With Teeth
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
13
Views:
18,792
Reviews:
64
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
13
Views:
18,792
Reviews:
64
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
With Teeth
**Wave good bye
To what you were
The rules have changed, the lines begin to blur**
--
Harry ran through the hall ways and down stairs and through the dungeons, moving as quickly as he could force himself through the dead weight in his chest.
At the time, he’d decided ignoring Draco would have been worse.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
He hesitated in the hall, dreading seeing the blonde’s face.
*
Draco sat on the teaching desk, waiting for his charge. Never, in his entire career at Hogwarts, had he ever felt such joy looking forward to a meeting. He glanced at a clock, wondering if he just felt like Harry was taking forever. He frowned when he realized Harry should have been able to run fast enough to get to him sooner. Pushing his thumb to the charm in his fingers once more, he jumped at a yelp echoing just outside the door to his classroom.
He looked up at the portal just as the door nudged open a little more, and stared wide-eyed into his opposite’s green.
“Harry.”
The brunette cleared his throat nervously.
“Sir…”
Draco narrowed his eyes at the boy in his doorway. Something was… off.
His gaze flicked deliberately to the center of the room; Harry’s unofficial assigned seat. A steadying breath preceded the boy’s compliance with the unvoiced command.
Just as Harry could read Draco’s thoughts, Draco could read Harry’s. He knew. He didn’t know what he knew, but he knew.
“Harry, I called you here because I wanted to give you some orders for the day.”
Harry flinched when Draco hopped off the desk and started circling him.
This didn’t go unnoticed by ice blue eyes, and Draco wondered just WHAT had made Harry so nervous around him. He really had only wanted to spice things up. Harry was just too good at being a prime submissive. Draco was itching for opportunities for cause and effect, punishment and reward, but there had been a little too much reward and not enough punishment. The sight before him now, however, put all thoughts of complicated schemes out of his head. He got the feeling that his need to reprimand was going to be filled anyway, but it gave him an uneasiness in his stomach.
Stooping down so he was mostly level with green, he forced a connected gaze. Looking into Harry’s eyes he forced Harry to tell him what was wrong.
And he saw pain.
And fear.
“Harry, you’ve been bad.”
This caused another swallow, another diverted gaze. The quake spreading through Harry’s form drew Draco’s attention, and he desperately wanted to know what Harry had done. He knew he’d never get words out of him, though. He flicked his gaze over the entire image: Harry’d clearly not had enough time to redress from bed before sprinting to the dungeons. He was still in sleep socks, his bare torso shivered in the cool air, and his loose bottoms bunched tight around his hips where he was bent at the knees in his submissive position.
This position was to be Harry’s downfall.
The pants bunching around his thighs showed off an odd pattern of colour that seemed too out of place to the astute blonde. Too red and… crusted. He recognized the shade and texture because he so hated to clean the stuff up.
Draco’s narrowed gaze and sharp tone told Harry that he was doomed.
“Stand up, against the wall. And get those trousers off!”
Knowing what he was NOT getting, he left his boxers on as he slowly moved to comply. He jumped at the sharp snap behind him.
“Move!”
Pressing himself against the wall, his eyes slipped closed and he desperately held back tears. Trust and safety had long since been an accepted factor in this… relationship; but he still found himself unable to cry in front of his master. Only in the safety of his own private bed curtains had he let tears fall, but he so desperately wanted to let go now.
Harry felt the presence of his Draco (could he still call him that?) almost against him. He held his breath, muscles tense. A finger trailed down his chest over his sensitive hip and down to the edge of his boxer leg. The finger gently lifted the material just up and out of the way to see three well formed very angry red scars against the once thought to be clean flesh.
Draco knelt easily, taking in the patterns on the thigh in his hand. He ran a finger over each fresh scar, noticing finally the past marks. He was furious with himself for not seeing them before. It was his fault Harry had taken this so far.
Each line was beautifully uniform, no lines touching any others. Parallel marks of emotions, and voids. Draco looked up into watery open eyes. Fear emanated from the brunette. Harry saw nothing but a stony face. He had no clue what to expect from the blonde.
Draco stood again, staring closely into green orbs trying to discern every little piece of information. Overwhelming pain seemed to be the overriding emotion swirling in Harry’s depths. He seemed to be saying ‘you caused this pain, Draco,’ but he wasn’t ready to accept that much responsibility for his involvement with the brunette.
Narrowed gaze was the only warning before a hand was drawn back, and brought hard across Harry’s cheek. The wind was knocked out of him in surprise. His tongue ached where he had bitten it, and the shock of the impact on his face burned red. Unable to move back, to resume his position against the wall, he stayed where the impact left him, leaned to the side and looking away.
It was easier to look away.
He wouldn’t have it easy.
