Through Darkness

Title: Through Darkness
By: LiteraryBeauty
Beta: Meltingfish--thank you so much!
Word count: ~6500
Rated: NC-17
Summary: Harry wants the one thing he can’t have, so he settles for a replacement. But when the replacement turns out to be horribly different than the original, Harry struggles to maintain his fantasy. But is Harry alone in his desires, or is his suffering not in vain?
Warnings: minors (age 15), minor bloodplay, minor abuse, breathplay, violent sex, cane sex, double penetration, minor incest (shared partner only).



“What are you doing here?”

Harry was asking himself the same thing. It felt as though it had been mere minutes from the time he’d realized what he wanted to his arrival at Malfoy Manor. Now he was wishing he’d taken some more time to think.

“I need something from you.”

“Oh?” Lucius drawled, gesturing for Harry to take a seat on a rather stiff loveseat. Lucius remained standing, holding his snake-head cane in one hand, fingers tracing idly along the length. The fingers were almost right, a little too thick, perhaps, but that was easily overlooked.

“And in return, I have something to offer.”

Lucius scoffed. “And what makes you think I could want anything you have to offer? In fact, Harry Potter, what would stop me from announcing your presence to the Dark Lord right now? ”

“You won’t turn me over because you’re a selfish prick, Lucius.” Harry’s triumph was tinged with fear as Lucius swung his cane in response, stopping it only an inch from the younger man’s face. He held the cane there, silver eyes flaring, and Harry wondered what had stopped him.

He’s intrigued, Harry realized. He was angry, certainly. But he was curious.

Gathering his courage, Harry slowly turned his head to the side to face the silver tip of the cane. Meeting Lucius’ eyes, he gave the snake a slow lick, flicking the tip of his tongue over the head in a very unsubtle pantomime.

Lucius narrowed his eyes and drew his cane back. He looked speculatively at Harry, who refused to look away.

“What are you offering?” Lucius quietly demanded.

“Myself,” Harry said simply, standing up and walking over to the blond. Lucius almost looked as though he wanted to take a step back, but steeled himself at the last moment. Harry stopped about a foot away, looking up to meet Lucius’ eyes again.

“I offer you myself in return for your self.”

“I do not offer myself,” Lucius sneered.

“Well,” Harry began, taking a half-step closer. “Maybe you’ll change your mind. You see, I don’t want anything to do with you, not really. But I can’t have what I really want, and I’m more than used to settling. So I want you. Your body, to be exact. And in return, you get mine. To do with whatever you like, as long as you keep up your end of the bargain.”

“And why would I deign to sully myself with a half-blood such as yourself? Or with a boy, for that matter?”

“Because, Lucius,” Harry said, inching forward only slightly. “It’s not about blood. It’s not about male or female. It’s about power, isn’t it? Something I’ve only recently discovered. It’s all about power. I have it. You want it. You want it over me. I’m offering it, and you’ll take it.”

“And how do I gain power from fucking a child?” Lucius was glaring down at him, but Harry knew he almost had the older man. At the mere mention of power, Lucius’ eyes widened and his lips parted; he was practically panting like an animal. Lucius Malfoy was something Harry understood.

“Voldemort makes you kneel, doesn’t he?” Harry asked casually. He wondered if the resulting flinch from Lucius was due to the mention of the name, or the reminder that Lucius was nothing more than a slave.

“I am proud to kneel before my lord, Potter,” he spat, arms crossing over his chest. “Something you would never understand.”

“But I do understand,” Harry went on in a soft voice. “And that is what I offer you. I will kneel for you. I will call you master. I will give you power over me, power that no one else has ever been given, nor ever shall be. And all I want in return....” Harry trailed off, closing the last bit of distance between them. He pressed his hands against the front of Lucius’ robes, moving them down seductively while biting his lower lip. All the while he watched Lucius. He had him. Lucius was his.

“What?” Lucius asked, his voice somewhat strained.

“We will play a little game. I’ll be yours... and you be Draco.”

Lucius’ chilling laughter could be heard throughout the manor. Harry’s surprised cry as Lucius brutally took his lips in a punishing, mastering kiss could only be heard by the two men involved.

