Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Intangible	By : ChimaeraChan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9795 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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
- 7-CH7
- 8-CH8
- 9-CH9
- 10-CH10
- 11-CH11
- 12-CH12
- 13-CH13
- 14-CH14
- 15-CH15
- 16-CH16
- 17-CH17
- 18-CH18
- 19-CH19
- 20-CH20
- 21-CH21
- 22-CH22
- 23-CH23
- 24-CH24
- 25-Ch25
- 11
- 12
- 13
Author's Notes: Hey lovelies. I wanted to post this yesterday, but my weekends are always busy and I get caught up writing different stuff to keep me from getting too bored (and I may have been reading like 60 chapters of a book... >_< ) and it didn't happen. But here it is today, so hurray! Long chapter, some interesting plot stuff coming up soon, so enjoy, and thanks for reading and reviewing. ^.^
starr: I'm sorry you're so angry at Dumbly and Jaz (but in a giddy way, 'cus I wrote it well enough for someone to feel angry about it! XD) I'm eventually going right to the Vesper village in this story, so we're going to find out first hand what happens with these odd creatures.
Tommy-Lane: Hey you! Nice to see you're around and reading. ^^ It is so fun to decide how people are going to react to things, like the students to Harry killing Voldemort and then dying. I like going back and forth, trying to pry different human reactions and still make it feel possible in reality—because people are so varied inside. It is definitely one of my favorite things with writing fanfiction and changing everyone each time, each different world.
Lol, when I first came up with the idea for this story, it was mostly around the idea of chapter two and later, their first reunion after D breaks down after the qudditch match. Yes, I made it more serious this time around, and got the plot focused in there, but I wanted an excuse to put Draco and Harry in a shower together without the invisibility cloak getting wet. And I loved the idea of Draco just so sad and lonely, and then resolved to face such a bizarre crazy world with an invisible Harry because of how much he secretly cares.
BAFan: Thank you kindly! I'm updating my main text with your help, and when the time comes at the end I'll update the AFF version all in one go. I haven't paid too much attention to how edits effect the AFF listing, but I worry if I continually fix my edits that it will knock other people's stories off the main page, so I'm being patient. I have a big soft spot for the perceived 'good and right thing to do' usually being really damn terrible in a story when looked at just the right angle. Self sacrifice is hardly meaningful if you don't remember what they're fully sacrificing. It's fun stuff to play with.
Chapter Twelve
Draco awoke slowly, a strange tickle pulling him from his sleep. Something was running up his leg, Harry's warm hand gripping him still while sliding something cool and thin across his skin. Draco sat up slowly, his room lights up letting him know it was morning.
Blearily he followed down his leg, exposed to the cold castle air since he had fallen asleep in just boxers that night on his warm sheets. His flesh was peppered with light black pen lines, and Draco blinked, watching as more appeared under the pen Jaz had made for Harry.
Seeing Draco was awake, Harry stopped what he was doing with a final flourish, and then clicked the pen shut. Draco closed his eyes, Harry's hands moving up his body slowly, tracing words with his fingers, lingering over patches of flesh to breathe hot breath. Draco opened his eyes back up, Harry having lifted his left palm to his face so he could read. “This hand is my favorite because you hold yourself back with it...” Draco read aloud and followed down to his wrist, head tilting to read. “This is your less dominant arm, but somehow it is stronger for all the ways you control yourself, subtle and steady, not needing to prove anything, just happy to be...”
Harry kissed Draco's fingertips, one by one, Draco's eyes straying to the sensation and then looking over to his right hand. “You create with this hand, and destroy, build and flow magic and make impossible things happen... This arm strives to be and do, defend and attack, change what can't always be changed...” Draco bit his lip, eyelashes lowering when Harry's breath brushed over his cheek. He caught the sight of writing on his torso, down the center of his chest.
“You are beautiful... strong... full of such fire and emotion... able to handle any obstacle with brilliance and grace...” Draco trailed off, shaking his head weakly. “I can't, Harry. I'm not that fucking strong that I can just accept you dying.”
Harry kissed his cheek, pulling away to trace Draco's hand down to the boy's naval. “You are... convincing... alluring... terribly persuasive in such a selfless way... You are a hypocrite. Marrying away your life while demanding I fight for mine...” Draco stopped again, looking away.
Harry pulled his head back gently, kissing Draco's other cheek and moving his hand down to the boy's thigh.
“This is the leg you use to run away... this is the leg that took you from You-Know-Who... brought you to an empty world because you were too afraid to live... took you out the door tonight because you were afraid to see me die...” Voice hushing to something close to a sigh, Draco finished the last line Harry had left when he had woken up. “This leg is not your dominant leg, but it might be your strongest support—Potter, that's a fucking shit thing to say.”
Harry clicked the pen open, moving to Draco's bare right leg and slowly writing over his thigh. “This is the leg that leads you into battle... It brought you from your parents' house into a new world of magic... Brought you to me, full of fire, fight and a whole lot of prat...” Draco snorted, shoving Harry's shoulder lightly. But Harry wasn't done, moving down his leg slowly as he filled Draco's skin with words.
“This leg will lead you next, because you always move forward... You are compelled, because that is who you are, even when afraid... You survive too, even if it's through quiet compromise... And when you're loud, this is the leg you stomp down, demanding to be heard and known... and answered...” Draco frowned, Harry stopping and digging the pen in, as if not sure whether to continue or not.
