by Ravenna C. Tan
Draco Malfoy brushed the sweat from his brow carefully with the back of his hand. He couldn't use a Cooling Charm without disturbing the gelation of the potion, and the proper technique required incessant stirring of the heated cauldron at this stage. He sighed, glancing with dissatisfaction around the cramped back room of the apothecary shop where he had found employment, longing for a moment for the coolness of the dark dungeons of Hogwarts... but only for a moment.
Not all his memories from those dungeons were pleasant. He had Occluded most of them, even from himself, but a kind of visceral sense-memory remained. He found himself nauseous, his heart hammering hard, and his cock uncomfortably erect in his trousers.
He berated himself for thinking of it. Stupid, weak, useless... his hand shook as he tried to keep stirring and return his mind's focus to the task at hand.
But an unexpected chime at the door startled him and he dropped the stirring rod into the bubbling liquid. In his haste to work on the potion after hours he must have forgotten to lock the door. Draco watched the rod sink beneath the pink and green surface, disappearing like his own fading hopes that he could leave the war behind.
He threw a Stasis Charm over the failed potion so that he could deal with it later, and went to the front to see who had come in at this late hour. Some French housewitch who needed a tincture to cure her baby's midnight case of Stinking Spots most likely...
Draco stopped stock still, though, his wand still in his hand, as he saw who stood beside the lamp on the counter, the flicker of the lamp's low flame reflecting off his glasses. Neither of them spoke, though both appeared to be struggling to find the right first words.
"At least you didn't hex me on sight, this time," Draco finally spat, surprising himself with the vehemence with which the words shot forth.
Potter, for his part, at least had the grace to look slightly chagrined before he mustered his own rejoinder. "I seem to recall last time I saw you I was pulling your sorry arse out of a fire."
Draco gave a short bow. "You're right. I thank you for that. I beg your pardon that I'm less than thrilled to see you, however." He saw Harry's eyes were still trained on Draco's wand and he slipped it into the pocket inside his robes. "Is this a coincidence, a social call, or did you need a potion made?"
"None of the above," Harry said. He pulled a wand out of his leather jacket, from an inner pocket, and for just a moment Draco regretted having put away his own... but only a moment. He recognized the wand in Harry's hand.
"That's mine," he blurted.
"It was," Harry said with a nod of agreement. "I've come to give it back."
Draco folded his arms over his chest. "I thought you'd learned by now that you can't just give a wand to a wizard."
But although a slight flash of annoyance showed in Harry's eyes, he did not rise to the bait. "I didn't say I was just going to hand it to you."
"What, then? Are we going to duel for it? If you think I'm going to give you the chance to humiliate me again, Potter, you're wr--"
"Will you just shut up and listen?" Harry insisted. "For fuck's sake, Malfoy, I'm trying to apologize."
"Oh." Draco's cheeks burned with annoyance that his own manners seemed to leave him when Potter appeared, and with self-reproach. If Potter truly was here to give it back, it would behoove Draco to do everything he said. He wanted that wand! But he wasn't going to beg for it, that was for sure... Although Potter seemed disinclined to make him do anything of the sort. In fact, now that Draco was calming down a bit, he was noticing just how nervous Potter seemed to be.
"Come in back and have some tea," Draco finally said, taking out his wand to lock the door with a gesture and flipping over the sign that read "Closed" in French, English, and Quenya.
Draco led him through the cramped workshop into the even more cramped office at the very back of the building, but at least there were two chairs there. He took off his potion-making robe and hung it on a peg, noting uncomfortably that his unwanted erection of earlier had not yet subsided. It was Potter, so of course there had to be something humiliating happening. He hastily pulled on his outer robe without turning around.
"Hey--" Harry began.
Draco turned quickly and sat in one of the two rickety wooden chairs. "I'm not going anywhere, Potter. Just... I get cold easily." He arranged the robe over his lap in what he hoped came across as a nonchalant way, then set the tea to brewing itself with a wave of his wand. "Now, you were saying."
Harry took the other seat, gingerly putting one arm on the desk so as not to disturb the tower of old paperwork there. "I've still got your old wand. I aim to give it back, but as you say, I can't just hand it to you. And, well..." He gave a self-deprecating laugh at the tension between them. "You're right, a duel isn't probably the best idea between you and me. But there's another way you can win the wand from me."
Draco had heard of one other way a wand might change allegiance, but he said nothing. He merely raised an eyebrow, wondering if Potter were still such a Gryffindor that he would come right out and say it...?
"Fuck me," Harry said, then swallowed hard.
Draco couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. A moment later, though, seeing the intense blush on Potter's cheeks, he asked, "You're serious?"
Harry nodded. "Very. I've researched it quite thoroughly."
Draco cast another Stasis Charm, this one over the tea. "We'd best go somewhere else, then," he said, then held out his arm to Harry.
Harry looked at him with a moment of distrust.
Draco laughed again. "You don't trust me enough to duel you, but you trust me enough to let me fuck you?"
"Apparently," Harry said.