“Look at me.”
The voice dripped with venom.
Slowly, shakily, Harry dragged his gaze back to meet blue. His lip trembled, no longer able to see clearly for the blur of tears settling on his lashes. Draco had never been this rough with him before. Harry had never done anything to warrant it. He had never had to be taught a lesson over anything.
“You have broken a rule.”
The word ‘rule’ was strongly stressed to imply the separation between general rules and BIG rules. Harry had in fact broken a real rule; One of the very few set out in the beginning of their relationship.
Harry felt sick.
“This body is mine. I can do whatever I want with it, and you are not to do anything to it against my wishes. You have damaged my property. In the civilized world I could have you arrested.”
Harry shook under the harsh glare, and felt even more like crying. He wished he could just get a punishment and let off, let everyone forget anything ever happened. Glamour away the scars and never do it again. Hell, he was even thinking about throwing away his knife. He wanted to ask what it would take, but knew speaking would just further the rage.
“I won’t have you arrested, but you will pay for the damages.”
A glimmer of hope wiggled inside Harry’s chest.
“Time off.”
Harry blinked back his puzzlement. What the hell did ‘time off’ mean?
Inside, Draco was shaking. He wanted to damage Harry physically. He wanted to break him inside for doing this to him. He didn’t realize something seemingly so trivial, something he officially didn’t object to, would enrage him so much.
He knew, though, that Harry was already broken, and he didn’t want to touch him. At the moment he felt sick, and he told him as much.
“You sicken me.”
The venom spat at him made Harry jump.
“I don’t want to touch you until these are healed. And you do not get magic. I don’t even want to see you until these scars only exist because you remember them.”
Harry was about to crack; he didn’t think he’d make it much longer before he broke down sobbing. To his surprise, Draco dropped once more to his knees, holding Harry’s legs gently. A choked sob broke free from Harry’s throat and he looked up at the ceiling, simultaneously longing for contact and praying for Draco to just go away.
One last final trace with his fingertips, blood all but dried, and a gentle kiss was placed to the three angry wounds. The muffled sobs rattling in Harry chest threatened to break forth, and he longingly looked down at the blonde watching him slowly get back to his feet. Draco had one final thing to say before ignoring his favourite client.
“And Harry, you had better hope these scars aren’t permanent.”
As the blonde left the room in a swirl of rage and hurt cleverly concealed as something else, Harry slid down the wall, chest heaving with silent desperate cries.
--
**I cannot go through this again**
To what you were
The rules have changed, the lines begin to blur**
--
Harry ran through the hall ways and down stairs and through the dungeons, moving as quickly as he could force himself through the dead weight in his chest.
At the time, he’d decided ignoring Draco would have been worse.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
He hesitated in the hall, dreading seeing the blonde’s face.
*
Draco sat on the teaching desk, waiting for his charge. Never, in his entire career at Hogwarts, had he ever felt such joy looking forward to a meeting. He glanced at a clock, wondering if he just felt like Harry was taking forever. He frowned when he realized Harry should have been able to run fast enough to get to him sooner. Pushing his thumb to the charm in his fingers once more, he jumped at a yelp echoing just outside the door to his classroom.
He looked up at the portal just as the door nudged open a little more, and stared wide-eyed into his opposite’s green.
“Harry.”
The brunette cleared his throat nervously.
“Sir…”
Draco narrowed his eyes at the boy in his doorway. Something was… off.
His gaze flicked deliberately to the center of the room; Harry’s unofficial assigned seat. A steadying breath preceded the boy’s compliance with the unvoiced command.
Just as Harry could read Draco’s thoughts, Draco could read Harry’s. He knew. He didn’t know what he knew, but he knew.
“Harry, I called you here because I wanted to give you some orders for the day.”
Harry flinched when Draco hopped off the desk and started circling him.
This didn’t go unnoticed by ice blue eyes, and Draco wondered just WHAT had made Harry so nervous around him. He really had only wanted to spice things up. Harry was just too good at being a prime submissive. Draco was itching for opportunities for cause and effect, punishment and reward, but there had been a little too much reward and not enough punishment. The sight before him now, however, put all thoughts of complicated schemes out of his head. He got the feeling that his need to reprimand was going to be filled anyway, but it gave him an uneasiness in his stomach.
Stooping down so he was mostly level with green, he forced a connected gaze. Looking into Harry’s eyes he forced Harry to tell him what was wrong.
And he saw pain.
And fear.
“Harry, you’ve been bad.”
This caused another swallow, another diverted gaze. The quake spreading through Harry’s form drew Draco’s attention, and he desperately wanted to know what Harry had done. He knew he’d never get words out of him, though. He flicked his gaze over the entire image: Harry’d clearly not had enough time to redress from bed before sprinting to the dungeons. He was still in sleep socks, his bare torso shivered in the cool air, and his loose bottoms bunched tight around his hips where he was bent at the knees in his submissive position.