---

Lucius had fucked Harry brutally for his first time. It was what Harry wanted, what Harry believed Draco would be like. They were so much the same that it was easy to pretend. Lucius was only slightly taller and a touch broader. Their hair was the same, their eyes exactly the same.

Harry could only speculate, but he hoped their cocks were the same.

When he tried to remember when his obsession with Draco had begun, it all blurred together. He had hated him at first, that much was clear. It hadn’t been one of those love at first sight things, not at all. But somewhere along the line, hate had died and rotted and from the offal, love had erupted.

Or lust. Harry wasn’t entirely sure. He didn't want to date Draco. Not really. He just wanted to fuck him, to get fucked by him, to hurt him until he begged for more, to beg for more from him.

But Harry couldn’t go to Draco for a number of reasons. First, liking Draco was a weakness. Especially since the boy was on the conveyer belt to Death Eating. If Harry told Draco and Draco told Voldemort, Draco would be used against him. Whether or not Harry would risk anything for the younger Malfoy, he wasn’t sure. But he didn't want to find out.

On a more visceral level, Harry didn't want to be humiliated. Draco despised Harry and everything he stood for. If Harry made the same offer to Draco as he had to Lucius, Draco would take him up on it, fuck him, and then tell the entire school. Harry would be completely humiliated and again, at risk.

Lastly, if Draco somehow returned his feelings, Harry knew he would be in danger of falling for him. Harry couldn’t afford to love anyone, not now. Not when there was a war going on.

It all came down to risk.

Harry was risking a lot with his offer to Lucius, but he felt secure that the man’s avarice and lust would overrule his desire to please Voldemort. After all, Death Eaters were innately selfish, looking only to suit themselves, to gain influence, money, power. Lucius was no different. In fact, he was the prototype. Harry could easily offer the one thing he knew would not be turned down: free reign to abuse the Boy Who Lived.

And Lucius, like any good Slytherin, took advantage.

There were rules. Lucius wasn’t allowed to speak during sex, especially not during Harry’s climax. Lucius wasn’t allowed to kiss Harry on the mouth. He wasn’t allowed to permanently scar Harry in any way. Harry would come to Lucius, not vice versa, and leave as soon as they were finished.

Harry was allowed to call Lucius “Draco,” and Lucius was allowed to say Harry’s name if, and only if, Lucius came after Harry.

Hearing Lucius’ voice destroyed the fantasy, which Lucius had ‘accidentally’ done twice now. Harry had been furious and demanded that Lucius get him off again. As though that was punishment for Lucius, who lived to defile Harry’s flawless body.

---

“More,” Harry croaked as Lucius pounded into his tender arse from behind. Lucius’ fingers were digging mercilessly into Harry’s hips, leaving bloody crescents that Harry would make the older man heal before he left. Harry knew Lucius wished the marks would stay. Lucius did so love to brand his property. But Harry wouldn’t allow that, because as much as he was able to deceive himself during the moments of their fucking, leaving evidence was a betrayal to Draco.

Lucius’ thrusts became brutal, and Harry met each and every one. The lubrication was nearly gone because they’d been fucking for so long. Harry suspected Lucius took a potion for stamina, because Harry almost always came twice when they fucked like this, and he needed at least half an hour to recuperate. Lucius would fuck him the entire time, sometimes slowing down to a gentle lovemaking. Harry hated those times. It felt too real, not cruel enough. But he didn't complain, because when he complained, Lucius would answer, and Harry would go soft.

“Touch me,” Harry begged, his cock bouncing with each ferocious thrust, demanding to be gripped by a hand other than his own. Lucius thankfully complied without vocalization, and Harry cried out in thanks.

“Fuck me, Draco... gods, fuck me,” Harry chanted, losing himself in his fantasy. The cock inside him moved more erratically, and he knew the end was near. He began humping into the hand holding him, punishing himself because of the tightness of the fist.

Harry pictured Draco beneath him. Harry was riding his cock, smiling softly and basking in the warmth of Draco’s adoring face. Draco wanted him. Draco loved to fuck him. Draco loved—

Harry screamed as he came, shouting the name of the man he could never have. Lucius thankfully waited until the last rope of white come had shot from Harry’s weary body to roar with pleasure, filling Harry with slick warmth as he used Harry’s tightness to milk every last drop.