“Finish it,” Draco implored quietly. Hesitantly, Harry continued, the pen swirling sensation over his skin. I answered. I will fight to live, if you fight to live, too.
Draco took a slow breath, his brows furrowing as the words sunk in. “What are you saying? Do you want me to... not marry?”
Yes.
Draco closed his eyes, sinking back down on the bed and his pillow. It would be so easy to say yes, alone with Harry, the real world so far away while they hid in Draco's room together. But Draco would not be able to keep such a promise, the first one having been made the way it had, with his blood and near death. “Potter... you make it back here in one piece, and we'll talk about it.”
Harry scribbled something on the back of Draco's left hand, and Draco raised it to read.
Coward.
“Yeah, well... there you have it,” Draco said with a shrug. Harry grabbed his other hand, writing slower over the back of it.
Warrior.
“Hmm... I think you're a little confused here...”
You are both. Impossible. Beautiful. And very GAY.
“Shut up,” Draco grumbled, not sure if he was more annoyed by the pretty words or the gay remark.
Harry just added another 'very' on top of the first, then surround the whole thing in a heart. I love all of you.
Blushing, Draco tried to look away, only to have Harry keep bringing his hand up. “Fine—quit it, you pain. You love me. I get it. Thank you—or whatever the hell you're supposed to say to idiots that don't know how to be proper and write all over a person while they're sleeping.”
You love me.
Draco scowled, gaze once again slipping away, only to jolt back as Harry bit his hand. “Hey! Fine, I... uh... I might kinda love you...” Harry nipped him again, this time on his arm. “Potter—this is not the way to get me to say things, you bloody git.” If Harry cared, he gave no sign, nipping Draco's arm repeatedly. It was having a queer effect, Draco's yelps quickly turning into heated moans as he gasped for air. “Stop that... oh... seriously... git...”
Harry licked up Draco's arm instead, his flat tongue doing nothing to smear the ink in its proper realm, but did manage to tickle Draco's arm hair. Draco grasped weakly at Harry's hair, his intent to stop him halfway lost, instead tangling fingers in and pulling the boy up for a very needed kiss.
“Potter... how are you... being so behaved?” Draco asked distractedly, Harry's hands ghosting up his sides. It took Harry a moment to answer, the pen lost in the sheets and then very little of Draco left to write on.
Need. Yours is different right now.
“Oh?” Draco whispered, feeling very flushed and vulnerable as Harry wrote a final word on Draco's knee.
Love.
The pen once again tossed aside, Harry cupped Draco's face, fingers gently tracing his jaw and up to his ear. Draco breathed deeply in the hold, feeling warmth slowly bloom over his skin and making him feel stronger than he had in days. He didn't understand how Harry could do it, but was starting to as he thought of the little his father had told him of the Kalistar.
It was before his first year of Hogwarts, his father going through a list of do's and don'ts. One big don't had been the Forbidden Forest. If Draco ever came across a white dragon with scales and feathers, he was to run no matter what. But a gold one, the Kalistar, with long spraying horns and feathered wings was very much a protector. Draco was to be trusting and loving to such a being, and it would turn black and keep him safe. But Draco had never seen either, the beings that stalked him at the edge of the forest always invisible to him, like his pet Karia had been.
Draco was pretty certain that it would be he that would become the murderous beast if his ring was removed and he transformed, just as his father had while in prison. It was the only logical thing, given how Lucius feared the Vesper, and was also one himself. His father had never sensed Karia, that Draco knew of, had called him frivolous for even suggesting she existed. Lucius must have even less senses in the other realm than Draco did.
“Harry... could you just...” Draco trailed off, Harry sinking down against him, pushing him into the mattress and wrapping arms around him. Except the long swipes with his tongue over Draco's neck, Harry was a perfect gentleman. Draco closed his eyes, trying not to think of the sad thoughts of his father becoming a murderous animal just so that Draco wouldn't. Instead he drifted, feeling Harry's weight and heat and slow thump of heart. Each random spark of Harry's energy was a flash of reminder, pulling Draco back from fantasy, back from allowing himself to be fully content.

The clock chimed softly, reminding Draco that he only had ten minutes to get to breakfast before class. Moving his hands over Harry's back and shoulders, he really wasn't in a rush to get up, enjoying the comforting weight and press of flesh. Although Harry had looked torn, especially on his back when wearing the glasses, the boy's skin did not feel to be. Draco wondered if it was the way of things in that particular realm, Harry's beast body injured, but Harry himself not showing it yet. Draco supposed as long as Harry continued to feel so comforting and caring it really didn't matter much.
Eating was important after not eating for so long—at least that's what Draco's stomach was insisting. Draco gently pushed at Harry's shoulders until the boy obliged and got up.
“I'm going to have to wash it off, you know,” Draco said softly, indicating all the pen on him. Harry just took his hand and nodded his messy hair into Draco's palm. Draco walked wearily to the bathroom, still feeling tired and weak from his difficult week.
Draco started, eyes widening as he caught his face in the mirror. Harry had written across his forehead, the words reflected backwards and taking a moment for Draco to discern. “Be... my... boyfriend? Potter, you fucking idiot—where are you?” He stormed towards the bathroom door, only to knock into Harry as the boy stepped through, the bloody perv.
