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 62: The First Time


Harry couldn’t honestly remember a time when he’d felt better than this. On one hand, a lifetime’s worth of pent up hormones and sexual energy were finding release every single day, and on the other hand, he had a lover who was also his closest friend and confidant. In two short weeks, Draco had gone from a beautiful and untouchable mystery, to a confident and sensual lover, and Harry had reaped the benefits of this change each night…and some of the mornings as well! He’d never really thought of himself as brooding or morose. Those were things that better fit his mental description of others. Only now, in retrospect, did his life before this seem dark and empty. Perhaps it was hard to define emptiness…until one’s life was full. Either way, the changes to his outlook were as clear as the changes in his life.

The heaps of housework hadn’t slowed his stride in the slightest, and since he was home with Molly fairly often compared to the others, he had cheerfully shouldered most of the labor. He always had, because he was here, and because with magic of his strength, he could make many chores easier with a wave of his hand. There was a subtle change in the very way he looked at his day, all from nothing more than the knowledge that he’d awakened next to Draco, and would be falling asleep beside him again tonight. Those two seemingly simple things made everything that happened between those two points irrelevant. He’d lived with nightmares and headaches for so long that, until this sudden respite, he’d accepted them as part of his life. Throw that kind of relief in next to comfort, companionship and sex, and life was sweeter by far than anything he’d ever known.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been trying to behave himself better before now. It just seemed to come so much easier. There seemed to be no anger in him, and little if any discontent. Logically, he knew there were Death Eaters still out there, doing harm or just fleeing from the Aurors, and the situation hadn’t really changed, but the way he felt about it was rapidly shifting. The Auror service seemed to be doing their job, there hadn’t been any word about new victims of LeStrange’s gang, Ron was getting on with his life and loving his new work, and Draco was healthier and happier than Harry had ever seen him. How could anyone brood when things were like this?

Draco had started working out again, and Molly’s big meals had put five more pounds on his frame, and it was all in places it belonged. He might always be slim, but he looked fresh-faced and energetic instead of waifish and pitiable, and these changes suited Harry perfectly. Draco just kept getting better looking with every week, resembling the young man Harry had gone to school with…minus the attitude problem and inclination toward mayhem. Molly’s words months ago had been prophetic, and they echoed even now in Harry’s ears.

‘This is a chance to see what kind of person he could have been all along…to let him be who he would have wanted to be.’

Draco had done just that, transforming before Harry’s eyes into a confident, hard-working and decent person, and a thorough and considerate lover. A very thorough lover! Harry hadn’t realized he’d had the capacity to do those kinds of things...until last week. His personal fantasies had never really gotten a chance to develop that far. He’d gone from dreaming of intimacy to swimming in it in a matter of weeks, and he’d figured out right away that he liked it. The most stunning part was the unquestionable fact that Draco had faced a lot of very valid fears for the sake of being with Harry, and while Harry couldn’t imagine the details of those internal struggles, Draco had pushed himself and pushed himself hard to give their newborn relationship every shred of normalcy he could. It was an amazing thing to think of, and Harry tried never to forget what Draco was overcoming to live this way.

At the moment, Draco was stringing garlands on the tree with Molly, and out of a sense of tradition and teamwork, no magic was being used. Harry was still peeling off his heavy boots and winter coat, and he watched Draco stand on his toes, stretching to reach the upper branches and secure the garland on his side. The arch of his neck was perfect, and his bangs were falling into his eyes. He saw Harry staring at him, and spared a second to wink before turning back to his task. It was so…so normal. It was everything his life had never been, and everything he hadn’t known he was missing until he had it.

“We never did this at home.” Draco sounded vague and wistful.

“No? Well, we do it at home now, don’t we?”

Harry’s happy smirk and comment struck the mark and brought a smile, as well as a long deserved kiss. After supper they’d set to working on a few more things rather than relaxing as usual, and there hadn’t been a minute of privacy between them all day. Molly had finally reached her limit, flushed and tired, and sat down with a heavy sigh.

“Dear me. Hadn’t thought this would tire me out so. Time was I could do this kind of thing and manage a houseful of small ones at the same time, and here I am knackered already.” Molly nipped at her tea and closed her eyes while breathing slowly.

