Series: Part 2 of ‘Rumours’

Rating: NC17. Deals with rape and after-effects. This one gets a bit more graphic as it deals with the attack itself.

Pairing: Harry/Draco of course! ;)

Author’s Notes: Ok, I couldn’t leave our two boys as they were at the end of ‘Rumours’- too damned depressing! (Particularly with Draco saying he couldn’t stand the thought of even making love to Harry.) I won’t rush that, but it does appear my fave blonde Slytherin, Draco, deserves more loving from my fave green-eyed Griffindor. ;)

Please R&R and tell me what you think

More notes at end. Oh and I fixed up the mistakes in this one.
 
 

Prologue

He stared at the picture for a long time. Cold grey eyes bore into the image until the edges blurred, all of the colours converging into one distinct blob. His fingers ached from the tightness of his grip and yet couldn’t tear his eyes away.

His contacts were able to arrange copies of the negative, along with details of samples of other evidence collected in the Hogwarts informatory. In a fit of rage, he had thrown the semen sample into the wall, then spent half an hour scraping the liquid off the wall with his hands, back into the test-tube. He was well aware he could have used his wand to clean up the mess, but couldn’t. For his son’s sake, he would get on his hands and knees, debase himself, to clean this sickening substance.

This proof of the one that had sullied his son.

He bore the lingering results of Draco’s debasement at work at the head of the Ministry, where he constantly endured taunts and looks of disgust from his colleagues and superiors. Indeed, it was the talk of the organization.

Lucius wanted to tell them all to shut up. This didn’t happen to him. Not a Malfoy. Never.

He wanted to hate Draco. It would be so much easier to blame him for his lack of power, now, at work, for the tenseness now in his marriage with Narcissa. She dealt with the pain by retreating into herself. With Draco’s ghostly quiet and stillness, the tomb like silence was starting to be a very uncomfortable reminder of his own childhood. A part of him desired nothing more than to scream at his son, release his frustration and anguish onto him, demand that he be the son he was before.

Demand that he at least smile.

But no, all he could do was stare at the photo for hours at end, trying to find a way to change what had happened, bring back the laughter that would echo down the Manor halls, the impish sparkle back into his son’s eyes.

The image was of Draco’s facial injuries, procured for evidence. The bruising, swelling and blood no longer sickened and angered Lucius, nor did the sight of obvious semen discolouring his translucent hair and intermixed with the blood vomited down his chin make him want to take a wand to any group of wizards he saw in the street.

What continued to flare up the anger lodged deep inside him, were the tears that rolled down his son’s face, when Dumbledore’s hand gently lifted his chin.

Draco doesn’t cry! Draco never cries!

The faint rustle of robes behind him alerted him to the man’s presence. He turned, slowly, sure it would be Draco, or even Narcissa, annoyed expression plastered on his face from being startled by their obvious apparation. A pair of very familiar, amused dark eyes stared back at him.

"Crispin Flint." He said evenly, one finger unfurling testament to his concealed fury. He quickly turned the photo face down on the study desk.

"Lucius." The man nodded, his eyes seething with anger, despite the genial attitude. Both stared at each other a moment, before Crispin sighed and stepped back.

"It was a terrible thing that happened to your son."

Lucius continued to stare at him. "If it happened to M-"

"I’m sure it has." Lucius replied, coldly. "One doesn’t just get up one morning and decide to rape and beat another. Been giving him lessons, have you?"

"Now, you listen here." Crispin stepped forward once more, in a quick movement designed to startle. Lucius didn’t flinch, not even when he stepped straight into his personal body space.

"My Marcus did not do this. Your son is mistaken. It’s a ploy by Dumbledore to upset the followers of our great Dark Lord. He knows it was Sirius Black but can’t stand the thought of his golden boy-"

Lucius gently pushed him back. "Leave. You bore me."

He turned and started for the door.

"Our great Lord is not happy about this."

Lucius stiffened, in a minute spasm of his neck. Crispin smiled to himself.

"Leave now." Lucius wouldn’t turn to face him.

"Just remember I tried to tell you. You stubborn bastard."

Lucius didn’t need to turn to know that he had apparated out of the room.

Damned fool!

Why the Dark Lord allowed that idiot to be one of his followers was beyond Lucius but then he felt like that for many the members of the Inner Circle. Crispin’s remarks had angered him more than he cared to admit. He would not have one question his son’s view of events. As he had raised the boy in his image, to question Draco was to question Lucius. And Lucius was never wrong.

A hint of unwelcome panic flared inside and he decided to check up on the boy, who was undoubtedly asleep. He apparated to his room, bypassing the countless marble, wood, concrete and gold winding staircases, all carpeted with green and black snake insignia. Draco lay to one corner of his four-poster bed, curled up into a ball, pillow wrapped around his head, covering his ears. Lucius quietly stepped up to him and wrenched the pillow from on top of him, afraid he would suffocate himself. The boy moaned softly but otherwise did not move. He watched his son for a moment, marveling at the peace that now lay in his smooth face, the innocence returned, making him look younger than his eighteen years. But he knew it was a façade. For when he woke up, Lucius knew the worn, tired expression would appear on his face, the emptiness would leech from his eyes once more.

"So beautiful when he’s asleep."

Lucius gasped, stepped back quickly. He had been expecting this but it still did not ease his shock. He recovered quickly, brushing his silver hair back.

"I would have expected the Dark Lord, himself." He told the rather ratty looking, balding man standing at the other side of the bed and staring at his son in a way that clenched his hands into fists.

"The Dark Lord has other agenda’s than to worry about two of his followers having a little tiff. I have come to urge you to resolve it, quickly. It would not look good for our cause if two followers go to court over a disagreement between their sons."

"Look at me when you talk!" Lucius demanded. Wormtail ripped his eyes from Draco’s sleeping form.

"Tell our exhalted Dark Lord that this will not interfere with my ability to perform my duties."

Wormtail frowned, looked from him to Draco and back again.

"The Dark Lord feels that you are… distracted by the need for vengeance."

Lucius simply eyed him a moment. "Only the distraction I feel is my right, considering it was my son who was violated."

Wormtail’s brown eyes flashed darker momentarily.

