The Open Door

The stairs leading to the tower cell were winding and cold. Cold as a frozen heart, empty of warmth or welcome, cold grey steps leading ever upward to a tiny cell at the very top of Hogwart’s north tower.

He hurried, his footsteps sounding like hard slaps as he climbed higher. He had to do this quickly before his one chance was gone. The man he was going to see would soon be dead. His master commanded it. The man in the tower would die in payment for his crude and artless attempt to defeat his master. His power was nothing next to his master’s and because of this one simple fact; he was now imprisoned high above the place he once called home.

He rounded the last turn and came to a tall wooden door set into the stonework. From the moonlight streaming in the barred window, he could see the prisoner hunkered in the corner, a mix of blacks and shades of grays all blending into the form of one Harry Potter. Yes; Harry Potter. Once considered the savior of the Wizarding World, now a man on death row, waiting for the final punishment that was his due. But before his life ended, there would be one last humiliation, one last torment, one last taunt from someone who hated him more than his master.

“Potter,” Draco hissed through the small barred window set into the door, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. The word slithered through the room snaking its evil way to its intended recipient. “Potter.”

The shape unfolded itself and a head emerged. “Fuck you Malfoy,” Harry responded dully. He made to curl into himself again, but stopped at the sound of a key being inserted into the lock. The hard ‘snick’ brought him to life and he stood, his tattered clothing hanging in shreds around his body.

“I’ve come to tell you goodbye, Potter,” Draco sneered, pocketing the key. He eyed the man outlined in the silvery light. His master had stolen his magic with a dark spell, one so dark the words burned the tongue of the caster. His master hadn’t spoken for weeks but with sign language and writing spells, his words were well known. Hogwarts and Hogsmead were his, as were Diagon Alley and various important areas where wizards gathered. The first words his master had spoken were to set the time and manner of Harry Potter’s death, and tonight was his last night of life.

Harry shrugged and turned to the barred window and from the moonlight Draco could see his jaw clench and unclench. What did he care? Potter was his tonight. His master had promised him this in reward for his actions. Even though he had failed to kill Dumbledore, he had allowed the Death Eaters to enter to the school and force Potter to search for the Horcruxes before his magical training was complete. A chain of events that had led to Harry Potter’s downfall.

“Potter,” Draco said quietly and moved to stand behind the man at the window. His breath flickered across Harry’s neck, the dark curls shifting with each exhalation. He could see the goose bumps rise across the back of Harry’s neck. The tawny flesh beckoned Draco closer and he moved within inches of Harry. Draco’s hand grasped Harry’s arm, and Harry’s loud gasp echoed around the men.

“It’s beautiful at night, isn’t it?” Draco asked and placed his other hand on Harry’s hip, his fingers holding the man tight. He did this not because there was a chance the man could escape, but because he knew his strong, thin fingers would bite painfully into his flesh. So what if he bruised him? It wasn’t like he would suffer from bruising for long.

Harry said nothing, but grasped a steel bar that ran the length of the window and peered out into the ruined landscape before him. Crumbling walls, dark spell burnt gauges criss-crossing the great lawn and a newly dug graveyard met his eyes.

“You’re mine,” Draco said, running his hand slowly up and down Harry’s mostly bare arm. He felt the gooseflesh as he made his way back to the starting point near Harry’s elbow.

“I’ll never be yours,” Harry said, his voice close to trembling. “Leave me be,” Harry said, turning and jerking loose from Malfoy’s grasp.

Harry barely had time to catch the smirk on Malfoy’s face before Draco’s lips closed over Harry’s. Draco pushed him back until his gift was pressed firmly against the barred window. He smiled into Harry’s lips as a moan came from the man. He knew the bars were pressing painfully into Harry’s back. And this was the first of many hurtful things that would happen tonight.

Harry had lost weight. Months of eating on the run, and then after, weeks of poor rations had taken their toll. Along with his weight, he had lost most of his natural strength. So a tall slender man like Draco could push him around. Easily.

“You will do what I say,” Draco snarled, his lips only a hairbreadth away from Harry’s ear. He felt the man sag limply and he shoved him back harder with a quick jerk of his hips. “Strip,” Draco ordered, shoving Harry back so that his head banged against the bars.

“Fuck off, prick,” Harry muttered, tensing in anticipation of a quick blow. But none came.

Draco waved his hand, and a torn section of Harry’s ragged tee fell to the ground. “I’ll fuck off, right after I fuck you,” Draco said coolly, and with several more waves of his hand, Harry’s mean clothing were heaped in a dirty pile at his feet.