Draco flopped gracelessly into a chair, exhaling loudly. “Thank Merlin! I was afraid you’d never get tired! I was embarrassed to think that you were running me into the ground. I wasn’t going to stop until you did, but I was starting to wonder if I’d wind up keeling over first!”

Molly took the ribbing good-naturedly. “It’s just rare that I see all the children home these days. There’s the night after tomorrow, and then there’s the ringing in of the New Year, and it will be a goodly while until I see them all in this house again. Not that I don’t love the both of you, but I do get to missing my boys. Speaking of same, where on earth is Arthur?”

It was at that moment that a muffled bang was heard from Arthur’s small workshop. Harry hurried to the door after exchanging looks with Molly and Draco, and opened it just in time to find Arthur staggering back toward the house. The man’s thinning reddish hair was standing straight on end, and his eyes were slightly glazed, every so often losing their focus. His left hand was blackened as if by soot, and when Harry touched Arthur’s arm to help him in the door, static electricity crackled between the two of them, catching Harry quite by surprise. He led Arthur back into the house and deposited him in his favorite chair, dazed and confused. Draco ran to fetch a drink for the beleaguered head of the Weasley household. Molly, on the other hand, was already in a dudgeon.

“Arthur! What, pray tell, do you think you were doing in that workshop of yours when we’ve so much to get finished? Hmm? Tinkering about with your Muggle things at a time like this! Serves you right! Hmmph!”

Harry braved the obvious question while Draco handed the man his tea. “What happened? Are you alright?”

Arthur blinked a few times, then smiled rather vaguely. “Oh. Fine. Just fine. Remember those Muggle decorations you’d told me about last year? The ones for the holidays? They need elec…electricity to light them up proper?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. But the house isn’t wired for it.”

“Found a spell. Worked just fine. Makes great loads of that electricity stuff. Just need to find a way to get it to go in that deuced little plug and stay there, though.”

The others didn’t understand why Harry was laughing so hard, but he couldn’t help but intervene on Arthur’s behalf.

“It was a noble effort. Molly would have loved it if it had worked. Try talking to some Artificers from the Magical Devices Division. They might know a way to make a storage battery for all that electricity and put a plug on it for you. As long as you’re alright, I suppose it was worth the try.”

“Oh, I’m alright. Just a bit shocked is all.” Arthur’s pun wasn’t lost on anyone. It was just so bad that they all stared at him in dumbfounded awe.

“Might say that I haven’t lost my spark at all.”

“That’s it, you! Off to bed! Clean yourself up and get to bed this instant. There will be no more of that at this hour!”

Molly was still heckling Arthur mercilessly all the way up the stairs, leaving Draco and Harry mercifully alone at last. Draco looked up from his chair and fluttered his eyes at Harry with a ruthless and overdone innocence.

“Harry? Remember when you floated me down the stairs…wandlessly?”

Harry had a fairly good idea where this was going, but there was no point in spoiling Draco’s fun. Besides, the answer was already yes.

“Yeah. I think I remember that. Why do you ask?” His smirk gave away too much. Draco knew perfectly well that Harry had already figured out what was coming.

“Well…it’s been such a long day, and I’m sooo tired. Would you float me back to our room?”

Harry didn’t say a word. He just smiled and stood up, raising his hands and letting the magic gather. Draco was already smiling from ear to ear when he began to lift into the air, slowly rising until he hovered just a few feet off of the ground. Draco basked in relaxation while magic suspended him in the air, moving him slowly up the stairs ahead of Harry.

“Mmmm. Thank you, Harry. This is the life. Wandlessly transported to bed by my sexy boyfriend. This could only be better if…”

Draco’s voice trailed off as Harry spelled the door to their room open and looked inside. He was so stunned he almost dropped Draco from surprise, but recovered, leaving Draco wobbling in midair a bit.

