Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Make Me Bleed	By : Insatiable_Fox Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 7610 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any characters from the Harry Potter series. I make no money nor claim a profit off this work.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Potter... Harry... Potter... had the decency to look sheepish. “It’s a... long story” he replied, deliberately not meeting Draco’s eyes.

“Well, you know what? I’ve got nothing but time.” The betrayal was consuming, and he fought to hold on to his rationality.

Potter sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. “Well, what I told you before was pretty much true. Except that I didn't lose it.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Potter, but that seems to be a pretty important point.”

“I had my reasons.” Potter’s voice was low.

“I let you fuck me. I let you cut me. I trusted you.” That, out of everything, hurt the most. “And now to find out that you've had my wand the whole time? We had talked about it. When did it fall to you to decide what I did and didn't deserve?

“It wasn't about what you deserve, Draco. I would give you anything-”

Draco cut him off. “That’s funny, considering I would have given anything to have my wand! I wouldn't have had to rely on you, then. I would have been able to protect myself!”

Potter reached for his hand but Draco pulled away, tightening the bed covers around his naked body, his posture ramrod straight as he tried to control his emotions. “Draco” Potter spoke softly. “I didn’t give it to you because I didn't want you to go. If you had had your wand, you wouldn't have needed me.”

“And I wouldn't have cut you. Don't worry, I understand Potter. You denied me my wand simply so I would be forced to play your sick, twisted game. Everything I a -”

“Don't” Potter interrupted sharply. “I understand that you’re hurt, pissed off, but don't turn what we just did into something heinous and dark.”

“What did you expect? ‘Oh thank you, Potter, I will love you forever for returning my wand’? Why now, anyway? Did the guilt get too much?” Draco sneered the end words with malice.

“Because I trusted you not to leave.” Draco finally looked up, meeting Harry’s - Potter’s - earnest gaze. “Because I trusted that you wanted to stay.”

Draco looked away, taking his wand out of the box and absently turning it over in his fingers, the familiar feel, the smell, calming and reassuring him as it always had. He could leave. Right now. Just get up and walk straight out the door, without a backward look at Potter. A stab of pain clenched his heart at the thought, and he shook his head.

He had left once before, and look how that had turned out. The image of Harry dying on his bed came unbidden to his mind, broken and bleeding, the cuts a macabre focal-point. Perhaps he could kid himself that he was staying out of concern for Harry, yet truthfully, he just didn't want to face the pain of walking away. Not now. Not ever.

Harry was still staring at him intently, and when he went to take Draco’s hand again he let him. “I know it was selfish” Harry said softly. “But I couldn't risk you leaving. At first, because I needed you to bleed me. Later, because I loved you.”

Draco sighed, untangling himself from the sheets so he could search for his abandoned clothes. “What do you expect me to do now? A barrage of cleaning charms? I have to warn you now, I’ve never been good at those.”

“I thought...” Harry swallowed, and there was a distinct note of apprehension in his voice. “I thought we could go get your mother.”

Draco froze. “Now?” he breathed.

“Why not?”

*
Once clothed, they apparated outside the gates of Malfoy Manor, and Draco was struck by a strong sense of deja-vu. It felt like a lifetime ago that he had stood here with Harry. Acknowledged, for the first time, that he wanted the other man, wanted him in a way that had set his body alight with longing and need. Now, standing next to him, Harry’s arm curled around his waist and his breathing reassuringly steady in Draco’s ear, all he could feel was profound gratification that Harry was here, with him, seemingly willing to take on the world, as long as it made Draco happy.

The world was possibly a preferable foe, compared to Lucius Malfoy.

“Don’t we need a plan?” Draco voiced, not for the first time.

“I work better without plans” Harry replied, studying the Manor grounds intently.

“Harry. You rely on sheer dumb luck. I don’t have any of that, which has been proven countless times.”

