The Lone Cry of a Forgotten Soul
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
11
Views:
5,973
Reviews:
28
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
11
Views:
5,973
Reviews:
28
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.
chapter one
Title: The Lone Cry of a Forgotten Soul
Description: Years after the end of the war and it’s like “Who’s Harry Potter?” Forced to relive past traumas in his forgotten existence Harry seems to draw further away from life when certain blonds try to pry their way back into his world. R&R please! M/M, OC (sorta), Slash
Category Harry Potter books
Subcategory: Harry/Draco
Rating: R (may be NC-17 at some points)
Just so you know Harry Potter and all recognizable names and places and drinks and whatever belong to J.K. Rowling and I therefore own everything else. ::sniffle:: I want DRACO!! He’s mine… mine I tell you! He belongs to me!! Harry and all else is hers but Draco is mine!!
Man in white coat #1: “Let’s go Miss. Let go of the doll and get in the…”
Man in white coat #2: “Fuck it…” ::tears the Draco plushie from the delusional squirrel and sedates her::
Man in white coat #1: “That wasn’t necessary.”
Man in white coat #2: “…\" ::mumbles:: \"yes it was.\"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
-chapter one-
It was times like this when one could really appreciate the fiery burn of the harsh drink as it slid down one’s throat. Times like this when the milling people in the crowded club have all busied themselves grinding with one another on the old dance floor instead of sprawling across the bar trying to grope at the bartenders behind it. Times like this when even the most famous of people, even if they have been forgotten over the course of the past eight or so years can go out to public places, order a few drinks, and not be disturbed by the incessant nagging of “can I have your autograph?”
The flick of a tanned finger grabs the attention of the spunky young bartender who immediately jumps to the far end of the bar. “What can I get for yah sir?” The youth had bright blue eyes, the color of a winter morning sky and fair skin. His hair was light brown and hung in a loose pony at the nape of his long neck. “Sir?” His voice was slightly accented, not British like most everyone else that worked in this particular club, perhaps he’s from New York or something.
“Refill,” was the gruff reply, the owner of the voice looking away from the youth before him, his raven black hair covering his eyes and hanging below his shoulders. Only when the youth took the empty glass and walked away did the man look up. His dulled emerald eyes followed the youth sharply, intent on catching him make a mistake in the mixing of the drink. After realizing the youth knew what he was doing the man turned away from him and gazed slowly at the people on the dance floor. Most were male-male couples grinding obnoxiously to the pulsating rhythm of the music though there were a few male-female couples.
“Here you go sir. Anything else?” the youth returned, placing the drink on a coaster before the man.
“As a matter of fact, yes.” The man turned around and looked the boy in the eye, shifting his hair out of his face. No longer marked by a lightning bolt scar on his forehead, the only markings that could identify him now were his eyes, dull as they may be. “What’s your preference, kid?” the man questioned as he reached for his drink.
“Sir?” the youth stuttered and glanced up the bar hoping to find someone who needed something. No such luck.
“It was a simple question. I only asked for your preference.” the man lowered his glass; half empty, and continued to gaze at the youth before him. “Do you think I wish to use that small bit of knowledge against you?” he smirked slightly amused as the youth continued to shift his weight from foot to foot, uncertain. “Forget it.” The man downed his drink, left the money to pay for it on the bar and got up to leave.
Weaving in and out of the throng of teens, all witches, wizards and muggles alike, the man made his way to the front door only slightly harassed by groping hands looking for a bit of ass or some cock to satisfy whatever needs they had. Nodding to the two bouncers as he stepped out into the cool night air, he slowly walked away from the club casting his gaze three feet in front of his own black sneakers.
He sensed rather than saw the approaching figure. It was a strong man, easily twice his size all the way around. With a sigh, Harry stopped his forward momentum and stepped to the side. The bulk of a man stopped in front of Harry. “Where do you think you’re going punk?” his voice was thickly laced with alcohol, though Harry expected his wasn’t much different.
