Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

For the Want of a Nail	By : thewickednix Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4934 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. This is made for fun, not profit.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
Chapter 16. What are Little Boys Made of?

The interrogation draws on forever. I don't know if I'm more afraid of it to never end, or more terrified that it will.
Mother can't tell us much that I didn't know to begin with. Mostly she just rambles on about family values, looking at me with distaste. Reminding me that my treachery has forever separated me from my past life.
If it only were that easy.

She carries on in a monotone voice about family before all else, crime and punishment, and the shame and disgrace of bloodtraitors. As if Dumbledore and Shacklebolt were here to listen to that. As if they could ever understand it.
In my mind Mother's quiet words replay a series of those same lessons, those same rules. Those rules that were repeated again and again, followed by slaps or curses to punctuate the importance. Those rules now since long embedded in the core of my being, my very soul.
It's a good thing I no longer have one.
In my hand I hold the letters Mother received from Father. There are only four of them, in each Father's alias is a carpenter named Elias Floamy. But these letters contain no information, hidden or otherwise. Mr Floamy claims to be in excellent health, but beside that, no additional information is given. The last letter is dated on March 23d.
While Dumbledore and Kinglsey interrogate Mother, I silently try to make the letters reveal their hidden message. But nothing comes forth, no matter how many times I repeat old family mottos. I don't understand this.
Finally, I realise the room has gone quiet, and awake from my ponderings. I stand up just in time to watch Shacklebold spell a pair of handcuffs on to Mother. She clenches her jaw before she looks at me one last time, her cold face betraying no signs of fear for her fate. Then she turns away and follows Shacklebolt out through the door, disappearing from my life forever. I will never I forget that last accusing look she gave me. Still, somehow I feel proud over her perpetual pride, her ability to hold her armour into the very end. Mother is indeed a true Malfoy.
"I'm sorry, Draco." Dumbledore says, placing what he thinks is a comforting hand on my shoulder. I stand silent for a minute, fighting the urge to shrug the hand off me and scream at the Headmaster. He is not sorry at all. Yes, sorry that I suffer, but not sorry for Mother. It's all for the cause, he says. I finally find my feet again, and without a word to the Headmaster, I leave the room.

I just sent my own mother to Azkaban.

I step out into the dark corridor, and only now do I realise how late it is. The Golden Trio has long ago grown tired of waiting and left for their rooms. For some reason that thought makes me feel even worse.

My life will always be like this, I realise as I walk slowly up the stairs to the West Wing. Maybe I won't have to send everyone I know to Azkaban, but eventually I will have to say goodbye to them. Eventually they will all wither away and die, while I remain here. Unchanged. Unmoved. No matter what the outcome of this war is, no matter what we will have to sacrifice, I will be here to witness it.
Alone.

I stop cold in my steps outside my door. I stare in wonderment at the sleeping form leaning against the wall. This boy, lying here like a marionette with cut strings. This boy still so full with life.

Oh god, please don't let me have to watch him die.

I am just about to consider sneaking into my room without waking Potter, when the raven haired boy opens his eyes sleepily. He blinks a few times, then startles as his eyes focus and he realises I'm staring down at him.
"M-Malfoy!" Potter mumbles, standing up quickly. He looks at me warily, not certain of what to say. "I- How are you?" He looks at me with such sincerity, such suffocating empathy that I am disgusted.

I can't breathe.
"I don't want to talk about it," I growl, perhaps harsher than is necessary. I push past him, but he grabs my arm before I make it through the door.
"Malfoy, I-" Potter begins, eloquent as always. I stare at him numbly, forcing myself to form the words. "Just go, Potter." And I slam the door shut after me. I can't do this. I can't want him. Unfortunately, it's getting ever harder to deny the fact that I do. Want. Him.
I can't be alone. But I can't not be alone. If I let him into my life now, how will I cope when he leaves? Because we both know that eventually, he will.
Standing still in the middle of the floor, I keep wondering what to do with myself.

I need a shower.

Before I know how I got there, I am standing in the shower, clothes and all, the water scaling my skin.

God knows how long I've stood here. Time and space have long since disappeared. My robes are soaked through, as are my pants. Their weight keeps dragging me to the floor, yet it is nothing compared to the weight I feel on my shoulders. Nothing compared to the sinking feeling in my stomach. I stand completely still, staring straight ahead. And I wonder if I could stay forever like this, under the running water, in this mindless state. I feel myself falling, falling, and I wait with tremor for the moment when I hit bottom.
Then suddenly the bathroom door opens, and Potter steps inside. He stares at me quietly for a moment before he turns to close the door behind him. I open my mouth to tell him to leave, but no sound comes out. I close it again. Potter crosses the bathroom swiftly, kicking off his shoes and tossing his glasses into the sink as he does. He stops just out of range of the spraying water, just looking. I stare at him blankly, a thousand and none thoughts running through my head. I swallow and try again to speak.
"I told you to leave." I croak, my voice raw. Potter stares at me for another moment, before suddenly taking a step forward and putting his arms around me. My breath catches in my throat and my body goes rigid.
"You know I can't."
His voice is slow and quiet, just as broken as mine. It's too much. I shudder in his arms, fighting to get away. And though I am so much stronger, I can't fight him off. I fight and scream and growl, and still I can't get away. Potter only tightens his hold on me.
I can't. We can't- This can't- I...
I can't be alone.