"If I can’t contact the Dark Lord myself, then tell him I beg of him to allow Draco to go to Wizard’s Court, if it is his wish. It has nothing to do with my work with His Greatness."

Wormtail sighed, nodded. "Ok, I’ll do as you said."

Lucius smiled. Wormtail always gave in to him. It was like that even when they were together at Hogwarts. Lucius’ commanding presence was enough to scare the timid man into his bidding.

Wormtail turned back to glance once more at the sleeping boy, tentatively reaching a hand out to stroke his hair. Lucius withdrew his wand.

"Firenzo!"

Wormtail squealed as his flesh was discoloured purple.

"You can’t!" He moaned.

"Don’t… ever… look…at… Draco… again." Lucius intoned, blue eyes full of the deadly hate that had tortured countless muggles. As he talked, he held his wand steady in front of him, daring Wormtail to countercurse. The man simply whimpered then regained some control.

"You’ll…" He trailed off.

"Leave me now." Lucius demanded. Wormtail glared at him, but did as he bid, apparating out of the room and leaving Lucius alone with Draco. He collapsed on the chair opposite the bed, suddenly very drained. Yet, he wouldn’t dare sleep. Draco needed to be protected. What if Wormtail, or worse, Crispin decided to pay a visit?

Draco was surprised to wake up in the morning to see his father asleep on the mahogany carved chair opposite his bed.

****

Harry Potter’s eighteenth birthday started like any other day. He walked to the kitchen to find his Aunt, Uncle and enormous cousin Dudley glued to the television. Uncle Vernon laughed uproariously at the muggle sitcom, in which a young man was repeatedly getting his butt kicked by another. Harry failed to see the humour. He sat opposite his cousin (who took up one side of the table by himself) and was treated to one of his Aunt’s sighs. She stood up, walked to the kitchen and came back with a plate of grapefruit, shoving it in front of him so viciously, he was afraid the glass would break.

Harry tried to ignore the urge to complain. He was sick of grapefruit. Literally. Every morning for the past four years at the Dursleys, breakfast consisted of the delicate fruit. The others only had it when they attempted to put Dudley on a diet. Nothing ever changed, however. If anything, Dudley appeared to defy nature in these times and put on weight.

He ate as quickly as possible, ignoring his Uncle’s taunts, his Aunt’s stern looks and Dudley’s sneers. Today was to be a special day. They had forgotten, of course but he didn’t care for that.

"Harry!" His Uncle yelled as he raced to his closet under the stairs. He stopped.

What now?

"In a rush for something are you, boy?" The man’s big mouth curved up into a smile. Harry inwardly groaned. Perhaps he was acting a bit out of his usual dour character.

"You’d better be up to no funny business." His Uncle snarled.

"No, sir." It almost pained Harry to call him that. "I’m fine."

His Uncle continued to stare at him a moment. Harry refused to look away. Dudley’s uproarious laughter from the other room turned Vernon away. Allowing one last glare to the boy, he disappeared back into the other room.

Harry raced back up to his room and threw open the door. The owls had already arrived. He jumped onto his too small bed and started tearing through the packages. Hagrid had sent him his usual big cake, the thick green icing reading ‘Happy Ateenth, Harry’ and a letter congratulating him on being selected into Hogwarts the following year for Advanced Quiddich studies (a subject Hermione had grilled him ceaselessly against taking). Along with Mrs. Weasley’s usual oversized knitted jumper and bag of assorted lollies and sweets, Ron had sent him a test-tube of a substance called ‘Arimenthu’. He scanned the glass attempting to find what it was but all he saw was the fancy black writing announcing the name. He turned back to the letter.

Dear Harry,

(So different from Draco’s writing, Harry mused to himself)

Sorry I haven’t written a while. Things have been hectic here, with Bill and Charlie here on holiday. Every one sends their regards. I figured you wouldn’t be missing me too much. (After all, I doubt you’re even at the Dursley household, now, are you?)

Speaking of the ‘Dreaded D’, Dad says there’s talk at the Ministry of him testifying against Marcus Flint in Wizard Court. Is this true? Percy is really obsessed by it. He really wants to be Draco’s lawyer. You should hear the way he goes on about it. Well, Mum isn’t too happy, either. I think she’s really sick at the thought that we could have been possibly attacked. I don’t want to think about that.

Fred and George forced me to send the present. It’s kind of an aphrodisiac. You rub it under your ears. I wanted to buy you a Wizard Welcon figurine but they kept at me until I bought this. It was embarrassing buying it, I can tell you. They think you can get enjoyment out of it.

Anyway, hope everything’s going well with you and Draco.

Looks like we’ll be in the same course next year! Mum wasn’t too happy about me doing Quiddich studies. Actually, she was so angry she accidentally blew up the toaster.

Write soon.

From

Ron

Harry felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach. He had thought about Draco every day since he got off the Hogwarts Express but couldn’t bring himself to hold the button and say his name. He had come close countless of times. Harry loved Draco, he was sure. This was agony being without him, not even seeing him. But the thought of entering the Malfoy Manor was terrifying. Lucius was one scary man.. He sighed, moved to Hermione’s gift. She never failed to impress him. This year, it was a new silken shirt with lion insignia. He scanned he letter and groaned when he read the reason for the particular gift. Obviously Ron had told her.

I thought you would want to look your best when seeing Draco. I know I always do when I see Victor.

He tore off his ratty tee-shirt and replaced it with the shirt. It felt soft against his skin. He veritably sighed from the pleasure of it. Then he turned back to the letters and gifts. The letter stamped with the Hogwarts crest contained information about his University course the following year.

He tore open the final gift. Inside was a gold pocket watch. He held it by the chain, admiring its reflected glitter from the sunlight creeping in through the cracked roof above his head. Thumbing his nail under the rim, he gently pushed it open, smiling to himself as a soft tinkering music issued, his ears tingling as if in delight from the beautiful sound. He closed it and sliced open the envelope with his nail to read the letter.

Dear Harry,

The pocket watch belonged to your Father. He gave it to me just days before he perished, giving me express directions that if anything were to happen to him, I give it to you on your eighteenth birthday, as his father had to him. It’s actually muggle made, by an old tailor friend of James’ father, who perished in the Great Muggle War. Upon hearing that his own son had died, he told your Grandfather to give it to his own son.