“Draco” Harry turned to him, a soft smile on his face. “You managed to get Death Eaters into Hogwarts at the age of 16. We can break your mother out.”

“Don't underestimate my father, Harry. He’s smart and ruthless.” Draco was strong enough to admit that Lucius still terrified him, his fear as a child mixing with what he had seen, experienced, as an adult.

Harry gave a grim sigh. “So am I.” He took Draco’s hand gently, giving it a tight squeeze. “We need your blood.”

“Such a hardship, I’m sure.” Draco pulled his wand out of his coat pocket, meaning to cut his palm, but Harry caught his wrist.

“Let me.” In the other hand Harry held a piece of rock, and Draco knew, knew it was the piece from last time.

“You kept it?”

“Of course. It had tasted your blood.” Harry’s tone had dropped and his gaze was lidded. His tongue darted out, running quickly over his bottom lip, a movement which Draco watched with an eager eye. For a moment, he forgot he was standing outside the house which had been the location for so much of his pain, his mother's jail, his father's lair. For a moment, all he could focus on was the clench in his spine as Harry ran the stone deeply down his palm, a thumb wrapped around his wrist - the wrist which would forever bear homage to Harry. Harry pressed Draco’s palm to the iron gates, and as they had before, they swung open for them, a graceful movement which contrasted harshly with their imposing stature. Harry pulled them so they were inside the Manor grounds, allowing the gates to shut softly behind them before he turned Draco to face him. “Perfect” he whispered, before bringing Draco’s palm to his mouth and ardently cleaning off the drying blood, wet and hot and nearly bringing Draco to his knees.

Draco’s mouth was dry, spare hand clenched at his side and body alight with lust and longing. “Wouldn't want to waste any” he managed to breathe.

“No. We wouldn't.” They stared at each other, bodies tense with arousal and want, breath harsh and loud against the quiet backdrop.

A sudden commotion from somewhere within the Manor grounds broke the trance, an unwelcome interruption into their recherché moment, the one sliver of harmony amongst the cacophony of their lives. “It's just the peacocks” Draco commented, seeing Harry’s guarded posture. “They fight. Constantly.”

“Why have them at all, then?” Harry asked, somewhat incredulously.

“Because my mother liked them. Likes them” he amended. Fear was making him shaky, paranoia whispering through his mind, an unwelcome, inexorable foe. Perhaps it was a leftover side effect from having harboured Voldemort, or maybe it had always been that way, but the Manor seemed to suck all traces of hope and defiance out of him, crushing his soul until he was left with only one conviction: that they would fail.

A soft brush of lips caressed his head, and the achingly intimate gesture was enough for Draco to dispel some of the despair, clutching on to the emotions Harry elicited like a lifeboat lost at sea. “It’s the aftermath of Dark Magic” Harry stated, pulling Draco closer to his body, a protective movement Draco found comforting, although he would never admit it. “Like the portrait at Grimmauld Place. Use a lot of magic, and it's bound to leave a trace.”

“It never used to be like this.” There was a distinct note of sadness in Draco’s voice, and he wrapped his arms around himself in an automatic seek for comfort. “It was my mother's pride and joy. Not only her sanctuary, but the pure essence which fed her life. Just another thing my father destroyed.”

“We’re not going to let him consume anything else.” Harry’s voice was hard, resolute, and it was then that Draco fully understood Harry wasn't just doing this for him. What was happening inside - and outside - the walls of the Manor called to his base instinct; a need to protect others, eradicate the wickedness wrecking havoc to innocents, nullify the threat.

Harry Potter, former Saviour of the Wizarding World, depraved cut-slut and blood-whore, conqueror of Draco Malfoy, was answering the ingrained compulsion to save once again.

“Do we just go in through the front door again?” Harry was looking at Draco, and it took him a moment to process what had just been said.

“For fuck’s sake, no? My father's office overlooks the path. I was assuming this was going to be a stealth mission.”

“You want to leave Lucius unharmed?” Harry looked surprised.

