Foolish boy

Title: Foolish boy (first version)
Author: ejab
Pairing: HP/LM
Rating: R
Feedback: a true gift and highly appreciated
Disclaimer: Alas, J.K. Rowling owns them.
Warnings: mild slash (to be on the safe side) and character death
Category: darkfic
Summary: Harry is tired of living. Or does he just *think* he is?
A/N: my betas underlucius and silentpawz have given their best, as usual. All remaining mistakes are mine. This story is basically the first draft of 'Stupid boy'. First attempt at this pairing. Hope it is enjoyable... ?


1/1

Seven years after finishing Hogwarts succesfully, Harry and the members of The Order finally managed to kill Voldemort. This story takes place six months after that.

Liberation.

PROLOGUE

With Old Snake Eyes gone, life was just one long celebration. To begin with, I could now safely turn my back on the Dursley’s and go and find my own place. Mrs. Weasley tried to persuade me to come and live with them but I refused as politely as I could.

For the first time in my life I was totally free to do what I wanted and made damn sure to do exactly that. So I went ‘home shopping’ with Remus Lupin and found this beautiful little flat in the heart of London. The next step was to buy everything a young single male would need: furniture, appliances, you name it. I was so proud and happy! *My* flat! *My* very own place! I loved it and cherished every minute I spent there. And it turned out to be quite convenient too! When Ron, Hermione, Neville, Seamus or others needed a place to crash for the weekend or after some severe clubbing, Harry’s was the pace to go. I was only too happy to accommodate them. Even Remus, who turned out to be quite the party animal, came for a place to sleep on a regular basis.

After school I became an Auror, just like Ron. Not so much because I really wanted to, I think. It just seemed the next logical step. As well as the expected one. I enjoyed it nevertheless.

I felt happy, good, carefree. I truly lived.Or at least thought I did. I worked hard, was good at my job, loved it and the excitement it provided and spent my free time happily alone or with my friends or the date of the moment. And there was a different date any other moment, if you know what I mean...


And then something happened. At first there was this unexplainable restlessness. No matter what I did or who I was with, I felt restless. And anything but satisfied. It was like I was missing something vital but didn’t know what. So whatever I was doing at the time – it just wasn’t good enough. Be at home, go clubbing, hang out with my friends, whatever – it simply didn’t feel right anymore. While at work my mind was forced to not drift off too much but suddenly even being an Auror, I started to feel as if I was wasting my life. Was this all there was? Did I survive and kill Voldemort for *this*?

Maybe it was time to revaluate my life? Without the slightest hesitation and shocking the wizarding world in the process, I changed career and became a Curse Breaker. Three weeks later I applied for the job of vermin exterminator. Throwing Pixies into this huge high-pressure vessel and then watch them explode and see the bluish muck slowly slide down the transparent sides turned out to be extremely satisfactory. For about two weeks. Then, onto the next job. It didn’t matter, though; nothing seemed to be feeling anymore, no matter what I tried..

For a short period of time I thought that maybe I just didn’t know how to live. So I started taking ‘life-lessons’ from Hermione, Ron, Fred and George and especially their brother Charlie. And Charlie showed me that yes, we males are also capable of multiple orgasm.
But that wasn’t it either. Nothing, absolutely nothing seemed to work.

I felt so desperate, so lost, alone and scared. Very, very scared. But no matter how I felt, I never complained. Well, okay, maybe in the beginning. I was reminded by everyone, however, that I was Harry fucking Potter, ‘the hero’, and therefore had no right to complain. I had killed Voldemort, my parents had left me quite a large som of money, I was in good health, had lots of friends and never any trouble of finding a new job so what was there for me to complain about anyway?

I’d never been strong in the self-esteem department but around that time, the little I had managed to get was destroyed rapidly. Or maybe I should say I let it be destroyed. Because we teach people how to treat us, right? And frankly I was telling everybody to use me, take advantage of me. Hell, I didn’t know any other way!