The tears start rolling. I make a last attempt to push Potter away, but somehow I end up pulling him closer instead. I bury my head into the crook of his neck, and tell myself he won't know I'm crying 'cause his clothes are already soaked. As I relax, I expect Potter to, too. But he only tightens his hold, letting me know he's here. And I know. I cling to him like a drowning man, sobbing silently into his shoulder, my fingers tearing through the fabric of his shirt. And I think that maybe just this once, maybe just for one night, I could let go. Maybe just for one night, I could forget.
I pull away slightly, raising my head and staring at the boy in font of me. Potter looks back at me through soaked strands of hair, his hue pale and his eyes glistening behind wet eyelashes. His nose is wet and flushed, and a small drop of water has gathered on his upper lip. I reach up slowly and wipe it away with my thumb, the palm of my hand gracing Potter's cheek. A pink tongue darts out to flicker over his lips, and finally my resolve vanishes.
I lean towards Potter slowly, giving him a generous amount of time to rethink the situation and get the hell out of here. But he doesn't move, and barely allows himself to take a quick intake of breath before I press my lips to his. He relaxes immediately in my arms, sliding his hands up my arms to my shoulders. The kiss is slow and sweet and tentative, such a kiss that you read about in romantic 19th century novels.
I keep still as Potter's hands run over my body; in my hair, over my face, down my neck. But when he gets to my chest, he freezes. He pulls away from the kiss slowly, leaving me to stare at him in agony. I knew this was too good to be true.
But to my surprise, Potter makes no attempt to leave. He only takes a small step back, a deep furrow between his brow, and keeps staring at my chest.
"Potter, wha-" I begin, but my words are cut off like my thoughts when Potter reaches forward and starts unbuttoning my robes. His fingers work over the buttons efficiently, and soon the black cloth is sliding over my shoulders and onto the floor. Without a word of explanation, Potter then continues with my white collar shirt. Once he is finished, he slides his right hand under my shirt and presses it flat against my chest. I shudder at the contact of skin against skin. Potter stares at his hand in deep concentration for a minute before he looks up to my questioning face.
"...You don't have a heartbeat."

