Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Bending Time	By : ChimaeraChan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 13905 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-CH1
- 2-CH2
- 3-CH3
- 4-CH4
- 5-CH5
- 6-CH6
- 1
- 2
Title: Bending Time
Author: VoxFuriae
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Genre: Slash, AU, Complete
Rating: NC 17
Warnings: Minor/Shota
Summary: Fourth year is just getting started when a mysterious stranger arrives at Hogwarts. What does he want, and more importantly, why is he sleeping in Draco’s bed?
Author Notes: Right, rewrote most of the first four chapters on this. When I came back to this story after five years, I added the last two chapters and had left the first four pretty much the same. Rereading it lately, the disorganization of the conversations alone were exhausting! Hopefully this will be a smoother read. Also gave Harry a bit more personality so the ending isn't such a shock.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter One

The darkness was oppressive, a palpable weight of inky black surrounding him as Draco made his way back to the Slytherin common room by wand light. He stepped as carefully as his tired feet would allow through the castle hallways, smelling the unpleasant scent of plant guts and dirt even after the numerous cleaning spells he had cast. Somehow the detention had gotten caked into his skin nearly as deep as the gritty anger he felt towards the damn boy that had gotten him in this mess in the first place. Bloody Saint Potter, and his holier than thou attitude. If Draco had known he'd end up with detention, he would have done more than call Granger a mudblood. He would have beaten the green-eyed bastard's pretty face in.
Draco wasn't sure what the hell it was about Potter that pissed him off so much. If he was honest, it really didn't make much sense. He felt sorry for the kid. Voldemort was going to kill him—Everyone knew it. Draco had actually spent a fair amount of sleepless nights just that summer in the manor stuck on that very fact. His terrible father and his even more terrifying Dark Lord were going to murder a boy in his class. But then, Lucius had started on about how Draco wasn't even remotely up to level with where he needed to be in his studies, and then most of those sleepless nights had been about the pain, and how if Harry Potter had just killed the Dark Lord the first time, like proper, Draco's life would have been a hell of a lot easier. But Potter had half-assed it as a toddler, like the boy half-assed everything. Including perfectly witty verbal sparring until Draco had been forced to bring out the big guns—Just when Professor Sprout had been walking by. Stupid Potter.
Draco stopped at the portrait of a grim looking warlock, trying to ignore the strange feeling in the air that something just wasn't right. He glanced behind him into the darkness of the hall, his eyes seeking out something that would explain the goosebumps threatening to tingle up his skin. It felt like dark magic—Powerful, all encompassing magic just floating in the air after a spell.
“Password,” the portrait prodded, making Draco jump in surprise.
Scowling, he whirled back. “Purity is truth,” he muttered, waiting for the door to swing open.
“Detention so soon in the year, Malfoy? Your father will be displeased.” His scowl only growing, Draco pushed into the common room and refused to say another word to the traitorous portrait. His father was a dick, and could go die for all he cared. Draco paused in the common room, biting his lip as the door closed behind him. There was no one there. No student staying up late to study, or couples making out in the corner, or anyone to torment him for details of his detention. Still, that feeling of powerful magic was lingering, teasing down Draco's spine and making his steps frantic as he stumbled to the dorm he shared with the other Slytherin fourth year boys.
Peeking in to the large bedroom, Draco was relieved to see that everyone's bed hangings were pulled tight, no one waiting to ask annoying questions. Snape had been laying the homework on heavy that week, likely to punish the visiting students there for the Goblet competition. Draco had no issue with the extra work, but he knew his classmates were struggling and likely needed all the sleep they could get. Relieved that he wouldn't have to explain the sticky, exhausting night he'd had with all those deadly plants, he slumped over to his trunk and began to strip.
He hesitated, looking at his hand while reaching for his robe. Somehow the plants had managed to stain his beautiful skin, and when he sniffed his fingers, there was the remains of the underlying bitter smell he had been facing all night. He quickly dropped his night robe, refusing to foul his bed clothes. He'd have the house elves change his linens in the morning, but there was no way he was letting Potter manage to ruin more than his evening with this damn detention.
Draco threw his bed hanging's open, stepped inside and froze, his breath catching in his throat. It was that feeling again, all around him, of terrible magic and now, at the source of it, blood. Eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, Draco could just make out the figure filling his bed. Stumbling back, he groped for the wand he had foolishly left with his dirty clothes, his mind whirring wildly. There was someone in his bed. Someone big, powerful, and not a classmate. Just lying there, like the man owned the fucking place. Wand lit with a lumos, Draco approached his bed cautiously, eyes straining to comprehend the figure before him.
Whoever it was, he was dressed all in black, heavy boots, well fitted pants, black shirt and coat... “Oh, for fuck sake,” Draco said in exasperation, quickly closing the curtains behind him and setting up a silencing charm.
“Black, what the hell are you doing here? You scared the shit out of me. Why the hell are you in my bed?” Draco could tell by the tenseness in the shadowed form that Sirius was awake. Scowling when the man refused to answer, Draco rapped him sharply on the leg with his wand. “What, did the werewolf throw you out? I warned you that the man wasn't twenty anymore. He's not going to put up with your pranks. Um... Siri...?” He trailed off with a whisper, hand having touched down on the leg before him, heat and muscle greeting him instead of the expected near skeletal form of his wrongfully convicted cousin.
“You surprise me, Drake. I didn't know you were on speaking terms with Sirius.”
Draco gaped, eyes straining past the light from his wand to find the face that went with the the unfamiliar voice purring lowly in the dark. “You're not Black,” he managed to croak out, that oppressive energy suddenly pushing down on him, threatening to drown him in its power.
“No.”