Over the next couple of weeks the feeling of absolute worthlessness set in. Shortly after that the sensation of alienation came creeping in. Then memories of my parents started to chase my sleep away. It started with remembering how I saw them in the Mirror of Erised and I am not ashamed to say that I cried every time that memory returned. My mother’s hand touching my shoulder became one of my main obsessions. And there was the chain too. Every time I saw them, my father took this chain from around his neck and handed it to my mother who in turn proudly showed it to me and gestured that *I* should wear it. It was a little golden snitch and I absolutely loved it. After dreaming about that emotional gesture five times in a row, I pretty much would have given you the clothes of my back if you would have been able to make that happen.

Then their nightly visits became more and more vivid. Their smoky shadows started to crawl out of the keyhole of my wardrobe every night, just as they had appeared out of Voldemort’s wand that night in the cemetery. The first time that happened, I felt really confused and certainly somewhat tense and nervous. But not scared. Never scared. Although they didn’t speak, mum and dad always smiled warmly and every time my mum would show me the chain again. They made me feel so unbelievably loved that yes, I cried my eyes out every time they left. And seeing that my earthly dignity no longer matters, I will even admit to the fact that I have tried to prevent them from leaving by sealing the keyhole with gum and tape. A stupid, childish thing to do. I know. But it always hurt so indescribably. It was as if my essence was taken away, as if I was being ripped to pieces, and that pain only decupled every bloody following time.

However, it also inspired me to seriously think once more about the existence of some sort of afterlife. Luna had been convinced there is one. Nearly Headless Nick also indicated there is a place people go to when they die and I still have my suspicions about that veil in the Ministry.
Not long after that the first thoughts of killing myself surfaced. They should have scared me, alarmed me even. But they didn’t. Instead, they felt logical, yes, even natural. Like going home.
Finally going home.

There were practical and mentally programmed conditions to overcome, of course. People are not supposed to kill themselves, for one thing. It is considered to be weak, cowardly. Then there was my ‘disease to please’- I didn’t want to disappoint people and it would most definitely make them all very upset if ‘their hero’ suddenly turned out to be anything but perfect. I also discovered that I would never have the courage to actually kill myself; a couple of half-hearted pitiful attempts soon made that very clear. It left me with somewhat of a problem because I did not see myself asking Ron or Remus to ‘oh, by the way, can you just Avada-Kedavra me before you go?” Not only would they refuse, they’d also make sure that I would immediately visit that ‘comfy little white room’ in St. Mungo’s. Common sense told me that no one I knew would grant my wish. So I reluctantly kept on living. For the nights. I was clutching on to the nights, when I could see my parents again.

And then you emerged. Staring at me from the front page of the Daily Prophet with this contemptuous look in your cold, grey eyes. Acquitted. Again. The rumours were true then; you were a free man. How you managed to pull that one off, I’ll never know. To be fair, I never asked either.

So anyway, you were a free man again. Tainted, yes, and severely so, but free nevertheless. From gazing at your picture, I could tell that your pride and dignity were as strong as ever, though. If not stronger. Realisation dawned on me that five months at Azkaban had only made you a more dangerous man, if not downright evil. My first reaction expressed itself in a wave of pure panic and I almost threw up. Surely you’d come after me and try to take revenge for my testimony at the hearing!

Oh Merlin, that was... brilliant! Yes, of course! That was it! If *anybody* would be willing to kill me, it would be you! And you’d certainly enjoy every single second of it, which would most likely mean an agonisingly slow death. Add to that, the very real possibility of excruciating torture before that, just to amuse you and punish me for... whatever. I’m sure you’d need no reason for such sick behaviour.

The thought was enough to make me feel instantly disillusioned and depressed. Then I remembered that you are a Slytherin. To the backbone! All I had to do was think of some sort of reward that would tempt you enough to kill me on *my* terms – one which would mean no hurting or torture of any kind and just a fast and painless death.