This position was to be Harry’s downfall.
The pants bunching around his thighs showed off an odd pattern of colour that seemed too out of place to the astute blonde. Too red and… crusted. He recognized the shade and texture because he so hated to clean the stuff up.
Draco’s narrowed gaze and sharp tone told Harry that he was doomed.
“Stand up, against the wall. And get those trousers off!”
Knowing what he was NOT getting, he left his boxers on as he slowly moved to comply. He jumped at the sharp snap behind him.
“Move!”
Pressing himself against the wall, his eyes slipped closed and he desperately held back tears. Trust and safety had long since been an accepted factor in this… relationship; but he still found himself unable to cry in front of his master. Only in the safety of his own private bed curtains had he let tears fall, but he so desperately wanted to let go now.
Harry felt the presence of his Draco (could he still call him that?) almost against him. He held his breath, muscles tense. A finger trailed down his chest over his sensitive hip and down to the edge of his boxer leg. The finger gently lifted the material just up and out of the way to see three well formed very angry red scars against the once thought to be clean flesh.
Draco knelt easily, taking in the patterns on the thigh in his hand. He ran a finger over each fresh scar, noticing finally the past marks. He was furious with himself for not seeing them before. It was his fault Harry had taken this so far.
Each line was beautifully uniform, no lines touching any others. Parallel marks of emotions, and voids. Draco looked up into watery open eyes. Fear emanated from the brunette. Harry saw nothing but a stony face. He had no clue what to expect from the blonde.
Draco stood again, staring closely into green orbs trying to discern every little piece of information. Overwhelming pain seemed to be the overriding emotion swirling in Harry’s depths. He seemed to be saying ‘you caused this pain, Draco,’ but he wasn’t ready to accept that much responsibility for his involvement with the brunette.
Narrowed gaze was the only warning before a hand was drawn back, and brought hard across Harry’s cheek. The wind was knocked out of him in surprise. His tongue ached where he had bitten it, and the shock of the impact on his face burned red. Unable to move back, to resume his position against the wall, he stayed where the impact left him, leaned to the side and looking away.
It was easier to look away.
He wouldn’t have it easy.
“Look at me.”
The voice dripped with venom.
Slowly, shakily, Harry dragged his gaze back to meet blue. His lip trembled, no longer able to see clearly for the blur of tears settling on his lashes. Draco had never been this rough with him before. Harry had never done anything to warrant it. He had never had to be taught a lesson over anything.
“You have broken a rule.”
The word ‘rule’ was strongly stressed to imply the separation between general rules and BIG rules. Harry had in fact broken a real rule; One of the very few set out in the beginning of their relationship.
Harry felt sick.
“This body is mine. I can do whatever I want with it, and you are not to do anything to it against my wishes. You have damaged my property. In the civilized world I could have you arrested.”
Harry shook under the harsh glare, and felt even more like crying. He wished he could just get a punishment and let off, let everyone forget anything ever happened. Glamour away the scars and never do it again. Hell, he was even thinking about throwing away his knife. He wanted to ask what it would take, but knew speaking would just further the rage.
“I won’t have you arrested, but you will pay for the damages.”
A glimmer of hope wiggled inside Harry’s chest.
“Time off.”
Harry blinked back his puzzlement. What the hell did ‘time off’ mean?
Inside, Draco was shaking. He wanted to damage Harry physically. He wanted to break him inside for doing this to him. He didn’t realize something seemingly so trivial, something he officially didn’t object to, would enrage him so much.
He knew, though, that Harry was already broken, and he didn’t want to touch him. At the moment he felt sick, and he told him as much.
“You sicken me.”
The venom spat at him made Harry jump.
“I don’t want to touch you until these are healed. And you do not get magic. I don’t even want to see you until these scars only exist because you remember them.”
Harry was about to crack; he didn’t think he’d make it much longer before he broke down sobbing. To his surprise, Draco dropped once more to his knees, holding Harry’s legs gently. A choked sob broke free from Harry’s throat and he looked up at the ceiling, simultaneously longing for contact and praying for Draco to just go away.
One last final trace with his fingertips, blood all but dried, and a gentle kiss was placed to the three angry wounds. The muffled sobs rattling in Harry chest threatened to break forth, and he longingly looked down at the blonde watching him slowly get back to his feet. Draco had one final thing to say before ignoring his favourite client.
“And Harry, you had better hope these scars aren’t permanent.”
As the blonde left the room in a swirl of rage and hurt cleverly concealed as something else, Harry slid down the wall, chest heaving with silent desperate cries.
--
**I cannot go through this again**