Dumbledore wrote to tell me what really happened to Lucius Malfoy’s son. He also told me of your involvement with him. Are you sure you can trust him, Harry? I’m only thinking of Lucius’ behaviour in my days at Hogwarts.

Regardless, it is truly a terrible thing that happened and I feel somewhat dirty and angry for being implicated. Why this Marcus boy would use my image to commit such vulgar acts is beyond me.

If you truly care for him, you must be patient, Harry. This is not something he will be over in a few months. Indeed, it may take years. Don’t feel you need to say or do anything. Just being there is helping him. Rape is the most sickening act one can act upon another. I can only hope Marcus is punished accordingly.

I’ll write soon.

Sirius.

Harry felt a weird surge to his stomach as he read, the hairs on the back of his neck pricking up. Sirius’ words seemed to be those of a man writing from experience.

Did he know someone who was raped? A darker thought entered his mind. Was he raped himself?

No. He pushed the idea from his mind, tried to ignore the twisting of his innards. It’s only a letter. I can’t be making wild assumptions from it.

He picked up the watch and slipped it into his pocket, did likewise with the test-tube and smoothed down his jeans. They didn’t look too bad.

Draco needs me. Lucius can’t stop me from being with him.

He shoved the rest of his gifts, wrapping paper and letter under the bed (Not after stealing a few of Mrs. Weasley’s lollies) and took out his button, attempting to say the words for the tenth time since he had arrived home.

"Draco." He liked the sound of his voice, liked the way it felt on his tongue to say it. "Draco M-"

HE stopped. Clenched his teeth. "Draco M-"

Why can’t I say it?

"DRACO MAL-"

He groaned in frustration and sat down on the edge of his bed, biting his bottom lip. An image suddenly appeared in his mind, clear as if it was happening right in front of him.

For weeks before the attack, Draco had been carrying around his own pocket watch, a present from his father. It was not uncommon to see him bragging about it to fellow Slytherins. Ron had seemed disgusted by the obvious display of what he saw as gratuitous wealth. Harry had secretly disagreed. Draco did, indeed seem secretly touched by the gift.

After his attack, the catcalls that seemed to disturb Draco the most made absurd references to the watch.

"Hey, Draco. Can you tell us the time?"

Intent on discovering the truth, Harry had finally asked Hagrid.

The image he saw now, based one of the few things he was able to elicit from Hagrid about the attack was a violation of that love. A sick man recanting the father son bond. He saw Draco, crawling along the ground, his naked white skin contrasting vividly to the brown mud and autumn yellow and red leaves. Splashes of blood seeped down his thighs from the damage already caused, his back discoloured with countless bruises, cuts and bite marks. He was sobbing, pathetic sounds, like a wounded animal would make. Marcus was holding the pocket watch in his hand. Only it wasn’t Marcus. It was the image of Sirius. The blonde screamed, the sound tinged with anger as he was pulled back by the waist.

"Daddy’s gonna have to do some digging to find his gift now." He whispered in the other Slytherin’s ear. Harry closed his eyes, willing away the image in his mind of what happened next. It was as though his subconscious was determined to torment. Draco cried out, the sound a sickening exclamation of wordless pain, shame, anger and anguish as Marcus forced the watch deep inside him, the blood now running down his thighs in waves of clotting thick red.

Harry opened his eyes, allowing the tears to seep down his cheeks. He was still grasping the button. He pulled out his own pocket watch and threw it on the bed and wiped his eyes.

"Draco Malfoy." He whispered. He felt the usual pull at the navel, reality skewering slightly to the right, whistling in his ears as his dim surroundings in the upstairs cupboard gradually lightened to a room of carved wood brocades, white plush rugs and bright yellow walls. He landed head first on a red velvet sheeted bed, enclosed by a purple snake insignia.

Draco’s bedroom.

He stepped out from the billowy purple mesh and looked around. It was similar to Ron’s room. Posters of Quiddich players adorned the bright walls, some smiling at and others frowning at the mess of clothes bundled into a corner. His Firebolt took prime position above his enormous chest of drawers, big enough to not fit at all into Harry’s room. A bookcase sat in one corner, overflowing with books, mainly about the Dark Arts. Harry took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, then replaced him when he saw one small bound volume entitled ‘Valuable Defenses Against the Dark Arts: A Historical Survey’ by Severus Snape. He picked up the parchment and opened it to the first page.

That explained it. Draco had somehow managed to find a copy of his University Thesis. Harry smirked at the University name. ‘Pratt and Son’s College for Eager Young Wizards’.

"Harry?"

Harry turned sharply. Draco was only wearing a towel. He couldn’t help but stare a moment. He hadn’t been allowed the pleasure at seeing Draco’s naked body before this. Indeed, the alabaster toned boy was as smooth and toned as he had imagined. Draco followed his eyes and looked down at himself. When his head turned up once more, he noted the red blotches on his cheeks, possibly matching Harry’s own. Harry deliberately turned to face away from him.

"What took you so long?"

He could hear drawers opening and closing behind him, the rustling of clothes. It was excruciating resisting the urge to sneak a glance.

"I’m sorry." Was all he could say.

"I’m finished. You can turn around." Harry turned and inwardly sighed. The scarlet robe complimented the boy’s pale looks exceedingly well. He thought about what Hermione had written about one wearing their best clothes to impress the other.

"You look beautiful." Harry admitted, stepping towards him. Draco stepped back, the familiar scowl appearing on his face.

"What took you so long?" He sounded liked a whining child.

"I had some trouble getting away from the Dursley’s." Harry lied.

"You’re lying." Draco started to pace. "I should have listened to Daddy. He told me you couldn’t be trusted. I shouldn’t have given you that damned button."

"I’m here now, aren’t I?" Harry was getting increasingly irritated. "Come on, Draco. I don’t want to fight with you."

Draco stopped and stared at him. Harry knew from the tremble of his lips, from the darkening of his eyes that he wanted to continue. He finally sighed, sat at the edge of his bed.

"Can I…sit next to you?" Harry was amazed at how quickly he was already falling into the routine. Draco nodded. Harry sensed his eyes on him as he moved to the bed and was delighted to have the other boy visibly undress him. He sat down next to Draco, squeezing his hands together to decrease his frustrated need to touch him. Malfoy raised a hand up and strummed it tenderly in Harry’s hair.