“Home as a matter of fact. Now, if you don’t mind good sir,” Harry sugar-coated his words with mock consideration for the brute before him. With a curt nod he stepped forward again, leaving the brute behind him.
“Oh but I do mind.” The man lunged forward and grasped Harry’s arm tightly, pulling him back against his large body. “You see, I’m a little, hungry. And you look like the type of meal I want to be having right about now.” He lowered his head and licked the side of Harry’s face. “Mmm, exactly the meal I want to be having.”
“Is that so?” Harry asked sarcastically. With a deep breath he pulled his arm free from the vice-like grip and slipped out of the loose embrace the larger man held him in. Wiping the side of his face with the back of his hand he glared at the man before him. The shirt was undone and hanging out of the jeans that hung below the waist line. Even in the dark lighting Harry could make out the prominent bulge in the man’s pants, the glazed lust-filled look in the man’s dark eyes, the rippling muscles that lay just beneath the skin, and the clearly drunken facial features. “Well, I hate to burst your little bubble but I am not on tonight’s menu. Matter of fact I’m...” Harry was cut-off as the large man grabbed him again.
“I don’t care if you are or if you aren’t. I’m gonna have you tonight.” He held Harry painfully hard against his body and began placing sloppy slobbering kisses all over Harry’s face. “You beautiful piece of meat. That’s what you are!”
Harry froze in the man’s grip, images of his childhood clouding his gaze. His uncle holding him in such a manner as his cousin would rape him from behind. No. His cousin brutally ramming his manhood into his virgin entrance without preparation or warning. No. Harry’s breathing became shallow. The large man in front of him slid his hand into Harry’s khaki pants to stroke his manhood all the while kissing Harry’s face and neck. No. Harry couldn’t take it anymore.
The man pulled back suddenly, his face contorted in pain and confusion. Harry staggered back, his hand clutching his wand as he stared at the bulk before him rolling in agony on the floor. Fear etched into his eyes, Harry ran. He ran far from the dingy street. Behind him he heard the man scream in complete suffering but he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop until he reached his flat and cast every locking charm he knew on every possible entrance there was. He flung himself into the corner of the nearly empty living room, curled into himself and cried.
Description: Years after the end of the war and it’s like “Who’s Harry Potter?” Forced to relive past traumas in his forgotten existence Harry seems to draw further away from life when certain blonds try to pry their way back into his world. R&R please! M/M, OC (sorta), Slash
Category Harry Potter books
Subcategory: Harry/Draco
Rating: R (may be NC-17 at some points)
Just so you know Harry Potter and all recognizable names and places and drinks and whatever belong to J.K. Rowling and I therefore own everything else. ::sniffle:: I want DRACO!! He’s mine… mine I tell you! He belongs to me!! Harry and all else is hers but Draco is mine!!
Man in white coat #1: “Let’s go Miss. Let go of the doll and get in the…”
Man in white coat #2: “Fuck it…” ::tears the Draco plushie from the delusional squirrel and sedates her::
Man in white coat #1: “That wasn’t necessary.”
Man in white coat #2: “…\" ::mumbles:: \"yes it was.\"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
-chapter one-
It was times like this when one could really appreciate the fiery burn of the harsh drink as it slid down one’s throat. Times like this when the milling people in the crowded club have all busied themselves grinding with one another on the old dance floor instead of sprawling across the bar trying to grope at the bartenders behind it. Times like this when even the most famous of people, even if they have been forgotten over the course of the past eight or so years can go out to public places, order a few drinks, and not be disturbed by the incessant nagging of “can I have your autograph?”
The flick of a tanned finger grabs the attention of the spunky young bartender who immediately jumps to the far end of the bar. “What can I get for yah sir?” The youth had bright blue eyes, the color of a winter morning sky and fair skin. His hair was light brown and hung in a loose pony at the nape of his long neck. “Sir?” His voice was slightly accented, not British like most everyone else that worked in this particular club, perhaps he’s from New York or something.