From that moment on, I spent every free minute of my time in bookstores. Countless bookstores, and mostly the shady ones. My presence there always made the other customers extremely suspicious and often hostile, but that stopped the minute a very smart shop owner carefully approached me and offered the opportunity to browse privately after closing time. All for a royal consideration, of course. I accepted shamelessly, paid him generously and on my fourth visit, I found something I could use. I bought the book and studied for the first time in my life out of my own free will.

The next obstacles were getting a Pensive and getting in touch with you and to convince you of my credibility. That was a difficult task as I knew you’d never willingly have a conversation with me.

You still can’t stand the fact that I was even able to track you down as I did. A Malfoy should not be traceable unless he wants to be. But you grudgingly accepted my explanation that not many doors stay closed when Potter the Hero wants something, especially when he is willing to pay for it. It is exactly according to your own life style, after all.

And that is why I knew you would be at Ollivanders at three that Tuesday afternoon. Since your wand was confiscated on your arrest and then destroyed after your transportation to Azkaban, you needed a new one and had to pay Mr Ollivander’s store a visit. So I made sure to be there at the right moment.

Oh, the moment you cast your first glance at me! Your eyes burned immediately with such an all-consuming hatred and contempt that, for a few seconds, the world completely seemed to disappear and I was barely able to prevent myself from hyperventilating.

“Mr Potter, we meet again. Unfortunately.” Your voice dripped with menace but for the rest your outward appearance remained controlled and perfectly intact. Scary and commendable at the same time. Yes, you were definitely the right choice.

“Mister Malfoy.... “ Now what? Just say, “Please, kill me”? Suddenly I was lost for words.

“Well? What do you want, boy?” Your surface cracked a bit and loathing bled through.

“I... I have a request. A very unusual request,” I stammered, cursing my insecurity. “Can we... discuss this somewhere more private? Please?”

That last word clearly caught your attention. “’Please’? Well, well, you really must be desperate then - ” you mocked me, obviously enjoying doing so. “And why would I want to do that?”

“Because it might give you what you want?”

“Which is... ?” At least you were now curious enough to stand still.

“To kill me and get away with it unharmed.” My stomach started to cramp quite painfully.

You just stared at me, without flinching, and kept completely silent. I was confused for a moment but then realised that you, of course, did not trust me and suspected some sort of trap to frame you somehow.

“Don’t tell me you’d have a problem doing that,” I tried to grin and break the tension.

“I can assure you that I do not have a problem with inflicting pain or even worse on disobedient house elves, no,” you answered smoothly.

I understood the words you did not speak and couldn’t help but feel a hint of admiration.
“You’re good.”

You just smiled faintly, nodding your head in acknowledgement of the compliment.

“You can scan me for tricks or whatever, if you’d like.” Everything to get past your distrust.

It worked. You gestured me to follow you and we walked to a remote dark alley two streets down the road. And why wasn’t I surprised to find out you knew about this deserted place?

After making sure we were indeed alone, you took your new wand and pointed it at me. Then you mumbled a quick incantation and this reddish haze started circling around and even through me; a prickly, irritating sensation. It certainly took its time but finally the haze vaporised.

“So, about the killing...” My nerves made me act like a pathetic idiot.

“Oh, I am *very* tempted to do just that, Mr Potter.” Convinced at last that we were indeed alone and I was not playing some foul game, you dropped your facade, grabbed me by the throat and pulled me up against the wall. I desperately fought to pull your hands away and get some oxygen. This was not the way it was supposed to happen! Not like this!

“However... “ You loosened your grip somewhat, “... no matter how much I will enjoy killing you, there has to be more in it for me than that. Glee only lasts so long, you see.”

“I’m sure you can think of something... “ I croaked, trying to ignore the increasing throbbing in my head.

“For once I’d have to agree with you.” You simply withdrew your hand and I fell to the ground. Hard. Swallowing a painful moan, I scrambled slowly to my feet but froze the moment your cane landed on my shoulder and pushed me back down onto my knees. ”Tell me about the part where I’d get away with it unharmed, please, Mr Potter,” you hissed, pulling my hair back so hard, the tears sprang in my eyes.