“Holy fuck!” Hands trembling, Draco jumped back and drew his wand level with the stranger's heart. “Who are you? What the hell are you doing in my bed?”
The shadows closed in even thicker around the man, Draco getting no warning when his wand suddenly flew silently from his grasp into the stranger's hand. Draco gulped, eyes wide as he stared frozen at the glowing tip of his wand that might as well have been in another country for how available it was to protect him right now. “Oh, shit.”
The man moved with complete control and ease, knowing he was powerful and expecting everyone else to know as well. Sitting up, long legs bent, arms resting on his knees, he idly twirled Draco's wand between his fingers while he observed the boy silently. Heart pounding in his ears, Draco fleetingly wondered if he was going to make it through the night alive.
Tilting his head to the side, the man regarded Draco with unreadable eyes. “Who do you think I am?”
Eyes snapping to the man's still shadowed face, Draco wet his lips nervously. “I-I don't know. You're face is... It's too dark to see.” His eyes strayed again to his wand, wondering if he could summon it and hex the man in time to escape. Surely if he managed to wake up all his dormmates... “How did you do that?” He asked, hoping to distract the man from his intense stare long enough to run. It didn't work, the man's glare boring into him even as he answered the question.
“Combination of voiceless and wandless magic. The last thing I need is for you to do something foolish to prevent this conversation, Drake.” Given the man's tone, he was definitely expecting Draco to do just that. Waving his free hand, dim light filled the enclosed space of the bed hangings. “How about you try a guess? It would make this a little easier if you figured it out on your own.”
Eyes still fixed on his wand, Draco hesitantly glanced towards the man's face, flinching away when he met that intense stare fully. There was no way he had ever met this guy before, but he forced himself to look closely, hoping to find something that would keep him alive.
Once Draco started looking, it was difficult to stop, something in the man's face drawing him in, pulling him step by edging step closer. He had thick dark hair curled loose in mussed waves that fell to the nape of his neck, framing a strong looking face. Dark eyebrows and high cheekbones, combined with a sharp jaw edged with the beginning of a five o'clock shadow gave him a severe, predatory look. But the soft swell of his lips, and glow to his eyes lightened his expression to something stunningly breathtaking. The man had to be at least in his mid twenties, but that was all Draco could discern, because he sure as hell had never met him before. He would have remembered a face like that. No one had eyes quite that shade of green—
Draco started, eyes widening in shock. Before he could lose his nerve, he crossed the distance and pushed the thick mess of hair away from the man's forehead, revealing a thunderbolt scar. “Son of a—How'd you do it, Potter? Aging spell? Potion? I actually thought you were—Ha! For fuck sake!” He smacked Harry on the shoulder, more than a little annoyed when strong muscle met his hand. “I don't even think the damn Goblet will be able to tell the difference,” he grumbled, looking the man over carefully, all his fear immediately gone once he realized it was just Harry Potter. Hell, who'd have thought Potter would grow up into such a hottie? Well, other than the Weaselette; she'd been saying it for years.
Draco shook the thought away with a sneer. “Right, you've rubbed it in my face, you prat. You're getting your name in the Goblet, and I'm not. Now get lost so I can sleep,” he snapped, placing his hands on his hips and glaring. Bloody Potter always found a way around the rules. God only knew how he had broken into the Slytherin dorms... Fuck, but he grew up nice. Draco found his eyes drawn down, taking in Harry's broad shoulders and narrow waist wrapped in a silk shirt, skintight leather pants revealing strong leg muscles, calve high boots much better than the ratty sneaker the boy always wore. The bastard was hot. Really fucking hot, and sprawled out on his bed like he wasn't about to leave anytime soon.
“You’re close, but not quite dead on. It’s not a spell,” Harry said, watching the blond's face intently.
Draco rolled his eyes, getting more annoyed by the minute as a naughty voice in the back of his head thought maybe having Harry Potter sprawled on his bed wasn't a bad idea. Especially when he looked like sex and felt like powerful magic. “Potion? Glamour? It doesn’t matter. You won; I get it already. Now get the fuck out.”
“No, Drake, you don’t.”
Draco narrowed his eyes, snapping his attention back to the man's face. “Why do you keep calling me that, Potter? I don’t remember giving you permission to call me by my first name, never mind a nickname.”
For the first time since finding him there, Harry's expression lightened, a lazy, wicked grin slowly spreading across his lips as his eyes travelled over Draco's practically naked form like a hot touch. Something warm and syrupy curled in the pit of Draco's stomach from that look. He licked his suddenly dry lips, unable to turn away when Harry's stunning eyes pinned his. The grin faded as quickly as it had come, the man's expression dark and consuming once again, and leaving Draco feeling extremely vulnerable.
“I have scars, Drake,” Harry whispered, shrugging out of the long leather coat he was wearing. “Scars from killing the Death Eaters. I earned a bad one on my leg from when I destroyed Bellatrix. This one here,” Harry tore his gaze away from the blond with an effort, and pulled his sleeve up to reveal his tanned arm and the mass of scar tissue near his wrist. “This one was a gift from Voldemort. I killed him three days later.”
Eyes falling to the wound in confusion, Draco noted that it wasn't fresh. “What the hell are you getting at? You aged yourself and got scars in the process? I'm sure they'll go away when the spell wears off.”
“I haven't aged myself,” Harry said solemnly, his eyes again locked on Draco's. “I used a time turner Hermione modified to travel back and fix things.”
Draco's breath caught in his throat. There was no sign of laughter hiding in Harry's eyes. The Gryffindor could never keep a straight face. But maybe this version could?