"I like this shirt." Draco tenderly started undoing Harry’s buttons, one by one. Harry’s sigh turned into a moan as he felt Draco’s lips touch his ear. He had missed this. Draco’s hand went under his shirt as his lips sucked at the lobe, sending thrills of pleasure up Harry’s back. He jumped and moaned louder as the hand scraped across one nipple. He gently removed his hand from his shirt and ducked his head out of Draco’s reach. The boy’s pout was soon covered with Harry’s mouth. The kiss was rougher than Harry had experienced with Malfoy before. This time, Draco was using his teeth to claim Harry as his own, tongue pushing further back into his mouth than he had dared before. Harry groaned, causing the boy against him to do the same. He reached up to touch his hair, feeling the familiar silken strands. Harry gently moved forward, gently pushing Draco down onto the bed beneath him before forsaking his mouth for his neck, kissing every inch of alabaster flesh there. He could sense Draco suddenly freezing beneath him. But he wasn’t complaining. Assured that the boy would let him know if he was feeling uncomfortable, Harry continued his exploration, gently undoing the robes at his chest, stroking his hands softly across the silken skin. A sudden sharpness in his leg proved to him Draco’s compliancy in what he was doing. But the boy’s sudden refusal to touch him was disturbing. He moved his head up to look into Draco’s blank eyes.

"What’s wrong?"

"Nothing. Keep going Harry, please." He thrust up, pushing his erection into Harry’s own, causing him to moan. Draco kissed him on the cheek, then lay back down, staring up with the eerily blank expression. Harry felt himself becoming more and more worried. He sighed, climbed off his lover. Draco angrily sat up.

"Why have you stopped?"

Harry looked back to him and frowned. "Because you’re obviously not enjoying it. You look like you’re in a Dentist’s Office."

" A what?"

Of course. That’s a muggle thing, isn’t it?

"It’s ok." Harry smoothed a few stray strands of translucent hair off his face. "We don’t have to do anything."

Draco moved forward once more, pressing his chest against Harry’s back. "I’ll be alright. It’s just a bit difficult, at first. That’s all."

Harry turned back to face the front, said nothing. He wanted to, he wanted to so badly, but he didn’t want to force Draco into something he didn’t feel he could say no to.

"Come on, Potter. Ok, how about if we just start small? We’ll jerk each other off, or something."

Harry jerked from his touch. He stood up and stepped away from the boy to look into the giant mirror making up one wall of the room. Malfoy was succeeding in making Harry feel strangely dirty. Behind him, Draco stood up, stalked towards him. Harry didn’t know why he was doing this.

"What’s wrong, Potter? Afraid you can’t perform? I bet you can’t, too. I bet that’s the reason why you broke up with the twins and that slut Seamus. You must have been pretty bad not to satisfy him."

Harry could sense Draco was bating him but couldn’t figure out why. The problem was, it was working. The boy stalked forward like a cat, eyes narrowed on Harry’s form. He was beginning to regret coming.

"Shut up about Seamus! You don’t know him." He turned to face him and caught Draco’s smile.

Damn. I’m just letting him win!

His confusion intensified as the Slytherin slipped the robes, allowing them to puddle to the floor beneath him. Agonizing lust intermixed with his anger in a dangerous combination as he took in Draco’s naked body. The boy smiled once more.

"Potty Potter." He was stalking aroud him now, eyes affixed intently on him. "That stupid idiot Ron and the dirty mudblood Hermione. What a combination."

Harry said nothing, but the throb of a vein in his forehead attested to his anger. Draco suddenly stepped up to him and placed his mouth against his in a rough kiss, biting at his bottom lip, drawing blood. Harry pushed him back, roughly. "Get off me."

Although hard almost to the point of pain, this was not what Harry wanted.

But it is what you want. How many times, by yourself in your crummy little cupboard, have you fantasized about him dominating you in such a way?

Draco smiled, launched himself on Harry again for another brutal kiss. Harry felt his head swirl with confusion. He suddenly realized he was very angry and very, very turned on. He slipped his tongue into Draco’s mouth, turning him to pin him against his wardrobe with his weight, grinding their erections together.

What am I doing? What am I doing?

Harry tried to ignore the confused voice in his mind. He kissed Draco’s mouth and throat.

"If you knew what you did to me…" Harry sighed. Draco suddenly surged forward, flinging Harry off him with such force, he collided with the chest of drawers opposite, banging his hip painfully against the knob.

What have I just done?

Ignoring the pain radiating up his spine, he crawled over to the blonde boy, who had slipped to the floor, weeping into his hands.

"I’m sorry, Draco. I’m so sorry."

He located the discarded robe and reached over for it, before wrapping it around the boy’s naked body.

"Why did the others get to have you?" He looked up, eyes red and puffy. "I want you."

Harry could sense the frustration in his voice.

"I am not going anywhere." Harry reassured him. "I love you."

"Why can’t I just… I want to be able to touch you without…"

Harry finally understood.

"Don’t do that again." He said, evenly. "I don’t want to dominate you, Draco. So don’t try and make me. That’s not how it works."

Draco moved his head up from his knees, pulling the robes tighter around himself so they covered his knees.

"I’m sorry if I hurt you." Harry felt like a total bastard.

"You didn’t."

"Please, if I’m going too far. Tell me. I will stop."

"It wasn’t that." Draco was playing with Harry’s foot, lifting up the toe, stroking the heel and tapping against the arc.

"Then what was it?" Harry asked, quietly.

Draco said nothing, continued to concentrate on his toes, fingers making obscure patterns across the nails.

"I don’t want to talk about it."

"Maybe you should."

Draco abruptly drew his hand away and stood up, shrugging the robes over his shoulders once more so the scarlet fell loosely down his alabaster back like

Like blood. Harry thought but instantly ceased that line of thought.

"You’re going to have to testify against Marcus." Harry said, quietly. "I’m going to hear it anyway."

"You know, anyway." Draco’s grey eyes flashed angrily at him as he started to pace once more. "Everyone knows. It was all over the school."

Harry smiled to himself. "I know enough about rumours to know that truth is so often so far from the fiction people spread. Remember Reeter Skeeter?"

