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Brother, We Go Down Together	By : stacygalore Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1118 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I benefit financially from the complete desecration of J.K. Rowling's characters.

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- 1-Brother, We Go Down Together
- 1
“Brother, We Go Down Together”

By Stacy Galore

I find serenity within you.

Your pliant body melting beneath me. Elegant, long arms reaching up to pull me closer, desperately urging me deeper. Blue eyes fluttering in ecstasy. Silent declarations of bliss stifled behind teeth that bite the corner of your bottom lip.

I whisper against your mouth, letting my tongue slip out to glide upon your lips, “Please, just this once, moan for me.”

You reach behind your head, beneath your pillow, and pull out your wand to cast a spell that makes a buzzing sound in the ears of the other boys, asleep behind green curtains. It won’t be long before the persistent hum wakes them and raises suspicion. But it’s a small price to pay to hear your voice call out my name with shameless abandon.

“More, Draco.” Your plea is a shuddering sigh, breathy and hot against my neck.

I gladly comply, burying myself inside you.

With a sharp intake of air, you swear, “Fuck.” But you never swear. You’re always so regal and proper. I wonder briefly if I’ve gone too far.

But then I feel you acquiesce; feel you blossom around me. “Oh gods, yes.” Your fingers scratch down my back, no doubt carving red ribbons into my pale, delicate skin. I hiss my protest and my approval then nip at your shoulder in return.

I am empowered within you.

Only I can do this to you – reduce you to a puddle of unraveled nerves and shattered pretense, make you abandon all reason and logic in place of reckless lust. You are the only one I can affect this way, the only person I have any effect on lately.

You let me do this to you, not out of weakness or inferiority, but out of trust. My heart swells with this realization. The fingers of my right hand entwine with your left as I pin it above your head. I glance at the underside of your forearm and see the Dark Mark staining your otherwise flawless skin. I instinctively flinch.

It’s an awful reminder of who we are supposed to be; a reminder of the expectations we fail to live up to. This act alone goes against the laws of our kind. As we lay together, our bodies coalescing in a sweaty heap of desire, we reject the path our ancestors have laid out for us – these paths run parallel, but are never meant to join. It isn’t enough to refuse our duty to maintain the integrity of our pure-blood names. One who bears the Dark Lord’s mark cannot simply deny their destiny nor walk away from it. We never chose this path. But there is no other way to live.

There is only one way out.

There is tragedy in beauty and splendor in despair.

I taste your lips. Lips that have spit lies and spouted profound truths. Lips that have reluctantly vowed to serve a maniacal figurehead we have no faith in, and lips that have serviced me in turn. I taste our blood and sweat mingling together on your tongue. I savor it, drinking in your kiss greedily.

“I love you, Draco.” It is a fervent admission between hitched breaths.

“I love you too, Theodore,” I lie.

I lie because I can’t bare the thought of being alone. I know that it isn’t love that I feel, but kinship. We are brothers, Pure-blood Princes from families united by a common ideology, born into a life we never wanted. I am lying to myself as much as I am lying to you when I say I love you.

Just as ardor spills from our lips, so does it spill from the manifestation of our desires. I tremble inside you as I feel you crumbling around me, your own spectacular release decorating my skin in delicate, white, threads. We moan unabashedly in a vulgar duet of curses, deities, and names.

When we awake from our post-orgasmic stupor in the faint light of dawn, we know it’s time.

We bathe and dress before our house awakens. I take special care that my tie is knotted perfectly and that not a single hair on my head is out of place. You seem to be perfectly put together with hardly any effort and I smirk at you in the mirror as you smooth down your robes. “You’re beautiful,” I say. I sincerely mean it.

You smile softly. When you smile at me, it’s like a dagger carving your name into my heart. It’s rare. It’s devastating. It’s lovely. And only I can make you smile like that. For a fleeting moment I wonder if I really do love you.

You take my hand and whisper, “Let’s go.”

