The Open Door

I am curled around him, his limbs entangled with mine. I remain still, my eyes shut tight against his gaze. I feel his eyes roam my body, his hand brush my hair from my forehead, his soft fingertips barely grazing my skin.

I feel the bed shift as he arises and hear his soft footsteps padding off into the room. I am alone for the minute. I can’t help but wonder what he has planned for me because he is a Malfoy and there is always a plot or a plan or a scheme running through their minds. I know this is true; I can count the many times during our years at Hogwarts the abuses he heaped on me. But, oddly enough, I’m not all that much worried. Whatever he wants from me, he will have it. He has saved me from the Dark Lord and for the first time in my life, I feel comfortable, happy, lazy, and sated.

I open my eyes and see him sitting before the fire. He is pensive, but I can barely make out the faintest hint of a smirk crossing his lips. His hair gleams in the firelight and I have the urge, no… the desire to touch it, feel it in between my fingers, touch it with my lips. He is beautiful even with his scarred face, scarred body, and scarred soul. I can’t help but want him.

I slip from the bed and tug the sheet from its hold on the bed. I wrap it around me, toga-style, and make my way toward him.

He sits before the fire, drinking in its warmth, his eyes closed, lost in his thoughts. I wonder what they are, but then I realize that I really don’t care. He has let me fuck him, let me inside him, let me see a side of him that I’ve never seen before. He was just Malfoy before, just an ugly bully in school, a fucking evil servant of the Dark Lord, but now he is my savior, my lover, my master.

I watch his eyes shift rapidly under his eyelids, and I clutch the sheet around me tighter. I know that I have lost to the Dark Lord that I have no power left with which to fight, but I have him, here and now, and that is all I can think about at the moment.

Silently, I lower myself down until I can rest my head against his leg. I can smell the scent of sex and maleness, and myself upon him. I press my cheek to his skin and inhale.

He starts, and I glance upward. Suddenly, I feel so shy, so vulnerable, and so weak. He has dominated me, and I welcome it.

“I missed you,” I hear myself say, and then I add the word that I know he loves. “Master.”

He smiles slowly, the slow sexy smile that preludes his taking me, and my heart speeds up, and the excitement builds in my stomach. Gods, I just want to lay back and feel him enter me, feel the heat of his sex invade me and render me weak and incoherent. He is that strong a drug for me, that fucking powerful.

He threads his fingers through my hair, then returns his steady gaze to the fire dancing in the fireplace. His fingers work gently at the knots in my hair, but this is heaven, to feel his hand stroking and carding my hair. He is my enigma, my scarred lover. I turn to watch the flames in the fireplace dance their flickering dance.

I rest against his leg and I feel a shiver run through him.

“Harry, would you throw another log on the fire?” I should have known! He is cold and I am stupid. I should anticipate his needs so that I may stay his pet.

I rise, pulling the sheet around me. I lift a log from the stack of wood near the door and shuffle awkwardly toward the fireplace.

“Drop it.” His voice is soft but I hear the firmness in his tone. This strange mixture of steel and velvet startles me and I stammer.

“What?”

He raises a long elegant finger and motions with it. I am so confused, but I obey. The log settles on the wooden floor, rocking from its sudden landing. My make-shift toga follows, the sheet slipping from my grasp and pooling around my feet. I stand, naked, before my master and await his pleasure.

“I meant that,” he says, smirking at my foolishness. I am a fool.

I lift the log again and put it on the low flames. The dry wood catches quickly and I squat down to study them, too embarrassed to turn and face my master. The heat prickles my skin. I long to stay there, but I rise and take a step toward him.

His eyes reflect the firelight, flames tonguing molten steel. My breath catches in my throat and I drop to my knees and crawl to him, subservient.

I sneak a glance at his face and he looks amused. Perhaps he isn’t angry with me and my stupidity. My knees hurt from the hard floor, but I crawl and ease my way between his legs, and rest my head upon his groin. The smell is heavenly, and the heat reminds me of the fire that burns between us.

His hand is upon me, his cool fingers running over my healing shoulder, up my neck and into my hair where they toy with my hair. I feel him under my cheek, hardening, becoming aroused. I’m stunned. Is he that aroused by my nearness? I hid my happy grin, and nuzzle him, my need for him making it painful to sit so close to what I desire.

I reach for his robes, intent on opening them and finding the wonderful cock that I love. I want to taste him, suck him, feel his spunk fill my mouth, but he pulls my hands away and holds them firmly against the tops of his thighs.

His laughter floats over me and he shifts beneath me. “Not now, pet, not now.”

“Master?” I ask. I only want him to tell me what he wants, what he needs, what he requires of me.

“No… no… no,” my master whispers, his eyes burn into mine and want to dive into the fire and melt. I reach for his robes again, but he catches my hands and pulls them back to the top of his thighs.

I hear the hesitancy in his voice, the rough emotion making it crack as he speaks.

“I need to ask you something, Harry. You have to be absolutely sure before you answer. What you decide will determine whether Voldemort lives or dies.”

I sag against his leg, weak with emotion that I am well to aware of… fear. I want nothing to do with the Dark Lord; I just want to be with this man.

“Harry, Harry, are you listening?” He sounds impatient, angry and I answer him sullenly.

“Yes… Master.”

“Don’t call me that now,” he hisses and he pushes my hands further apart. I fight him now, my anger making me growl. He is my master, not Voldemort, yet I fight against what he wants of me.

“He has to die, “I hiss, jerking from his grasp and falling flat on my arse.

“You were listening. Here.”

I hear the wonder in his voice and he offers his hand to me. I’m struck with a sudden sense of déjà’ vu, how he offered me his hand in friendship so many years ago when his face and soul were both unscarred. I grasp his hand and allow him to pull me up.