At some point that evening, Draco had set candles about the room, and had scattered rose petals across the bed. Anything out of place for the atmosphere he wanted had been quickly spelled out of sight, and Harry’s cozy room had been transformed into something vaguely romantic. Incense hung in the air; something that hinted of summer and night in foreign lands. Draco looked awfully smug for someone depending on magic to keep him aloft, but he had faith in Harry’s ability to take the hints and get him to where he so obviously belonged.

Harry actually blushed. He’d put aside his ability to blush over the last week or so. So much proximity to Draco, and so much sensual activity, had finally cured him of the semi-permanent redness of his cheeks…until now. This was a bit more than he’d expected, and he wasn’t nearly so foolish as to miss the significance of all this. He floated Draco gently into the room, then ended the spell and let Draco drop into his own arms, holding the smug little prat close. He was beautiful, but that knowing smirk of his was absolutely insufferable.

They kissed warmly and softly, perfectly content with the state of affairs just the way it was, and Draco was only barely aware of Harry walking slowly to the bed, even though they never broke contact, letting the kiss linger until they both made themselves comfortable.

There were soft and breathy declarations of love, which curled past their ears just as the smoke of incense drifted by. Clothing found its way to the floor almost of its own volition. Time slid by in in a warm and flickering haze; a sweetly scented pastiche of smooth, dark muscle and lean and pale limbs winding languorously together.

A moment passed between them. Something not unlike the unspoken messages passed by Dula and Charlie. A look, and Harry simply knew to let Draco take the lead. Draco reveled in that moment. Harry knew him completely, and understood that for Draco to do what he intended, it had to be on his own terms, and at his own pace. Harry made himself comfortable on his back, while Draco tried to tastefully distract Harry with a few long kisses, buying time to reach the small vial of lubricant he’d purchased in Diagon Alley two weeks ago. Getting it open was one thing, applying it to himself was another. It very much brought home the reality of what he was about to do. Once again, it was different from anything he’d ever done before. Obviously in part because he was astride Harry’s hips, and entirely in charge of whatever he chose to do, but also because he’d never had the luxury of using something to smooth the way into his body. Idly pressed fingers wouldn’t be enough, and there was a brief pause while Draco hung his head and flushed crimson, slipping a heavily slicked finger into himself, rubbing it about just a little, and then slowly pressing a second in.

It wasn’t bad at all. A couple of fingers were a fairly snug fit. Then he remembered the thickness of Harry’s cock, and shuddered slightly with apprehension. Perhaps this wouldn’t be quite so easy after all. The fingers slipped free, and Draco positively coated them in the slick gel before placing the vial back on the nightstand. His slick palm reached behind him again, and this time took Harry’s stone hard erection in hand, gently working the stuff onto every part of it…especially near the head.

Harry had one hand on Draco’s hip, and the other was knotted into the sheets. He hissed when Draco’s loose hand wrapped itself around his cock, massaging gel onto it, and effectively wanked him with a warm slickness he’d never felt before. It was agonizingly pleasant, especially since they’d wanked each other before, but never with lubricant in the mix. Draco shifted slightly, bringing Harry’s attention back to him.

Draco leaned forward, resting his head on Harry’s chest, arcing his back slightly in the hope of making the initial entry easier. He held the rigid flesh behind him in position, braced carefully for entrance. Its presence there, hot and close, nudging slightly against a place that had only known violation, made him terribly tense and more than a little frightened. He was determined to do this, even if it hurt, but the reality was a lot more unnerving than the fantasy.

Harry sensed Draco’s apprehension, could read it in the stress of his muscles and in the faint widening of his eyes. He whispered softly.

“Draco, you don’t…”

Draco stopped him with a finger on his lips.

“Shhh.”

His eyes were still wide, and Harry could feel the nervous shiver that ran through Draco’s entire body. Draco took a long breath, exhaled slowly, and pushed out and back. A few heartbeats later it smarted terribly, as muscles strained against intrusion, but it wasn’t anything at all like what he’d once endured. Uncomfortable maybe, but not torturous. Then a sobering realization struck him. That was only the first couple of inches.

‘What the fuck was I thinking? Maybe it isn’t MacNair’s mule-dick, but it’s bloody more than large enough! It’s huge! Shit! Fuck! Breathe. Breathe and relax. You can do this. This is your night. Harry’s night. Breathe for Merlin’s fucking sake.’