“You're invisible—how the hell can I date someone I can't even see? I have to have some fucking standards!” Draco wasn't quite sure why he was so angry about it all, but he suspected as Harry wrapped arms around him, moving his arms over Draco's back and raising fire in him, that Harry's argument had some validity. Touching was certainly enjoyable. And hell, they argued much less since Harry couldn't say as many stupid things—or at least, Draco couldn't hear them.
“Hands, you,” Draco snapped warningly, Harry once again grabbing at his ass and squeezing firmly. “Have you conveniently forgotten I'm getting married?”
In rebuttal, Harry lifted Draco's hand, tracing the heart that pointed out that Draco was very, very gay. “I have responsibilities... People are depending on me, and... and I made a promise, Harry. I can't just go back on my word.”
Harry went further down the arm, tracing over how Draco could try to change what couldn't be changed. And then Harry began tapping words on Draco's flesh, Draco softly repeating them aloud. “Love... changes... impossible...” And then back to Harry's final promise, that he would fight to live if Draco would too.
Huffing, Draco did not resist the arms once again pulling him close, Harry nuzzling into his neck. “I can't be so easily persuaded, Potter. But... but if you want a boyfriend that is going to be marrying in less that two weeks, I can agree to that.” It was hardly an ideal situation, one that made Draco's heart twist even to think.
He hoped Harry would not be satisfied with such a small part of him. Draco did not want to lose his heart to this boy—a heart if he were in a proper state of mind he could admit was already very much lost and given to Harry—and then have to walk into a loveless, sexless marriage for the rest of his life. Wizards didn't do divorce, not if they were also purebloods. One had to look infallible in everything, including matters of the heart when you held so much power.
Harry tapped him once again, Draco glancing down at the text. Impossible. “...I know, but that's all I can give you... it's all I have to give right now.” Draco sighed heavily.
Harry seemed to disagree, but the words written weren't enough. Gently he took Draco's hands, leading the boy to the shower and reaching Draco's long fingers to turn the spray on. Draco pulled away, charming the temperature to something agreeable. His eyes downcast and bottom lip worried between his teeth, Draco slowly pulled his boxers down and stepped out of them. He didn't look fully in Harry's direction, silver eyes sliding towards the area Harry's powerful aura was flickering and then returning to the loofah he was soaping up.
Harry wanted to be his boyfriend... because Harry loved him. It was a strange feeling—a nearly impossible feeling, because Harry had been gone for so long, and Draco had once really dreamed of having a boyfriend just like Harry. He had been waiting for a boy that got very annoyed with the mean things Draco said until Draco had to be a nicer person... a boy that demanded with flashing green eyes, until Draco would do the things his body really, really wanted to do and finally shut his stupid, logical mind up that always did as his parents said.
Skin tingling under Harry's gaze, Draco began to wash the ink from his skin, watching intently as the words faded along with Harry's thoughts. “Harry—just... oh, just behave... please...” He asked huskily as Harry's hand wrapped around his smaller one, the loofah sopping white bubbles as Harry tightened Draco's grip. Harry obliged somewhat, just using his hand to help Draco in an unneeded task of washing every spot he could reach. But with Harry leaning against him, Draco wet and soapy with very much hot breath moving down his throat, it was difficult not to want.
The crazed mating urge was not there, but that did not mean there was no lust. Even before Harry had transformed, and even before Draco had fully understood what just a whiff of Harry's sex scent could do to him, Draco had wanted. He had wanted to feel Harry's hands on him, his strong body pressed close, mouth raining kisses down and worshiping him with demanding eyes until Draco could not say no. In a lot of ways, it was a more dangerous ache than the mating drive, because this one was so soft and warm, insidious in its quiet but unyielding power.
Very compelling... Draco thought as Harry's free hand moved over his outer thigh, rubbing fingers in to the muscles and dragging up and over his hip and side.
Draco inhaled through his nose sharply, his eyes widening, body tensing as Harry found his nipple and twisted it gently, rolling back and forth between fingers and turning the nub red. Harry began to blow soft streams of air over his neck, pulling Draco's back tighter against his body as water sprayed down over him. “This is... dangerous...” Draco whispered, Harry's tongue flicking out, followed swiftly by nipping teeth over Draco's long neck. But Harry didn't seem to care how dangerous things were, very much still the reckless Gryffindor that didn't give a fuck about consequences—just how Draco needed him to be. Harry pulled him even closer, unbalancing him, until Draco was forced to rest all his weight on the sturdy taller boy.
Eyes closed, Draco leaned back into Harry's touch, wet hair resting on the boy's dry shoulder. Harry ghosted fingers up his torso, over his ribcage, down his stomach to dip fingertips into his belly button. Further still, Harry touched, growing firmer, more bolder, avoiding Draco's now straining erection to move down the front of Draco's pale thighs instead. It was loving and maddening all at once, Draco whimpering when the shower spray touched his twitching cock, and for a moment he had thought it had been Harry.
Not waiting for Harry to lose his shit and run away again, Draco reached down his body, grabbing his own leaking arousal and giving it a few well needed tugs. Breath tickled Draco's ear in a sudden burst, and he imagined Harry must have liked that. Harry's hand was suddenly on Draco's, assisting readily. “Oh fuck... oh...”
No, this was very much more dangerous. Draco wasn't quite sure when it had happened, but Harry had managed to get his hand with the loofah to his back, soaping his ass and thighs with slow circles. Bubbles tingled over Draco's balls and crack, and dripped between his cheeks in a slippery heat that he could not deny moaning over.