Draco was grim. “I just want to get my mother out.”

Harry studied him for a second. “Bush it is, then.”

“Jesus, Harry. I know you don't like to plan even five minutes into the future, but we do actually need to think about this. I don't want to come across my father if we can help it. Hopefully he won't even be there, but if he is, he will most likely be in his office or the dungeons.”

“What about your mother?”

“The front parlour was always a favourite of hers, mostly because it had a beautiful view of the grounds. With them in this state of disarray, she might be avoiding it.” Draco trailed off, brows furrowed in thought, before abruptly letting out a annoyed moan. “I don't even know where she will be. It was pure luck we found her last time. We may end up searching the whole fucking house.”

“Makes me wish I had my invisibility cloak.” Draco raised an eyebrow, situation forgotten for a second. “It was my father's” Harry explained with a languid grin, giving Draco the impression he was purposely antagonising him. “Came in handy at Hogwarts.”

“No wonder you never got into trouble, you bloody sod! Hypocritical git.”

“Careful, Malfoy. You sound jealous.” Harry gave him a lazy smirk, which Draco answered with a glare.

“Well, you’re not lucky then, you just had useful toys. That doesn't instil much faith regarding our present endeavour.”

“It will be fine. Now, you said the front door isn't an option, but there must be more than one entrance.”

“Of course” Draco nodded, mind firmly back on the task at hand. “There’s a side door which leads into the kitchens. Once there, it will be easy enough to check the ground floor. I don't want to risk the upper stories if we can help it.”

Harry shrugged. “I trust you.”

They set off towards the house, sticking close to the boundary where the trees offered shadowy protection from prying eyes, Draco in front with Harry right behind. Occasionally, he could feel Harry brush against his body, and it was these accidental touches which fuelled his resolve and gave him strength.

“I feel like James Bond” Harry murmured at one point after they had been unsuspectingly pounced on by a stray peacock, causing Draco to wave his wand wildly at the creature, and Harry to tackle it. The creature had walked away unharmed, after a dignified ruffling of feathers and a evil glare at Harry.

“And that would be whom?”

“This make-believe character. He’s the most iconic spy in muggle culture, stealthy, bad-ass, and dressed perfectly in fantastic suits.”

“Only muggles would idolise a man who battles peacocks” Draco replied, confused, and the look Harry gave him made him think he hadn't quite understood. “That’s the entrance we want” he quietly said after a few minutes, stilling to point at a door set unobtrusively in the wall.

“Are you ready?”

“As I'll ever be. Let's go, and be quiet.” A quick sprint across the open grounds, and Draco was easing the door open before slipping inside, heart pounding as he hastily checked that the kitchen was empty.

“Nice place” Harry whispered in his ear, making Draco jolt.

“Not that anyone other than the house-elves use it.”

“Do we need to be worried about them?”

Draco hadn't thought about that, so intent on avoiding his father. “I think they are the least of our problems. Knowing my father, and how he treats them, they won't inform him unless he explicitly asks.”

Draco crossed the room, gingerly opening the door which led to the main hall. “Stealth, Potter. Channel your Jim Bond, or whoever.”

“James. Does that make you my Pussy Galore? My Honey Ryder? Or perhaps you’re more Octopussy?”

“Harry” Draco said stiffly. “I’ll be whoever the fuck you want me to be, as long as you shut up and concentrate on saving my mother.”

Harry grinned but fell silent after leaning to breath in Draco’s ear “That’s quite the promise.”

Draco closed his eyes, allowing himself a brief second to enjoy the feel of Harry’s breath on his exposed skin, the body heat which radiated from his proximity, the shiver down his sides and the quick tightening in his groin. “Later.”

They had made their way into his mother's parlour when they heard it; a contorted, warped cry that tainted the previously silent house, resonating through the destitute rooms and burying its way into Draco’s soul, a festering contamination igniting the pure panic that now laced through him. “The dungeons” Draco croaked, fear stilting his voice.