“Can we talk about not mistreating me first?” My voice trembled, giving away my fear. Damn.

“You certainly know how to take away the fun, don’t you?” You pulled even harder and now the tears *were* gliding across my face.

“Hey... I’m already giving you the satisfaction of killing me and taking advantage of it the way you want! I will even make sure that you will and can not be accused of murder or anything, so the least you can do is tre-“

“Yes, yes,” you interrupted irritated, finally letting go of my hair with one last vicious pull before you stood upright again. “You will meet me at the manor tomorrow at three p.m. Make sure you are punctual, Mr Potter.”

“Don’t you want to know why I... “

You gave me your most contemptuous glare and snorted. “Frankly, I couldn’t care less.” And you left.

I went back home, trembling and sick to the stomach and regretting even approaching you. What had I got myself into? What was I thinking?

Once inside my flat, I walked from the living room to the kitchen and on to my bedroom, then to the spare bedroom. Restless, desperate, scared, wanting to cry out for help but knowing that I wouldn’t. Oh, the pain! Pure mental anguish was tearing me to pieces. This was beyond distraction with grief, this was-

No longer able to keep the desperate scream in, I simply let my body go limp and fell to the floor with a muffled *thud*, courtesy of the thick yellow carpet Hermione had insisted me on buying.

Lying there in foetal position, I closed my eyes and cried until there were no more tears to spill. I must have fallen asleep shortly after that because the next thing I remember was this golden snitch chain again and how my mum held it out to me in this loving, inviting manner. I must have tried to reach for it because, when I opened my eyes, my right arm was stretched out.

I sat up with a sad smile, rubbing my eyes and feeling very, very tired and relieved at the same time. Because suddenly I understood – my pain, fear and all those other hurtful emotions had nothing to do with you! In fact, thinking about you made me feel calm, peaceful, relieved, appreciative and, above all, ready. Yes, I was definitely ready to take the last step. The pain merely came from all these emotions I had always kept inside, hidden and secure. Now they could come out to the open at last. No need to hide them anymore. It was like emptying a bucket which you no longer have any need or use for. It all simply poured out and left me empty and purified at the same time.

Once I understood that process, my energy level increased dramatically. That was a good thing; I had to make last ends meet. So I wrote several farewell letters, explaining that this suicide was my own decision and exactly what I wanted; I’d never had a real home before and now I finally was going home. Mum and dad were already waiting for me. I didn’t bother about dividing my belongings but, in a letter to Gringott’s, did leave instructions to donate all my remaining money (still a substantial amount) to St. Mungo’s and the flat to Remus, if he was interested. If not, he could sell the place and keep the proceeds.

Almost the entire night was spent on filling the Pensive I’d recently managed to buy. I even warded every single contribution with a truth spell so they’d know I had left them with nothing but the truth and no, I had not been under any kind of spell forcing me to do so. Not that I put much in the Pensive, though. It all seemed so trite, really.
I then went to bed and slept soundly for the first time in months.

000000000000

I got up at noon. Breakfast, a shower, dressing, a last walk through my flat; all done unhurriedly and very relaxed.

It is a good day to die.

I Apparate to Malfoy Manor at a quarter to three and ‘land’ in what looks like the study. And of course you are waiting for me, sitting in your chair, poised, elegant and cold.

“Mr Malfoy...” I give a slight bow, then add somewhat cheeky, “Probably thought I would back out of it, right?”

At first you don’t respond. Well, apart from that little twitch around the right corner of your mouth. You just sit there, staring at me. Then you suddenly rise and come towards me.
“Let’s deal with formalities first, shall we? Your wand, please, Mr Potter. You will no longer be using it, after all.”

“Only if you promise t-“

“I will not harm you in any way,” you grit through your teeth, obviously with tremendous aversion. “You have my word as a Malfoy.”