Eyes drawn to the scarred wrist again, Draco tentatively reached his hand out and touched the bumpy flesh that was whiter than all the rest. Draco had never heard of an aging potion giving you scars before. Not to mention the new powers Potter was wielding with absolute ease. Wandless and voiceless magic wasn't run of the mill. Potter would have to be monstrously powerful, and have even greater control to use both so easily.
“Can you prove it?” Draco asked quietly, his cold fingers drawn to the heat of Harry's wrist, unconsciously wrapping loosely around the man's limb. “How do I know you weren't sent by my father to test me? It could just be an elaborate glamour.”
Eyes caught on Draco's fingers, Harry turned his arm slowly, his hand opening up and brushing fingertips lightly to Draco's pale skin. “Your father tests you? Why?”
“Because he thinks my mother has a bad influence on me,” Draco blurted bitterly, snapping his mouth shut abruptly afterwards. Annoyed with his slip, he glared back at the man. “Even if I did believe you, why come telling me? Go bother you friends or something...” He trailed off, doubt flickering as a troublesome thought sparked in his mind. He carefully extracted his hand from Harry's wrist, the man's fingers releasing him reluctantly.
“You're not here for revenge for something I do in the future, are you?” Draco asked tightly, his fear of earlier tingling down his spine and stealing the moisture from his mouth. Potter still had his wand, still had more height, and muscle, and a shit ton of power compared to anything Draco could hope to combat in that moment. And he kept staring at him, like he wanted to grab him... crush him... burn him...
“I'm not here to hurt you,” Harry said slowly, watching the emotions flit over Draco's face.
Draco wasn't convinced, meeting the man's glare defiantly. “Then what the fuck are you here for, Potter?”
“To save you.”
Draco jerked as if struck, something painful welling up in him that had no business clutching at his throat and stinging at his eyes. “You're a fucking imbecile. Save me—I don't need fucking saving, you stupid saint. You're telling me you came back in time just for that? Just for me? I'm supposed to believe that you—” Draco turned his body away, his voice having grown shrill, a tear sliding down his cheek that he viciously wiped away. “Fuck! Get the hell out of here. I don't need your damn help. You're the one they're going to kill.”
“They try,” Harry murmured, sliding further down the bed, hair tickling at Draco's shoulder as he leaned closer to talk to the boy who refused to look at him. “But they fail. So they kill everyone else instead. Everyone. No matter how many Death Eaters I hunt down and destroy, they still manage to pick us off, one by one. Until one day, I kill them all, not a single Death Eater remaining. But there's no one left to protect, Drake. The wizarding world is on the brink of extinction. Everyone is dead, and I need your help to fix it.”
Draco truly hated Harry Potter.
“What the fuck can I do about it, scarhead?” He snapped, fingers curling into fists. “Look at me—If you couldn't save them with all your damn power, I sure as fuck can't. What the hell do you want from me? Not to get the dark mark once I'm out of school? My father will kill me fucking cold if I even suggest such a traitorous thing! What the hell do you think I'm capable of doing that you, fully grown, couldn't fucking manage? I just—I can't—Fuck!” Snarling, he whirled, slamming both his hands down on Harry's shoulders, not caring that the man was a goddamn mountain of muscle and could likely break him apart with a single word.
Harry was beautiful, and everything Draco had ever wanted, and he could never, ever have him.
“Out of all the fucking people, you come to me?” Draco said, filling his voice with as much scorn and disbelief as he could muster. “Did someone curse the goddamn brains out of your head? I hate you! I've always hated you, and your arrogant, save the fucking world reckless attitude. For all I know, you're the one that fucking kills me!”
“Don't say that,” Harry rasped, something dark moving in his eyes. “I would never—”
“You said it yourself,” Draco growled spitefully, pushing down on the man's shoulders. “You killed all the Death Eaters. I'm going to be a Death Eater. So that means you kill me.”
“I would never hurt you, Drake. I would never, never—I just—It was a long time ago, and no one—” Harry dropped Draco's wand and grabbed the furious boy by the biceps. “I would never hurt you, beautiful. It would destroy everything I am to ever hurt you.”
Draco scowled, trying to wrest himself from the man's strong grip. “Like I'm supposed to fucking believe you give a shit about me, or something? Time travel must have scrambled your fucking brains. I just spent my night in detention because of you and your—mmph!” Eyes wide, Draco stared shocked at the dark eyelashes of the man suddenly kissing him. He tried to pull away, but Harry was unmovable, hands holding him in place, hot mouth crushing his lips.
“What the fuck are you...?” Draco gasped out when Harry released his mouth.
“I love you, Drake,” Harry said hoarsely, his eyes wet with unshed tears while he clasped his hands around the boy's face, holding him reverently. “I miss you so much, baby. When I lost you—God, it all just went to shit without you, and I need you back. You don't have to do anything, Drake. I just need you to love me again, and, and I'll do everything else. I just need you.”
Draco could only stare, his face flushed, breathing strained as he watched Harry's eyes roam over his expression like he wanted to kiss every inch his gaze fell upon. “You're mad,” he finally whispered, eyes downcast to watch the man press a trembling thumb against his bottom lip and rub.
“You're mine, Drake. My love... my heart... my sanity...” he pressed his lips to the boy's forehead, then his eyebrows, moving with restrained force as he slowly kissed down his cheek, finding his mouth again. “I'm going to protect you... I'm going to teach you to break past the defenses of my younger self, so that he will grow into the man you need. I'm going to give us a life together.” He teased his tongue between Draco's lips, urging them to open.
Gasping, lashes fluttering shut, Draco opened to the brunette's insistent touch, groaning when Harry plunged his tongue deep inside him, the man's long fingers tightening to prevent him from escape. “Oh god...” he moaned, Harry tasting every plane of his mouth, lips crushing his harder, threatening to swallow him down and eat him alive.