“Narcissa?” Harry asked lowly, hand cluched around the door frame.

“I can't take the chance that it is.”

“Lucius will be down there.” That much was evident. No human could have made that scream under normal circumstances.

“Then I face him.” Draco’s face was set in grim determination, hand clutching his wand. Harry caught his spare hand, thumb running quickly over the scar there.

“We face him.”

Draco shot Harry a quick look before nodding, his breathing strained as he prepared for the inevitable confrontation with the man who had ruined his childhood and tainted his life. He set off, no heed to secrecy any longer, his strides long and absolute as he led Harry to the entranceway of the dungeons.

“It’s been a while since I was here” Harry murmured emotionlessly, staring blankly down the darkened passage.

Draco instantly felt guilty. “I didn't even think, Harry. You don't need to come -”

“No.” Harry instantly cut Draco off. “I do. I won't let the past stand in the way of my present.”

Draco didn't argue. Apprehensively, he place a foot on the steps which descended into an inky black void, battling the memories barraging his conscience. No. He could do this, fight the demons that clung to his mind, the monster who lurked at the bottom of the steps.

He could do it; for his mother.

Taking a breath, he steadied himself. “Into the labyrinth we go.”

He could feel Harry behind him, the small touch at the small of his back. “Down into the rabbit hole.”

The descent to the dungeons seemed to take an eon, both men hyper-aware of the smallest of sounds and noises. Cold, musty air clung to their skin, although Draco could feel a cold sweat breaking out along his goosebumped flesh. Eventually the stairs ended, and Draco held Harry back with an arm. “All we have is the element of surprise. Knowing my father, he will toy with me first, but having you here might push him to act faster.” He couldn't see Harry’s reply in the dark but trusted that he understood.

Pushing open the metal gate that barred his entry, the cavernous space was revealed.

Torches lined the damp walls, their haphazard shadowy flicker the only light in the atramentous gloom. Chains hung menacingly from all corners, and Draco had to swallow the instinctual bile which rose just from looking at them. Cold. Pain. Torture. Perverted pleasure, distorted desire. Objurgation the least of his woes. A quiet shuffle, and his flashback was broken, an unbidden shiver the only sign of his internal war. At the center of the room a shape huddled on the floor, and he had to suppress a shout when he realised it was his mother.

Draco went to step forward but Harry pulled him back, silently pointing to where another figure had materialized from the murky recess.

“Well, my sweet. Are you enjoying your time down here?” Lucius’ voice carried through the barren room. “It must be gratifying, delightful even, to stand where to many others have, feel the pleasures that once rained upon them.”

Narcissa made no sound or movement, and the urge to protect her flared through Draco’s body like wildfire. “Whatever happens” he whispered to Harry. “Whatever happens, just let me deal with it. He’s mine to punish.”

Lucius continued. “I admit, I did expect more from you. Foolish, perhaps, most probably so. It should have been evident that you would put that traitor before your own husband.” It took Draco a moment to realise the traitor was him. “Alas, we all make mistakes, and this has been mine. Hopefully your stay will eradicate whatever traces of motherhood are still left.” Lucius turned, and Draco cringed back, spine against Harry even though he knew his father wouldn't be able to see them hidden in the dark of the staircase, the hand which wasn't holding his wand curling tightly around Harry’s.

Lucius paused before a section of wall, and Draco knew from experience what was kept there. Rows of potions lined the inbuilt shelves, their nefarious contents ranging in affect, yet each as evil as the last. After much debate, Lucius finally chose one and turned back to his wife. “Oh, yes” he purred lowly. “This shall do nicely. Do you know what it does, my beautiful Narcissa?” When no reply was forthcoming, he carried on. “One of Severus’ inspiring creations, if memory serves. You see, it causes the drinkers skin to become sensitive, unbearingly so, to the point that even the softest caress of a feather will be excruciatingly painful. Unfortunately for you, you refuse to rise from the floor, so this will hurt ever more. Some incentive, perhaps.