Draco rested himself on Harry’s chest, breathing slowly and evenly, and Harry was stroking his hair and shoulders with hands that spoke a silent language of affection. He knew. He knew it wasn’t easy, but he wasn’t going to go against Draco’s wishes. He’d been told to hush, and hushed he would remain. Draco felt his body relax a little, albeit only barely, and he wriggled ever so slightly, letting the lubricant work its magic. His own penis was limp from the pain earlier, and was wedged between Harry’s chest and his own.

Another long minute or so passed, and Draco finally felt confident enough to try the recommendation given him by Dula. Ever so carefully, he rocked himself back and forth on Harry’s chest, bearing down on the engorged cock behind him but not really pushing hard enough to achieve deeper entry. He could feel the difference, as the thing lodged in him slid ever so slightly in and out, but little more than an inch or so was involved in the entire process. Draco huffed softly, surprisingly overwrought by the effort this was taking. The frottage against Harry’s chest was nice, though, and his own cock was starting to respond to the warmth and soft friction of skin on skin. The pleasures of Harry’s gentle hands didn’t hurt either. He felt treasured and wanted, even though he was concentrating very hard on something fairly difficult, and the sluggish return of his own sense of arousal changed the dynamic nicely.

The gentle rocking was taking its toll, stretching tensed muscles inside of him and moving lubricant into places that desperately needed it. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but Draco became aware of the fact that Harry was slack-jawed with pleasure, and breathing unevenly, hands occasionally tensing against Draco, and it was because Draco was slowly and evenly taking in and releasing just about half of Harry’s prick. He wasn’t sure when or how it had happened, but it hadn’t really discomforted him in awhile, and his own erection was rigid against Harry’s body and leaving tiny dabs of pre-come against the smooth, tanned flesh of his lover.

His face was flushed, and a faint sheen of sweat had coated his entire body from his efforts, and a desperate heat was kindled in him. Draco pushed harder, further, taking another inch with every new push, bearing down and trying to open himself as much as possible to accommodate the whole of Harry’s sex. The girth of the thing made it challenging, but Draco was rapidly becoming too aroused to be worried about it.

Harry was gritting his teeth, eyes clenched and head back, straining with the effort of self-restraint in the face of pleasure. Draco was sliding slowly back, engulfing more and more of Harry’s aching erection into a taut warmth that Harry hadn’t even conceived of. Bands of muscle clenched around every inch of him that was inside of Draco. A soft, silken heat suffused his cock. No grip could ever be as firm as this, and no mouth so thorough. It was taking a lot of his willpower just to stave off immediate orgasm, and Harry looked up to see Draco push himself back again, his flushed face grimacing slightly with the effort, and then it was done. Just like that. Draco was at rest against Harry’s groin, and Harry was as deep inside Draco’s body as he could be.

Draco exhaled with relief and let himself rest on Harry’s chest again. He’d done it. It was in. Supposedly, the difficult part was over, and the actual fun could begin. At the moment, he was absorbed by so many things he hadn’t expected. The pressure inside him was strange. Violation and pain he was used to, but this was new territory. He felt terribly full, and if he’d had a full bladder, this would have made such a thing unbearable. As it was, the presence of Harry’s straining and pulsing cock inside him made his own dick twitch with the anticipation of orgasm. A tiny thread of pre-come linked his bobbing cock to Harry’s waist, and Draco raised himself up, intent on making the rest of this night legendary.

Dula had warned him that wasn’t the most comfortable of positions for a first evening, but it had been the only one he’d been sure he could handle emotionally. From above Harry, he could maintain a semblance of control, and feel a sense of choice in his actions. Dula had been right, in that Draco’s knees were sore, and his thighs were straining already from making so many tiny adjustments to prevent his being swiftly impaled on Harry’s cock. All in all, it was a bit more work than he’d imagined, but the way that Harry looked below him made it all worthwhile. The man was positively glowing with excitement, and Draco knew with absolute certainty that he ruled Harry’s world with impunity.