We walk through the castle. It’s eerily still. I can hear the pattering of elfin feet upon the stone, scuttling around as they tidy the corridors and classrooms before everyone wakes. As we step through the heavy, oak doors, I inhale deeply, letting my eyes fall closed, savoring the freshness of the misty morning. I let the crisp, moist air and the smell of lush grass coat my lungs before I let the breath go. We walk silently, hand-in-hand, down the hill to the Black Lake. We stand at its rocky banks, watching the sun peeking over the distant mountains.

It feels like hours before we speak, but only minutes have transpired. Never once, has your hand left mine. Finally, you turn my face to meet yours with a gentle, lithe finger hooked under my chin.

I find serenity in your face.

In the brightening daylight, I can see the shadows that have left your skin sallow like mine – the pain and the desperation have drained the color from your cheeks. Still, your face retains the purity and softness of youth. You inspire me to believe, once again, that there is tragedy in beauty and splendor in despair.

You kiss me softly, your lips barely touching mine. “I’m ready,” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

I nod slowly. Our hands join as we step into the fluctuating line where the water meets the smooth, grey cobbles, letting the cold water lap gently at the tips of our shoes. I hesitate. You plod forward, dragging your legs determinately through the water, tugging me along until we’re in up to our calves. You turn around and look at me. Your face is peaceful. You grace me with a reassuring smile. I melt from the warmth your smile radiates. You take my other hand and stand with your back to the center of the lake as you step backwards, guiding me deeper. The water is so cold it makes my legs numb and I can barely feel my trousers sticking wetly to my skin.

“I love you, Draco. They will never tear us apart,” you declare as a defiant last stand against the oppressive forces that drove us to desperate means.

You’re so calm. It’s as if you’ve already found tranquility beneath the dark ripples of the lake. I find solace in this and take a meaningful step forward, into your arms.

We dance deeper into the water in a morbid lover’s waltz. The lake rises to my abdomen and I gasp at the cold jabbing through me like stabbing icicles. My diaphragm spasms as I struggle to breathe while shaking violently. You envelop me with your arms and I feel you shivering around me; feel your body cold against mine when just hours ago, it shuddered hotly at my touch.

The water is at our necks. Our arms are locked in a frozen embrace. Your lips are pale and bluish, and the darkness beneath your eyes is becoming more pronounced. I don’t realize that I’m sobbing until you whisper, your teeth chattering, “Don’t cry. It will be over soon.”

The cold weakens me, quickly draining me of life, and I wonder if we will freeze to death before the Black Lake claims us. With my last ounce of strength and resolve, I bury my face into your cheek and kiss you – your skin feels like cold marble. So perfect and smooth.

“I’m scared,” I admit, lips quivering involuntarily from the cold and from the fear, both gripping me so tightly I can barely breathe.

You reassure me with a hand caressing shakily along my brow. “There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore. We’re almost free.”

I press my lips to yours. Your breath is still warm and I drink it in, gulping your last whispers of life. You tip backwards, as if falling into bed, pulling me with you. Your eyes are closed as your face dips beneath the water. I keep mine open, too afraid to face death in the solitude of darkness. I instinctively hold my breath. Your lips are still mouthing passionately at mine. Bubbles escape your mouth and force water up my nose. I feel my lungs ache and wretch, still stubbornly holding on to breath and to life.

Your eyes open and you smile at me one last time. There’s a keen glimmer in your expression, as if you know exactly where we’re going and what beauty lies there. It comforts me. As I close my eyes and let the water fill my lungs until they burst, I am at peace knowing that I will follow you into the dark. And I’m honored to be your brother in both life and in death.

A/N: Thanks to Megan my Grammar-Nazi Beta. This little story was inspired by another that had me in tears called “The Reign of Theodore Nott” by Amadea. You can read it here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3702657/1/The_Reign_of_Theodore_Nott.

“Brother, We Go Down Together” is dedicated to @NottTheodore. Follow him on Twitter.

While I wrote this I listened to “Narcoleptic” by Placebo and “I Will Follow You Into the Dark” by Death Cab for Cutie on repeat.
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Brother, We Go Down Together