“It's so hard not to touch you... a lifetime, not touching you,” Harry whispered roughly, releasing Draco's face and wrapping his arms around the boy's shoulders. “Tell me you feel it, Drake. How much we belong together. You're mine, and we belong together.”
“I... I don't...” Draco's mumble was cut off, Harry kissing down his neck, the man's stubble prickling across his collarbone deliciously. “Potter... you can't stand me...” he whispered hoarsely, not able to comprehend what was happening.
“I love you. I've always, always loved you,” Harry insisted, kissing and licking his words into Draco's skin. “I just couldn't admit it at this age. I didn't even understand. But I know... looking back... that you felt the same way...”
Draco huffed, trying to rise above the maddening heat thrumming through his body. “You're crazy if you think... oh... oh god...” he trailed off, Harry nipping at his neck, tongue quickly soothing the pain away. “I hate you...”
“You don't. You are madly, ferociously out of your mind about me,” Harry said with absolute conviction, raising a palm to cup Draco's jaw and cheek. “All you do is glare at me, fight every moment you get, unable to think of anyone else as long as I'm in the room. I'm the only one you do it to, the only one who you follow around, hexing homework, listening in to drop a rude comment. You are so lost, beautiful, and you can't even see it. But I can, and I'm going to show you.”
Draco glared, trying to figure out how to convince this clearly raving Potter that he had no interest in any version of the man, young or fully grown. “I just like hexing you, you imbecile. I fight with you because you're annoying as all fuck.”
“Liar,” Harry said with a growl. “You can't stop staring at me. Can't stop making a big deal over every little thing I do. I was ignoring you today, my scar bothering me so much, but you couldn't stand that, could you? You had to run your mouth off and say shit about my friends, just so I'd finally pay you some attention.”
“You're out of your mind,” Draco snapped, his face turning red at the very true account of what had happened to get him into detention. “You were being a total prick, showing off in class. That's why I said what I said.”
“Bullshit, and you know it,” Harry taunted, dragging his fingers through the blond's silky hair, Draco's eyelids drooping from the feel of it. “You want me. You've always wanted me, and hated that you couldn't even get near me without having to fight.”
“You can't prove a bloody fucking thing, you arrogant bastard,” Draco growled, trying to step back, only to have Harry's arm slip down to his waist and hold him tight.
Harry slid the rest of the way off the bed, standing and towering a good head over Draco. He pulled the boy against his body, trapping him to his hard muscles. Slipping his fingers beneath Draco's chin, he tipped the glowering boy's face up, gracing him with another wicked, dark smile. “That I am here twelve years in the past, waiting in your bed, is proof enough that you are my lover,” he said silkily, hand fanning out to caress Draco's jaw and throat.
“L-Lover?” Draco repeated dumbly, unable to look away from Harry's glowing green eyes.
“Yes.” Harry let the hand around Draco's waist slide further down, finding the boy's boxers and cupping his ass. He pulled the blond flush against him, Draco gasping as his growing erection pressed into Harry's thigh, feeling a mirroring hardness against his hip.
“Oh, hell,” Draco said hoarsely, his eyes falling shut when Harry squeezed his behind and ground his hips against him.
“I would have let them all die, Drake. Every single pompous wizard and arrogant witch that thought their godlike power made it okay to treat everyone else like dirt. They weren't worth the risk of Time.” Harry brushed his fingers to Draco's face, tracing the boy's lips, dipping his head to watch the blond swallow. “But I couldn't give you up. I would do anything for you, beautiful. I would kill every single one of them all over again, if I could just have you back.”
As mad as Harry had become, Draco believed him. Because it was Potter, and in any form the boy just couldn't lie. There was such sadness in him, but also an absolute darkness in the man's eyes. Harry had killed a lot of people, and he had no regrets about it. But for some reason, Draco held something that had brought him here to this time to change it. “What... what happens to me?” Draco asked softly, afraid of the answer.
“You die.”
Draco glared in exasperation. “Potter, if you could kindly string a fucking sentence together.”
“Voldemort kills you.” Harry looked away, confusion twisting on his features. “No... You were protecting an area, outdoors in the street... There were muggles everywhere... children. Voldemort was using them as a shield, hoping I wouldn't attack. I had begged for you to run, to just get the hell out and let me deal with it—but you... He was threatening you... trying to make you hurt the children, and you looked so lost...” Harry turned back, his eyes haunted as he traced Draco's eyebrow. “You killed yourself. Right in front of me. I couldn't stop you... I killed Voldemort moments later—I lost it, Drake. I fucking lost it, and everything was just... dead after that...” he trailed off, his voice numb, his expression blank.
Draco had no idea what compelled him, his hand suddenly raising to press against the man's cheek, fingers combing and tangling in the dark waves. It was more than sorrow, it was despair. For all of Harry's power and strength, he was helpless, still somehow this young man that had tried as hard as he could, and still failed everyone. Draco had seen the pressures put on the boy, to survive, to be the hero because no one else had the guts to stand up to Voldemort. But Harry was just a boy the world was demanding of, just as weak as Draco was at that moment, and even grown and powerful, Harry hadn't ever recovered from the impossible responsibility placed on his shoulders. Right now Draco could not hide from that pain so clear in the man's eyes.
Harry's hand covered Draco's, the man pressing into the gentle touch, eyes closing as he breathed deep. “I remember third year when I was watching the Ravenclaw Slytherin match. I couldn't stop looking at you. I wanted to watch Cho, but I just kept getting drawn to you, waiting for that vicious expression you get when you fight for a win.” Harry opened his eyes, his gaze searing into Draco's as he pulled the boy closer. “Later, when you were mine, I found even more expressions I love on your face. All of them when you're shaking beneath me, pleading for me to fill you, to make you mine.”