“Get off,” Harry demanded, voice breaking. Lucius would leave and then Harry would use the ensuite to shower in and then escape to fly on his broom back to Hogwarts.

“I do love fucking you, Potter,” Lucius drawled, using Harry’s cloak to wipe off his soft cock.

Without turning, Harry said only, “It makes me sick when you speak.”

Lucius chuckled and left. Harry Scourgified his cloak and then his body, hating and loving the brutal cleansing of the spell that was meant for messy floors, not human bodies.

It was the only way he ever felt clean.

---

When Harry finally arrived at Hogwarts, he hesitated before going to bed. He wasn’t tired at all and knew that listening to his dormmates snore and sniff would end up driving him barmy before long.

He could sit here in the common room and study.

Before that thought even settled in his head, Harry was exiting through the portrait. He wandered around for a bit, rather aimlessly, before he found himself in the dungeons. It probably wasn’t wise to be there at night, alone, unarmed. He did have his wand, but Slytherins were known to play dirty with those in their territory.

Just as he was turning to leave the cool, stone hallways and retreat back to the brightly lit and cheerful upper level, a cool, cultured voice stopped him.

Harry froze. His first thought was that Lucius’ voice had corrupted his fantasy, because Draco’s voice sounded different than it had before.

“Potter.”

Turning only halfway, ready to make a break for it if necessary, Harry responded tightly, “Malfoy.”

He may be emotionally invested in the other boy, but he was smart enough to know that any show of weakness was a potential wound.

“What brings you to the dungeons all by your lonesome? Looking for... trouble?”

Draco was closing the gap between them, and Harry’s brain wasn’t fast enough to tell his feet to stop carrying him backward. Weakness! he reminded himself sternly.

“None of your fucking business,” he spat.

“Oh, but I think it is my business, Potter,” Draco whispered, saying his name like a curse word. “You see, these are my dungeons. You don’t belong. Except that... anything inside these dungeons, well... they become mine as well. So, tell me, Potter... Are you mine?”

Harry knew there was only malicious intent in Draco’s eyes. Words that could have been so seductive were marred by the singular malevolence in Draco’s lovely, hateful face.

“No,” Harry said firmly, standing his ground as Draco inched forward in a sick parody of the way Harry had seduced Draco’s father all those weeks ago.

“Are you sure about that... Potter?” Now his name sounded less like an invective and more like an invitation.

Harry turned around to leave, walking briskly. He couldn’t afford to be here right now. Draco in reality was contrasting harshly with the Draco of his fantasy, and Harry didn't want to lose the latter. It was too important to him. Harry needed that Draco to feel real.

But Draco grabbed his arm and threw him brutally against the wall. Harry’s breath escaped him, making him gasp and bringing tears to his eyes.

Draco put his hands against the wall on either side of Harry’s head and brought his body way too close to Harry’s.

“I think that you’re fighting a losing battle here. I think that you so badly want to belong to someone that you’ll let anyone own you.” Harry opened his mouth to deny the brutal truths, but Draco put his hand over Harry’s mouth instead.

“Shh...” he whispered. “Don’t lose yourself, Potter. It may end up that no one wants to find you.”

And with those enigmatic words, Draco spun away from the wall and walked back in the direction he came from.

Harry slumped down, his legs unwilling to do their duty by him. He had no idea what had just happened. He did know, however, that he suddenly felt more exposed and vulnerable than he had in a long time. In using his “power” over Lucius, he’d lost a very precious part of himself. But he’d created an addiction. What once was merely fantasy was now obsession.

When Harry finally made it back to his bed, he hated himself for the tears he cried for the simple way things used to be, before he’d made himself into a pawn in his own destruction.

---

Harry’s breath came in shallow wheezes, the hand around his throat tightening rhythmically to match the pumping of Lucius’ hips.

The wall against his back was unforgiving, and the friction burned when his skin rubbed against it. He tried to wrap his legs more tightly around Lucius’ waist, but the lack of oxygen made his limbs feel weak and heavy.

Harry’s eyes drifted closed, half because he was close to passing out and half because Lucius didn't look anything like Draco at the moment. He looked vindictive and cruel, glaring at Harry and punishing him with his cock.