He uncorked the potion and Draco moved, surging forward with his wand raised, the only mantra in his head no, not now, not my mother. In hindsight, it would have been a perfect time for an epic catchphrase. Something along the lines of ‘halt fiend, your time is done!’ Or perhaps ‘Is this enough incentive for you, Father’ before he cast a caressing Crucio.

In reality, it was all he could do to stop his throat drying up, and still the fear shaking his body. He ran forward unthinkingly, towards his father, the only word voiced a desperate “Stop!”

It was enough, though, to still Lucius’ hand.

“Draco?” he asked, incredulous, and his calm mask twitched. “What a pleasant surprise.” He straightened, hand clasping the ornate end of his cane. “What brings you down here? Missing home? Its creature comforts?” The last part was said with a sneer.

“If by creature comforts you mean the daily rape and violation, then no, I don’t miss that.” Draco's wand was held at his side, and he saw the moment Lucius noticed it, the quick twitch of his eyebrow.

“May I ask how you procured your wand? I was under the impression it was unfortunately lost when Potter and his gang of misfits decided to escape via my ex house elf.”

Draco gave an undignified snort, an involuntary response to the fear circling his system. “You can ask, Father, but I’m not going to tell.”

“So I see you’re the obstinate brat you have always been.” Lucius’ tone held a sinister edge. “Obviously your time on the streets didn't teach you anything.”

“It taught me that there was more to life than your cock up my ass, or Voldemort’s love of muggle torture devices.”

“Don’t you dare say his name!” Lucius’ facade cracked, his face taut with fury. “You failed him, and threw the Malfoy name into the dust. You, and that bitch lying on the ground.” He delivered a swift kick to Narcissa’s side, before casting a quick Incarcerous at Draco, binding him totally and sending his wand skittering across the floor. “I see that you’re wand skills are as pathetic as ever.”

Draco struggled futilely against the ropes holding him captive. Once again - too many times - he felt as helpless as he always had, bound and defenseless, waiting for judge, jury, and executioner. He thought he had changed, started to overcome the obstacles his past had put before him, yet now, captive in the place that haunted his dreams, by the man who had ruined his childhood, he felt like the scared boy at Hogwarts.

The scared, pathetic whore from the streets.

“Cat got your tongue, Dràkon?” Lucius sneered, purposely using his mother’s pet name. “Why are you here, Draco? Did you think you could crawl back here, begging on your knees, and I would forget your past transgressions? You’re no son of mine. Just a whore. A pretty little whore who sucks filthy muggles off just so he can survive. Did you think I wouldn't know?”

“I think you would know all about me being a whore, considering you were the one who trained me.”

Lucius raised a delicate blonde brow. “I would watch your mouth, Draco. Or perhaps, watch your mother instead.” In a quick movement, he had one hand wrapped around Narcissa’s throat, pulling her face up so he could pour the forgotten potion down her throat. She coughed, sputtering.

“You fucking cunt!” Draco screeched, hands clawing desperately at the ropes. “I hate you. I fucking hate you! Harry!”

“Begging for Harry Potter to save you now, Draco? That’s low, even for you. Unfortunately, Potter’s dead, to the best of my knowledge, and no amount of screaming can wake the dead.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn't do for Draco, including rising from the sweet burn of Hell.” Harry walked casually forward, his stance loose and unhindered, as if out for a Sunday stroll and not caught facing off against Lucius Malfoy.

"Potter?” Lucius spat, yet for the first time there was fear in his eyes. “Hanging out, one whore to another, are you?”

Harry shrugged. “Something like that.” A low moan echoed through the room, a sound which rose in pitch until Narcissa was wailing, eyes closed and hands clutching at the air hysterically. “What did you do to her?” Harry asked, voice taking on a hard edge.

