Unity

Unity

Part Seven

Chamber of Affection

He thinks I\'m something else that I\'m not. At least it explains why he is here, his sudden interest, his random kindnesses. It shouldn\'t hurt like this. I should be used to it. For six years I have been a parasite feeding off other people\'s mistaken impressions. Eventually I will disappoint them all. I know it. I\'ve always known it. Somehow, the thought of disappointing him hurts more. I know he will figure it out too soon. It won\'t take Voldemort killing me for him to realize who I really am, and am not.

He asks me if I\'m all right. I almost laugh. I manage to say something that answers the question, something partly true that makes sense.

He asks me again if I want him to leave.

I\'m so ashamed of my weakness, and my absolute inability to hide it from him. I feel so exposed under his steely, hypercritical gaze. I\'m trying desperately to think of something, an escape, a distraction, some way to change the subject.

I\'m terrified that he will leave, what ever I say.

I can feel myself folding, retreating from my edges, curling up within myself. I feel so hopeless, worthless, and weak. I hate myself more than usual. I hate what I am about to do. My heart warns me with a throbbing preemptive ache, to give me some sense of how I am going to feel, when he laughs at me, pushes me away, vivisects me with his clever cruelty. Maybe this will kill me before Voldemort does. I don\'t care anymore. I am too pitiful to stop it.

I beg him to touch me, because it is all I can do.

He puts his arms around me. I exhale breath I was holding. I collapse against him. He is so warm and strong. I try to bury myself in the scent of his clothes. I will time to stop. It ignores me. It always does. He moves. I think he is going to push me away now. He strokes my hair instead then makes me look at him. He can see into my eyes. He can see the pathetic thing looking out at him.

\"You weren\'t ever touched or held, as a child, were you, Harry?\"

The question strikes me like one of Vernon\'s punches. I wonder how much he knows, and why he wants me to wonder. This is all feeling like one of our cruel games, now. It frightens me, because he is the only one who knows the rules this time. Again, I answer with a partial truth.

\"Take off your clothes,\" he says in voice that would feel like silk and taste of honey.

In my mind, what he said, was completely unrelated to the topic. The game is becoming surreal. At least he wants me to play his game enough to make it fun for the both of us.

\"What? All of them?\"

\"No, just what ever you feel comfortable taking off. Did the muggles make you ashamed of your body?\"

Why does he want to remind me of them? Does he find their cruelty inspirational? I can\'t help admiring his skill. This brand of sadism could be mistaken for caring, but hurts just as much.

\"They made me ashamed of a lot of things,\" I say. If we keep this up, I\'m going to learn how to elevate understatement to an art form.

\"Would it help if I take off my clothes?\"

I can\'t help smiling. If I scream, \'no, the sight of you nude will make my life unbearable,\' would he actually do it then?

\"Probably not, but I\'d like it if you would,\" Gods! I\'m answering both our questions and begging again.

He smiles. It takes my breath away. He is radiant. Part of me wants to close my eyes to shield myself from his harmful brilliance. Part of me wants to memorize that smile, to play it over and over until I die of happiness or become immune to it. Part of me wants to hit him as hard as I can, in hopes that I will never have to see it again. Most of me has an insane desire to kiss it, devour it with my mouth. Truthfully all of him seems to have that effect on me.

\"Would you? Would you like to take my clothes off?\"

\"Yes, I would.\" I say it without even thinking about it. It doesn\'t matter. I still can\'t think of any other way to answer the question.

Draco stands, steps and spins, with a dancer\'s grace. He lifts his arms and looks about to take a bow. I wonder if that\'s it. If this is the end of this game. Did he just win? Then he says,

\"Go ahead then.\"

I realize he talking to me. Then it occurs to me just what he is telling me to do. I stand up and look at him stupidly. He notices my general state of confusion. I try misdirection, trying hard not to amuse him too much.

\"Where do you want me to put them?\"

\"Stuff them in the hamper. Not like I\'ll be putting these back on.\"

Not after I\'ve rubbed my face all over them, and polluted them with my hands. Is that what he means? I don\'t really think it is. I pretend it is. It makes me angry. Anger is a good thing. I feel like I am in familiar territory, suddenly.

\"But they aren\'t dirty.\"

\"Clearly we have different standards when it comes to laundry.\"

And everything else, is the silent truth that follows. Draco disposes of things. Casts them off like garments as soon as he is through with them. He will cast me off. I will save the envelope he sent along with Hedwig, until my dying day. Somehow those truths don\'t matter right now, because my fingers are undoing his buttons, revealing ever more of his perfect skin. My heart is pounding. Draco looks bored already.

\"I feel like your servant doing this,\" I whisper to him, hoping the image might appeal to him, somehow.

\"Then don\'t do it.\" He is cold, hard, uncompromising. He has no sympathy in him. It is his very best quality.

\"No, I want to- but you have to undress me, too.\" Good, now he looks interested.

\"Fair enough, but I\'m not hanging up dirty clothes.\"

\"Fine, chuck them in the hamper.\"

We undress each other. I take something off of him. He takes something off of me. Now his boxers are all that are left. I just can\'t bring myself to touch him again.

\"Are we finished, Harry?\" I try to read him. He is an encoded message in a language I don\'t speak.

\"For now,\" I say, trying not to sound miserable about it.

\"Do you still want to be touched?\"

Fuck yes, I want you to touch me! I only begged you to do that, about fifteen minutes ago!

