Redeem Me

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.

Redeem Me…by Samayel

Chapter 60: Overdue Lessons


Draco, whether he possessed clear memory of his experiences or not, displayed both a skill that was astonishing, and an enthusiasm that was completely unbridled. His solitary goal, the only one he could concentrate on in his giddy state, was to send Harry completely over the top from pleasure, and leave his boyfriend utterly satiated. The year gone past had held nothing but bitter memories of similar acts, but this…this was entirely unique. Draco was not for one minute sating anyone’s lust but his own, and though Harry was in no condition to tell, Draco was enjoying himself every bit as thoroughly as Harry was.

The muted groans and stifled breaths from Harry were a weird symphony to him, and he was focused completely on his task. His actions had been mechanical when this had been necessary in the past, but here, now, Draco exercised the whole of his art, lips, tongue, throat, and hands all working as one, laboring to deliver pleasure to someone he loved. Harry was reduced to occasional whimpers, and Draco occasionally lifted his head up, smiling wickedly, only to turn his attention back to the slick and reddened spear of flesh that jutted upwards from his hand.

There was a significance to Draco’s actions that wasn’t lost on Draco at all. He felt no shame for what he was doing. This was no grudging ritual for some trivial reward. This was an act of love, an expression of desire, and the symbolism inherent in taking the sex of his lover into himself was a potent and heady thing. Harry’s scent surrounded him, the faint musk of a healthy young man that had just run and run hard, sizzling with adrenaline, enveloped Draco completely, even while he let his tongue flick and swab its way around Harry’s rigid length.

Draco was the master here. No longer a servant or slave, unfettered and free to work his will, Draco effectively ruled Harry by fiat, making the most powerful wizard the world had ever seen his subject. At this moment, he was Harry’s god, and Harry’s entire world bowed to Draco alone. It was far more intoxicating than any drug or potion could ever hope to be, and Draco reveled in this even through his state of delirium.

Harry had never known sensations like these. The most intimate and private part of his body was being handled both fiercely and delicately, by his lover, at the same time. The sensations of molten warmth and wetness, soft suction and teasing swipes of spongy, velvet tongue assailed him. After a lifetime of near celibacy, pleasure of a level Harry had never even imagined overwhelmed him. When the moment came, Harry realized only at the last second that he was in a house with Molly somewhere not far off, and he hadn’t spelled the room for silence. He bit his own hand, keening and whimpering as orgasm overtook him.

Draco’s face was beatific. His eyes were closed, as opposed to Harry’s, which were wide open and staring below him at the commonplace miracle that was occurring just then. Draco lazily stroked and sucked each jetting from Harry’s loins, swallowing them one after another, eyes closed and at peace in a world of his own. Harry could take no more and slammed his eyes shut while his head lolled back, teeth still clamped around his hand, stifling any cries that might have disturbed Molly, while his groin pulsed and released seed into Draco’s skillful mouth. His legs and thighs flexed, and his free hand clenched the sheets until a knot of cloth was wound into his fist, and all the while, Draco gently lapped and pulled, offering no surcease until the last drops of Harry’s come had been claimed as his own.

Draco finally pulled away from the tender head of Harry’s spent and flagging cock, allowing it to rest on Harry’s stomach while Harry himself relaxed utterly, still gasping for breath and trying to regain his ability to speak or even think clearly. Draco smiled a lazy and sensual smile, making a show of licking his lips, which were just a bit swollen, and redder than his flushed cheeks. With only a second’s hesitation, he slipped out of the thong that had been impeding his own freedom and comfort for some time, and then clambered astride Harry’s waist, seating himself provocatively and comfortably atop Harry’s rapidly deflating manhood. He steadied himself by placing a single palm on Harry’s sweat-dampened chest, wrapped his other hand somewhat gingerly around his own engorged flesh, and began to rock slowly, stroking himself all the while.

Draco was far beyond merely aroused, drunk not so much on the presence of Veritaserum in his system, but rather on the sensation of Harry’s cock sliding between the cheeks of his arse, sometimes gently grazing across the most sensitive of places, and making Draco frantic with the desire to come.

Harry recovered enough to realize that Draco was listing to one side, still clumsy under the influence of the potion, and he slipped his hands onto each of Draco’s hips, steadying Draco and eliciting an instant gasp of pleasure. As far as Draco was concerned, it was past time for Harry to touch him, and this was long overdue. Gentle, yet strong, calloused hands were idly running along his hips, calves and waist, and Draco quickly lost control.

Pearly droplets scattered across Harry’s stomach and trickled down Draco’s knuckles, while Draco ground himself hard against Harry’s groin. A few shudders, a long, lazy sigh, and Draco leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, dizzy, sated and perfectly content. Harry couldn’t help stroking Draco’s back softly while he caught his own breath, still stunned by what had just happened. His mind was reeling, and he was only just barely beginning to comprehend that what had just happened constituted actual sex. He’d just had sex! With another guy! Specifically Draco…and it was incredible! Draco was nuzzling just beneath Harry’s chin, and Harry sighed and shivered with contentment and elation.