The fingers loosened just for a second, and Harry gasped and gulped air. Then his airway was restricted again, and Harry tried to hold his breath to make the inhalation count. His arsehole was clenching vigorously against the brutal intrusion, making the passage too tight to be comfortable for either man. Lucius was deliberately avoiding Harry’s prostate so all the younger man felt was the agony of a pounding penetration with none of the pleasure to make the pain feel good.

Still, Harry’s cock was steel, bouncing as it desperately jerked to find contact. Lucius didn't care. Harry didn't care.

Harry’s body began to slump. The lack of oxygen was forcing his body to shut down, and the pain in his back, his arse and his cock all lessened as the bliss of unconsciousness inched closer.

But then Lucius shouted triumphantly, a noise Harry had grown to despise. Harry was filled with hated warmth, and Lucius’ grip on his neck became bruising but no longer threatening. Harry could breathe again and almost wished he couldn’t.

When Lucius stepped back, Harry only had a split second to get his legs down before he was dumped unceremoniously to the floor. He fell anyway, spilling sideways and crying out as his erection was jogged intensely.

“Want to come?” Lucius asked casually, Summoning his wand which brought his entire cane to him. Harry cringed at the sight. Lucius had beat him with the cane, and while sometimes it made him go to a strange place in his head, turning the pain into a sublime pleasure, most of the time it just fucking hurt.

Lucius usually did it after he’d come, using the abuse to get his cock to rise again so he could hurt Harry some more.

“Yes, sir,” Harry whispered, uncaring one way or the other, but not wanting to displease Lucius too early. The blond was taking advantage of Harry’s offer, as Harry had known he would. But even he hadn’t guessed that Lucius would want to beat and cut him in return for Harry’s simple request.

Lucius slowly walked over to an armchair in the corner of the bedroom. In front of the armchair was an ottoman, upholstered in the same stuff leather as the chair. Lucius sat in the armchair, confidently nude, caressing his cane more lovingly than he’d ever touch another person.

“Come here,” he commanded, and Harry moved to shakily stand.

“Crawl,” Lucius said, laughing, eyes eagerly watching the fight Harry knew his face was broadcasting. But Harry did as he was told, crawling over to kneel in front of Lucius. His knees screamed and his back ached with every step, but Harry was in a beautiful place where Draco was asking him to play a game, just to see what it felt like, and Harry was more than happy to oblige, because Draco would do anything for him.

“Bend over the ottoman,” Lucius directed. Sighing quietly, Harry did. The leather was much more appealing to his flesh than the hard wall or the cold floor.

“Spread your legs.” Harry did. He wondered if Lucius even remembered the part of the deal where he wasn’t supposed to talk. But Harry didn't tell him to shut up, and Harry was scared that that meant he wanted Lucius to do these things to him. That it wasn’t about Draco at all anymore.

But then Harry pictured Draco kneeling on the other side of the ottoman, smiling softly, telling Harry he was beautiful. Draco leaned in to kiss him, and he took nothing from the kiss, only gave to Harry. And Harry, so bereft, took everything.

“You look disgusting. Your skin’s layered in filth, you’re bruised and bleeding. Your tight little hole is all swollen and red, and my come is dripping out, staining you.”

Harry shrugged. What else could he do? He was debauched, but he was only debauched because Lucius had done it to him. None of his was his fault.

He felt something icy cold and oddly shaped press against his tender hole. It tried to force its way in, and Harry squirmed. It had sharp pieces and was tearing his flesh. “Stop!” he cried, trying to squirm away.

A sudden blow of the cane against his thigh made him scream. He knew the snake’s teeth had cut him, and he felt wet stickiness trickling down both thighs now.

“If you ever tell me to stop, this little game of ours is over. And I know your secret, Potter. You love my son. You stupid, idiot boy. If you tell me to stop, Draco will experience what you were too weak to. Do you understand?”

Harry was panicking. He had known that Lucius must know he wanted Draco, maybe even that he cared for him. But the older man knew much more than Harry cared to admit. And now... now the thing that Harry had feared from the start was happening. Someone was threatening to hurt Draco. His own father.