“You have to be sure when you answer. I have to know two things, Harry, and… I need the truth,” my master says, his voice dark and serious.

I nod, and I catch the glint as his downturned eyes flick up and down.

“Why… why did you save my life? You could have just as easily run off and left me to the Death Eaters.”

I shake my head and turn away. I can’t put into words how I feel and why I saved him.

“It… I have to know, Potter,” Draco says urgently.

His gaze is upon me and I feel it pull me back to him. I look up and see him watching me intently. Slowly, I rise to my knees and place my hands on his bony knees; the soft material slipping off his pale, white legs. I run my hands up his thighs, taking time to undo the fastenings of his robe.

“Harry…” Draco inhales my name.

“I couldn’t leave you, I couldn’t,” I say, and I kiss the soft pale flesh of his inner thigh.

I feel his shiver and I kiss and nibble my way toward what I want. I’m so horny it hurts.

“Harry, stop. Stop it for just a minute… please?” my pale man asks.

I stop my ministrations and gaze up at him. I see his face contort into a parody of a grin, and I know in my heart that he wants me to keep going, to take this to its logical conclusion. I want to take this to it’s oh so logical conclusion.

“What… why?” I ask, bewildered.

“I want you to think before you answer. Everything and I mean everything depends on how you answer. Do you understand?” Draco asks and his grey storm cloud eyes bore into me.

I nod, then lay my head on Draco’s leg and feel it quiver under my cheek.

“I need to know,” Draco says, pausing and taking a deep breath before he continues, “I need to know if you would do anything I asked you to do, especially if it involves the end result being Voldemort dead.”

I lift my head slightly and nod. “I would. I would do anything you asked as long as that bastard dies.”

Draco swallows with a strangled choking sound.

“Would you die for me?” Draco asks without warning.

I didn’t expect this. I hear Draco’s inhalation and I know he’s waiting for my answer. Now is the time for courage and fearlessness.

“Yes,” I say softly. “Yes, I would.”

“You would?” Draco says, his astonishment written plainly on his scarred face. I find it amusing that I’ve startled him.

I nod slowly and then reach up and cup his chin. I rise to my knees and pull him down to me. His lips are so lush and wet; his tongue flicks out and wets them again. “I would,” I whisper, then I kiss him.

I pull back from him, because I have to say what is in my heart, what I feel, and if I don’t, I may never have the chance again. If I die, if I can kill the bloody bastard who’s murdered my friends, made my life a blurred and broken image of what it was before, I will never be able to say what my heart feels for him. I touch his scarred face, following the jagged line that has ruined his beautiful face.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur before I press my lips to that ragged scar that slants across his face. I kiss along the line and my fingers move to his hair, carding the pale blond strands, letting my lips lead themselves without thought of destination. I feel his confusion, his wonderment, and I kiss and gently push him back until he tumbles over the sofa arm onto the sagging couch in a great cloud of dust. I move to straddle him.


“This is much better don’t you think? Or would you rather move to the bed, Draco,” I purr, the need making me bold and presumptuous. Harry almost purred, his fingers parting the rest of the robe’s fastenings.

“Um,” Draco moans, as my fingers close around his cock. My fingers are wicked, they have had agood teacher; my lips are on him, tasting, kissing, and feasting on his perfectly silken skin. His subservience emboldens me and I reach around and brush my finger down the cleft of his arse, teasing and touching. I hear his ragged gasp as I push a finger inside him.

I don’t understand why he allows me to do this, but as much as I wonder, I find that I simply don’t care. I search inside him, feeling him writhe beneath me as my finger slides in almost past my knuckle. I move slowly, gently, and slip my finger almost all the way out and then enter him again with my both my middle and index finger. He tosses his head and the lustful sounds from his throat make me want him even more. I find the small gland that I’m searching for and tease it with my fingers. He arches beneath me.
He seems far away from this dirty little cottage, perhaps lost in a paradise of pleasure. I want this for him, for me. I want him to want me, I want him to let me fuck him, because I want to, not because he wants it. But before I know it, I feel the words slipping from my mouth into his ear.

“Do me,” I whisper, as I caress his shaft. He is harder than I’ve ever felt before. My whisper excites him and I say what I want him to do. “I want you in me,” I whisper as I tickle his ear with my tongue.

“Why?” Draco asks quietly as he guides himself into me. It hurts but just a little. His fingers have worked me into a frenzy, but it still hurts when he slides inside. But, the pain fades as he moves and I ride him, his hips thrusting that wonderful organ deep inside me. I almost hate the needy whimpers that come from me because there is no other way I can articulate what I’m feeling. It is my heaven in this wizard-made hell. I know nothing but him, his hands, his tongue, his cock inside me and I’ve escaped to the world of fucking where there is no one else to disturb us.

Draco sleeps in an untidy sprawl of on the sofa, a leg dangling off the side while I sit on the floor, my once-forgotten sheet wrapped around me again. I had pulled the duvet from the bed earlier and covered him, but that one pale leg taunts me by peeking out from beneath the heavy cover. I brush the fine blond hair from his face and kiss his slightly parted lips, tasting the faint taste of myself.
I study the ruined face in front of me and then I bend toward his ear and whisper what I want him to know, but what I’m too hesitant to tell him, that he would think that I was weak and cowardly.

“I would do anything for you because I love you.”

Draco sighs in his sleep and turns away from me.

I smile at the secret that I’ve told him. I lean back against the sofa, my hand finding itself buried in his hair, petting and letting the fine strands drift through my fingers. The crackling fire feels good and perhaps I should throw another log on to keep Draco warm while he sleeps. Tomorrow will bring what it will and I’ll be there by his side to defend him.

I will do whatever he wishes, because that is my decision.