Kneeling

Thank you again for all the feedback - you have no idea how much I appreciate it.
Some additional author\'s notes at the end of the chapter this time, because they\'re kind of spoilery.


**********


There was something wrong with his vision. It was blurry, and tinged with red. The empty corridors were wavering around him, seeming to expand and then shrink again with every step he took. His body felt searingly hot, pulse pounding in his ears like far-away drums.
He had been half-hard all afternoon, looking forward to the meeting with Draco. Now his cock was straining against the constriction of his jeans, a whitehot ache burning in the back of his mind, but it wasn’t - quite - lust anymore, it was a confusing, powerful feeling of hate and rage and hurt, with the lust still mixed in there somewhere. He didn’t think too closely about the hurt - I wasn’t starting to trust the bastard! I wasn’t! Somehow it felt more comfortable to let the more violent of his emotions cover that one up.

It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, and a little voice in the back of his mind whispered that it wasn’t quite sane, either, but he ignored it. There were other voices, more powerful, shouting reason down - Fucking Malfoys! and How could he? God, Lupin… - and Gonna make the bastard pay!

He made his way to the third floor in a haze. Even later he never quite remembered the minutes that must have passed between the time he left his hiding place and reaching the secret doorway.

“Divarici!” he croaked, and almost didn’t recognice the strained, furious voice as his own. The door opened anyway, mindlessly obedient, swinging open with the sound of something tearing to reveal Malfoy, lazily sprawled on a bed that was obviously an imperfectly transfigured bureau - the mattress still had drawers, for one thing - superior smirk on his face, pale blond hair tucked behind his ears. Just like his father… Fucking bastard!

It took only one look at Harry’s face to make the smirk disappear. Harry didn’t stop to think about what it was that Malfoy saw that made him go that sickly shade of pale.

“Harry -“ he began, but Harry didn’t give him the chance to say whatever it was.

“Shut up”, he whispered, something inside him shrinking back at the vicious hiss of his voice.

For a moment it looked like Malfoy was about to keep talking, anyway, but then he was already next to him, one hand buried deep in silver hair - “Shut the fuck up, Malfoy!” - and Malfoy flinched and shut his mouth.

God, this felt good, the heady rush of power soothing the angry screams inside his head - Fucking bastard! How could you? - but it wasn’t enough, nowhere near enough. The desire to hit Malfoy, to punish him for what he had done to Lupin, was almost overwhelming, but in the end it was the powerful ache in his cock that won out, the urge to fuck overpowering the urge that called for physical violence - or, maybe, merging with it into something that wasn’t quite lust and not quite anger, either, and more hate than he would have thought himself capable of feeling.

His hand in Draco’s hair was almost gentle, drawing him to the floor, to his knees, but then, he didn’t have to yank - Malfoy followed the light tug with unquestioning obedience, looking up at Harry from wide eyes, pupils dilated so much his eyes looked black.

“Slut”, Harry whispered, enjoying the flinch in that aristocratic face. “Bastard. How could you?”

For a moment it looked as if Malfoy was going to say something, but Harry’s hands in his hair tightened, and he froze, silent.

Harry grinned ferally. Good. With his free hand, he tugged his robe aside, and opened the fly of his jeans. His cock jerked at the first touch of cool air on hot skin.

“Suck me”, Harry ordered, amazed at the sound of his own voice. What wouldn’t he have given to be able to sound like that, ice cold and commanding and deadly, back when his fights with Malfoy had been no more than shouting matches and the occasional brawl, back before it had turned into this - whatever it was they were doing, because this had crossed the border from pure lust-inspired sex into something else entirely, something so far removed from sanity he didn’t even want to think about the implications of it.

Malfoy looked… shocked, really. Frightened. Pale. His breath was coming in shallow little gasps, hitching whenever Harry’s fingers tightened in his hair.

“Do it”, he hissed.

Again Malfoy seemed about to fight, his muscles tensing - and Harry almost stepped back, almost gave in, because he couldn’t have forced him, even now - but then he just lowered his head, touching his lips to the head of Harry’s cock.

Harry jerked, feeling the touch like an electrical shock along his nerves.

Malfoy let him thrust into his mouth, passively holding still - until Harry’s cock touched the back of his throat and he choked, drawing back sharply. Harry half expected him to end it right there. Even through the rage he knew that all it would take to end this was one word from Malfoy, a single “No”, or even just a serious sign of resistance.

It didn’t come. Malfoy just took a deep breath and lowered his head again.

Harry was more careful after that, because he didn’t want it to end. He’d never felt anything like this, ever - his heart was beating like it might burst in his chest, his lungs burning with lack of oxygen. It felt nothing like sex and a lot of like what he’d felt defeating Voldemort for the first time, that heady rush of power and adrenaline and rage, but it wasn’t quite that, either - because even then, it hadn’t been as personal as this, avenging Lupin’s pain on the one who had caused it, fucking bastard with his pale skin and paler hair, untouched by the blood that should be on his hands for the world to see. The fear flickering in Malfoy’s eyes felt like justice - I bet Lupin was afraid when you had him, too. And this is nothing compared to what you’ve done to him, bastard. Getting a touch of your own medicine. Doesn’t seem so great anymore now, does it?

The feelings were building, climbing towards a fever pitch. It wouldn’t be much longer, just a few more thrusts, just… now. He heard himself groan as if from faraway, pulling his cock out of Malfoy’s mouth - one last stroke, and he was coming, white streaks of semen running down Malfoy’s face.

His legs suddenly felt wobbly, and he blindly reached out a hand to steady himself against the wall. His sight was clearing, the madness slowly dissipating from his mind. Malfoy looked terrible in the cold light of returning sanity, his mouth bruised and swollen, a wet shine that might have been tears in his eyes - in Draco’s eyes. Not Lucius. Draco. God, what had he done? Harry staggered upright, and, for the second time in his life, blindly fled the chamber, leaving Draco kneeling brokenly on the floor.

***********

A/N: To all the people who wrote and told me not to hurt Draco any more: Um... sorry? *g*