“You would do these things to your son? You are so fucking sick, Malfoy. Shove your cane up my arse, I don’t care. But if you fucking touch him, I will kill you.” Harry’s voice had lowered to a deathly whisper, and his rage only grew when Lucius chuckled softly.

“I know exactly how to keep you in line now, Harry Potter, saviour. How pathetic. If only your fans could see you now. Would they even want to be saved by the whore you’ve become? They would all turn their backs on you, you dirty little cunt.”

“Shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth! ” Harry screamed, still not moving from his position. Lucius could hurt him all he wanted, with words, with blows, with his cock, but Harry didn't care. He could take it up the arse from Lucius today and save the world from Voldemort tomorrow. All he wanted was Draco.

And when Harry did save the world, Lucius would regret every filthy word he ever spoke in that false voice of his. Harry would carve every insult into his alabaster skin, and see how quickly the aristocrat began to beg for mercy when Harry was the one wielding the weapons.

Harry started to laugh a little maniacally, feeling lightheaded from pain and anger, but his mirth turned to shocked screams when the horrific head of Lucius’ cane forced its way inside his body, pummelling him viciously, making him bleed.

He could sense rather than hear Lucius masturbating, and Harry wished he was sucking that cock so he could bite it off instead.

Blinking back tears, Harry took the violent intrusion. He couldn’t picture Draco’s face right now, probably because the act being performed on him was so hideous that his mind didn't want to tie the two together, and for that, Harry was grateful.

Lucius pulled the cane out and threw it to the floor by Harry’s head. Harry nearly vomited when he saw the blood that splattered off of it. He looked away before his brain could fathom the bits of flesh on the snake’s teeth.

Harry heard Lucius panting and knew his orgasm was close. He looked straight down at the black leather, smelling it, absorbing it. He wondered if Draco liked leather and whether he preferred the stiff kind that Lucius obviously favoured, or that supple, buttery kind that Harry himself enjoyed. He believed that Draco would like the soft kind.

“Hold yourself open,” Lucius instructed through gritted teeth. Harry did, pulling her cheeks apart, his entire lower half screaming in protest and fresh blood flowing from his wounds.

Lucius cried out, and a second later, Harry howled. Lucius’ come on his open wounds stung worse than anything he could have imagined. It felt like being raped by the cane all over again.

Harry heard Lucius lean over and cringed as the blond rubbed his semen into Harry’s torn arse.

“Beautiful,” he said, apparently admiring his handiwork. “You’re so damaged, Potter. No one will ever want you. Especially not my son.”

“You want me,” Harry goaded.

“Only because you hate it so much.”

A few quick spells healed the wounds and prevented any scarring from taking place. Harry was a little sore but free of any real pain. It made him feel better that Lucius hated healing him so much. Harry would never carry another man’s marks, and Lucius did. Harry was free and Lucius was trapped.

Even though Harry was losing, he still won.

---

Harry had to wear a blindfold. Lucius was just too... distinctive, especially now that he hurt Harry so much. It was harder and harder to bring up the image of Draco during sex, especially when his eyes sometimes opened of their own accord, only to see the smug and supercilious face of the elder Malfoy smirking at him.

Lucius didn't seem to care on way or the other and rather enjoyed pinching or slapping Harry, knowing that Harry couldn’t brace himself for it without seeing it.

“Sit on my cock,” Lucius ordered, and Harry heard him settling onto his back. He felt his way up that hated perfect body until he knew where to straddle him. Harry swung a leg over the blond’s reclined form, leaning forward and reaching back with his hand to stretch himself.

He’d only just put the second finger inside when Lucius barked, “Enough.”

It wasn’t enough.

Harry wanted to overcompensate with lube, but Lucius only poured so much into his hand. He slicked the straining cock beneath him and rose up to guide it to his hole. Lowering himself on it slowly, Harry remembered what it was about fucking Draco that he loved so much. Draco didn't want to hurt him, only bring him pleasure. Draco loved it when Harry cried out in ecstasy, not agony. Draco always made sure to hit Harry’s sweet spot and finger his slit just the way he liked it before he came. Harry wondered how Draco was enjoying his Christmas holidays. If he had asked for anything. If he missed Hogwarts.