Potter’s look of horror was worth all that Draco had done as Voldemort’s pet. This look, and what he was about to do to Potter was his retribution for Potter’s curse damage to him. Some scars never heal; Potter should know this of all people. Draco’s scars hadn’t healed, and he would make his mark on Potter now.

“Turn around, Half-blood scum,” Draco ordered, giving Harry a hard shove.

“Be careful what you call your Lord,” Harry muttered as he was pushed and held firmly against the cool metal bars.

Draco didn’t answer, but slid his arms around Harry. From his vantage point, he could see his pale hands splayed against the dark skin of his captive. His fingers moved over the lightly furred man, stopping only to grasp something interesting; a hard nipple, a quiver from his ribcage as he breathed, the soft sac between his legs. He left no inch untouched; his hands were slow and sure and even though his intent was not to seduce, he could feel Harry relax under his touch.

Draco’s own cock was hard and blood flushed. He undid his trousers and loosened the front of his robes until he had freedom to move. This fuck would be one he would remember until the end of his days and for Potter until he was dead.

“Do whatever you’re going to do,” Harry whispered, he head falling forward to rest against the bars.

“Oh, I will,” Draco said, running a long finger down Harry’s back, between the cheeks of his arse until he reached Harry’s entrance. His finger circled it slowly, teasingly, his fingernail tracing the small puckered ridges, until his prize bucked back against his finger which he quickly jerked back.

“Uh uh, Potter. Not until I’m ready. And I’m not.,” Draco sneered, an evil grimace twisting his scarred face. The long white scar from his hairline cut across his face, splitting his lips, and ending at his opposite jaw. He never forgot and he never forgave.

Little did Harry know that one spell cast so long ago had done so much damage; Draco’s perfect face was marred for eternity. Snape had healed the life-threatening wounds, but his spells and sing-song charms were unable to heal the slash across his face. The whores and sluts that he fucked found him appealing because of his cock. At least that wasn’t scarred. The men rarely saw his face as he fucked them. Why should they? Draco was the ultimate top. He used them as the fuck toys they were, and they let themselves be used for the pleasure and pain he could give them.

He jabbed his dry finger deep into Harry, not to prepare him for what was to come, but to let him know who was in charge. He was. Draco Fucking Malfoy, scarred pet of the Dark Lord, heir to his father’s estate, and now, now the master of Harry Potter.

His master had used him for his own devices, many things that no wizard would dare speak of. Allowing him to serve his carnal nature and to become the well favored pet he was. It was the only time in his life that he was submissive to any one man, or creature depending on how you regarded the Dark Lord. This would end tonight. The Dark Lord had plans, wicked plans, for his virginal little captive, but Draco had decided some battles should be fought in the dark, on the sly, and like the true Slytherin son he was. The last bit of magic would be drained from Potter in the morning by his master. The final spell would be said, and Harry would be no more; nothing but a shimmer as when the fire burns bright and the air is hot.

But, Draco Fucking Malfoy was not one to allow himself to be dominated. At least not for long. The long nights spent searching for the dark spell to strip the boy wonder of his powers had given Draco a considerable amount of time to think. To think of revenge, to think of power, and to think of deception. If the Dark Lord had taken the time to think about the spells Draco had found for him, or even to think of who had found the spells for him, perhaps he would have had second thoughts about casting them in the first place. But, he hadn’t. And was it Draco’s fault that he hadn’t read the spells completely through?

Of course not.

The dark spells that Draco had found enabled him to feed off the magic Voldemort had stolen from Harry. And little did the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named realize, there was one little catch. He would have to bond intimately with his captive to keep the magic. And, most importantly, he would have to be the first and his captive would agree to the bonding.

For once being bi-sexual was an advantage.

Draco Fucking Malfoy was not a stupid young man. Perhaps, once naïve in the ways of men with great power, but that time was long past. He knew that his master would discard him like yesterday’s newspaper when his usefulness was gone.

But to fuck one’s worst enemy for power? How ironic was that?

He would take it all from Potter. And through Potter he would take the Dark Lord’s magic.
The Dark Lord would never suspect him. Draco was nothing to the Dark Lord, nothing at all. Just a kid, but he was the Dark Lord’s pet. Pets should only give obedience and affection; they should only give and never take.

Until now.

He smiled as Harry groaned and tried to pull away from him. Draco waved his hand, and ropes appeared and magically bound themselves around Harry’s wrists and tied themselves to the highest crossbar they could reach and still leave slack for the man they bound.

“How can you do that?” Harry gasped as Draco’s finger dug deeper, probing for one spot.

“Ah, it’s because of you Potter. My Lord has given me your magic, and how ironic that I can use it against you now?” Draco replied. He laughed as Harry sagged, moaning as Draco’s finger found what it was looking for.