“Please, god, please... don't leave this time, Harry... Don't leave me alone with this again...” Draco begged softly as Harry released both his hands and the loofah fell to the ground. Draco stilled all movement, waiting to see if Harry was going to pull away. Harry was just as still, barely breathing as his chest moved against Draco's back.
Slowly, so slow Draco wondered if he were imagining it, Harry traced his fingers back to Draco's entrance. Licking his lips, Draco unconsciously spread his legs a little wider and bent forward slightly. Tentatively, as if afraid he was going to run if pushed too fast, Harry probed the tight pucker of Draco's hole, his fingers too dry and unaffected by the soap until Harry reached up and coated them in his mouth and tried again. Draco didn't resist, eyes squeezed shut and mouth gasping loud pants as Harry began to carefully stretch him.
Harry's other arm wrapped securely around Draco's waist, keeping the boy from falling as he swayed and whimpered. Draco could not understand just how strong Harry could be, holding him in place with only invisible arms and body to keep him upright, and yet touch him just so achingly soft. Each push of fingers, tight and hot inside him, was burning Draco's fire brighter, his entire body shaking from the touch. In that moment Draco was certain he would do anything—give anything—be anything, just to have Harry be his.
Draco glared at the ring on his hand, hating it, hating what he knew was likely a much more terrible existence than he could have ever guessed waiting for him if he chose to be a beast with Harry. He might be the type of creature—worse that a werewolf because at least they had a scheduled time—that would be a murderous, wild thing all year round, possibly craving human flesh. And that it didn't totally repulse Draco was even more terrifying, because he knew it was the answer to all his fucking problems. As a beast he could not marry, could not be expected to be anything but mindless and wild, and he could be with Harry always and never afraid.
Fuck, he could feel alive again. For the rest of his life Harry would be touching him, tasting him, filling him. Just as long as he lived, Harry would be his. They could be feral together, just wild, mindless creatures out in the woods, hunting and rutting, and never giving another thought to what the world wanted. They had both given enough to have earned that... hadn't they?
Draco closed his eyes to the view of the silver ring, letting Harry push him up against the wall and bury his thick fingers deeper inside Draco's clenching flesh. “Hell... Harry, I need you...”
Harry's mouth was on his neck, nipping harder, drawing blood, and then lapping long swipes. And then he was grabbing Draco's hand, the one with the ring, carefully twirling the silver band. Draco opened his eyes to watch, breath caught in his throat.
So much of him wanted to... almost all of him wanted to give in. Life as it was just wasn't fucking living...
It would be so easy.
Draco closed his hand into a fist, trapping the ring in place. “Harry... I need to make sure you're brought back,” he said unsteadily, feeling a different dangerous rush of fire running through him at the realization that he had been moments from taking the ring off and giving in. “I cannot trust them to do it—to not kill you. So I must be whole until that moment... Until then, okay?”
Harry breathed hot fire over Draco, tongue lapping out over his skin, hard body pushing his slender one up against the cool tile of the shower wall and trapping him in place. Draco wasn't certain, but he might have just promised—Harry and himself—if Harry lived, Draco would live too. He would continue not as a boy, but as a beast, so that they could remain together.
Laughter, hot and bright, bubbled up in Draco at the very thought. God, he wanted to be with Harry—no matter what. Draco wanted the boy to live and stay and be with him forever. “Ah... fuck, Harry... be my boyfriend.. I wanna be—oh hell.” Moaning, Draco inched his feet wider on the floor, pushing back onto Harry's fingers.
Harry's movements were more relentless, three fingers filling Draco, stretching him wide, Harry's hips thrusting against his persistent hand in his eagerness. Draco gave small, soft chokes of breath, the shower spray spluttering water into his mouth as he shuddered around the feel of Harry's forceful, eager thrusts of fingers. “Come on... come on...” Draco groaned, trying to push back but Harry's body not budging. “God, I need you, Harry... needed you so long... stop drawing it out and fuck me—Oh hell!”
Draco's growl was cut off with a gasp, Harry removing his fingers swiftly, grabbing Draco by the hips and pressing his large cock against his ass. Draco had forgotten just how big Harry was, and he wasn't sure if spit was really going to be enough to ease onto such a thick dick without being injured. He closed his eyes, holding back a hysterical laugh as he realized he really didn't give a fuck—he would rather it hurt, than not finally have Harry inside him.
Draco was apparently very, very fucking gay.
Letting the tension leave his body, Draco turned his head, finding Harry's face and kissing what turned out to be his jaw. Harry dipped his head down further, kissing Draco deeply while slowly pushing weight forward into his hips and against the ring of muscles of Draco's entrance. He was going to be late for class, Draco realized dimly in the back of his mind, the thought disappearing as quickly as it came.
“Harry... oh... oh god, fuck...” One of Harry's hands came out to rub his back and side, the invisible boy's breath puffing over Draco's cheek. Draco barely noticed, all his focus on the mix of agony, pain, and pleasure as Harry pushed the head of his cock slowly past the tight ring of muscles guarding Draco's hole. He felt Harry hesitate as fire shot through his body, Draco trying to fight the urge to push back, push out the huge intrusion filling him so completely and then some. Now both Harry's hands were rubbing Draco's arms and back, Harry kissing his neck and nipping, as if he could somehow distract from the unbearable fullness Draco's body was consumed with.