Draco smiled despite himself. "I was having a lot of fun."

"I’m sure you were. At my expense, of course."

"She’s still writing, you know. Just the other week, she-"

"You’re changing the subject." Harry persisted.

"Why?" Draco’s voice suddenly acquired a darker tone. "Why are you so obsessed by this?"

Harry sighed, stood up and stepped towards the Slytherin, reaching a hand up to lightly stroke his high cheek.

"Because I want to know why the one person who makes me physically ache just by looking at him can barely stand my touch. I think I deserve it."

"Who’d have thought," Draco smirked. "Potter and Malfoy, together. It’s a disgrace." His voice, mannerisms and facial expression accurately depicted Severus Snape. Harry found himself laughing despite himself.

"Tell me, Harry. Why do you hang around with Weasley and Granger?"

Harry frowned, stepped back. This was a topic that Draco seemed to not be able to let go of.

"Why do you hang with Crabbe and Goyle. Ah, for protection." Harry snapped.

"Some protection." Draco momentarily seemed paler, if it was possible. "That day, they ran away. As soon as they even glimpsed… him ahead, they took off."

Harry’s mind flashed to eight years before. A certain night time Forbidden Forest trek in which Draco’s flee had left Harry to defend himself against Voldermort.

"Oh come on, Harry!" Draco had an uncanny ability to read his mind. Either that he elaborated from the emotions he read off Harry’s face. "I was eleven years old! What did you expect me to do? I never had the courage you had. Perfect Potter." He spat. "Well, this time I didn’t run. I stayed and fought. But no one was around to see. Too bad. If you had been there, also, I’m sure there would have been plenty of people around. You’d have to get that interview, wouldn’t you? Oh, and photos."

Harry thought he was being unfair.

"You hold grudges, don’t you? You won’t ever forgive me for things I did years before. You can’t let go of your image of me as a self-absorbed, pretentious, one-dimensionally horrible old git!"

"You should talk!" The volume of Harry's voice was getting steadily higher. "You seem to have an image of me as a fame obsessed, self absorbed, shallow prick!"

"It’s decided then." Draco broke out into a smile. "We’re both self-absorbed."

Harry burst out laughing. Draco soon followed.

The couple turned abruptly as the air was displaced in front of the bed behind them. Harry gasped as the older but identical Draco apparated into the room in the form of Lucius Malfoy. Both instantly sobered.

"Hmm… Harry Potter." He stepped up to him and walked around him, studying him as though he were an insect in a jar.

"Draco. Why don’t you go check if the house elves have cooked lunch yet."

Draco frowned at his father, indicating he knew what he was doing but apparated out of the room, anyway.

Lucius bent slightly so he was eye level with Harry. "Now, you listen here." Harry had never seen eyes so cold. Yet, the man was almost amusingly reminiscent of his Uncle. His hand clutched at his shoulder, nails digging in painfully. "I’m only allowing you here because I think it would be healthy for Draco to have a whore to help him discover sexuality, since the… incident." Harry’s face remained impassive but his innards turned to cold ice. "I could very easily turn you over to Voldermort, so I would be very careful around me."

As if on cue, Draco apparated back into the room. Lucius let go of Harry’s shoulder and patted it gently.

"Ok?" He said, genially. Harry nodded mutely. His stomach felt as if it had just been stabbed with five different blades. He placed a hand against it, numbly hearing Lucius apparate out of the room. He looked up at Draco, who was looking at him strangely.

"What did he say?" Draco asked.

Harry opened his mouth to speak and suddenly realized that if he were to let out a single word, he would be racked with sobs.

"What is it?" Draco reached over to touch his shoulder. Harry jerked from his grasp, feeling the anger build and relishing it.

How could I have been so stupid?

"What is it, Harry?" Draco repeated. Harry couldn’t help the two tears that escaped from each eye.

Now he’ll have fuel for later. ‘Harry Potter cried in front of me.’

"Harry." He was doing a good job of acting concerned. "Why are you crying?"

"You don’t have the right to call me Harry, Malfoy."

Well, he always was a good actor, what with his constant imitation of me. He’s doing a hell of a job now of acting hurt.

"What did Lucius say to you?"

"I’ll see you at Hogwarts."

Draco suddenly reached across and grabbed his arm, squeezing it so tightly that it hurt Harry.

"Please, don’t leave me Harry. Please."

"You can stop with the act, Malfoy." He shook his arm off. Draco had such an intense look of despair on his face that Harry was almost turned, but then he remembered Lucius’ words and felt anger build again.

"Why are you acting this way? I love you." Draco reached over to cup his face in his hands. Harry pulled his head out of reach.

"Don’t touch me, Malfoy. I am not and will never be your whore."

He forced himself to look into Draco’s eyes and saw only pure confusion and hurt.

"I really am sorry about what happened to you. But I can’t do this. Like I said, I’ll see you at Hogwarts."

"Harry."

Harry’s heart broke at the despair in Draco’s voice. He had intended to leave, to simply teleport back to the Dursleys. Even that had to be better than staying here, with him. But he realized he couldn’t go back now.

"Please, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please don’t leave." Harry couldn’t look him in the face, couldn’t see the tears that rolled down his pale cheeks. "How can you think that of me? Do you really think I would make you my whore after what happened to me? Look at me!"

Harry hesitantly met his grey stare. "I don’t know exactly what Lucius said to you but it had nothing to do with me. Please believe me. I love you, Harry. Please, I need you. I can’t deal with anything. Do you want me to tell you what happened? Fine then. Just anything to stop that-"

Harry stepped up to him, cursing himself for disbelieving Draco, questioning the veracity of his love. He softly kissed his nose.

"I’m sorry." Harry softly purred into his ear, then moved his mouth across the kiss the tear under his eye. "I’m sorry I doubted you."

He pulled the boy into his arms, softly stroking his blonde strands.

Crazy bloody world, Harry sighed, kissing the top of his head.
 
 

Harry was glad when the day was over. Though the Malfoy Manor was undoubtedly beautiful beyond what he could imagine, it was a cold beauty, the carved furniture so viciously polished, the varnished floorboards, rugs, piles and carpets devoid of but a speck of dust. Harry felt afraid to touch a single item. Indeed, even a single blue petal on the roses lined in a meticulous straight line in the Malfoy garden seemed to wither from his stroke. The only room with but a hint of personality was Draco’s, though Lucius made a few stray comments about him taking down the posters.