The spirit that dwelt in Harry recoiled in disgust. That most hated of things was ever-present, waves of it rolling through the being he had taken shelter in. It was intolerable! Fear and hatred were this creature’s food and drink, and its excrement was rage and ruin. Voldemort fought back in the only way he could, tugging at the strings of doubt and fear, and even weakened by the onslaught of affection and joy, his efforts weren’t in vain.

Harry was at peace with the world, a somewhat sticky and very sated Draco still half-asleep on his chest, when his ruthless subconscious belched forth nightmarish questions over what they’d just done.

He could have stopped himself and waited for Draco to sober up when the potion wore off, but he didn’t. Draco was completely ‘round the twist on Veritaserum, and Harry hadn’t put up much of a struggle. Maybe he’d given in just to get off. He’d enjoyed it so much, even though Draco probably hadn’t the faintest idea what he was doing. Harry hadn’t thought about that for a second once Draco’s mouth had enveloped his cock. He wasn’t any better than he’d been in the vision he’d had that morning. He might as well have raped his boyfriend for all the choice Draco would have had.

Could he honestly say that he was above doing something like that? Only Draco had stopped him from assaulting Kingsley’s mind. He’d killed people, and not just a few of them, but dozens. He was a hardened killer, and very good at it as well. He had no reason to believe that he wouldn’t hurt Draco…if his temper flared enough.

Harry had endured a lifetime of people describing his many flaws and faults to him. Vernon and Petunia Dursley, Severus Snape, a never-ending stream of abuse from the press, and even from a few well-meaning people. Among the common themes were his thoughtlessness and recklessness, as well as repeated assertions that he was self-aggrandizing, attention-seeking, dishonest and completely self-involved. He’d pushed those claims aside for years, since most of the sources were biased, but sometimes…sometimes Harry wondered if they‘d been right. This was such a time. Harry’s stomach hurt, and his head was beginning to throb and ache. Just as he was about to succumb to a serious wallow in self-hatred, Draco stirred.

Draco’s head lifted up, and Harry paused his musings when slightly unfocused gray eyes locked on his own. Draco put a finger on Harry’s lips, and was looking so serious and earnest that Harry lost his train of thought and concentrated entirely on Draco.

“Shhhh, love. Haff to…have to tell you. m‘portant. Fergiff…for-give, Harry. There’s…is a darkness…in yer heart. You ’ave ta let…let it go. Jus’ love. On-ly love ‘n you. Love you, Harry.”

Draco planted a clumsy kiss on Harry’s mouth, then slid back down into his arms, breathing softly and evenly, occasionally breaking into nonsensical mutters. His words, however slurred, rang in Harry’s ears like a great bell, and Harry couldn’t escape the feeling that something very important had happened. Something just felt right about them, and though Harry didn’t realize it, those words were etched indelibly into his soul.

His headache faded, and reminded that Draco loved him, Harry let himself put aside his fears for a little while. It was hard to think such dark things about himself when he saw the happy little smile on Draco’s slumbering face. Draco didn’t look violated or afraid, just tired and happy and bloody adorable. Harry watched the slow rise and fall of Draco’s chest, and listened to the soft sounds of sleep that came from his lover, until he drifted peacefully off to sleep as well.

The creature rooted in Harry’s soul railed against its condition. Surrounded by feelings that itched and burned and scalded, it retreated inward, burying itself deep and weathering the barrage of gentler emotions that it hated so dearly. There would be other times, other places where it could strike. Weakened so, there was little that it could do but wait, and hope for a suitable trigger to come. Like all tides of human emotion, these feelings could not last forever. Someday anger would rise again, and he would be waiting to ride its surging tide.


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Draco woke first, groggy and vaguely out of sorts, but not uncomfortable. He slowly became aware of his surroundings, and the fact that he was starkers and half-sprawled across an equally naked Harry reached his waking mind.

‘Oh. Damn. What the hell happened? Mmm. Not that I’m complaining, but it would be nice to…wait! Diagon Alley! Dawlish…Veritaserum! Oh, fucking Merlin! What did I just do?’

One feature that separated intoxication by alcohol from Veritaserum overdose was the complete absence of a headache. Another was the fact that Draco quickly remembered everything that had happened…in crystal clear detail. His speech and motor skills had been impaired, and his inhibitions drastically lowered, but his memory hadn’t been affected at all. The past came whirling back to him in a flash.

He’d babbled like an idiot in front of Tonksy and Remus Lupin, and hadn’t thanked them for getting that miserable ape Dawlish off of him, but that wasn’t the worst. He’d all but mauled Harry when they got home and…and he was still vaguely crusted with the evidence of their activities. Eewww! On the bright side, he hadn’t awakened to an untended erection, and Harry looked as peaceful as could be, so it couldn’t have gone too badly. The scent of Harry’s body was actually still detectable about his own face, and his lips and jaw were faintly sore, as well as the back of his throat. The taste of Harry’s seed was still with him as well, and Draco was fighting mingled feelings of embarrassment and excitement while privately reveling at the memory of what he’d done. He hadn’t intended to be so forward with Harry, but he’d enjoyed it so very much!