“Ah, found some use for me then, have you?” I flare.

You chuckle in a way that does unnerve me a bit then. “As a matter of fact, yes, I have. And believe it or not; all you have to do is die willingly. Aren’t you lucky, mmm?”

“Fine with me, but just out of curiosity – what’s in it for you?” Judging by your smug look, your reward will indeed be generous. Trust you to always benefit the most.

“Your magical powers, actually. How raw and undeveloped as they still may be.” You give me a challenging look, probably expecting me to protest or worse. Instead, I whistle softly and again am unable to hide my admiration for a moment. Oh, dear world, you all have something coming!

“That doesn’t bother you, Mr Potter?”

”Nope. I am about to go home and that’s all that matters to me. Let someone else clean up the mess. I’m sick and tired of that job.” Without the slightest hesitation I hand over my wand and silently watch as you throw it in the fire. The flames roar and slowly turn red, yellow and then black and back to normal while my body tingles. I cringe as a wave of nausea sweeps over me. Warm hands gently push me down onto the sofa and push a glass in my hand. Brandy. I take a little sip and instantly feel better.

“What was that?” I ask, confused and curious at the same time.

“That, Mr Potter, was the destruction of your magical finger-print, your DNA, so to speak. Burning your wands equals burning every trace of you ever existing, in the magical sense of the word.” You also take a brandy and calmly sit down next to me, not in the slightest hurry and obviously feeling completely in control. Which, of course, you are.

“Wow, I didn’t even think that was possible.” I take another sip, pleasantly surprised about the absolute calmness and peace that has now taken over my body as well as my mind. It is ... refreshing. “Are you going to Avada Kedavra me?”

“I can’t, as you should well know. And how effective as that would be, it is rather er... primitive for this happy event.” Your eyes twinkle! Your eyes bloody twinkle!

“What?” Something about the way you stare at me, bothers me.

“How are your wanking skills, Mr Potter?”

“Excuse me?” My mouth drops open.

“Well, since you will have to depart in the highest spirit possible, an orgasm seems the next logical st-“

“I will *not* wank in front of you!” It is probably the first time someone interrupts you. “Not bloody likely! I would have to be pretty drunk to even consider that!” I feel my cheeks blush.

“Language, Mr Potter,” you scold me, surprisingly mild. “I regret to say that getting drunk isn’t an option, nor is the use of any form of aphrodisiac. Your blood has to remain as pure as possible.”

I try to ignore your significant and insufferable smart look. It doesn’t work.
“I’m not – I couldn’t even get it up if I wanted to!” Even I can hear the embarrassment in my voice. Sex is good. I like it. A lot. But not while someone is watching and I am definitely not giving Malfoy a show of any kind.

“Would it help if I assist you in achieving an orgasm?” You clearly have lost all sense of shame years and years ago. I wouldn’t have expected it any other way.

“And here I was thinking you would never touch a half-blood or er... less,” I try to be funny and fail. Miserably.

“I have no doubt that the reward will compensate any ... resistance I might feel,” you answer smoothly, caressing my left cheek with surprisingly soft and warm fingers. I know that my eyes go wide with trepidation and the urge to throw you back is almost overwhelming. I tremble.

“There has to be anoth-“ I try to distance myself.

“Sshhh, just relax. You will enjoy every second; that’s the least I can do,” you whisper, gently pressing your lips on mine. I hear myself whimper but don’t back off. Your hand against the back of my head would prevent me from doing so anyway. And it *is a* nice feeling...

It doesn’t take very long for me to part my lips to give your tongue full access, my Gryffindor bravery finally kicking in. And in all honesty; it soon starts to feel good. I mean really good. How ironic to discover that you, of all people, turn out to be the best kisser I’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. Your tongue taste my palate and teeth and every possible inch you can reach, taunting me, coaxing me, drawing me in. Without realising it, I soon join in whole heartedly, only becoming aware of it the moment I feel your hand disappearing under my shirt where you touch my naked flesh and nipples seductively. A moan escapes my throat the moment you pinch one of them while at the same time your mouth descendes to the crook of my neck and licks the sweat of my skin in a very, very erotic way.