Lucius, himself contributed to the stifling atmosphere. He was careful not to be overly snide in front of Draco, but Harry caught the overt glares, the whispered comments. Dinner was more torturous than ten dinners at the Dursley’s combined. Though no one spoke a word, the tension was enough to cut holes in the air. Narcissa said not a word to Harry, or, indeed, Lucius or Draco. Her only action beyond eating, was to kiss her son on the cheek as she left. The lamb roast tasted as perfection to Harry, but his throat seemed already clogged, preventing him from swallowing correctly.

After an eternity, Draco stood up from the table as long as the Dursley’s house and excused himself. Lucius nodded, glancing up at Harry as he did. The pictures behind him mirrored his glare. Harry felt their eyes on him as he walked, heard their whispered comments. Draco turned and smiled at him, then grabbed his hand, apparating them both to his room, once more.

Draco grabbed Harry for a sating kiss, then stroked up his cheek.

"I want to have a bath." He abruptly turned and walked towards the ensuite, stopped before the opening and turned to look back. "By the way, under the bed."

Harry watched him disappear, brows furrowed.

This had better not be a trick.

He stepped over the volumous mattress and crouched down, peering into the dark underbelly. Daring not to reach under without looking first, he withdrew his wand.

"Lumous."

Blackness instantly turned a dim yellow, outlining the sharp edges of an obvious wrapped box. Harry reached in and pulled it out, stuffing his wand back into his pants and placing the item on the bed.

A present. Draco got me a present. How did he know?

He stared at it a long time, not wanting to open it, just wanting to savor the bright red wrapping paper, canary yellow tulips and ivory twine covering it. Finally, he risked opening the envelope taped to the side with azure star clasps. He thumbed it open, using the tip of his nail. A piece of black parchment with white writing fell into his hands. Harry opened it and read.

Dear Harry,

Do you even know what you do to me? Do you even realize that just looking at you makes me want to throw you down and ravish you? If only I could. I would have those beautiful green eyes flamed with passion for me, those sweet lips moaning for my intercession. You walk through Hogwarts Halls not even seeing me. Only the image that you have built up. How everyone loves you. How I wished you would love me. Could you, love some one such as myself? Would it be even possible? We’re as night and day. And so I die every time I even glimpse your raven hair.

And I kid myself. This is only written for my own gratification. You will never see it, never know of my desire.

Harry checked the date at the top. It was about three months before Draco’s attack. He reread it, again and again, wont to contain his fluttering heart.

Oh, my love. If only you had known my own desires coalesced with yours at the time.

He turned back to the present, slowly unwrapping it with shaky fingers. He stared at the item a long time, confusion and sorrow ripping through him.

Why?

He shook his head, an ugly, disgusted feeling brewing in his stomach.

Why give me this?

Draco stepped out of the ensuite, snow white robes blending in with his flesh. He looked at Harry almost shyly.

"Well?"

Harry moved his mouth but no sound came out. Draco’s face was marred by unease a moment, before it cleared.

"Do you-" He stepped up to the bed and looked down at the object in Harry’s hand, grey eyes impossibly wide, lip trembling. With a cry of anger, he snatched it from Harry and threw it across the room, before collapsing onto the bed, covering his face with his hands. Harry watched the watch disintegrate into tiny pieces as it hit the mirror, causing a spider web of cracks across one corner of glass.

Harry sat awkwardly at the edge of the bed, not sure what comfort he could give.

"How did that get there?" Draco whispered between sobs. "Why is someone torturing me?"

Harry crawled over to kneel beside him, hesitantly stroking down his back. Draco maneuvered himself so he could press his face against Harry’s chest. Harry wrapped his arms around the boy, reaching his head down occasionally to kiss his hair as his body continued to tremble from weeping.

"I love you." Harry whispered. Gradually, the trembling dissipated, the pained cries lessened. Draco disentangled himself sufficiently from Harry’s arms to look into his eyes.

"What have I done? I’ve just destroyed a piece of evidence." He smiled bitterly.

"I don’t understand." Harry admitted, reaching across to tenderly clutch Draco’s hand in his own.

"Don’t you recognize it, Harry?" His words were tinged with anger. "I had it for a full month before. It was… more to me than you could know." He looked away. Harry squeezed his hand, gently.

"I don’t understand. It was left as evidence in Madam Pomfrey's office. How did it end up…?"

"I love you." Harry reassured him.

"Can you see now, why I can’t…? You want to know what he did. How about if I told you how he…" His words were stopped by a dismayed sob, followed by a scream of anguish and frustration. "He forced…"

"I know." Harry’s chest was physically aching. "You don’t need to say."

"Everybody knows." Draco said, bitterly. "Some people, they even thought it was funny. Like Marcus or Sirius or whoever knew exactly how to stop my bragging about it. No. I’m not going to cry. I’m tired of it, Harry." He gently eased Harry back onto the bed so his head touched the pillows. Draco then curled up against Harry’s side, placing his arms around his waist and head on his shoulder. Harry rolled a little to the right, so he was facing the Slytherin, who snuggled up to Harry’ warmth, placing his cheek against his chest. Harry was certain Draco could hear the accelerated beating of his heart from the contact. He suddenly realized that he had never had a more perfect moment in his life, a more total feeling of total completeness.

The moment was abruptly broken by the twisted darkness that threatened to overtake the purity of their love. Harry’s only thought was for revenge of the hideous depravity Draco was forced to endure, convoluted by the others’ refusal to let it go.

It was a long time before Harry could fall asleep.

He was startled awake by a nightmare that instantly left his mind, leaving only lingering fear. It took a moment to register his surroundings. A sigh from the boy next to him moved his attention to him. Harry watched him a while, occasionally reaching over to stroke his cheek, run his thumb along his lips. He looked so beautiful to Harry, in his slumber. So unmarred by the fear and anger twisting his features upon waking.

What is happening to me?

He kissed Draco’s silken eyelids, before snuggling against him, the steady thump of Draco’s heart against his ear lulling him to sleep.
 