Placing his hands on Draco’s chest, Harry began to move. Small movements, allowing his body to adjust to the sheer fullness that he felt, both in his arse and in his heart. Harry didn't like being sappy, but Draco deserved the sentiment.

Soon he was rocking faster, taking Draco’s cock harder and deeper than before. Lucius let out a groan but Harry immediately covered it by calling out Draco’s name.

Throwing his head back, Harry cried out that magnificent moniker again and again, drowning the obnoxious sounds of Lucius’ pleasure.

He was gyrating his hips in a circle now, each rotation making the cock drag across his prostate. He wanted to grab his own erection but he didn't dare come, not when it was finally feel so right and good.

“Draco,” he gasped, smiling softly, eyes growing wet behind his blindfold. “Draco!”

Harry heard a sound beside him, but it didn't really register. His brain was too focused on bringing himself and Draco pleasure.

“Father? I heard some—Holy shit.”

It was all too easy to recall that the cock currently buried balls deep inside him was not Draco, and that the voice coming from his left sounded an awful lot like Draco.

“Keep moving,” Lucius cold voice demanded, but Harry had frozen. “Draco, you know better than to burst through doors without knocking. I’m entertaining a guest, as you can see.”

“I’m sorry, Father, I thought I heard someone say... but I must have been... Merlin, is that Harry Potter?”

Draco’s voice had ended much closer than it had begun, and Harry knew everything was over. The only thing he had to himself in the world, the only thing that he did for his happiness alone, was over.

“It is,” Lucius said slowly. Harry couldn’t decipher the tone of his voice. He only hoped that Draco would leave, and Harry could escape and never come back. His cock was completely soft from panic, his heart breaking a little from having his fantasy so cruelly demolished.

“Potter, what the hell are you doing fucking my father? ” Draco demanded.

Harry, sightless, had his head down. His entire body was shaking. He had betrayed Draco. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, wishing he was anywhere else in the world.

“What?” Draco gasped, even closer. He must be right beside the bed.

Harry only shrugged.

“Merlin, Draco, if you’re going to stand there, make yourself useful. I fully intend to finish this, with or without an audience.”

“No,” Harry whispered, humiliated. But he felt like he was drifting outside himself, like the horror of what he’d done was finally too much. He couldn’t move, could barely breathe.

“What... what should I do?” Draco asked, and Harry felt a weight impress the bed beside his knee.

“Well, I don’t particularly care if the boy gets any enjoyment out of this one way or the other, but the sight of his soft cock is making me sick.”

Harry whimpered, and Draco said softly, “You want me to touch him?”

“I don’t care what you do, just do something! If his arse weren’t so bloody tight I’d have lost my erection the minute you walked in. As it is, I need to fuck him!” Lucius fairly shouted, rocking his hips up against Harry in emphasis. Surprised, Harry pitched forward, bracing himself with his hands on either side of Lucius’ head. He was lucky he hadn’t hit the man’s face in his blindness.

Harry felt the bed shift again, and it seemed as though the weight had left. But Merlin was not so merciful, because after a brief rustling of clothes, the weight returned, behind him. Lucius’ legs had spread, giving Draco room to kneel between them, behind Harry.

A cool, smooth hand trailed down Harry’s back, causing the blindfolded boy to gasp. Draco was touching him. This was the first time Draco had ever touched him without violence. It felt good, but it was also scary. He didn't want it like this. He wanted Lucius to leave and never come back. But Harry knew Lucius was only being generous because he wanted to come, and Draco was only here because... well, Harry didn't really know why Draco had stayed.

Lucius’ hips began to move beneath him, slowly this time. Draco’s hand came around his side to touch Harry’s groin, fingers barely tracing the dark hair there. When Draco’s hand grabbed his cock, it immediately soared to life, thickening and stiffening in record time. Draco chuckled against Harry’s back, and he vowed to always remember the moist breath on his shoulder.

“Move, boy,” Lucius commanded, and Harry automatically obeyed, so used to Lucius’ orders that it was second nature to oblige.

