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Freud and his Friends	By : Alexa Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4875 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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
- 9
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Freud and his Friends � 10 � The� Games?

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!WARNING!: Consensual
rape, I think would describe this best. Proceed with caution, and be warned � it's
not pretty, at all.

Things, predictably, didn't quite go as planned. They drank,
maybe excessively so, but no amount of alcohol got Harry loosened enough to be
willing to roughen up Draco. If possible, the alcohol did the opposite �
Harry's willingness to try diminished as emotions overcame the reasons Draco
gave him, and he said that he just couldn't do it. Won't do
it. And that's it.

This, understandably, brought on an argument, in which an
inebriated Draco decided to throw caution to the wind and help his boyfriend
along in his own, special, way. He upped the argument to a screaming match once
they got home, and let his ingrained Malfoy instinct lead the way.

"Are you too chicken? Ha! Harry
Potter, the Great Savior, the Boy-Who-Lived, the brave auror,
afraid to lift a hand to Draco Malfoy? A boy who raped him? Hahahah��"

"What the Fuck! How could you?! What the fuck do you
think you're doing Draco?!"

"Come on, Potter, admit it, you can't even lift your
hand! I bet your dick isn't up to it either. Wee little Potter, can't get it
up! Ha!"

The unfairness, the twisted meaning of the words, the
twisted untruths spilling out of this mouth over the evening, over the last
months, over the last seven years finally gathered together to be enough. Harry
lost it, let himself lose it. He threw Draco to the
wall with a punch to his face, the impact with the hard surface taking the wind
of Draco's lungs.

"You're one to talk, Draco. Maybe pervs
like you can only get it up for rape, but other people," he pressed
closer, almost spitting in the blonde's face with every word, "normal
people, Draco, don't need to hurt others to feel good." He stepped
back a little, permitting breathing space between them, "But, by all
means, Draco, for you, I'll give you what you want, you little shit."

"Yes, that's the spirit, Hero." He smirked, the familiar
expression residing in a strange harmony with the fear and eagerness in his
eyes; the twisted pink lips offset strangely by the bit of crimson creeping
down one nostril towards them.

Harry couldn't believe how far Draco went to get what he
wanted, the things he said, the dirt he dragged up from their past. And all of
that, just to get Harry realize some sick fantasy of his. The shock, the anger,
and the alcohol fused together, making it hard to think of anything beyond
hurting Malfoy, the Malfoy he hasn't seen in two years now, the Malfoy he
thought didn't exist anymore, one he thought never existed. How wrong he had
been! Well that Malfoy he had no problem hurting.

With that thought he grabbed the back of Malfoy's shirt
neck, twisting it in his hand, lowering his arm, dragging the little creep with
him, half crawling on the floor, half choking, half laughing.

"Angry Harry?"

"Don't speak to me, you worthless piece of shit."

He hefted the lowered body to the bed, seeing it fall in a
tangle of limbs, rattling bones, rumpled clothes, unsteady head, thudding on
the side of the bed. He grabbed the blond hair and pulled the man by it away
from the bed, pinning him to the floor, standing over the prone, still laughing,
body, taking his belt off, throwing his shirt open, unzipping his pants and
letting them fall down, not bothering to take his shoes off, lowering himself
to loom over the boy, face over face, locking their eyes, spitting in that
self-satisfied face, in the ever so familiar face of Malfoy. That got a
reaction other than laughing. The face twisted even more, unhappy this time,
the body under him moving, hands lifting to push him, hit him, slap him? He
didn't know. It didn't matter � the hands could do nothing.

He lifted a bit, clutched the boy's shirt once again,
lifted him by it, and then drove him to the floor, thrusting the air and
movement out of him. With his enemy momentarily out of breath, he sat back on
his haunches, leaving his left hand on Malfoy's chest, opening the buckle,
flicking a look from his task to make sure the boy was still unmoving in any
way, then, putting his knees on the lying man's ankles to stop any escape, he grabbed
the boy's trousers and pants ripping them down his victim's legs, down to the
knees, shifting to cover Malfoy again, leaning on his left arm, forearm and
elbow grinding painfully into Malfoy's chest, the other hand pushing one pant
leg further down, finishing the prep of the boy. Of course, that didn't go his
way, the little bastard under him started to try and wrench away once more, and
Harry relented. There were easier ways to access this body. He flipped the boy
to his stomach, revealing the round ass, peppered with pink dots from the
carpet and the dirt. The ass was moving, knees trying to get purchase on the
floor to crawl away, the detested face looking back over the shoulder, no
longer laughing, or smirking, just looking back with hot, hating eyes. The room
was filled with the sounds of their harsh breathing, the rustling of clothes
and boots on the carpet, but not a one sound of human speech, nothing to remind
either who they were. Both men were eerily silent in their scuffle from the
moment they entered the bedroom.

Harry felt Malfoy trying to roll over and break the stance
Harry had over his body � his hands on the floor on either side of the blonde's
back. Harry grinned cruelly, he wasn't an auror for nothing, this little
whelp was no match to him. He pushed down, crashed his knee with all of his body
weight on that ass and hip under him, gripping both wrists in one hand pinning
them over Malfoy's head, leaning on them while lifting his own hips, spreading
Malfoy's hips with his knees, spitting into his other hand and slicking his
dick, guiding it to the revealed hole.

The silence of the room was finally breached by a human
voice, a scream tearing through the flat, a human in agony, sounding almost,
but horribly not quite, like an animal in pain. The sound has covered the grunt of the
aggressor, as did the next and the next one. Draco wasn't sure he could handle it
anymore. It was more dreadful than he's ever imagined, pain ripping though him,
reducing his mind and body to a screaming mass of nerves, forcing tears out of
his eyes, spasming all his muscles, making things even worse. He didn't know
what to do, couldn't gather his mind enough to think of what to do, how to
react, all he could do was scream now.

A few thrusts later he managed to remember to try and relax
his seized muscles, as the blood seeping out of him helped to further
facilitate the movement in him. It helped, but not much � with each new thrust
the wounds in him were braised again and again. He gave up. He just lay on the
floor and whimpered and screamed through it, not fighting any more, bodily or
otherwise.

Harry, above him, moved the captured wrists to lie down the
sides of this now trounced body, propping most of his weight on each hand, using
them as leverage for his thrusts, crushing the thin limbs. Draco could feel his
hands going numb from the cut off circulation. He still lay there, not
fighting, for the first time in his life acknowledging total defeat.

With a final animalistic grunt Harry finally finished,
pushing in for a couple of violent thrusts, stilling, and pulling out of the
bleeding orifice. He lifted shakily to his feet and got on the bed, rolling
away from the remnants of Malfoy, loosing consciousness to coma-like sleep.

Half hour later Draco finally stirred and pulled himself
over the side of the mattress, laying shaking on his stomach, head on the
pillow, mind in space, eyes closed. Indefinite time later he finally blacked
out.

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A/N: Mmm� I'm not sure what to
say at this point. Sorry? Don't kill me?

Things won't always be that bad, though. I promise.
This is the crisis, not the lead up to an even worse future.

A/N 2: Does anyone has anything
to say about this chapter? Because I'm not sure what I think of it myself�
- 9
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Freud and his Friends