Somehow, it was working, Draco's broken cries receding after long, despairing moments of red fire. The overwhelming became a whelming, and then eventually an ache. Shuddering, Draco pushed his hips back, needing movement. Only to stop and gasp, the nerve ending within him waking up as if Harry had just sunk into him again, skin dragging across skin in almost dry friction. Harry noticed, licked-wet fingers probing around Draco's stretched entrance again while Draco jerked and moaned against the wall.
Then nothing mattered, because Harry was sinking in deeper, the saliva still not quite enough but now they were both sweating so much that things were getting slicker, and Draco wasn't really caring. Eyes squeezed shut, Draco pushed back, welcoming Harry in as deep as he could go, meeting each small thrust with gasping cries and quivering knees. Harry was mumbling something in Draco's ear, and he didn't care that Potter still couldn't figure out that he couldn't hear him. Then Harry was rubbing his sides again, massaging Draco's ass and thighs while he rested, buried deep inside and around him, this unbearable throbbing fire filling Draco, making him feel so vulnerable and connected, all at once.
What a fucking terrible, intimate feeling, to have Harry so deep inside and surrounding around him—and still Draco couldn't fucking see him!
Would it have been better without the ring or with the wild mating ache to steal the pain away? Draco didn't know. With some slippery soap that actually affected Harry's realm? Very fucking likely. But it wasn't bad... not bad... just so much. Not just in Draco's body, but in that emptiness he had only recently named. It had been empty since he had nearly killed himself, and now, somehow, that void too was unbearably full.
Harry was again murmuring into his shoulder and throat, and Draco smiled through the tears streaking down his face at what a fucking idiot he was. The two of them—Draco being fucked by an invisible and near dead boy, and Harry still fucking talking like he could hear him. “Do it, Harry... You're my boyfriend, and you have to do as I say...”
Harry bit Draco hard on the neck, Draco's whole body tensing, tightening somehow around the impossible thickness splitting him in two. Draco glanced down at where Harry was licking his new wound, knowing what the boy wanted by it—to claim Draco. Harry would have him like a beast, like some fucking animal that could be overpowered and brought to knees by teeth and cock. Once the ring was off, Harry would claim him and Draco would be his, and Draco loved the idea of it.
Suddenly Harry moved, pulling partially out of his tightness. Draco cried out, hand clamping over his mouth to stop the loud noise from echoing off the bathroom walls. But he couldn't stop the noises, not when Harry sunk back in and Draco's arms went weak, unable to lift them any longer. Draco's legs were next, but Harry was so fucking strong it didn't matter, Draco being held up, pinned to the wall as Harry fucked him as slowly and thoroughly as his huge dick would allow.
Draco could feel Harry everywhere, could almost hear his grunts with each thrust, soft murmurs between as he licked up Draco's throat and ear and cheek, so bizarre and fucking sexy. Draco was wrapped in his scent, warm and near suffocating, along with his flesh and sweat and teeth that kept nipping little sharp jolts of pleasure and pain. Even the annoying sparks over Harry's skin were suddenly damn good and welcome, surprising bursts while Harry built a slow rhythm and Draco felt everything.
“Harry... fuck... harder, come on...” Draco begged, sweat mixing with the shower to drip into his eyes and sting, changing the flavor as it flowed into his mouth and he tasted. But Harry only moved slower, long drawn out thrusts that made Draco cry out each time, gripping blindly at the wall as Harry found a place inside him that burst color and pleasure with each hit. After only a dozen of these amazing, blinding thrusts, Harry was pushing into Draco unrelenting and pinning him still, one hand coming up to wrap firmly, yet gently around Draco's throat, and the other to slowly push fingers into Draco's moaning mouth. Draco's tongue met the long, hot digits, pressing to the flat of them, luring them deeper, sucking them down almost desperate as Draco's skin danced with unrestrained energy.
Draco didn't know why it felt so damn good to have Harry filling his mouth, saliva dripping down his jaw like some frothing animal, never mind the thrilling, yet comforting sensation of his throat being gripped the way it was, as if Harry could break him or nuzzle him on a whim. But it did, the same way it felt so wild to know Harry was just so much stronger than Draco, able to take whatever he wanted so easily—yet willing to stop if only asked. God, and he was taking him, so thick inside, so intent to be slow and make sure Draco felt every inch as his body stretched and opened to his Harry.
Struggling to breath around the fingers dipping down his tongue, Draco felt when Harry changed, his thickness somehow swelling inside even more, Harry's hot breath breaking into small, desperate puffs as his hips jolted forward with shallow, quick pumps, as if he could bury just a little deeper and they would be joined and one. Draco spread his legs as wide as he could, pushing back into the jolting thrusts, eyes closing as his body tensed and tightened and clenched so, fucking, good. Harry was murmuring something into his neck, and then biting again, drawing more blood, and Draco was shouting from the pain and pleasure. Harry dug nails into his throat and Draco bit down on the fingers in his mouth as he came, their hips bucking, slamming in rhythm and then in discord, Draco so tight and breathless and lost.
They started to shake as their orgasms left them, as if what was left of their fire and strength had drained with their seed. Harry held tight onto Draco, still buried deep within, as if to leave would be to fall to the ground. Draco had no complaints, catching his breath as he moaned unintelligibly on the wall, Harry's fingers finally removed, red but not bloody or broken from his teeth. Harry panted with him, chest heaving, hand slowly moving over Draco's form and pulling tired, hungry sounds from the smaller boy as they rested.