\"Yes.\"

\"On the bed.\"

I realize I\'m crawling around on my bed in boxers, and feel my face flush. I take great pains not to flash him. At least I\'m not hard.

\"Roll over.\" Well, I\'m not hard yet.

The rest is like a dream, a fairy tale come true. He is sitting on top of me, running his hands over my body. His touch is so beautiful that it makes me want to weep. I wish I could remember how to cry. My ears are ringing. My mind slips away. Somewhere out there in the distance I hear Draco Malfoy say,

\"Turn over, Harry.\"

I do. It is shocking. I have no idea how much time has passed. I had forgotten he was here. I had forgotten I was here. My ears are still ringing.

Draco slides down right next to me. He takes my hand like it belongs to him. I fight this terrible urge to pull it away from him. Draco massages his thumb over my palm. I can\'t imagine why he is doing this, any of this. I can\'t fathom why he is next to me in boxers. I don\'t honestly care why. He is here. It is enough.

I start playing with his hand sliding my hand over his, grabbing hold of his fingers. He smiles at me again. I feel that smile all the way to my toes. He puts my hand on his chest. I stare at it, my hand, ragged cuticles, bitten nails, scars, knobby knuckles, touching his perfect pale chest. He could be carved from marble, if he weren\'t so warm.

\"Harry, you are not a submissive. Why are you pretending to be one?\"

\"I\'m not pretending to be anything. I just-\"

-was looking at my hand, wondering how anything so unworthy could possibly find itself pressed against any part of you-

\"-oh, never mind.\"

\"You just-?\"

-realized this- us, what ever you want to call it, is my one thing. If I had to choose between this and everything else in life, I\'d choose this. I\'d die for this. I\'ll live for this, for you, if you let me. I\'ll do anything for you. I\'ll be who you want me to be. I\'ve never had anyone in my life who makes me feel a millionth of what you make me feel.

\"Draco, just do what ever you want to me. Tie me to the bed. Fuck me. I don\'t care.\"

Fuck! I should have said \'I don\'t mind\' or \'I want you to\' Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

\"Now see, that\'s the thing. I -want- you to care. Do you want to be tied up, Harry?\"

Then he starts firing questions at me, as if just being next to him when he\'s mostly naked isn\'t confusing enough. I start firing answers right back, terrified I\'ll say the wrong thing that will send him packing. Finally I just tell him that. He looks at me very clinically and says,

\"I see. What part of me -do- you have an interest in touching?\"

Your heart.

\"What part? All of you.\"

Which is also true.

He removes his boxers, and invites me to touch all of him.

He forgives me, for just staring at his cock. He is probably used to that. It is, like all the rest of him- perfect, perfectly colored, perfectly shaped, perfectly beautiful. I take off my boxers too. It only seems fair. I realize that I\'ve waited six years to find out what his hair feels like. It surpasses the softness I expected, so does his skin. How can someone so soft, be so hard on the inside?

\"How do keep them so soft?\" I ask him about his lips.

\"I use them wisely.\"

It sounds so ridiculous I laugh and run my index finger over them. I am amazed how easy this is, how comfortable I can feel with him. The next thing I know, he is sucking on my finger, and it might as well be my cock in his mouth, because that is where I am feeling it. Draco is swirling his tongue around it, trying to suck the finger off my hand. I pull. He bites down on my fingertip, as if to remind me how dangerous he is, no matter how good he feels.

\"You did say you wanted to touch all of me,\" he whispers evilly.

I want to kiss him more than I can bear. I ask him. He says I can. Somehow, I am half on top of him, and our teeth click together. His tongue is relentless. Heat is pouring off him. His mouth is like a furnace. I so feel unbalanced, and not just because of my awkward position. I need to shift somehow, or just fall on him. I bring the knee closest to him to the other side of him. He grabs my arse and crushes us together. His arms are a vice. I can\'t breath. Under me, he is bucking and grinding his cock against mine. Finally, he breaks the kiss. I take a breath. I wonder why I haven\'t been breathing through my nose.

\"Move right now, or forfeit the top.\"

I begin to thrust. The rest is just sensation, flashes of awareness: the curve of Draco\'s obscenely red lips, the scent of him that years ago become synonymous with sex, the quiet sounds he makes when he is close to release. They are what sweep me to the edge. I tell him I\'m coming.

\"Come,\" Draco whispers and kisses me so sweetly, slowly, and deeply, that I actually prefer the kiss to the fact that I am coming all over Draco Malfoy. Now Draco is coming. It blows my mind that he can come, and kiss like this, at the very same time. I realize, I\'m hardly even kissing him back. I start to, I try to say everything to him in that kiss. That\'s when he pulls away.

\"Shower,\" he says.

\"You can go first,\" I say, knowing he will anyway.

\"You are bathing with me. Plenty of room. Then, I want a bath with you.\" This truly shocks me. I have been preparing myself in case he showers and leaves.

\"Both?\"

\"I\'m very dirty, and very greedy,\" he says. For some reason I can\'t resist a playful urge to turn it into a slur against his house. I\'m not sure if he is taking it in the spirit I intended, because, he has my arm twisted behind my back, and is shoving against me, partly because he is hard again, partly to get me into the lavatory. He pushes me up against a wall.

\"Move a muscle and you -will- regret it later,\" he purrs seductively into my ear, then nips my earlobe. I\'m still deciding if I want to play this game, when he has the water in the shower adjusted, neither too hot nor too cold. He grabs my hand, and grinning madly, leads me like a lamb to the slaughter, or in this case, into the shower with him.

*to be continued*