A smile played on Lucius’ lips. “Just a little potion. Severus’ recipe. Nothing she didn't deserve.”

“You’re nothing, Lucius.” Harry moved to stand beside Draco, brushing a hand along the curve of his back. “A coward who hides behind money and politics, builds himself up by raping children and innocents.” Potter’s hand came to rest against Draco’s back once again, making small up and down motions against the ropes. “Your son is twice the man you will ever be.”

“Does he suck you that good?” Lucius had let his guard down once it was evident Harry wasn't going to duel him. “Remember, Potter, I taught him everything he knows.”

“You didn’t teach me how to love” Draco interrupted fiercely. “That I managed on my own.”

“Was that before or after Dolohov had his way with you?” Lucius questioned sadistically. “Oh yes, I know all about that.” Something pressed into Draco’s palm, the stone, and he belatedly realised Harry had managed to cut his ropes. “May I see your Mark, Draco? I heard they made vast improvements to it.”

Lucius stepped forward, close, too close, and Draco cut him.

It was a wild slice through the air, his movement erratic, but the rock managed to connect with the side of Lucius’ face, a bright crimson streak instantly welling under the cut. “Wand, Draco!” Harry yelled, and Draco dived, propelling himself around his father, joy surging through him as his hand wrapped around the familiar length. Lucius had regained his stance, pulling his own wand own to point it straight at Harry. “You will regret ever setting foot in my House, Potter” he snarled.

“Expelliarmus!” Draco yelled, and Lucius’ wand sailed out of his hand, Harry catching it deftly. “Don't you dare, Father. Don't you dare point your wand at Harry.”

Lucius spat. “How far you’ve fallen, Draco. In bed with ‘The Chosen One’.”

“I fell, Father.” Draco took a step towards him. “I fell, and Harry caught me. Crucio!”

They say you have to really mean them, the three unforgivable curses. Unforgivable, because they required the user to feel no remorse, no hesitation, towards their chosen victim. Unforgivable, because once you had stepped off that edge, embraced the dark, there was no going back.

Or so they said.

Lucius dropped to the floor in agony, his mouth contorted in a horrifying O, body twisting and buckling in unnatural distortions. Eventually, Draco stopped, and Lucius collapsed, hands clutching uselessly at the stone beneath him. Draco stared impassively down at the pitiful form curled on the ground, and found he felt nothing but disgust at the vermin before him. “You're lucky I’m nothing like you, Father” he commented lowly. “If I was, I would kill you without a thought.” He turned to his mother, and Harry was already beside her, her screams having trailed off to broken whimpers. “Don’t touch her, Harry” he said, seeing Harry fluttering awkwardly. “There’s nothing we can do for her.”

“Draco” Harry’s voice was strained. “I don't know how to help her.”

“It will wear off. Eventually” Draco replied woodenly. His body, having been fueled with adrenaline, was coming down, his limbs felt heavy and his head foggy. He stumbled, and in an instant Harry was beside him, Narcissa forgotten as he watched Draco break down.

“You did it, Draco” Harry pressed a gentle kiss against Draco’s forehead. “You defeated him.”

Draco shook his head. “It was too easy, Harry. Nothing should be that easy. I don't trust him not to-”

“Your mistake was leaving me alive, Draco” rasped Lucius. Draco spun to face him, but it was too late, and all he saw was his father shakily raise his hand. “Avada-”

“Avada Kedavra!” A flash of green illuminated the room. Sharp, bright, lightning in the storm, and when it dispersed, Lucius was dead.

The stilling of time. One. Two, three.

Before it resumed.

“Draco. Mr Potter” Narcissa breathed, voice weak, and Lucius’ wand was held limply in her hand, scavenged from where Harry had dropped it not moments before.

The thing about the Unforgivable Curses, was that you had to mean them. Mean it, believe it, deep to your soul.

“What a pleasure to see you.”
- 11
- 12
- 13
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Make Me Bleed