My resistance leaves and I let myself be pushed back until I am laying down on the sofa. You cover me with your weight and a stirring, deep long kiss follows. Merlin, you can kiss! I groan again and pull at your shirt, trying to remove it, desperately wanting to feel skin on skin but you chuckle softly and slowly slide down, out of reach.

“Please... oh yes, please.” The hell with shame or dignity; your warm breath on my now freed cock is all that matters! And I want more. Much more!

“This is all I can give you.” Your words are the only warning I get before you close your heavenly warm, wet mouth around my rapidly growing cock. My hips jerk and I moan again. A voice in the back of my head says that you’d meant that this is all you are *willing* to give me. I know that, accept it. You are really doing your best to let me see stars and that is already more than I’d ever had, really. More than anyone had ever done for me. They had only been interested in having had Potter, the hero. Even Charlie, to a certain extent. You, at least, have the courtesy to let me believe otherwise. And for that, I thank you.

Oh, that talented mouth. Heaven. Soft, warm, wet tongue and lips and licking, sucking and humming. My hands claw the sofa, my hips start jerking more violently, as much as they can with your hands restraining them in an almost iron grip, and my breath is becoming more and more shallow and agitated by the second. The pressure that is slowly building up inside my body seems to gather inside my brain; a sensation so intense and divine it actually starts to make me cry and laugh at the same time. I am blind with need. So very, very blind, moved and completely lost in this new, thrilling world of steadily increasing pleasure that makes me shiver, tremble, tingle and wallow in ecstasy.

You are ravishing me, sweeping me away with so much skill, dedication... constantly keeping expertly attuned to me and my needs. I also stay very aware of your presence. Whether you are sucking my cock or taking my balls in or whatever you manage to do down there – you constantly keep and radiate power, dominance as well as distance. In the end it is your notorious coldness and ruthlessness that, oddly enough, thrills me beyond belief. It is dormant, hidden under this fine layer of finesse, but it is there just the same and occasionally shows through in your eyes when you look up at me.

And then your fingers find that wonderful, wonderful gland inside me. I desperately try to prevent it from happening yet, but lose it. I can hear myself actually roar like crazy while my whole body spasms. At the same time I vaguely register your wand against my right temple, your mumbling voice and some blinding white light exploding inside my head. After that there is this vicious tugging sensation which seems intent on pulling my brains out through my nose and th- - -

00000000000000000000


EPILOGUE

“I don’t need any proof to know that you killed him! You killed him, you bastard!” Snape burst into Lucius’ study, furiously waving the newspaper in his hand and finally throwing it on the desk on top of the papers Lucius was working on. “You killed that Potter boy, didn’t you?” he spat, raging and raving.

Lucius stayed calm and collected and smiled at his long time friend as if he was just a clumsy toddler. “On his request, Severus. I merely fulfilled his last wishes.”

“You sick bast – you what?” It took a few seconds before the potions master understood. But when he did, his mouth dropped open and he started looking at his fellow Slytherin in pure awe. “He *wanted* to? Oh Circe, you didn’t! You... the Transfer spell?” He almost whispered the name of the ancient dark spell.
Lucius just smiled. Only to then slowly rise and give his friend a wicked grin.

“Would you like to join the new Dark Lord, Severus?”

“Oh, yes! Yes!” The potions master immediately kneeled in front of his new master.

Again, Lucius simply smiled.

Life was good.

“Let’s celebrate with my finest whiskey, shall we? To the living room, my dear friend.” He gestured Severus to leave the study first and the potions master did.

Lucius followed, on his way out indifferently tossing some metal in the fire. As he closed the door, the moving air caused the flames to dance and shortly revealed a golden chain with a snitch.

“Foolish boy.”