If he knew Harry at all, and he certainly thought he did by now, the noble prat would probably be worried about nonsense like ’taking advantage’ or something along those lines. Draco would put a stop to that as soon as they were both properly awake. Harry had been such a perfect gentleman. The memory of being carried in Harry’s arms was still with him, and it was almost as delicious as the memory of Harry’s splendid naked body, which scarcely needed remembering, since he was currently laying halfway across it. When he had touched Draco, it was with the same gentleness and respect that Draco had felt when being healed. He’d just known that Harry would be like that, and he hadn’t been wrong. Being touched by Harry that way made everything feel right and good instead of just wicked or shameful.

Then there were Harry’s words. He’d confessed his fears of that morning, and Harry had said every right thing that could be said, soothing Draco’s worst fears. Of course, that had touched off what had followed, so in a way it was Harry’s own actions that had put Draco in such a ’romantic’ mood. He knew that Harry loved him, even though it was only recently that they’d taken to saying it aloud, but it was still comforting and good to hear it. His family had never spoken such things to each other, and hearing the words still made an atavistic thrill run up his spine.

He’d been very lucky he hadn’t spilled everything he knew on the spot. If Dawlish hadn’t been such a vicious pig, he’d have been properly dosed and telling every secret in his head with perfect clarity. As it was, he’d said a few things that were too vague to be clearly interpreted, but the secret of the Horcrux was still safe, and Harry still had no idea how far Draco had gone in his efforts to help Harry expel the hostile remnants of Voldemort. It had been a very narrow miss, and Draco thanked his lucky stars that things had happened as they had.

The clock read almost six in the evening. Supper would be ready very soon, and Draco needed a shower…for several reasons. It had been a trying day, and it would be nice to relax and wash away past worries, but mostly he just wanted to make sure he didn’t arrive at the table mussed and rumpled and smelling of sweat and sex. Sex. Harry. This morning’s wank aside, what he’d done this afternoon was a much more real first. It was very actual and real sex, and he’d enjoyed it because he’d wanted it. Nineteen years old, and his first consenting sexual acts had all taken place today, with Harry. That…that was a happy thought to wake up to. Draco ran a hand up the center of Harry’s chest, loving the way his palm slid easily up the smooth flesh.

“Wake up, Harry. It’s almost supper.”

Harry started very slightly, eyes flicking open and focusing quickly. He, too, came to the sudden realization that they were both stark naked, and he looked a little overwrought for a second before recovering with a faint nervous smile.

“You sound like the Veritaserum wore off. Are you alright, love? You were…a little…‘out of it’ earlier.”

Draco smirked and placed his palms on either side of Harry’s face, making sure that Harry’s gaze didn’t avoid his own.

“I’m better than fine. I feel wonderful. My head still feels like it’s packed with cotton, but I think that’s from Snape’s work, not the potion. You know you’re my hero, don’t you?”

Harry blushed mildly and tried to turn his head away modestly.

“I didn’t mean to…you know…I should have…”

“Shut it, Harry. You were a perfect gentleman in every way. I remember everything. Everything. You hurried to help me, you brought me home, you said the most wonderful things, and you tried everything but force to protect the tiny bit of virtue I supposedly still have…from yourself…while I was trying my best to throw it away. If that isn’t the definition of a hero, I don’t know what is.”

Draco pulled closer, until the tip of his nose almost touched Harry’s.

“And if I could do everything we did over again, without the Veritaserum, I would do it…exactly…the…same…way. Maybe even more. You can’t even imagine how much I love the way your hands feel on me. I’m not scared anymore, Harry. I might be a little nervous sometimes, and I know you’re trying to be careful with me because I was such a mess for so long, but that’s over. I can handle this. Just let go and love me, Harry, and I’ll be happy. Okay?”

Harry was only three or four inches from a very determined looking set of cloud gray eyes, and the unshakeable certainty in Draco’s voice reached right through to his soul. Draco was right. He’d been weighing every choice based on the last couple of months, but a couple of days ago, everything had changed, and Draco was fine with it. Only Harry had lagged behind. Now he was catching up fast. Harry slipped his hands up Draco’s hips again, this time unashamed of the way he enjoyed touching his lover. Draco’s eyes widened a little with surprise, but quickly adopted a look of sly contentment while Harry answered.

“It’s hard to tell sometimes, but I really am a fast learner, once I figure out the basics. I think we’ll be just fine, love.”

Their kiss lasted right up until Molly called from downstairs, announcing that supper was almost finished, sending them into a scramble of hasty Cleaning Spells for lack of a shower. Draco couldn’t suppress his smiles through dinner, and no one was fooled by them, least of all Arthur or Molly, who had seen each of their children in the first flush of love and knew the signs well, but neither of them would ever have faulted him for having feelings as he did, and though he didn’t know it, in truth, they were silently cheering all the while.


TBC!!!