Draco wrapped his fingers in Harry’s mussed locks, and busied himself with a kiss while he ground himself against Harry’s cock, letting the pressure inside himself shift and change within. Nerves that had only been awakened once before came to life once again, this time because he was fused together at the hips with the one he loved, and because he was too aroused to feel shame or doubt over his actions. Draco rocked back and forth, taking all of Harry that was there to be taken, delighting perversely in the soft burn of friction inside himself, and reveling in the tiny explosions of pleasure that came of Harry’s pulsing flesh pressing again and again upon bundles of nerves that had waited a lifetime to know such stimulation.

His motions became unconsciously frantic, seeking repletion as his own need mounted, and before long he was gliding back swiftly and evenly, almost entranced by the bliss such activity brought, and his breath was coming in ragged pants. Wide-eyed, a little confused by the overwhelming physical pleasures, and just a little frightened and confused by the feelings rising within him, Draco broke away from Harry’s lips, supporting himself with a hand on Harry’s chest while he frantically reached for his own leaking and desperate prick. Harry placed one hand over the one that was on his chest, and watched in stunned amazement as Draco feverishly stroked himself to orgasm, all the while flexing and straining against the organ rooted deep inside him, keening softly as he began to come.

Harry watched droplets of semen spatter across his stomach and chest, also dotting their joined hands, and let go of his self control at last, coming explosively hard, deep inside the unfathomably tight warmth of Draco’s body. It was a merciless orgasm, since the whole of his newly sensitive cock was enveloped in velvet soft flesh that clenched savagely around his manhood again and again, pulling the last drops from Harry with a cruel deliberateness that was almost ruthless.

Draco sunk down onto Harry, dizzy and replete, exhausted past the ability to do more than whisper his devotion a few times before gasping for breath while letting himself recover. He hadn’t thought it would be like that. That it would take him over so subtly, or make him a servant to his own frantic desires. Pushing his fears aside had been worth this reward. Nothing…nothing had ever felt like that, and nothing could have felt better than the way he did now.

Harry had wrapped his arms around Draco, and had his face in Draco’s hair, still trembling while his jutting prick spurted a few final and uncontrollable jets of seed into his lover’s body. He couldn’t possible have been prepared for the closeness he felt to Draco. They were inextricably linked now, and not merely in the physical sense. There was a truth that came with such intimacy. No matter what happened, no matter what came, they would always be closer than they could ever be to other people. It was a thing that only lovers could know, a familiarity that came of sharing one’s self completely with another, and it marked them forever.

A howling spirit railed against the cruelty of the haven that had become its prison. Battered by tide after tide of love, the shade of Voldemort clung weakly to the spirit that hosted it, almost tempted by the notion of surrender to death’s sweet embrace. It possessed no strength beyond the power to cling desperately to its host, and it suffered with a wordless scream that no living creature could have heard.

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The slim wreckage that had been their toy these past weeks hung from its ankles in the seedy abandoned tenement. The bowl beneath the dead boy had collected the blood that had sullenly dripped from several expertly placed cuts. Even battered as he had been, he’d likely felt the precise moment his life had ebbed away. Rodolphus picked up the bowl and moved it to the center of the room.

A hasty cut from his own scalpel and Rodolphus blended his own blood with that of his victim’s. An uttered spell and the small wound on his wrist vanished instantly. The tools of the art were about him. Sea salt, iron powder, silver dust, brimstone and chalk. Other, far more obscure items lay at his feet as well. It would be a long night’s work, but it had to be done, else his goal might never be realized. The symbols he etched into the floor were old. Older than most could comprehend, and almost beyond recognition even to most wizards. Magic of this sort was tedious and difficult, beneath the notice of today’s hasty world. It offered so much more possibility though. It offered freedom for his Lord, but these symbols had to be perfect, and they had to be ready for the Solstice.

Rodolphus labored into the night. Tomorrow, the body would be disposed of, and a message would be sent. The deed would be done, and there could be no flinching from what came after. It was a necessary thing, risk. If one wanted to strike out for the stars, one had to gamble in the gutter. Fortunately for Rodolphus LeStrange, he had never gambled without hedging his bet.


TBC!!!