Caged

Malfoy paced listlessly around his cell, trying in vain to figure a way out. The spells that formed the bars around him were strong. He could reach out of them, but he couldn't move past, or move anyone in with him--something he hadn't intended to do, but it would've been nice if he could have.

He had no idea how long he'd been down in Potter's basement. It felt like years, but it was probably only days. A wooden slat gave hints to the conditions outside and while Malfoy never went in much for the inconstancy of weather, he'd give almost anything to see it now.

Almost.

Potter dutifully walked down the steps, a tray in hand of what would be considered good food had it not come from Potter. In spite of himself and his misgivings, he accepted Potter's tray through a square hole that formed in the cell at Potter's command, and then sat down on a metal chair that was there "for his comfort."

"You just need to... you need to stop making threats against the Ministry, Malfoy. I know you were never convicted for being a Death Eater, but speaking out against current policy is making people wonder..." said Potter. He watched Malfoy eat the soup greedily, now and then tossing out a cooked carrot or slimy piece of onion he didn't care for.

"I've made threats before and I've no intention to stop. Why don't you tell me what this is all really about, Potter?"

Malfoy made short work of the soup and then rested against the back of his chair, hands on his stomach and twiddling as he waited for whatever Potter was going to tell him.

"You know what it's about. There are rumors of a NeoDeath Eater group. Theodore Nott is said to have powers Voldemort never dreamed of. Aside from all of that, you're a bad guy and I'm an Auror--"

"This is not Azkaban, Potter; no matter how drab you dress, you're hardly a Dementor." Malfoy looked away and shook his head at the rest of it.

"I can't just let you out on the streets recruiting, starting to start riots!"

"Yeah? Why not?"

"Because it's my job!"

"And is this part of your job, Potter? Are meant to keep me?"

Potter turned his back, not sure how he would answer this or if he wanted to. "My job is to bring you to justice."

"Oh so this is justice, is it? Having me in a cage while no one knows where I am?" Malfoy sat helplessly in the middle of his cell, in the middle of an intricate set of spells meant to contain him. When Potter didn't answer, he flung the tray and bowl at him. He didn't even get the satisfaction of the breaking of ceramic. The spells silently absorbed the tray and bowl and then returned it to the floor unbroken.

The both stared at it until Malfoy shouted in frustration. "What do you want from me?"

"You know where he is," said Potter simply. He folded his arms and stared stubbornly at Malfoy.

"How many times do I have to tell you that he's dead?" Malfoy stood and turned around to face the back of his cell, to look at the stone bricks that sealed the basement off from the world and finally up to the narrow window. It was twilight. He imagined what the breeze must feel like.

"There's no body." Potter stepped closer to the cage but Malfoy knew it was no use trying to grab for him. It only ended in pain like knives rending his flesh.

"He was trying... It was dark magic, Potter." Malfoy tilted his head back, blinking rapidly.

"So why were you recruiting at the Leaky?"

Malfoy bent double and then crouched on the floor, clutching his knees. "That wasn't what I was doing, Potter. I've told you that."

"What were you doing?" asked Potter. He reached out to the spell cage and traced his hand over the edge of the spell, testing it with his fingers as if he could touch Malfoy's hair.

"Trying to score." Malfoy was shaking now. Detoxing. Days later and he still hadn't shaken off the potions that had kept him numb.

"You know that's also illegal," said Potter. He knelt down to Malfoy's level, peering at the back of his head curiously. "But I don't believe that's all you were trying to do. I read your manifesto."

Turning his head, Malfoy's face was red, puffy, but clear of tear trails yet. He shot Potter a look that was so severe it made him shrink from it. "You have no clue."

"We all have a clue, don't we? You sent it to the Prophet, didn't you? We've all read it, all seen it. Did you think you could publish something like that and not have it come back to you? Is that why your family left?" asked Potter. Slowly, he was crawling back to the edge of the cage.

Malfoy had turned around to face him. He was on all fours like a cat ready to pounce, expression evolving from misery to rage. "I sent them away."

"Didn't want your son involved in the war you were starting?" asked Potter. He mirrored Malfoy's stance but with one foot on the ground like a runner.

"At least I cared about my family. I didn't become so married to my work that I didn't even notice when my wife and three kids left the house. What was it, a month before you realized you were here alone?" Malfoy's chest was heaving, his fingertips barely touching the floor. His crouch turned feral, back arched, pointy face determined.

"I loved her when I married her. I didn't do it out of duty to my family. I didn't drive a man to madness--make him need to change the world to get over how I broke his heart," Potter snapped.

The cage popped and burned, Malfoy throwing himself against it. Half a second later Potter lunged at him--snake and lion striking in epic battle. Potter had at least two stone on Malfoy and better momentum and he fell through the cage, knocking Malfoy prone to the floor with him on top.