“Malfoy…” Harry pleaded. Draco know what he wanted, but as he had told Potter earlier… when he was ready.

“Turn around scum,” Draco said, yanking his finger free with a quiet pop. He roughly shoved Harry around until he was facing him, the rope now pulling his arms taut over his head. “Against the wall,” Draco ordered, and when Harry didn’t obey immediately, pushed him against the bars and stone windowsill. He grinned, a twisted smile, when Harry cried out when the tender flesh of his arse scraped against the rough stone.

“You will not come, nor will you move. If you obey me, this might even be enjoyable if…” Draco said, letting his voice trail off. The unsaid words were quiet clear. Fuck or die. It was Potter’s choice.

“Yes,” Harry whispered, his matted hair covering his eyes as he hung his head, in shame.

Whether he was ashamed because of being caught, or being fucked, Draco didn’t know. Or could it be because he was aroused by Draco?

Grasping Harry’s hardening cock, Draco held it with one hand and traced the dark red skin from the head to the nest of dark hair at its base. “And what do you think we should do with this little item,” Draco sneered as the hard flesh twitched in his hand.

“Fuck,” Harry breathed, his head resting against the cool bars, sweat beading across his upper lip, a single drop sliding down his chest. Even weak and thin, Harry was still attractive, the extra flesh gone, his muscles stood out in stark relief in the waning moonlight.

“As you wish,” Draco said, his fingers curling around the quivering cock. “If you had taken my hand when I offered it to you, you would have had this long before… and under much more enjoyable circumstances.”

Harry’s head banged against the metal rods as Draco’s lips closed around the tip of his cock. He gasped and bucked forward, as Draco moved to take more of him in his mouth. Draco’s teeth scraped along the sensitive skin and he glanced up into Harry’s pained face.

“You will move when I tell you to move. Not before, do you understand me?” Draco asked as he pinched a fold of skin near Harry’s sac.

Harry yelped, and twisted against his bonds.

“Next time you disobey, this little love pinch will be much harder, and in a much more sensitive place,” Draco said, matter-of-factly. “Do you understand?”

Harry nodded, then positioned himself as close to the wall as his abused skin would allow.

Draco resumed his slow and torturous examination of Harry’s cock with his tongue. He could taste the bitter fluid weeping from it. He sucked his way back to the tip and glanced up at Harry. Potter was biting his bottom lip, his eyes were closed, and his chest quivered as he tried to control the shuddering gasps that threatened to erupt from his mouth. This was good, perfect, in fact.

“You’d like to come, wouldn’t you?” Draco asked, his index finger tracing the fold of skin around the tip of Harry’s cock. A tiny spurt of milky come spurted from its slit.

“Oh god, “ Harry moaned, before biting his lip again.

“But, you won’t, will you?” Draco said, not asking.

“No,” Harry half sobbed. One tiny word caught between a sob and a whisper. It was hot. It was want Draco wanted.

Draco moved closer, and pressed his lips to the soft skin of Harry’s testicles. Balls seemed such a vulgar word, but they were round and firm and full of come. He knew that if he sucked him a little more, he would have all that he wanted and more.

A soft gasping moan came from Harry. Draco smiled against the baby-tender skin and sucked one side into his mouth. His tongue pressed against the pebbled surface, the fine hair tickling his tongue.

“Ohhh,” Harry whimpered.

Draco felt him tense, and he stopped his sucking, but not before nipping at the tender flesh.
He felt the cock next to his face jerk and he slapped it.

“You’re not to come until I tell you, bitch,” Draco cried, then pinched what he had been sucking previously.

Tears were forming in Harry’s eyes, but no sound of pain came from his lips. Draco was impressed. He had thought that Potter would have orgasmed after he touched his testicles. Instead, he was still standing, albeit somewhat wobbly, and he hadn’t come.

“Turn around Potter,” Draco ordered, rising to his feet, and pushing his robes back.

Harry‘s eyes widened momentarily, and he pressed his mouth into a thin pale line. He silently began to turn in the direction that would loosen the pull on his arms.

“No, the other way,” Draco said, leaning back on one hip to allow Harry a clear view of what was coming next. Malfoy had been blessed. His cock was a nice length, a perfect width, and his erection was what men and women begged for. He knew how to make women scream with pleasure and men beg for more.

Harry started to frown, but carefully fashioned his face into one of indifference. He turned and the ropes pulled his arms higher, stretching his body into a long line of muscle and bone stretching from his shoulders to the tips of his toes on which he was now balanced.

The taut curve of his arse called to Draco and he moved until his cock was barely touching Harry’s arse cheek.