When he rode Lucius’ cock, he was also fucking Draco’s hand. There was no question as to which felt better. Harry felt something flutter against his sore, stuffed hole, and he exhaled sharply. It was Draco’s other hand, fingers tickling the stretched rim. Harry moaned appreciatively, the cool fingers giving him a little respite against Lucius’ burning cock.

Harry was suddenly overwhelmed with the very idea that Draco was touching him intimately, and he felt his cock stiffen and balls tighten, and his head dropped back in preparation of his impending orgasm. But those stroking fingers on his cock turned into a merciless ring against the base of his cock, staving off his pleasure.

“Not yet,” Draco said against Harry’s ear, giving it a little nip that made Harry fall apart inside.

Harry felt an intense pressure on his entrance, and when Lucius moaned and Draco exhaled slowly, he knew Draco had slid a finger inside him, alongside his own father’s prick.

“Lube?” Draco said softly, as though any sort of volume would demolish the intensity of the moment.

Harry could only assume that Lucius passed Draco something, for he heard nothing further. But a moment later, the pressure on his hole grew even more, though the slickness there made the burning a little less unbearable.

Draco let go of Harry’s erection, which had depleted slightly from the pain of the overlarge intrusion. The blond urged Harry forward by lightly pushing between his shoulder blades. Harry braced himself on the bed, knowing that Lucius didn't like Harry’s weight on him. Harry had never been so grateful to be blindfolded, because this close to Lucius’ face, he’d never have been able to avoid the differences.

A third finger entered him, and Lucius stopped moving altogether. The stretching was no longer painful, just extremely uncomfortable, but every moment of discomfort was alleviated by the knowledge that Draco was touching him.

“Enough, Draco. He’s nothing but a whore; he doesn’t deserve your mercy.”

Draco didn't say anything, but Harry felt a soft kiss on his spine. Suddenly it was much easier to pretend that Lucius wasn’t there at all.

A soothing hand caressed Harry’s back, and he heard Draco whisper, “Ready?”

Lucius huffed, annoyed, and Harry nodded once.

Suddenly, he was being stretched beyond anything that should be possible, and Harry would have done anything to have that singular burning return, but it was nothing compared to this all-encompassing feeling.

Draco’s cock slowly and painfully entered Harry. He’d never felt so full in his life. Draco was pushing and then slowly withdrawing slightly, only to press back in more insistently. Harry wanted to be disgusted that Draco and Lucius were doing this to him together, but that meant that Lucius was actually here, and it was much better to believe that he and Draco were alone.

Finally, Draco was completely inside him. They all remained still, Harry wishing they would never start moving because he was still in quite a bit of pain.

“Beautiful,” Draco whispered, placing another burning kiss on Harry’s back. Harry’s cock took notice of this tender treatment and valiantly rose to make its pleasure known. Draco’s hand snaked around Harry’s chest and pulled the dark-haired boy back slowly. The shifting of the cocks within him gentled the burn a little, but nothing eased it more than Draco’s chest pressed against his back. Draco kept one hand on his chest, absently seeking and pinching his nipples, the other hand on Harry’s renewed erection, stroking lightly before Draco slowly began to move.

“Going to fuck you now, Potter,” Draco hissed in Harry’s ear, licking the shell before latching his mouth onto Harry’s throat.

True to his word, Draco began to move. Lucius remained still, making only irritating noises that pulled Harry away from his fantasy. Draco would pull out only an inch or two before plunging back in. Harry couldn’t believe he wasn’t bleeding or torn from being so stretched, but after a few thrusts, he could no longer avoid the delicious sensations coursing through him.

His prostate was being continuously assaulted, and Harry cried out with every thrust that brought sparks behind his eyes. Draco’s mouth was working his neck, and Harry instinctively knew he’d be bruised with love bites the next day. The knowledge thrilled him.

“Gods,” Harry moaned, his head tossed back and resting on Draco’s shoulder as he allowed his body to be manipulated and moved. His orgasm had built for hours, it seemed, and finally it brought him release. Brutally biting his lip to keep from crying out, Harry came with a force never before known to him. His cock spurted all over Lucius’ chest, and Harry knew he’d be punished for that.

Draco groaned behind him, thrusting deeply and grinding into Harry’s sore arse. His grip on Harry became unbreakable as he came, panting in Harry’s ear and filling him with come.