“You need to shut up,” Draco mumbled weakly, swallowing hard, his body readily responding to the words. “I don't... I don't like him.”
Harry pressed his lips to Draco's cheek, resting his head there while he continued to hold the boy's hand. “Do you remember last year's tryouts?”
Draco blinked, gnawing slightly on his lip as he nodded. “So?”
“When those two were shagging in the locker room, making all that noise?” Harry pulled back enough to see Draco's face as the blond's cheeks began to flush. “And you thought, like everyone thought, that I needed my glasses to see. Even though I had corrected my sight after that damn basilisk, and just wore them to mislead my enemies.”
Draco scowled, trying to wrench away, but Harry was still too strong. “There's no way you saw—”
“You watched me touch myself in the shower,” Harry whispered into Draco's ear. “You slipped into the stall next to mine, pressed yourself up against the wall, and you gave yourself the hottest fucking handjob I had ever seen, all while staring at my cock. You came so hard, I thought you were going to fall. And part of me wanted you to, because then I could have picked you up, and touched you, and kissed those beautiful lips of yours until you came again.”
Draco was pretty sure he was going to fall now, blood rushing in his ears. “You... you saw me?”
“I saw you.”
“And you... you wanted me?” Draco mumbled, feeling like an absolute fool for being caught, for Potter ever looking at him and thinking he was hot. Because as much as Draco loved to look at the boy, and piss him off to get his attention, and hope he didn't die, he knew Harry would always hate him. The world just didn't make sense any other way.
Harry smirked, lips again pressing a kiss to the boy's cheek. “You confused the shit out of me. I kept hoping you'd do it again, hell, just even talk to me, and then beating myself up afterwards because I thought you were a total prat back then.”
“I am a total prat,” Draco said shakily, again trying to push the man away.
“You're my prat, Drake. You're mine, and I don't care how much of an ass you are, just as long as you stay mine,” Harry confessed with a wry smile.
“I...” Draco sighed, slowly raising his eyes and meeting the man's gaze. It was mad, absolutely mad, but apparently he needed to say it. “I can't like you, Harry. I'm not allowed to... to let you near me. Because if my father ever realizes that I have any feelings for you but hate, he'll destroy me.”
Something flashed in Harry's eyes, a near murderous glow. But it was gone just as quickly, his lips softening. “Is that why? Why you never spoke to me about how you felt?”
Draco scowled, hating how that sounded. Like he had liked the idiot and had just never said anything. That it was true didn't mean he had to admit it. “I need to protect myself. My father... well, you know, obviously. He's preparing me to join the Dark Lord, whether I like it or not. And I... I have to be careful with everything I say... everything I do. I can't just—Hell, I don't get to have the things I want. You can say all you like about coming back here to save me, but how the hell can I trust you to do it? What happens when you leave, and it's just me and You-Know-Who?”
There was such compassion suddenly in Harry's eyes, Draco wanted to turn away. Instead he let the man kiss him, sighing softly into the touch, wondering where the hell his sanity was fleeing to. Harry ran his lips softly over his, whispering into his skin. “I know you're scared, love, but you don't have to be. That's why I'm here. I'm going to make sure my younger self protects you.”
“But... but he's not strong enough to do something like that,” Draco said weakly, wishing he didn't want such an impossible thing.
Harry caught the boy's chin again, smiling wryly. “Look at me, Drake. Believe me when I say, he's strong enough. Next year I'll start hunting them down, every Death Eater I can find, and I'll kill them all. Or... or you can help me. Make it so I don't have be that... that monster.”
Again Draco saw that absolute hopelessness in Harry's eyes, the despair for what he was. But what Harry was Draco could only see as strong, probably the most powerful being he had ever come across, including his father and Voldemort. And Harry had killed the Dark Lord, so that just proved it, didn't it? Draco could... He could actually have that gorgeous boy, with his damn reckless smiles, and angry green eyes. And if the boy really cared back, Harry would protect him.
“What... what would I have to do?” He asked, his heart fluttering strangely in his chest.
Harry sighed in relief, suddenly hugging Draco so tight he could barely breathe. “Just show him how he feels. Show him that you're the goddamn reason for everything, and he'll do the rest.”
Draco pursed his lips, raising a brow at the odd answer. “I don't know how to do anything like that. We... we barely talk, and his friends are always in the way.”
“I'm going to help. I'm going to stay a while, and I'll show you how to get through to him.” Harry stared down into Draco's eyes, his expression softening even more. “You're just like I remember... It's a bit crazy, just how much you're the same.”
“Coming from the time traveler,” Draco said with a smirk. “I don't know how to break it to you, but this is how I always look.”
“Beautiful,” Harry quietly declared.
Blushing, Draco shrugged, not really in the mood to argue about it. He was stained with plant guts, his hair was a sweaty mess, and he hadn't slept yet. He was hardly... “Potter,” he breathed out, Harry suddenly kissing the corner of his mouth.
“Harry, Drake. You call me Harry.” Tangling his fingers in the back of Draco's shoulder length hair, he held the boy still while delving his tongue slowly into his gasping mouth. “I need to taste you... Need to know you're really mine. It's been so long.”
Draco's halfhearted struggles were ignored, Harry suddenly scooping him up in his arms so he could devour the boy's mouth with ease. Damn, he was strong. Draco felt oddly delicate in comparison as the man ran his large hand down his ass and bare leg, caressing a calve and moving back up to press between his thighs. Draco moaned, suddenly wrapped around Harry's hips, legs spread wide as the man's hand slipped beneath the hem of his boxers and firmly moved over the milky smooth skin of his cheek.