“You’ve obeyed to some degree, but I expect complete obedience, do you understand?” Draco hissed. He licked the nape of Harry’s neck, tasting sweat and a tinge of fear. He ran his tongue down the boney column of Harry’s spine, letting his tongue linger in each slight indent of the bones, only slowing down when he reached the smooth skin above the crevasse of Harry’s firm arse.

Harry hadn’t moaned, or whimpered, or gasped during the slow meandering travels of Draco’s tongue. He glanced up at the man and saw that he had his head twisted to one side, his lips bloody from the pressure of his teeth on them and his eyes closed tightly.

“Potter, you should enjoy the scenery. It may be the last thing that you can enjoy before the morning. Before they send for you,” Draco said, spreading Harry’s arse apart.

This time Harry whimpered and cried out when Draco’s tongue flicked against his tight hole. Draco could feel the tension building in Harry’s buttocks, and he darted his tongue inside the warm entrance. Draco had a talented tongue, whether with word or rimming. He wormed his tongue in deeper, tasting dark heat and man honey. He had never imagined that Potter would be so fucking delicious. He pressed his way in further until Potter was squirming.

“Oh god, oh god,” Harry moaned, straining not to move, but failing miserably.

Draco flicked his tongue once more, than wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his robe. “Now Potter, you will have something to remember for the rest of your short, miserable life,” Draco whispered cruelly, as he slid his hands around Harry, his fingernails leaving light pink trails in their wake.

His hands roamed the plains of Harry’s chest, pinching nipples, crossing across the clammy skin and digging into the hollow of his throat, finally moving back to rest on Harry’s hips.

Draco cradled his cock between Harry’s buttocks and pressed even closer. Harry stilled, and Draco could feel him holding his breath, waiting for whatever was to come next.

“You want me,” Draco asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

“No,” Harry breathed, his voice trembling.

Draco reached up and with one finger traced the faint white lines still etched deeply into Harry’s hand. The words were a stark white against Potter’s skin. “I must not tell lies,” Draco whispered into Harry’s ear, pausing to suck the throbbing vein in Harry’s neck. His teeth nipped at the lightly stubbled jawline for a moment before Draco drew back, and this time let his fingernail cut into the words on Harry’s right hand.

“You know what happens when you lie, don’t you Potter,” Draco whispered, and the cruel pressure from his sharp nail continued.

“Yes,” Harry whimpered, because Draco’s hand was tight around his sac, pulling it down and pressing under his cock in a rough fashion.

“So, Potter,” Draco drawled and released Harry; he felt and heard the sob escape Potter’s chest. “You want me in you?” Draco said again, not a question, but a fact.

“Yes,” Harry whispered, almost too quietly to be heard.

“Tell me what you want, Potter,” Draco ordered, positioning himself carefully behind his captive. He wanted to be sure that Potter agreed, or everything had been for naught.

“I want you,” Harry sobbed, his body quivering. “I want you in me.”

It was done.

Harry screamed as Draco’s teeth bit into the side of his neck and his cock thrust roughly into him. The coppery warmth flowed across Draco’s tongue and he pulled Harry back with his teeth, like a dog with a bone. Draco rolled his hips and dove into heat, and wet, and sex. Harry shook with need, and Draco gave an encouraging touch to his hip and Harry began to push back as Draco drove forward. The blood ran between their two bodies, and the slap of damp flesh, the grunts of the two men, and hissing whisper of ropes rubbing raw flesh echoed in the darkening room.

Draco shuddered as his own orgasm hit him and he spent himself into the warm and willing hole before him. He licked his lips and a swipe of Harry’s bloodied neck, noting that his marks would be permanent, just as his own scars were. He reached around to steady himself and his hand brushed the still hard cock of his prisoner.

“You may come now,” Draco whispered, and he felt wet heat spatter over his hand and arm. Potter was limp against his ropes biting deeply into his wrists, drops of blood running down his arms, leaving red wet stripes down his arms and then down his sides and back.

Potter still hadn’t uttered a word of sound during his release.

“Speak,” Draco ordered.

Potter hung heavily on his ropes, his arse barely brushing the window sill as he turned to face Draco. And he spoke, a tear running down his cheek.

“Fuck you.”

“You wish,” Draco replied, straightening his robes and doing up the fastenings. He Accio’d his trousers and slid them on, wincing a little as the material brushed his raw cock.

“The Master will send for you in the morning, Potter. Enjoy the rest of your night,” Draco smirked, striding to the door.

Draco waved his hand and the ropes vanished and Harry dropped to the floor in an exhausted heap.

“And Potter,” Draco said, turning, “Next time, consider who your master is and what you owe him.”

Draco strode through the door, leaving it open. It was up to Potter to choose what would happen next.

If you want a little more of the story… chapter 2 is Harry’s version. It's worth the read.