 

It took Harry a moment, upon waking, to again remember where he was. The soft nuzzling against his ear drew a soft sigh from him. He was afraid to move, in case Draco stopped his tender ministrations. He had rolled in his sleep and was facing away from the Slytherin, who was curled up against his back, legs entangled in Harry’s own. One hand was tenderly stroking his back, while the other had reached under his shirt and was playing with his nipples. It was what he was doing to Harry’s ear, however that made it very difficult not to wish his hand would move further down. His tender licks, sucks and bites along the lobe sent waves of pure pleasure through Harry’s entire body.

"Do you like this, Harry?" Draco whispered. Harry could only moan in response, as one nipple was firmly squeezed. The boy continued his attention on his ear, sending convulsions down his body. Harry turned his head to catch his mouth, eagerly sucking on his tongue, causing Draco to return his moan. Harry sighed and rolled to face the boy, knowing the inevitable was to happen. He grabbed Draco and pulled him to him, rubbing his hardness frantically up and down his leg like a dog in heat, wrapping his arms around him and gasping into his ear. The blonde gasped in surprise and stiffened. Harry groaned his release then turned and faced away from Draco, his head in his hands. He felt movement on the bed and lifted his head up to see Draco move off the bed and walk over to his side.

"Harry."

Harry looked him in the eye. Draco had his wand out.

"Speronzo."

Harry looked down to see mess he had created in his pants had disappeared.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked.

Draco smiled. "I just made Harry Potter climax without either of us getting naked. I’d say I’m very alright."

"I love you."

Draco laughed. "I’m sure you really do, now."

He walked up to the broken watch pieces.

"You can have a bath, if you wish."

Harry jumped off the bed and walked behind him, wrapping his arms around him, kissing his cheek. He withdrew his wand and pointed at the broken item.

"Reparus watchus."

Both boys watched as the broken fragments moved to remeld together.

"No, Harry." He snatched the wand from his hand. "Disintegras!"

This time the pieces the watch broke into were as grains of sand. Draco turned to face him.

"I don’t ever want to see that again."
 
 
 
 

"Harry!"

Harry jumped a little, startled. He was admiring the latest in Firebolt cleaning devices in Diagon Alley. The latest produced a handle so shiny that it veritably blinded the opposite team players when one angled the broom a certain way. Harry pictured playing against the Slytherins and…

But no.

As fun as it was while it lasted, Harry’s constant antagonism with Draco was at an end. Replaced by the most exhilarating, most frustrating, most intense love that Harry ever even thought it would be possible to feel. Sure, he’d had crushes. He’d loved Cho Chang from afar for years. But this was, this certainly was something.

It was still somewhat sad to lose his arch-nemesis, however.

Harry turned sharply to see three familiar red heads. Ron raced ahead.

"Harry! What are you doing here?"

"Well, Draco and I are shopping."

He caught the momentary slight crinkle in Ron’s brow at Harry’s mention of the boy. Harry inwardly sighed. Some things never change. He was aware that Ron was willing to be nice to Draco for his sake. But it would take the entire world moving to the left for him to ever like him.

But then Harry had once felt the same way.

"Well, where is the great goose?" Fred slapped Harry good naturedly on the back.

"He said he had a few errands to run." Harry shrugged.

"Hey, Harry. Did you like our gift?" George smiled.

Ron’s complexion suddenly matched his hair. As did Harry’s.

"Well, I haven’t…er…"

"It definitely works. I tried it with Angela the other day." Fred admitted. Harry wished he could somehow melt into the pavement below him.

"It’s a definite winner!" George laughed. "So, how is the Delectable Draco?"

Ron couldn’t surpress a groan. Fred and George both laughed.

Harry shrugged. "He’s ok."

"It seems our brother, here doesn’t agree with our hypothesis that your new boyfriend is the most alluring boy ever to walk the halls of Hogwarts."

Harry picked up the smell as soon as Fred started talking. It was… altogether the most arousing scent. Apple and cinnamon shampoo, spicy aftershave, the unmistakable scent of Him. He felt a light, feathery touch against his ear and remembered he had stopped off at the Dursley’s momentarily to pick up his invisibility cloak. His room had been completely ransacked, of course. Perhaps for a clue as to where he had gone, perhaps simply as an excuse to cause him greater pain and misery. He was glad he had let Hedwig fly North for the summer to check up on Sirius and Remus.

"I don’t see why not."

Draco uncovered his head, so he was just a face, bobbing about five foot six off the ground. This didn’t startle any of the walkers by.

"Ah, listening in to our fawnings."

"Oh, if only Harry Potter wasn’t so wonderful." George made a pretend swoop at Draco’s feet.

"If only you weren’t so wonderful." Fred did likewise at Harry’s feet. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Right!" The twins stood up and wiped down their pants simultaneously. "Enough of this." George said.

"Good luck, kids." Fred said, jovially.

"Are they ever serious?" Draco asked, genuinely interested.

"Rarely." Harry watched the two saunter off.

Draco turned to Ron and nodded acknowledgement. Ron nodded back. All three stood awkwardly a moment.

"Oh, I got you something." Harry admitted to Draco. "Just call it a belated birthday present."

"It was my birthday last week." Ron cut in, suddenly.

"You didn’t receive my present?" Harry sounded concerned.

"Well, yes-"

"Then what’s the problem?" Draco asked, icily.

Ron glared at him but wouldn’t answer.

"Didn’t you like the present?" Harry asked Ron. All three moved back as the crowd admiring the Firebolt began to swell.

"It was great! No, really, Harry. I loved it."

Harry could see Draco visibly tensing in the sea of people. He grabbed him by the shoulders and hustled him across the road to a nearby ice-cream store. Ron followed and turned, sharply at a sudden whisper to his left. He suddenly shouted something Harry rarely heard from his lips.

Why is it that I never hear them?

Draco must have, however, for his cheeks bore two pink splodges in the centre.

Harry propelled him into the store and, ignoring the stares of the fellow customers, walked up to the front counter.

"Hey. You’re the boy I read about in the paper-"

Harry turned in time to see Draco pushing a rather hooknosed wizard.

"Don’t touch me!"

He bit his lip to quell his frustration.

Why can’t we go anywhere without people harassing him?

