under his towel. He smirked at Harry and slowly winked. "You pig! I wasn't in that shower nearly long enough to get the stink of you off of me!" Then he stuck his tongue out.

Harry was out of his chair a second later, slowly stalking Draco across the room like a panther, grinning maniacally. "I can't believe I...I can't believe this...this happened...", Harry couldn't fight off the urge to giggle, but kept going, "I waited and waited and now…now it's all just a fucking waste!"

Draco bolted for the bed with a quick feint to the left, but Harry wasn't fooled and swiftly had Draco in his arms, mock struggling while Harry kissed his way down that silky collarbone, each hungry kiss leaving faint redness that slowly vanished as he began the next. Draco melted into the arms around him. He felt like purring, then a kiss would change into a bite and his body would arch while he gasped.

The towel found its way to the floor before another minute passed, and Draco ground his arse against the familiar bulge in Harry's slacks, knowing full well how crazy it was driving the dark haired boy behind him. It was only a matter of minutes before they were tangled around each other on the bed, feverishly touching each other in every way that came to mind. They hadn't even made it a full five minutes before Draco bit Harry's ear and, with a whisper full of raw need and almost crazed urgency, he uttered, "Harry...make me forget...make it all go away...just for tonight...be rough...for me." Then he bit down fiercely on Harry's neck, almost drawing blood, which was enough to send Harry's adrenal glands pulsing.

Harry suffered from conflicting signals for a moment, but his respect for Draco's judgment and his aching need outweighed his petty neuroses about hurting his lover during sex. The bite on his neck tipped the balance and he grabbed the lubricant from the nightstand.

When both he and Draco were liberally coated and slick, Harry raised Draco's knees up and back until they were almost pressing against the blonde’s chest. Harry entered with his usual slow grace, even though his body was nearly quivering with the desire to thrust deeply into the pliant softness beneath him.

He held himself back admirably, and waited until Draco's hisses and gasps had subsided, but when grey eyes glared up at him, almost on fire with need, and a throaty drawl commanded him, "Merlin, just do it, love...NOW," it was enough to snap Harry's patience in twain.

Harry was as silent as a stone, save for the sound of his labored breathing, as he quickly built to a pace he'd never reached before. Draco whimpered and moaned under him, still whispering tiny affirmations to placate Harry's fears, lest he slow his wicked pace even a hair. Gaining confidence, Harry gripped his hands firmly around Draco's ankles and pulled them up and wide apart in a V, coincidentally lifting Draco's lower back almost a half foot off the bed.

Draco drifted in a wonderful sense of weightless surrender, half his body almost literally suspended by his ankles, savoring the mind-clearing savagery of Harry's thrusts. Pain was sparkling behind his eyes, and his vision kept blurring at random, but he never relented.

This...this exquisite violation...was precisely what he wanted. His own cock was bouncing and weeping trails of pre-come onto his stomach as Harry pounded into him. It wouldn't last at this pace, but what a ride! His universe contracted and exploded every few seconds...and Harry was the omnipotent god that created and destroyed it.

Harry's eyes were fixed sternly on Draco's face, watching for any sign of real pain, while he unleashed the most brutal pace they had ever allowed themselves. He couldn't hold back for long like this, but he was gritting his teeth and trying save himself until he achieved his goal.

Harry's lips curled into a grin when Draco's muscles began to tense and shift around him. That beautiful face was contorted in a shameless mask of ecstasy...tears streaming down pale cheeks. The swollen and leaking member that had been bouncing in front of Harry for the last ten minutes suddenly stiffened sharply, and spurted out of control, streaking Draco's chest and stomach with droplets of white, while Draco's throaty groans transformed into a deafening screech.

That was all there was for it, the sight of Draco's orgasm finished Harry in seconds, though his was quieter and more controlled. He kept his rough pace through the final bursts of his and Draco's respective orgasms, then let the slim legs he'd held slip slowly from his grasp.

He slid himself free of Draco's limp and exhausted body and curled beside his almost comatose lover, kissing the tears from his cheeks. While Draco was still recovering, Harry cast a couple of elementary Cleaning Spells...wandlessly, just to keep his practice up.

After several silent minutes had passed with Harry just idly stroking his boyfriend's hair, he got up the nerve to ask after Draco's well being. He didn't want to be a mother hen, but...well...he really had been rough!

"Draco? You still in there, love?" Harry let a nervous chuckle out when he saw the grey eyes slowly shift his way.

"Mmm-hm," was all a wide-eyed Draco could manage at the moment, but at least that was something. Harry quietly adjusted the sheets and pillows and made them ready for bed, carefully slipping Draco into place and tucking him in before curling up beside him.

Harry could see gratitude in his lover's eyes, as well as a certain pacific calm that Draco often had after sex. He figured he'd done his job as a boyfriend fairly well and, even without conversation after sex, he was thoroughly content.

With a little luck, the afterglow Draco felt would take the edge off the proceedings at Malfoy Manor tomorrow. Harry was every bit as tired as Draco, and was asleep in minutes, missing the faint and garbled 'Thank you' that Draco uttered before passing out, numb and exhausted, in Harry's loose embrace.