“Refill,” was the gruff reply, the owner of the voice looking away from the youth before him, his raven black hair covering his eyes and hanging below his shoulders. Only when the youth took the empty glass and walked away did the man look up. His dulled emerald eyes followed the youth sharply, intent on catching him make a mistake in the mixing of the drink. After realizing the youth knew what he was doing the man turned away from him and gazed slowly at the people on the dance floor. Most were male-male couples grinding obnoxiously to the pulsating rhythm of the music though there were a few male-female couples.
“Here you go sir. Anything else?” the youth returned, placing the drink on a coaster before the man.
“As a matter of fact, yes.” The man turned around and looked the boy in the eye, shifting his hair out of his face. No longer marked by a lightning bolt scar on his forehead, the only markings that could identify him now were his eyes, dull as they may be. “What’s your preference, kid?” the man questioned as he reached for his drink.
“Sir?” the youth stuttered and glanced up the bar hoping to find someone who needed something. No such luck.
“It was a simple question. I only asked for your preference.” the man lowered his glass; half empty, and continued to gaze at the youth before him. “Do you think I wish to use that small bit of knowledge against you?” he smirked slightly amused as the youth continued to shift his weight from foot to foot, uncertain. “Forget it.” The man downed his drink, left the money to pay for it on the bar and got up to leave.
Weaving in and out of the throng of teens, all witches, wizards and muggles alike, the man made his way to the front door only slightly harassed by groping hands looking for a bit of ass or some cock to satisfy whatever needs they had. Nodding to the two bouncers as he stepped out into the cool night air, he slowly walked away from the club casting his gaze three feet in front of his own black sneakers.
He sensed rather than saw the approaching figure. It was a strong man, easily twice his size all the way around. With a sigh, Harry stopped his forward momentum and stepped to the side. The bulk of a man stopped in front of Harry. “Where do you think you’re going punk?” his voice was thickly laced with alcohol, though Harry expected his wasn’t much different.
“Home as a matter of fact. Now, if you don’t mind good sir,” Harry sugar-coated his words with mock consideration for the brute before him. With a curt nod he stepped forward again, leaving the brute behind him.
“Oh but I do mind.” The man lunged forward and grasped Harry’s arm tightly, pulling him back against his large body. “You see, I’m a little, hungry. And you look like the type of meal I want to be having right about now.” He lowered his head and licked the side of Harry’s face. “Mmm, exactly the meal I want to be having.”
“Is that so?” Harry asked sarcastically. With a deep breath he pulled his arm free from the vice-like grip and slipped out of the loose embrace the larger man held him in. Wiping the side of his face with the back of his hand he glared at the man before him. The shirt was undone and hanging out of the jeans that hung below the waist line. Even in the dark lighting Harry could make out the prominent bulge in the man’s pants, the glazed lust-filled look in the man’s dark eyes, the rippling muscles that lay just beneath the skin, and the clearly drunken facial features. “Well, I hate to burst your little bubble but I am not on tonight’s menu. Matter of fact I’m...” Harry was cut-off as the large man grabbed him again.
“I don’t care if you are or if you aren’t. I’m gonna have you tonight.” He held Harry painfully hard against his body and began placing sloppy slobbering kisses all over Harry’s face. “You beautiful piece of meat. That’s what you are!”
Harry froze in the man’s grip, images of his childhood clouding his gaze. His uncle holding him in such a manner as his cousin would rape him from behind. No. His cousin brutally ramming his manhood into his virgin entrance without preparation or warning. No. Harry’s breathing became shallow. The large man in front of him slid his hand into Harry’s khaki pants to stroke his manhood all the while kissing Harry’s face and neck. No. Harry couldn’t take it anymore.
The man pulled back suddenly, his face contorted in pain and confusion. Harry staggered back, his hand clutching his wand as he stared at the bulk before him rolling in agony on the floor. Fear etched into his eyes, Harry ran. He ran far from the dingy street. Behind him he heard the man scream in complete suffering but he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop until he reached his flat and cast every locking charm he knew on every possible entrance there was. He flung himself into the corner of the nearly empty living room, curled into himself and cried.