"Then you better trust me enough to Apparate us to my bedroom," Draco said, "unless you'd prefer to be buggered on the floor here."
Harry took Draco's arm.
* * * *
It was mad, completely mad, Draco knew. But here was Potter, and with Potter always came impossible choices and impossible situations. If his own cock had not been throbbing in his pants, he might have reacted differently.
Would the best strategy be to just push Potter to the floor anyway, the moment they appeared in the small parlor, and rape him without remorse? The wand no doubt required this to be a kind of symbolic defeat, a phallic mastery equivalent to a wand-to-wand duel, but Draco felt queasy at the thought. The last thing he needed was Potter holding another grudge.
So he offered him a snifter of cognac, which Potter downed with q quick gulp. That alone was telling more of Potter's need for liquid courage than of his lack of refined taste for the liquor.
The seats here were a bit shabby but more comfortable than the shop. Draco sipped his own cognac and made an attempt to learn a little more. "So is this really just a... a... goodwill mission?"
"It truly is," Harry said, looking a little miserable. He laid the wand on the tea table between them. "I'm not taking it with me when I go, so we had best get on with it."
Draco couldn't help needling him, now that he had him at a disadvantage. "And it never occurred to you that asking me to... to... perform a sexual act with you might be abominable to me?"
Harry's cheeks flushed again. "I... I'm sorry if it is. But as I said... I researched quite thoroughly."
Draco's spine stiffened. "My private life is none of your affair."
Harry shook his head. "It's not like that. Claude and I met quite by accident. It's how I... how I found out where you were and that you... er, might want the wand back."
"That insufferable gossip," Draco hissed. "I was clearly right to break up with him. I suppose he told you this after you'd buggered him thoroughly? Hm?"
Harry shook his head. "No. I'm... I'm not gay."
Draco narrowed his eyes. "But you'll let me fuck you."
"I owe you one, Malfoy."
"I thought you saved my life from the fire," Draco sneered.
"I did. But I'd also tried to kill you. So that evens out," Harry said, "but you not turning me in to your father and Bellatrix, that counts as another."
"Ah." Draco stood, setting his half-finished glass beside the wand, his finger barely brushing the wood. "Will it be your first time, then?"
Harry just nodded.
Draco felt dizzy for a moment, drunk with lust and power. "Does the wand require anything else? A ritualized spanking or such?"
Harry couldn't meet his eyes. "No. No, just the... ah..."
"Stand up, then, and get out of as much of your clothes as you're comfortable with," Draco said.
Harry looked up then, surprised. As if he expected to be stripped by a charm, or ordered to. He slipped off his shoes so that he could remove his trousers, and hung his jacket over the back of a chair, but left the tails of his shirt hanging.
"Would you prefer a bed or shall I just bend you over the back of the sofa?" Draco asked.
"Er, um, I really don't know."
Draco considered. Somehow the thought of bending Potter over a piece of furniture struck him as unwholesome. But he didn't relish bringing Potter into his bedroom. Instead, he transfigured the sofa into a settee with a low back and gestured to it.
Harry seemed unsure whether he should sit or what.
"Lie back," Draco finally said, as he loosened his belt. "I... If you don't mind, I'd like to see your face."
"Is that too much for you?" Draco asked.
"Er, no. Just... not what I pictured, I guess," Harry said, letting out a weak and nervous laugh.
Draco hit him with the lubrication charm then, and the laughter abruptly ceased. Draco let his trousers drop and then pulled off the rest of his clothes as well. So what if Potter got an eyeful? Let him see what was coming. Draco stroked himself to full hardness.
Then he bade Harry sling his leg over the low back of the settee, the other foot on the floor, as Draco teased at his hole with a slick finger.
Draco couldn't help but notice Harry's own erection, bobbing eagerly. Still, something in him had to be sure. "You're quite certain you want to go through with this, Potter?"
"Yes. Why do you keep asking? Just get it over with, Malfoy."
"Don't rush me, Potter," he said as he thrust a finger inside, less gently than he might've to emphasize the point. "You'll be sorry."
Harry gasped, clamping down tightly on the intruding finger. "Don't you get it, you prat? I'm already sorry. That's why I'm here!"
Draco blinked. "Wait. Are you saying you want me to... to... not to go too easy on you?"
Harry's brows drew together mulishly. "I... maybe."
"You think I'm not better than them," Draco said, thrusting a second finger alongside the first. "You really think I'd do it."
Harry merely looked confused at that comment. "I owe you one," he repeated. "Take what's yours."
"I will." Draco lined his cock up with Potter's hole and rubbed it up and down to slick the tip. He found himself fascinated by the sight of his ruddy cock pressed against the brownish pucker, the paleness of Potter's arsecheeks.
And then he was in. He didn't realize he had closed his eyes until he opened them and found himself staring into Potter's green ones. He pushed deeper and watched those eyes widen. Potter seemed to forget how to breathe for a second.
Then Draco pulled back and thrust again, and Harry remembered, sucking in a breath as his hips curled to meet the next push, and the next.