"Three twenty layered chocolate fudge with chocolate sprinkles and chocolate topping, thank you." Harry told the rather stern looking counter hand.

Instantly, three waist high sundaes were slammed onto the counter. Harry handed over a galleon and got six sickles back. (Bloody inflation!) He took out his wand and waved the three deserts to a table near the back.

"So, are you two going to fight it out over Sirius?"

Draco and Harry looked at each other.

"What?"

"Listen, you shut up!" Ron stepped forward, moving quickly into the man’s space. "Reeter Skeeter could write that the world was going to end unless you wore your undies on your head and you’d do it, wouldn’t you?"

The man stood up. "Miss Skeeter is a total professional."

"Professional git!" Ron raged. Harry grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back, away from the man. All three moved swiftly for their table.

"What was that about?" Harry asked, once they were seated.

"An untalented reporter doing her usual hack job."

That day’s newspaper was thrown down onto the table. Harry read the headline and groaned.

"Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy Involved in Love Tryst with Sirius Black."

It was Ron’s turn to groan when his brother, Percy, pulled up a chair to the table.

"What is this, the Weasley family Christmas Reunion special?" Draco smirked.

Harry folded the paper and placed it into his knapsack. He just couldn’t handle that at that moment.

"What are you doing here, Percy? Hey, get off!" Ron grimaced when Percy apparated a spoon and started digging into his desert.

"Did you think about what I asked?" He asked Draco. Harry could see the superiority mask move down his lover’s face. He started roaming his hands around in his pockets.

"I’m just checking if I’ve got the sickle that would pay for such esteemed prosecution as would be yours."

Ron caught Harry’s eye and glared. Percy seemed nonplussed.

"Considering I’m the only one willing to do it."

"My Daddy can hire-"

"No. He can’t. I think everyone at this table knows why." Indeed, everyone else at the table didn’t know why. Harry and Ron stared back with identical confused expressions.

"This way, you will also get protection from Dumbledore."

Harry stilled the spoon on the way to his mouth, glancing at Percy curiously. Draco spooned some of the sludge into his mouth, looking thoughtful.

Why do you want to do this? Do you want something in return? Wanna fuck me or something?"

To Harry’s immense surprise, Percy actually laughed but sobered rather quickly.

"No, Draco. I don’t…er… want anything but monetary value in return. And justice."

Draco looked him in the eye a few moments. "I’ll consider it."

Percy smiled, helped himself to more of his brother’s sundae, despite his protests.

"What is wrong with your brother?" Draco turned to Ron, after Percy had left. "Why is he so obsessed with my case?"

Ron shrugged. He had wondered the same thing, Harry could tell from the mystified look in his eyes

Monetary value. And vengeance.

Vengeance.

Harry had a strange feeling that one word was key in discovering Percy’s agenda for defending Draco.

"Harry." The raven-haired boy turned to meet his lover’s eyes. "I’ve got something for you. Why don’t we swap gifts."

Ron turned in his chair, looking sadly at the fellow customers.

"Ow!" He rubbed his head as something sharp knocked against the back. He looked down to see a small black box. He looked up in surprise at Draco, who was struggling with the wrapping paper on his own present. It appeared to think its existence was to wrap and was clinging to the present for dear life. Ron tore open the box to discover a rather stylish grey woolen turtle-necked jumper. He instantly began to scan it for any hexes.

No. It did seem rather genuine. Draco stopped struggling with his gift a moment and turned to Ron, still panting.

"Now at least you can wear something stylish in my presence."

Ron considered saying thank you but didn’t know if it was appropriate. Draco solved this by turning back to his gift. Harry, meanwhile, had opened his present but kept it in his hands under the table and, for a reason Ron couldn’t fathom, was facing the side wall.

"Harry! Don’t you like it!" Draco looked genuinely hurt and bewildered. Harry turned to face him and Ron noticed the sudden wetness of his eyes.

"I love it."

Ron averted his eyes as Harry leant forward to kiss Draco soundly on the lips. "I love you." He whispered.

Harry bought up the gift from under the table. It was a paperweight, displaying a white, beautiful but haughty stag, who pranced proudly across the varnished chunk of oak wood, standing erect, nose raised to the ceiling.

How did he know? Harry glanced at his beautiful lover. What doesn’t he know?

Draco laughed with delight as he finally tore off the wrapping paper. Harry had bought him a book, a biography on Herbut Schmarker, a decadent wizard writer of the 1920’s. Harry had noticed that Draco had about thirty books of his in the bookcase but no biography. Schmarker was a favourite of Hermione’s, so Harry was not unfamiliar with him. He had even read a couple of his books and had found them interesting and enjoyable but hadn’t the time to follow them up with any more.

"How did you know?" Draco asked, smiling. Harry caught Ron smiling at him in an odd way. Indeed, it looked odd on Ron, in terms of Draco because his expression was almost… pleasantly surprised.

"You’ve only got thirty of his books in your bookshelf!" Harry laughed.

"I love it."

Ron had to avert his eyes again.
 
 
 
 

The figure had glanced at the three through the window, and was almost tempted to go in and join them. After all, they were all familiar with him. He was sure Harry would be particularly happy to see him.

But he felt it best to leave them be.

Draco was laughing.

It somewhat lessened the pain in his own heart to see that. What had happened to the boy was sickening, disgraceful, disgusting.

And shamefully familiar.

But Draco could be alright, one day. If the man now hurrying down Diagon Alley could have the strength to overcome the terrible anguish, he was sure this boy could.

Especially if he had Harry Potter to help him.

He leant against a pillar a moment, watching the various witches walk past in their multiple fashions.

He could overcome it, sure. Even be happy, at times. A lot of times.

But he would never again be the boy he once was.

Scurrying the dark thoughts from his mind, the figure moved swiftly through Diagon Alley to the exit.

To be Continued…

AN

In terms of my portrayal of Lucius. I hate Lucius in the books but grudgingly admit that I think he really does love his son and vice versa. I think that if Draco was raped, as any loving Father would, he would put his son’s welfare first.

I admit what Marcus did with the watch is exceedingly vulgar and sick. (Even for me and I wrote the bloody thing!) But it just seemed in keeping with the character to want to humiliate and degrade his victim as much as possible. (Having written that, I won’t be too surprised if I get flamed.)