Harry finally pulled away, carefully extracting himself from Draco's sore passage and turning the pale boy around to face him. But Draco couldn't see Harry, making things once again somewhat awkward when Harry just wanted to stare at the boy, and be seen by him as well. Harry settled for kneeling and licking up Draco's cum from his tight stomach, tongue greedily eating up every drop while Draco whimpered and watched the white fluid disappear from view.
Not finished, Harry moved lower, nuzzling into Draco's spent cock, not wanting to irritate the likely sensitive flesh. Draco gave no sign of protest, so Harry lapped at the softening flesh, cleaning more thoroughly than the shower alone. Then Harry moved to Draco's balls, pushing the boy back against the wall to rest and lift his thigh over Harry's shoulder so that Harry could reach his sack and entrance with greater ease. He tasted his new mate, Draco's natural scent and Harry's now pervasive one mixing in Draco's tightness and slowly dribbling out.
Draco gave a low whine when he realized what Harry was doing, grabbing blindly at the boy's messy, sweaty hair and holding him still to continue his deranged, long tongued assault on Draco's sore hole. Harry seemed determined to recollect his seed, suddenly turning Draco so he was pushed face first into the wall and Harry could have better admittance to his entrance and passage. He licked at Draco with zest—Draco was not certain what it did for Harry, but he imagined it might be just as maddening when Draco had sucked Harry off and gotten all of Harry's sex scent on him. Maybe the smell of Draco made Harry fucking mad for him too... Hell, maybe it was the smell of them together, hole and cum joined and feeling so right.
Draco went to reach behind him, wanting to see for himself. Harry caught his straying hand, biting it firmly and then licking. Harry stood, invisible fingers again pushing into Draco's mouth without warning, warm, bitter and musky tasting. Draco groaned, eyes rolling back, the flavor of what could only be exactly what Harry had been seeking, but now mixed with Harry's saliva and filling Draco's senses and making him dizzy. Still, it was not as overwhelming as when Harry had caught Draco in the hallway. Without Harry to amplify the mating call it just didn't ache the same unbearable way.
Turning Draco again, Harry picked the boy up, lifting him with ease while Draco wrapped long, shaking legs around his waist. Harry nearly tried to take Draco through the bathroom door, until Draco convinced him to wait a damn moment so he could work the handle. Then Harry was throwing Draco down on the bed, his shower wet skin prickling cold now out of the steam of the bathroom, only to be warmed as Harry climbed up Draco's form, kissing him desperately and pressing their bodies together.
Only to have Draco push him off, bleary eyed as he stared around his room in confusion. Another loud knock, repeated and worried, sounded from the door leading out to the hallway. Draco glanced at the clock, swearing and then smacking at Harry's returning hands trying to keep him bed-bound and beneath him. No, Harry seemed to have quieted the fucking mating urge a lot more—either that, or Harry just wasn't as needy for it, maybe not feeling dependent on it to get Draco, now that he knew Draco would give in. It didn't mean the git wasn't determined though.
“Quit it—Harry!” Draco snapped, then laughed as Harry lifted him off the bed, only to drop him down again with a bounce. “Oh fuck, you are so god damn powerful...” Draco murmured appreciatively, staring up in Harry's general direction, eyes heavy lidded and full of wonder.
The door again, pounding, and Draco nearly jumped at the sound. “Crap.” He scrambled up, eluding hands he could not see coming but could sense well enough to avoid. He grabbed a bathrobe from behind the bathroom door, slipping it on and cinching the belt securely, before carefully unlocking his door and peering out into the hall.
It was Blaise, hand raised as if to knock again, eyes wild in fear. “Draco—are you—did you?” He pushed the door open without finishing his thought, walking into Draco's room and looking the boy over as if not believing he was real.
Draco flushed, realizing he was covered in bites all over his neck. Potter had a damn problem keeping Draco blemish free. And well, Draco certainly didn't mind how the marks were created at the time. “What?”
“You're late,” Blaise said finally, seeming to deflate as Draco showed no signs of serious damage. “I was knocking for ages, and you didn't answer. I thought... I don't know what I thought.” Blaise ran a shaky hand through his hair, tangling in his magically straightened black locks he had let flow free today.
Draco shrugged, realizing what Blaise must have thought and not knowing how to handle it. He shut the door to his room, not needing passersby to gawk while Draco got ready for class and tried to explain to Blaise that he wasn't going to kill himself—no matter how upset he might seem. He wasn't that person anymore, and there would never be another Voldemort he had to run from quite so aggressively. Which was all well and good, but Harry did not seem to be done with him just yet. Draco groaned as he was pulled from his bureau and clothes and up against Harry's chest.
“Harry, you've had your turn. Now I have to deal with the rest of the world,” Draco grumbled, not angry at Harry, but more at the daily mundane life that insisted on interrupting them. “We'll finish this later—damn it, you pain...”
“Shit, Potter, keep it in your pants for five seconds,” Blaise muttered, turning his head to give his poor pink friend some privacy. “I was worried about Draco. Before Pansy and I left last night, he agreed to have breakfast with us.”
A dark laugh burst out of Draco, Harry's hands caressing through his robe, between his thighs, over his tightening balls and pressing against his entrance. Draco grabbed Harry's hair, twisting harshly and smiling wickedly as Harry continued to press fingers right against his hole, wiggling ever so gently to remind him what they could so easily do, audience or not.
“You know what, Blaise? Get the fuck out. We're in the middle of something and your shit concerns can wait until I'm fucking satisfied for a change.”