Draco groaned. He'd never fucked someone this tight. A virgin, and barely warmed up besides. "This what you wanted?" Draco said, voice rough.
But Potter didn't answer. They fell into a rhythm, steady and slow, and Draco lost himself in the sensation of his cock inside Harry Potter's body.
* * * *
Draco wasn't sure when the screaming began. Sometime after the flashback had started, he supposed. He wasn't even sure it was his own voice, until he woke from the Stunning Spell and felt how raw his throat sounded.
He was lying on his back on the settee and Potter was sitting beside him, holding a glass of water in one hand and a wand in the other.
"Are you thirsty?" Potter said. "Here."
Draco drank with grateful gulps then handed the glass back. "What happened?"
Potter shrugged, looking sheepish, then said, "Near as I can tell, your internal occlusions... collapsed."
"More like shattered." Potter couldn't meet his eye. "I... I didn't know."
Draco was still confused. "Didn't know what?"
Potter stood, his hand around the wand a sudden fist, as if he could go into the past and hex someone. "Didn't know how bad your seventh year was. Didn't know about... about the Carrows."
Draco closed his eyes.
"I'm sorry," Potter said again. "I wouldn't have suggested... sex... if I had known it would be... such a reminder to you."
A bitter laugh escaped Draco's throat. "Even the brave Gryffindor dares not speak of it."
"Is that why you asked me if I really wanted to go through with it? Because you were... were forced and you didn't want to do the same to me?" Harry sat back down, clutching his wand.
Draco nodded tiredly. "And what other brilliant things did you come to understand while rummaging around in my head?"
Harry set his own wand down and took up Draco's hand instead, placing his old wand into it. "I came to understand that I never did understand what you were going through," he said. "Though maybe this wand did."
Draco felt the curve of the handle in the palm of his hand and felt a sense of relief he hadn't expected. Harry was right. This wand had suffered through all those years with him, had stood by him while he'd been forced to torture for Voldemort, and had healed him after some of the Carrows' worst excesses. It was the one thing that knew all his secrets.
He looked up abruptly. There was a second thing now: Potter, who knew all.
Potter looked apprehensive. "I think... I think we might want to, um, do it again. Just to make sure it worked."
Draco laughed, a lighter laugh than he'd heard from his own throat in ages. "Because I'm a Slytherin, and well-mannered, I'm supposed to let that comment go, aren't I?" he said. "When we both know perfectly well the wand is mine again. What's the real reason, Harry Potter? I thought you weren't gay."
Potter blushed but didn't look away. "If you really want to know, you'll keep your eyes open again when you fuck me face to face."
Draco found himself grinning. "All right."
In short order they were again in position, with Harry newly cleaned, stretched, and lubricated. This time when Draco penetrated him, as they both began to surrender to the intense pleasure of Draco's cock sliding in and out of him, it was Harry's Occlumency that gave way.
Draco suddenly saw himself through Harry's eyes. Potter felt not sympathy but empathy with him. They were more alike than apart. Two men who had seen and experienced too much, too young. Both had been manipulated by father figures and both had been scarred by fate.
Harry reached up to trace the thin line of a scar on Draco's chest, a diagonal slash now little more than a narrow white flaw in his skin. "I nearly killed you," he whispered, and Draco felt the wave of near-nausea that rippled through Harry as the realization hit home. "It's a wonder I was allowed to carry a wand at all."
"You were a tool as much as I was," Draco whispered back, his rhythm slowing further but never ceasing. He could see it now, the way Dumbledore had pulled the strings, not just on Potter, but on Snape, on all of them. And Harry's rage about that, and how that rage battled with acceptance of his fate... even today.
"You brought me this wand," Draco said carefully, as he closed his own eyes and stemmed the tide of images from Harry's memory, "because you feel so much guilt, you hoped alleviating even a tiny bit of it might help."
Draco picked up his pace, thrusting deeper. "Your guilt has built a wall between you and everyone else. But now you realize... you're not the only one with regrets. You're not the only one with wounds. You're not the only one who understands what you suffered and how you suffered."
Draco was talking to himself as much as Potter, but it was Potter who started to repeat "Yes! Yes!" Not only to Draco's words, but to the deep thrusts that drew a pleasure out of him. Draco continued to thrust until he felt the skin between their bellies go slick with Potter's come, and then he asked one more time. "Can I finish in you?"
Potter nodded, unable to speak, but very clearly in agreement. Draco slammed him hard, then, until his own torrent of come had shot deep into Potter.
He found himself looking into Potter's eyes again. They were both thinking the same thing: with him, I'm no longer alone.
Draco leaned down to brush his lips over the scar on Harry's forehead. "Maybe... maybe you should stay awhile. To be sure, you know, that the wand is truly mine now."
Harry nodded, then stretched his neck up to plant a kiss on Draco's collarbone, where the tip of the Sectumsempra scar began. "And maybe you should come back with me to England. When you're sure."
"That might take a while."
"Then I'll stay."
Draco leaned down again, this time to kiss Harry on the lips.