___________________________________________________________________

"....You don't have a heartbeat." I utter, unable to believe the truth in what I am saying. I stare at Malfoy, waiting frantically for him to deny it. He doesn't.
"No. I don't." he answers warily, as if expecting me to run off at any moment.
I keep staring at him in silence. It's not that I didn't know that vampires are as close as you can get to being the living dead. I know that they don't sweat, that they don't bleed. But to think of Malfoy as dead... I just can't.
He is standing here in front of me, I can feel his chest rising beneath my hand as he breathes, he is touching me... How can he not be alive? How can I have lost him before I even had him?
In a crazy fit of denial I throw my hands around the blonde boy and kiss him for all I'm worth. I press myself against him, clawing at his shirt to get it off him. As he tentatively starts to lift the hem of my sweater, his hands sliding against my back, I feel enormous relief. As long as he keeps moving, as long as we keep moving, he can't be anything but alive. No matter what anyone else says. No matter the condition of his heartbeat.
His soaked collar shirt clings to his body as I fervently fight to tug it down his arms. Finally Malfoy lets go of me to do it himself, sloppily throwing his shirt into the corner of the shower. I can't slow down enough to stop kissing him and actually look at him, I just run my hands all over his naked chest and back. Memorizing the skin beneath my fingers.
Malfoy starts tugging my sweater off me, only breaking the kiss to pull the cloth over my head. My T-shirt goes next. Once I am free from it I hurriedly throw my arms around Malfoy's neck, ravaging his mouth. He returns the kiss with such furiousness that his strength makes me take a few steps back out through the shower. I shudder at the cold air away from the hot water, and Malfoy breaks the kiss to look at me with concern. I ignore his expression and lean past him to shut off the shower. As I turn back, my eyes flicker over the bathroom door. I look back at Malfoy, seeing the usual doubt and resistance ever growing in his eyes. I reach out and wove a hand into his hair, pulling his face to me for a deep kiss.
"Don't think," I whisper against his lips, and start pulling him towards the door, my lips never leaving his. Malfoy follows slowly but obediently, and we enter his bedroom, leaving puddles of water on our trail. Crossing the floor our kisses grow ever more frantic, more desperate. Only when I haul Malfoy down on top of me on the bed does he stop and pull away. He looks down at me, water dripping from his hair onto my skin. He breathes heavily, staring at me for a long moment.
"...This is lunacy," he finally murmurs, but makes no attempt to move away. I smile at him and his morals, still trying to convince himself that this is wrong. Even when it's so clear that we both want it.
"I don't care," I answer him, pulling him down to me for a heated kiss. He doesn't resist anymore. Malfoy runs his hands down my chest, his nails scraping my skin slightly. I shiver at the surprising thrill the added sensation brings. He reaches my jeans, hooking his fingers on the hem of them. I let out a gasp of apprehension, and Malfoy chuckles against my lips. I suddenly wonder how many times he's done this.
The thought is gone with the wind as soon as Malfoy breaks the kiss again to start unbuckling my belt. He tugs the over-sized jeans down my legs without even having to unbutton them. To my surprise though Malfoy leans back to continue kissing me, making no attempt to remove my boxer shorts. Slightly irritated I manoeuvre myself so I can reach the top of his trousers, unbuttoning and unzipping them rapidly. Malfoy breaks the kiss with a gasp and stares down at me.
"Potter, are you- ...What-" he rambles, obviously uncertain of how to present his question. I take a deep breath and meet his gaze with seriousness.
"I want this," I begin, before raising my hips against Malfoy's, causing him gasp loudly. "And I can feel that you want it, too." I smirk as Malfoy fails to deny what we both know is true. Before his paralyzing astoundness of my bluntness takes off, I hurry to pull his trousers down to his knees. Surprisingly enough he gives, and proceeds to kick them off all the way. Hands on my hips again, he tugs at the hem of my boxers and gives me a questioning look. I take a nervous breath but smile encouragingly.
Malfoy pulls my boxers down my legs slowly, before moving to remove his own, leaving us both as naked as the day we were born. He then lies down completely on top of me, kissing me firmly but sweetly. The air is cool against my skin, but that is not the cause of my shuddering. I run my trembling hands all over Malfoy's body, over his strong back, his arse, and his long legs. Everywhere I can possibly reach, feeling for every second more grateful that I am alive to feel this.
But I need more. More than touching Malfoy and kissing him and feeling his body against mine. Just... More.
Breaking the kiss, I meet Malfoy's questioning gaze. It takes a minute for me to be able to collect the words. "Please... I want- I need you." I plead, hoping that he will understand without me having to say it out loud. Malfoy's eyes widen, and stops breathing for a minute. Then he slowly manoeuvres his legs between mine, looking back at me without looking convinced that I am serious. To clarify my desire I swiftly wrap my legs around him, my heels digging into his back and jerking him towards me roughly. He gasps loudly at the sudden contact, my own voice echoing his.
I almost chuckle with relief when Malfoy then finally moves to kneel beneath my thighs. I shudder as I hear a whispered lubrication charm, and feel a cool finger seek its way beneath my legs and circle around my entrance. Malfoy looks at me for assurance, and I nod breathily, not trusting my voice to speak. He smiles as his finger then slowly enters me, and I can only lie here trembling as my body gets used to the alien sensation.
Before I know it, a second, then a third finger is added, and I am shuddering with pleasure and apprehension. I don't know how much more I can take before-
"...Draco, please-" I croak, and his eyes flicker to me immediately at the mention of his first name. He stretches me a little more, and smiles as I gasp and throw my head back. "Oh fuck! ...Now!" I gasp. A disappointed moan escapes my lips when he withdraws his fingers, but I draw a deep breath as I feel something else breach me. I clench my eyes shut but can't fight the pained groan that escapes me as I feel flesh slowly give in. But the sound of Malfoy's breathy groan reaches my ears, and I smile into the darkness. When Malfoy is fully sheathed I feel his cool lips against mine, and I open my eyes. He smiles at me softly, before starting to move slowly. In spite of the burn a flaming pleasure start building up, and soon I am moaning ceaselessly.
Malfoy seems encouraged by my moans and speeds up. Then he changes the angle slightly and were he not lying on top of me I'm sure I would have jumped through the roof. Hundreds of electric pulses run through my body and I can but groan. "Oh god... fuck...!"
I meet Malfoy's gaze as he keeps moving in me. His steel gray eyes are blazing intently, staring hungrily down at me. He looks so calm, so content, so completely focused on me and me alone that I feel like my heart is going to burst. I feel the emotions gathering in me with every stroke, reaching higher and higher and higher until I feel as if I'm on the edge of the earth. Then I see Malfoy's lips moving softly, and his dark voice pierces the room.
"...Harry!" he pants.
The sound of my name on his lips echoes in my head as I come, shouting out and my body bucking beneath his. I tremble violently as I feel him drive into me hard one last time. A breathy growl escapes him as I feel him fill me, before his arms give way and he falls down upon me. Wrapping my limbs around him I let the aftershocks run through me. I breath in the musky scent of his skin. My head is spinning and in this breathtaking, ecstatic moment I feel as though the world is turning in these sheets. A content sleepiness begins to take over me, and I relax down on the bed.
Malfoy too stops trembling eventually. After a long while he slides off me, but only to lie down beside me. He pulls the blanket over our cooling bodies and lays his arm over my chest. He plants sleepy kisses on my collar bone, while his fingers play affectionately with my hair. Exhausted and half asleep, I turn my head to look at him. I watch the clear lines of his face, his taut mouth, the pale eyelashes on his closed eyes. I realise that this moment, all we are in this moment, is all I ever want to be. I tighten my arms around him, and from my lips he draws the words.
"I love you."
- 15
- 16
- 17
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

For the Want of a Nail