Lucius came only a moment later, his cry noticeably less victorious than was usual for the older Malfoy.

Draco’s cock slipped out, and Harry moaned softly at the loss. He didn't let go of Harry, however, and Harry was not going to do anything to change his mind. Draco was still kissing Harry’s neck, and he wondered if that meant something. Lucius had never kissed him after sex.

“Leave, Potter,” Lucius commanded, and Harry regrettably pulled away from Draco’s hold to slide off his father’s body. He clenched his arse to try not to spill come all over the silk sheets, but his hole screamed in protest.

Still blindfolded, Harry felt something being pushed into his arms. It was his clothing. Smiling gratefully at whoever gave the bundle to him, Harry made for the door. He wasn’t usually allowed to dress in Lucius’ room, and he knew better than to press his luck now.

Once in the hallway, he stripped off the black cloth covering his eyes. He slipped his robes over his head and found his glasses in his pocket. When he put them on, he immediately saw Draco standing in the hallway with him.

“Why are you here, Potter?” Draco asked quietly. He had put on pants and was holding a green shirt in his hands, twisting it and surely ruining the fabric.

“I don’t really know,” Harry responded truthfully. He’d had some stupid ideas, but fucking Lucius because he couldn’t have Draco had probably been the dumbest thing he’d ever done.

But if he hasn’t, he never would have fucked Draco as well, and that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Or at least... it was enough.

Sighing, Harry started down the hall. Draco walked silently beside him for a while before stopping Harry at the front door of the manor.

“Did he hurt you? Force you?”

Harry smiled at the earnest look in Draco’s eyes, at the pleading sound in his voice. Draco wanted to believe that his father wasn’t a monster. Maybe not a hero, but not a monster.

“He didn't force me,” Harry said, giving enough of the truth to stave off real honesty.

“Will you... Are you coming back?” he whispered.

Harry shook his head. “No.”

“Oh,” Draco said, looking uncharacteristically uncertain.

“I got what I wanted,” Harry elaborated, meeting the blond’s gaze and trying to broadcast what he meant.

Draco smiled hesitantly, all traces of arrogance and smugness nowhere to be found. It was like looking at an entirely different person, a person so good and pure that Harry had to wonder how he’d ever loved the facsimile when the reality was so much more beautiful.

“When we go back to Hogwarts, maybe...” Draco broke off, laughing softly. “Maybe we could be friends?”

Harry’s incredulity must have been evidenced on his face, for Draco hurried to add, “If you want. I mean... no big deal. I just thought—but whatever.” He tried for a light sneer, but neither was fooled.

“I would like that... Draco,” Harry whispered, smiling.

Draco was quiet, searching Harry’s gaze. “I did hear you say my name. Before, I thought... and I was right.”

Harry hurried out the door. This conversation was leading into a dangerous place, and Harry wasn’t ready, might never be ready to put all his cards on the table like that. Not when he didn't know what Draco wanted from him. Not when Harry himself didn't even know.

“Potter! I just meant... that I liked it. Hearing you say my name. Just now, and... before.”

Harry was beginning to wonder if Draco had problems with his confidence when he didn't have cronies to back him up. He seemed to be having difficulties forming complete sentences.

“I liked saying it,” Harry said firmly, walking across the yard to where his broom was stashed. It was a cool night, and flying back to the Burrow would be uncomfortable.

Harry uncovered his broom and turned to say goodbye. But Draco quickly grabbed Harry’s face in his hands and drew him in for a long kiss. It was unlike anything Harry had experienced. Lucius’ kisses were punishing, painful, dirty. But this kiss was all promises and purity. It was simple: a sweep of the lips, a light, innocent brush of tongues, a playful nip on Harry’s swollen lower lip. Draco drew back only to kiss him again and again, watching Harry the whole time.

“Maybe more than friends?” Draco ventured, holding Harry tightly as though afraid that he would bolt.

Inside Harry, everything was falling into place. It had been worth it, he knew suddenly. All of the pain and degradation only made him stronger, better, for Draco. And sides didn't matter because Harry would win the war, and Draco would choose the right side, and everything was as it should be under the glittering stars and brisk night sky.

“Maybe.”

Fin.