Blood Ties.

Movement, velocity, time. Harry struggled to see properly, to stop the whirling, nauseating chaos that spun about his eyes, but soon realized that they are not his to control. He groaned to himself and finally the scene became still, focused upon a lush room decorated in varying shades of black, white and every hue between.

If not for the glittering emerald serpent coiled atop the shimmering black fur covering the bed, he might have thought he'd lost his ability to discern color. A hissing imperative whispered from his lips and Nagini lifted her large head, flicking her forked, crimson tongue before slithering from her nest.

His head turned and there was Draco, nude but for the porcelain mask that hid his patrician features, looking perfectly calm. Revulsion warred with arousal as Harry's gaze traversed the lean, sculpted figure that was in many ways more beautiful and classic than that of Michaelangelo's David.

The slender throat, a white column that would put a swan to shame, flowed down to delicate shoulders, feminine only in their fine structure, but deliciously masculine in their hidden strength. The smooth expanse of chest, capped by nipples the color of blush wine, tapered to a flat stomach with a strangely pretty divot of navel and slim waist. The flawless arch of bird-wing hip bones that led the eye to the shining bed of platinum from which the long-stemmed, proudly-arching, ruby-capped cock rose in defiance.

Harry felt a clench of need grasp him, but it was swiftly killed by the hiss of pleasure that rose from Voldemort's lips. For a moment, he had forgotten Nagini, had forgotten the sense of being caught within a cesspool that churned and pressed about him.

"On your knees, Draco."

There was a swoop that made Harry strain for control, the unnerving change in perspective that he hadn't willed, and he found himself staring down in sick horror at Voldemort's cock. His skin was the unnaturally smooth, white texture of a snake's belly, and his length looked lethal, venemous. Sharply pointed and viciously curved, the speckled white flesh faded to a deep black at the crown.

Harry tried to turn away as Draco lowered himself to his knees before that alien organ, screaming silently with the desire to be free of this unwanted vision. Instead he was forced to watch, feeling Voldemort's twisted elation all around him, coating him like a film of soot, as Draco lifted one achingly beautiful hand to curl it around the base of that length, his head leaning in...

Harry was glad for the Silencing charms he'd erected before he'd fallen asleep, for he woke crying Draco's name and sobbing bitterly. He rolled over onto his stomach, clutching his pillow to his face and shedding tears that burned as they fell from his tightly closed eyes. Shudders of revulsion and sympathy ran through him so hard he thought he would break apart, shatter like glass and cease to exist. The idea drew him darkly.

'Stop! You can not allow yourself to be so effected, not when Draco is the one on his knees, the one surviving. You have to be strong for him, damn it!'

The harsh truth forced Harry to gather himself and tuck away those feelings that had prompted the breakdown, and he waited until his breathing had become even before climbing out of bed. He moved silently through the room to the bathroom, needing a shower before Draco returned, for he could still feel the scum of Voldemort's mind on his skin.

~~:~~

Tonight Draco made no pretense of moving to his own bed, merely slid up onto Harry's and allowed the darker boy to close the curtains and renew his charms. Once this was done, however, Draco crawled over into Harry's lap promptly, trembling like a frightened rabbit.

Harry was unable to think of anything to say, his conversation with Snape the night before was so distant as to be a dream, and the idea of bringing up feelings after what he'd seen, made his stomach lurch. Instead, he merely caressed his fingers over Draco's hair and hugged him close, wishing he could undo the damage that had been done.

"Did...you see?"

Harry grit his teeth at the child's hesitation in Draco's voice, longing impossibly for the cocky bastard he'd met 6 years previously, anything was preferable to hearing that defeat.

"Y-Yes."

He felt Draco clutch him tighter and then soft breaths brushed against his throat, rapid and shallow, but so wonderfully warm.

"How much?"

Briefly, the image of Draco's long fingers curling around slick, white flesh flashed behind his eyes, and he swallowed the desire to moan in anguish, knowing Draco would assume the worst. He shook his head instead and muttered.

"Not much."

He felt Draco shudder, and cursed Voldemort with a black hatred so strong that he wouldn't have been surprised if the beast had died from the force of it.

"Enough, though."

Harry tightened his hold and shifted his head, whispering in a tone of tenderness that surprised even himself.

"Look up at me, Draco."

When he felt Draco's eyes on his face, he tilted and leaned in carefully, feeling instinctively until his lips pressed to the trembling mouth of the blond. Draco jerked as if to pull away, but Harry's hands slid up to hold his face still, thumbs caressing the sharp curve of his jaw. He traced the pouting lips with the tip of his tongue, taking his time to savor the taste of Draco that filled his mouth, as well as the shiver that traveled through the slender form.

Slowly, he pressed his tongue between reluctantly parting lips, then allowed himself the pleasure of learning every texture and flavor that lived within that warm cavern. A thrill shot down his spine when Draco's tongue brushed against his own tentatively, and he encouraged it into his own mouth to suckle softly.

Hours might have passed unnoticed while they were locked in their embrace, but Harry finally broke the kiss to whisper in accompaniment to the quiet sigh from Draco.

"I love you."