“Wait.. just, oh... oh god...” Draco gasped, Harry's fingers massaging the flesh between his cheeks, pressing tauntingly at his hole while he summoned something cool and slick, and then began to tease a finger into the heat of his entrance. “Oh... you shouldn't...” he groaned around Harry's tongue, the man insisting on stealing his breath as well as his mind.
“I need to... God, you can't understand how much I need you.” Harry's movements became bolder, a thick finger thrusting into Draco's clenching heat, the boy clinging to his shirt as he was breached for the first time. Harry plunged in and out with torturously slow jolts, Draco's eyes squeezed shut, face buried against the brunette's throat as he felt every mad, agonizing stretch of his tight muscles loosening. “And I know... I know you need me too... I'm never going to leave you, Drake.”
Every rational thought in Draco's mind was warning him how wrong this was. Harry was so powerful, so damn strong, and absolutely dangerous. His father's enemy, Voldemort's destined destroyer. He should have been terrified. But all Draco was afraid of was his father finding out, of being caught and possibly killed for loving every amazing kiss, and touch, and god, that finger—Draco loved Harry's hands, and long, long fingers.
Eyes blinking open, Draco found himself suddenly face up on the mattress, Harry glaring down at him, the man's lips swollen from their kisses. Draco took a shuddering breath, the flat of Harry's hand pressing to his inner thigh, fingers wrapping and digging into his soft flesh. “Harry...” he whispered, waiting for the man to come closer, to kiss him like he needed to.
“I'm trying to hold back, Drake,” Harry groaned, eyes moving over Draco's slender form, drinking in his gasping pink lips, heaving chest and flat, lithe stomach. “You're so... god, so perfect... and I know no one's touched you before. You've always been mine, and only mine.”
Draco swallowed, watching as Harry slowly moved down his prone body, the man's fingers grazing over him so lightly, as if afraid he'd somehow break him. But whatever was going through Harry's mind, his desire could not be contained, and suddenly the man was dipping down, tongue licking out to taste Draco's nipple. Draco gaped at the intense heat and wet over the sensitive bud, his head falling back on the bed as Harry teased and taunted the flesh, nipping until it was red and sore.
Draco weakly slipped a hand into the brunette's thick curls, moaning when the man refused to stop his torment, instead using his fingers to pinch his other nipple to the same level of tenderness. “Harry... it feels...” he trailed off, unable to find the right words for the maddening sensation. Then Harry switched, his mouth latching on to the other nipple while his hand squeezed the first. Draco cried out, his hips seeking friction from the body hovering above him.
Groaning, Harry pinned Draco's hips down with both his hands, and ran his tongue up the boy's chest, over his collarbone, and to the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “You're mine, Drake. I know you can feel it. The pull inside you that makes you mine.” He sunk his teeth into Draco's flesh, clamping tight and holding while the boy thrashed on the mattress.
Draco cried from the teeth biting deep in the muscle of his shoulder, jolting his body in a way he had never expected pain to do. A weak moan followed, Harry's teeth replaced by that tormenting, maddening tongue, the hurt easing into pure fire. It felt so wild; flesh, silk, and leather all rubbing against his bare skin to drive him closer to climax... closer to insanity. Harry was merciless, licking down his pale skin in desperate swipes, pulling moans and cries from Draco's lips when he nipped too hard, only to soothe again with his tongue.
His boxers were pulled down roughly, Draco's eyes peeking open to find the man staring at his now completely nude body with consuming fire in his eyes. That Draco was much younger than the lover the man had lost to Voldemort didn't seem to matter, except when Harry's hands touched him, as if afraid he would break, but unable to stop himself from finding out. “What are you...? Oh... oh my god,” Draco mumbled, Harry's mouth descending to the head of his flushed cock, the man's tongue lapping out to lick a fiery wet path over the straining flesh.
Draco's head felt extraordinarily heavy, but he fought the pull of gravity, eyes riveted on Harry's swollen lips as the man pressed them to the tip of his dick and slowly parted, swallowing Draco inch, by gasping inch. Draco's hips kept jerking, trying to push up into the amazing heat, but Harry held him tight. Then those green eyes were blazing into his, holding Draco's startled gaze, making him wonder if Harry wasn't going to eat him alive like some ravenous cannibal, because really, who could ever look that hungry from just the taste of him? Harry descended lower, holding Draco's gaze the entire time, sinking the boy's cock deep into his throat and holding him there while clear juice glistened from his lips.
Draco knew this was what it was like to die, his heart demanding to be heard for its last breaths, his lungs burning as his chest heaved—and Harry. If there were ever eyes more consuming and deadly than those staring him down right now, trying to burn into his soul, Draco would never know them. He gaped, muscles tightening, hands clutching weakly at the sheets, his entire body a bow. And in that moment, Harry's finger pressed inside him again, causing Draco to shout in surprise and pleasure, coming hard in the man's fiery mouth.
Draco fell back bonelessly, unable to hold his head up, or his arms, limbs shaking. He blearily felt his knee being pushed up, Harry's bristle prickling over his inner thigh, his hot mouth teasing over his sac and lower, tongue flickering where his finger was still buried inside him. Draco moaned unintelligibly, head lolling back on the mattress as his thighs were spread wider and that tongue replaced the finger, probing deep and wet inside him. Harry was relentless, Draco not even having time to enjoy his orgasm before his body was again burning, pulsing in the aching need that he had never felt so strong before until the man had grown it inside him.