“Satisfied—what, are you two shagging now?” Blaise asked darkly, glaring over his shoulder, and then quickly looking away. Draco's expression was a cross between ferocious and lusty, not something Blaise had ever seen on his well controlled friend, and not necessarily a bad look on the boy either.
“Yes, as a matter of fact we are,” Draco replied, another odd laugh bubbling out of him, followed by a slow exhalation as Harry's fingers pressed more insistent against his hole.
Blaise whirled, hand covering his eyes, with just enough to peek through and find Draco's flushed face. Then realizing there really was nothing to see, Blaise dropped his hand completely. “I thought you weren't going to—that he was a Kalistar and dangerous! What has he done? Has he used his allure to snare you, Draco? Do I need to get Snape or Dumbledore down here?”
Suddenly Harry was raising power, one hand hot between Draco's ass cheeks and the other pushing raw magic towards the annoying interruption. Draco snorted, tightening his grip on Harry's hair. “Stop, Potter. He's my domain, not yours.”
Blaise watched, brow furrowed as Draco reached his tongue out, seemingly licking Harry from chin to forehead. The sudden pressure and whirl of power in the air stopped, papers settling back again as Harry relented. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?”
“Nothing,” Draco drawled, pulling his attention from Harry to glare at Blaise's judgmental expression. “As long as no one fucking interferes, we are perfectly fucking fine. Go on to class and I'll catch up later.”
Blaise shook his head, eyes narrowing at Draco's surprisingly harsh tone. “Draco, if he's really a Kalistar—You shouldn't be alone with him. Definitely not, not doing what you two are doing. He could be manipulating you.”
Draco laughed again, less hysterical and more angry. “Funny how everyone seems to know how dangerous the Kalistar are, but no one has bothered to say what the fucking Vesper do. I've got the fucking ring on, Blaise. And Potter here does whatever I ask, as long as I ask just the right way. Now get the fuck out and mind your own business.”
“So what, I'm supposed to believe you're manipulating him now? Don't you see how fucking messed up that is, Draco?” Blaise insisted.
Draco growled, realizing Blaise was not going to let the fucking thing go anytime soon. Shit, he just wanted more sex—it wasn't some fucking crime. Sure, he was skipping class for it, but who the fuck cared? Scowling, Draco felt Harry move away. He thought the sexy beast had given up, only to realize he was just seeking out his pen so he could communicate properly with Blaise.
Blaise watched warily as Harry clicked the pen open and floated it towards the nearest piece of scattered blank paper on the floor.
Zabini, I'm trying to have sex with my boyfriend. You're not invited, so go fuck off.
Blaise glowered, hands on his hips. “Fuck you, Potter. Until I know he's not killing himself and you're not raping him, I'm not fucking leaving.”
“For fuck sake, Blaise!” Draco yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. “You're out of your fucking mind.”
“I'm out of my mind? For the last goddamn week Pans and I've been trying to pry out what the fuck has gotten you all quiet and dead inside like the last time. All you told us was that Potter had transformed and had been aggressive with the damn mating call. What exactly do you want from me? All we could assume was that he fucking forced you—especially since you told us what he was last night, and then kicked us out, leaving us to research on our own. The Kalistar are dangerous—like, top level, don't fuck around with, run away as fast as you can if ever seen! If you don't fucking communicate, how are we going to be able to help you?”
Draco was about to snarl an angry retort about how he didn't need everyone's nosy fucking help, when Harry started writing, drawing Blaise's eye.
You're right, Zabini. I should have come to you after Malfoy raped me. It was wrong, and I was just so ashamed and hurt. It had felt so damn good and
“You're a fucking sod, you dickweed,” Blaise hissed, stamping on the parchment but avoiding the pen in case he damaged it. “This isn't some fucking joke. We've been worried. Hermione said you were obsessed over Draco before you left school last year. That the beast was just starting to show and it was messed up in the head. You've both been avoiding talking to us about it. The whole situation is fucked up, and you're spending too much time alone together.”
Draco had heard enough considering he had been miserable the fucking week because Harry had not been spending time with him but hiding outside the door. “You know what's fucking messed up? I find some fucking happiness and you're suddenly worried over me. If you're so worried, than realize just how much better I am today for having Harry, and leave it at that.”
Blaise paused and gave his friend of the last six years a thoughtful look. “Honestly? If it weren't for the ring, I wouldn't even be sure you were human anymore.”
Draco stared at Blaise's very serious brown eyes, and he couldn't help the laughter bubbling out of him again. Fine—he sounded fucking crazy. And he felt—god he felt so fucking good and crazy, and Draco really, really, really wanted to finish what he was doing with Harry before his friend had decided to take it upon himself to dictate his goddamn life.
Zabini, you say that like it's a bad thing. Fucking Look at him. He's gorgeous, and wild, and not putting up with anyone's shit, including mine. Do you really want him back to before, all gray, quiet and sad?
Nostrils flaring, Blaise glared at Harry's scrawl, bending slightly to read it all. “Yeah, and what happens when you bite it, Potter? You just going to leave him here, some crazy, out of control version of himself because you couldn't keep your hands off him?”
Draco held his hand up, the lights flickering ominously as everything went very still. His face was stone, just like when he had nearly hexed Nott in the Great Hall.
You really might want to rephrase that. Draco is what he is, and I have not made him that way. Just happened to be around to enjoy as he slowly woke.