On the floor, Malfoy didn't have the leverage to bash Potter's face in like he wanted to. He hit and scratched, biting his cheek in fury. Malfoy kicked at the ground, trying to get a foot under him so he could flip them. He wanted to see Potter bleed. He wanted to break his glasses into his face, watch his cheekbones droop uneven from the blows. He wanted his knuckles to break against Potter's bones. He wanted to see blood pooling on the floor. He wanted to be looking down at him bleeding and gasping for breath the way that Malfoy had when Potter had hexed him in the loo so many years ago.

Potter had other ideas. His hand was up under Malfoy's robes, shoving them up over his hips. He yanked Malfoy's pants down, effectively tying his ankles together so he could no longer kick. After a struggle, Potter had both of Malfoy's wrists and he shoved them together into one hand and pinned him to the dusty concrete floor.

Malfoy screamed and then sank his teeth into the side of Potter's neck, his mouth the only weapon left to him. Unfazed, Potter slipped his free hand between them, touching Malfoy's bare arse cheeks. Malfoy froze.

For what seemed like hours, they remained like that--silent but for the long, harsh gasps for breath.

"Did you let him fuck you?" Potter asked.

"I hate you," Malfoy whispered, his head dropping to the pavement with a thud.

Potter worked his finger between Malfoy's cheeks and lightly touched the rim of his hole. "You can't hide that, you know," Potter said through a sneer. "Your body does it automatically. Relaxes, ready for someone to put something in it, something to fill you. You let him fuck you, you let him fall in love with you, and then you married someone else."

Twisting his head away, Malfoy tried to bury his face in the ground. His body was hot, taut with anticipation, toes curled and belly filled with bile at being confronted by the truth. "Stop."

"You married someone else. You had a baby, and he left and came back powerful. To impress you. He died trying to make you love him again, didn't he? But you were too stubborn or stupid or cowed by duty to give him what he wanted, weren't you?" Potter brought his finger from Malfoy's hole to his mouth. He wet his fingers and then shoved them into him.

Malfoy writhed, speared by the truth and Potter's fingers. He was hard in spite of himself. Just the sense memory of being so close to Theodore--that's what he decided it was. That's what it had to be. "No. No. He had a duty too. I was the last of... he was the last of the Notts. We had to.. I told him we could still be...."

"No one ever believed me about how evil you could be. How horrible. But you and I, we both know how right I was, don't we? He knew it, too. How cruel. How cold." Potter fumbled with his fastenings until he'd freed his cock.

Shifting, Malfoy tried not to want it, tried not to let his body beg for it. With a smooth thrust, Potter was inside of him, invading him, splitting him apart. He'd seen right through him, through to the core of him and it suddenly made sense. Potter was a better investigator than Malfoy had given him credit for. It made sense now that he hadn't taken him to the Ministry. He wasn't going to go to Azkaban. Potter knew Malfoy's real crime and was so fixated on justice, he was meting it out on his own.

Malfoy grunted with each hard thrust of Potter's body inside of his. They stared intently into each other's eyes. Malfoy wanted to look away, to stop seeing those green eyes, burning with their own need fulfilled. He thought about all of the times that Potter had saved him, had pulled him away from the fire that killed Crabbe, how sorry he'd truly looked when Malfoy thought he wa going to die staring up at those incredulous eyes.

It hurt. Malfoy wanted to cry, but he couldn't. All he could do was stare and let Potter do what he wanted with him. This was his punishment, his justice. And Potter was saving him again--the punishment washing away his guilt so he could move on. In that moment that Malfoy accepted it, Potter released his hands and Malfoy wrapped them around him and moved with him, lifting his hips from the floor to meet each thrust.

They kissed and Malfoy dragged his nails down Potter's back, scratching at his shirt. He wadded the fabric in his hands as Potter came inside of him, taking the wild thrusts and shuddering finish with moans and the scrape of sand and dust on his soft arse cheeks.

After Potter had finished, he reached between them again and caressed Malfoy's cock, hardening it again after the pain of the first few thrusts had wilted it. He pulled out of him and rested his hip on the floor beside Malfoy and palmed his cock, taking it with a tenderness he would never have attributed to Potter.

Malfoy stared down at Potter's hand on his cock, watching his thumb slide over the head, feeling the squeeze of fingers thrumming his prick. He kissed Potter again as he came, ashamed of how he'd just given himself to him like this, but relieved. the whole room felt like it was vibrating in those last heady moments as his cock pulsed in Potter's hand. He felt dizzy and weightless as the pulse wracked his body with heavenly sensations. He closed his eyes and dank it in, letting the feelings overwhelm him and finally ebb away.

It felt like the world had been lifted from his shoulders.

When Malfoy opened his eyes again, the cage was gone and with it the metal chair, cot and silver toilet that had appeared only when he needed it. Only Potter remained, glasses still half fogged from their efforts.

"I thought he understood," said Malfoy. "Or I thought he would understand, that he'd see the logic of it. I thought we could have it all."

Potter sat up on one arm and brushed Malfoy's hair from his face as if he were a child who needed soothing. "Love doesn't work that way. You know that now, don't you?"

For the first time since he'd lost Theodore, Malfoy cried.