Toes flexing in the sheets, Draco couldn't stop his cries from rising in intensity, Harry's hands so strong and rough as they firmly pulled his hips down to meet each torturous thrust of his tongue. Then Harry was pulling free, hauling Draco up from the bed, the boy's eyes wide as the world tilted and he was pulled into the man's lap. Harry kissed him fiercely, desperately, and Draco could only let him, opening to the assault and clinging. Groaning from the taste of the blond, Harry tangled long fingers into Draco's silky hair and trapping him in place while he crushed the boy's lips with his own. Draco's gasps were muffled, Harry drinking his moans and cries while teasing ever more with his persistent tongue, plundering the sweet mouth to exhaustion.
“Did you like it, Drake?” Harry asked heatedly, panting into the boy's mouth. “I wasn't too fast—Too rough with you?”
“It was good,” Draco assured, squirming as he tried to wrap his legs around the man's hips while sitting up. “I just... god, it aches, Harry. What you were doing... It makes me feel... feel like I need something inside,” he admitted with a groan, gasping when he felt Harry's hardness as he pressed against the man's hot torso.
“I don't want to go too fast. I don't want to hurt you, beautiful.” Harry slid his hand down from Draco's waist, following the ridges of the boy's spine, then dipping his fingers between his smooth, spread cheeks. He pressed a finger against the Draco's hole, the blond moaning loudly at the touch and pressing back, urging it in.
“Please... please, just a little more,” Draco panted, head falling on Harry's collar as he rubbed his body against the man's wantonly. “God, help me... just need it... more.”
Harry exhaled sharply, his other arm tightening around the blond's waist so he could crush their lower bodies together. “What do you want, love? Do you want them inside?”
“Y-Yes,” Draco pleaded with a low whine, feeling too hot and desperate to truly know himself in that moment. Whatever Harry was doing to him, he was just a puppet to the man, reacting to each firm touch and desperate sound with burning, unrelenting need. Harry's finger pushed in deeper, testing his sanity and resolve while Draco did his best not to cry and beg for more. The finger twisted further, Draco feeling it burning, pressing past his clenching muscles and filling him, only to pull out slowly again. “Don't stop... please, not yet.”
Harry puffed hot air against Draco's neck in a soft chuckle. “Never going to stop, Drake. I've got you now, and I'm not going to lose you again.” Harry pulled his hand up, licking his finger thoroughly, tasting his sweet lover and coating another digit. He pulled back, watching Draco's lips part in a silent moan, the boy's eyes slits of silver need. “I want to hear you, love. I want to hear you beg.” Harry pressed his lips to Draco's, adding lowly, “I'll give you everything you ask for.”
Draco drew in a breath that shattered halfway, his eyes reaching for Harry's. “Please,” he murmured weakly. “Please, Harry. I need you... oh,” he moaned out, not even thinking of refusing.
Harry swallowed hard, eyes drinking in the boy's needy expression. “Louder, love. So I never have to wonder if you're mine.” He trailed his slick fingers over Draco's parted lips, watching as the boy licked out and added saliva of his own.
“Please!” Draco gasped around the fingers suddenly dipping in and pressing to his tongue. “I want you... I want you to put them... in me... Need you... now,” he insisted heatedly.
“Oh, that's perfect, Drake.” Harry pulled his fingers free from the boy's hot mouth, dribbling saliva over his lips and chin, and then stealing a quick, deep kiss that Draco groaned into. “All the way in?” Harry wondered, delving between the boy's tight cheeks and pressing two fingers against his hole. “How deep do you want it? Can you take it all the way inside?”
Draco moaned, needing it so badly he didn't really care. “All—just do it all,” he demanded hoarsely. His fingernails bit through Harry's shirt sleeve, clinging to the man's arms to keep from falling as fingers slowly breached him. It felt so much thicker, nearly unbearable, burning against the sides of his channel and stretching, causing his flesh to ache madly, his body clenching around the intrusions. Suppressing a sob, he surged forward, biting into Harry's shirt, the rough taste of fabric grounding him from the overwhelming feel of such thickness moving inside him.
“How’s that, love? That deep enough?” Harry asked gently, pulling Draco’s face up so he could lick away the teardrops that had escaped before claiming his sweet mouth.
“More. I want more,” Draco pleaded, his teeth finding a soft hold on Harry’s jaw when the fingers slipped deeper into him, delving so far until they couldn’t go any further. “Oh... oh Harry.” He gave a low, broken moan when the fingers began to expand, spreading his hole from different angles, refusing to allow him to grow used to the sensation.
Harry groaned as he watched Draco become undone in his lap, the boy's gasps and cries fueling him onward. “Want another one, love? It feels so good when it’s thick, your body tight and clenching.”
Nodding, Draco thrust his hips back to bury the fingers in as deep as possible. “A-Another... yes... god yes... Deeper.” He arched his back when Harry pulled his hand out and slid three fingers into his tight heat. “Oh, god!” Draco cried out into Harry's neck, spreading his knees higher in hopes of reaching deeper. He groaned, Harry’s fingers receding out to the first knuckle. “N-n-no... don’t stop.”
“Not stopping, love... Never stop,” Harry assured heatedly, thrusting his fingers into Draco, one arm wrapped tight on his narrow hips to keep the boy from slipping. “Like that? Want it again, Drake, nice and hard?”
“Damn it, Harry! Yes already—Forever yes!” Draco sobbed out, writhing as Harry breathed into his hair and began rhythmically stabbing long fingers into the boy. Harry pulled out slowly, only to slam back in again, each jolt sending their cocks crashing together and Draco crying out for more.
Shifting, Harry pushed Draco up so he couldn’t get any friction for his leaking erection against him. “You’re doing so good, Drake. Hold on a bit longer. I want you to come while riding four. Do you think you can do that? Can you take four inside you?”