Blaise was only angrier by it, Draco seeming even more irrational when Potter was blamed. “He shouldn't be waking if he's wearing the ring. Why is he getting more like—like some wild beast?”
Blaise was staring at the paper waiting for Harry to answer, but it was Draco who spoke. “Because that is what I have always been, before my parents trained it out of me with so much fear and sense of duty that there was nothing left. I am a fucking beast that cries, bleeds, fights and fucks—I Feel! And I have been denying it a long fucking time because I was too afraid.”
That's my dragon. Harry wrote, the words larger and flowing in beautiful script instead of his normal scrawl.
The laughter was bubbling up again, nearly impossible to contain. But it wasn't dark. As Draco let it go he could see, truly, just how joyful it was, this feeling inside. “My control has just been another prison. I'm done playing the fucking good son, good heir—good child, so I wouldn't be another victim to Voldemort. He is dead and I am done. If I need your help, I will ask for it. Otherwise, worry about your own damn problems and leave me be.”
A war seemed to wage in Blaise, anger and confusion swirling in his dark eyes as he stared at his old friend.
“...You are not weak, Draco, I never thought that. If it was weakness, I don't think I ever would have feared you would go through with it. You are too strong, going against the natural order of things to do horrible things to yourself, like what you did last summer.” Blaise looked away, taking a deep breath. “Maybe it is that beast inside you that is the source of it, that can let you do so much wrong out of pure determination.”
Draco's lips curled into a snarl. “Still, you judge what I do as right or wrong instead of just accepting it was my fucking choice to make. What is right and wrong, when you live in a world run by a monstrous dictator that could have killed us all with ease? Your opinion never mattered—no one's did but mine. What is anyone to say of the value of my life, when it is my life? I didn't go against the natural order—I went with my natural order. I'm sorry you still think you have some say in that, but you don't. I will accept you as a friend, but not the ruler of my life, Blaise.”
Draco's words only made Blaise angry, his concern being turned, in Draco's mind, into manipulation instead of just being the love he had for his friend. So what if he was trying to control Draco by keeping him alive? At least he would be alive! “You're fucked, Draco. Fine, fight to die—what the hell do I care? You just gave it all away to your mother anyways. Go play beasts with Potter and pretend you're not getting married and tied in a couple of weeks. I was concerned—we all were.”
“Your concern does not give you the right to run my fucking life,” Draco said steadily, his anger draining with the more conviction he felt. “I will deal with my mother when the time comes—in my way, because it is my right to do that as well. I will interact with Harry as I see fit, and I don't need your fucking opinions on the matter. And if you insist on continuing with your bloody prying shit, no matter what your intentions are, I'm going to cut you out of my life. Another choice I get to make that you get no say in. Do you fucking understand yet?”
Blaise nodded curtly, anger blazing even brighter in his eyes. “Well I get some fucking choices in this as well, Draco. One of them being whether I want to be around someone that doesn't give a fuck about my opinions. At the moment, it's definitely a no.” With a final glare, Blaise left, snapping the door shut behind him.
Draco stared at the door a moment, not feeling regretful at all. His fucking friends had wasted their goddamn year thinking Draco was going to kill himself, trying to get him to be something alive when they really had no say in the fucking thing. Draco loved them, but not enough to bow to them and their wants over his own. He had needed to mourn and numb and be as miserable as he did, because he had been fucking sad—and there was nothing wrong with it. He glanced over, the pen clicking and writing.
You are fucking sexy when standing up for yourself.
Draco smirked, running his hand through his half dried hair. “I'm sure it's nothing like the way you used to be, fucking burning from the eyes every time I pissed on one of your mudblood friends just to rile you up.”
So that was on purpose?
“Oh yeah, you have very demanding eyes.” Draco wanted to ask then, why Harry hadn't tried to interfere when Draco had gone home to kill himself last year. But he imagined it was the same reason as the infuriating boy had pushed back when Draco had been fighting Dumbledore and Jaz for Harry to be allowed to come back. Harry understood his own reasons for doing the things he did. And even if he didn't understand Draco's, he at least respected them. Draco would have to do the same.
Walking over to the papers on the floor, Draco crouched down next to Harry's body heat. “Here's my dilemma. If I give up on the whole marriage thing and you die, I've got nothing to fall back on. I don't think she'd do it, mother needs me too much. But being disowned, homeless, and with my name run through the mud is really not some fairytale way to live, and she's promised that as the only option to Vellamorn. I need time to figure out how to get around it.”
Harry took a long moment to reply, his left hand moving out to flow over Draco's bent leg while he tapped the pen on the floor. And what about if I really am fucked around humans? Is that how you want to live, outcast by your mother, tied to a pariah and forced to live in absolute seclusion? Yeah, I've got money and shit, but is that enough to put up with never being around people again?
Draco shrugged, biting his lower lip. “As long as you're alive, I really don't give a fuck... Just, um, maybe we should also consider the possibility that I may be the fucking crazy one around the scent of human flesh...”
I have. I wanted to talk to you about keeping the ring on.
Draco rolled his eyes. “If you live, it's coming off. I'll break up with the bitch first thing, maybe get a place in order where we'll be safe, but then the bloody thing is off and you are all mine.”
Harry tossed the pen aside, wrapping his arms around Draco and kissing him deeply. Draco tried not to think about how moot it all was, because Harry was likely dead, and if not, Dumbledore might just finish him off, just to be on the safe side. Right now it all felt fucking fantastic, and Draco didn't want to ruin it with reality.
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