Draco moaned unintelligibly, rubbing his head against Harry’s chest, his mouth and cheek slick from his own saliva the silk shirt had been soaked in. “They’re—They’re so big... I don’t know, Harry... I’m so full already.”
Harry swallowed, brushing Draco’s sweat soaked hair from his flushed face. “It’s okay, Drake. You don’t have to.” He stared deep into the boy's clouded gray eyes, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Did you want to try, just to see? We can stop whenever you want, love. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“If you don’t do something soon... I’m going to hurt you,” Draco grumbled, rocking his hips back to get Harry moving again. “More, Harry. Now.”
“God, you're amazing,” Harry whispered with more than a hint of awe, watching Draco’s face as he pulled the digits out and arranged four fingers so they could press against the boy's stretched hole. “That’s it, Drake... yes... Open up for me, nice and slow.”
Gasping, Draco bit his lip and whimpered noisily as the mass of knuckles and flesh slid into his slickness and spread him wide. All he could do was breathe, harsh, heavy pants broken by loud moans. Harry didn’t stop this time, moving the fingers in and out at a maddeningly slow, absolutely relentless pace, Draco forced to feel every sensation rubbing inside him.
“Oh god... Harry— Harry!” Draco sobbed out as the fingers crooked, touching something deep inside that assailed his senses and sent him reeling.
“You’re almost there... I want to feel you come against me.” Harry pulled Draco tight to his body, the boy’s arousal rocking against the man's covered one as he thrust his fingers into Draco over and over again. “Just a little more, love. You’re so close.”
Draco groaned something into Harry’s shoulder, letting the man forcefully move his narrow hips against his hard form. Draco's own body had turned into a trembling, burning ache that couldn’t move on its own, just beg for more of the mind numbing, pleasured pain. His muscles were so tight, every rock of the man's body a jerking, dizzying crest of need that he rode, grasping to Harry desperately as the man brought him to maddening heights.
“Oh-oh... Oh god! Harry!” Sobbing wildly, Draco's hips jolted forward as his channel clenched painfully tight on the fingers buried deep inside him. He came, his cum scalding his stomach and staining where he pressed to Harry's clothes.
Against his cheek he heard Harry cry out, the man's breath hitching and hips giving a final sharp jab against him before eventually relaxing. Draco felt a minute disappointment, not having seen Harry's new, strong body beneath his clothes. He sought out where Harry's shirt tucked into his pants, slipping a gap open to press his hand to the man's flesh hot. The thick fingers deep inside him slowly pulled out a final time, the once barely tolerable sensation quickly turning to something far worse before they were free of Draco's channel.
Draco gave a bone-weary moan and pulled himself up Harry’s form, settling heavily against the brunette as the man wrapped a protective arm around him, and pulled him down to the bed atop him. Magic rushed over Draco, leaving him feeling cleansed and contented.
Wandless and voiceless magic. Harry had gotten powerful.
“You okay, Drake?” Harry asked softly, threading his fingers through the blond's sweaty locks and brushing his lips to his flushed cheek. “Did you like that?”
“Mmmm... s’good.” Draco sighed dazedly, plucking lightly at Harry’s shirt and staring up at his jaw blindly. He felt safe, probably the safest he had ever felt, and it was an odd feeling to comprehend.
“That it was, love. God, you’re so beautiful.” Harry traced Draco’s features lovingly, watching as the gray eyes flecked with blue began to blink heavily. “You can go to sleep now. We have some time together still. I'll watch over you... I will always protect you.”
It was very much a confusing, maddening dream to have Harry pledge to him like that, as if they were truly lovers. But then, the man was breathing up his neck, holding him close and loving like there was nothing more natural. “How long were you together? You and my older self?” Draco asked, fighting the pull of sleep as Harry ran his warm palms slowly over his back.
“Always,” Harry murmured. “You were with me when I killed them all, by my side, keeping me strong. You were so brave, Drake. Even when you were afraid, you never let me fall. Now... now I'm going to give us all a better chance at a future together.”
Drake blinked in surprise, breath huffing out. “You mean I... I fought on the light side?”
Harry fell silent, fingers brushing softly over Draco's skin. “You fought on my side,” he finally said, nuzzling into the boy's hair. “You were with me, my love. As long as I could keep you with me... Sometimes... sometimes you left... And then, there would be another,” Harry whispered.
“Another what?” Draco asked, eyes closing sleepily.
Harry didn't answer for a long time, Draco drifting in the sounds of the man's steady breathing. “Someone that needed to die. You would return to help me... I was always so proud of you.”
Hearing the sorrow in the man's voice, Draco pressed his lips to Harry's collar. Somehow he had been able to do that for Harry, hiding as a Death Eater while still standing by the man's side. Maybe he did manage to grow strong as he aged. Maybe he even grew stronger than his father one day.
Harry had come back in time for him. Whatever the two of them had together, it had been so life altering that Harry had returned to the past to ensure that they could have it for a lifetime instead of short years. Certainly it had to be amazing. Draco had never thought he'd love in such a way, had never thought himself a romantic. But now, with the opportunity in front of him, his heart ached to know the truth.
He wasn't sure how to get Harry to like him. He really didn't understand why this older version thought so highly of him. But he wanted to try. Deep inside he had hidden so much away, trying to preserve the little freedom he had of his emotions. It meant having to face those feelings, exposing himself raw and letting the young Harry see him. Draco wasn't sure how to do something like that, but feeling the shifts in this man, his darkness, his sorrow, and his hope, Draco wanted desperately to help make him whole in the future.
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Bending Time

Chapter One