Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Curse	By : Samaelthekind Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 2828 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: JK Rowling's Harry Potter series and its associated works and characters are not mine, and I do not profit from their use!

Chapter List
- 1-The Curse
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 1
- 2
- 3
The Curse(Part 2) by Samayel

The tea was a common store-bought brand and Draco sniffed in vague displeasure at the swill. He really shouldn't have expected any better from a Muggle-born witch known for her love of solitude and privacy, but still, his nerves needed stiffening and this would barely do the trick. The kitchen was a shambles like the rest of the house, cups and saucers and plates and bowls scattered about on surfaces, with books and notes and papers shoved haphazardly among the debris. The chairs and table were the sort of cheap things usually found at sales when someone was moving out of their flat and hadn't any room to move their things...a hodgepodge of unmatched wooden and plastic seating that really added to the sense of chaos and disregard for appearances Draco recognized as symptomatic of a true hermit.

"Get on with it. I'm busy with my research. I don't have all day for this, and if you have any complaints about my sense of décor...keep them to yourself, I couldn't care less what you think." Hermione flopped gracelessly into the chair across the table from Draco with a cup of tea for herself in hand, clearly aware of his disrespect for her chosen surroundings.

"Farthest thing from my mind," Draco lied glibly, "I'm in favor of getting this done with as quickly as possible, too, but just remember...it's my tale to tell, and I want to tell it all, my way, and it might take a little time to work my way to all the salient details. You probably won't like some of it, and I understand that, but I'm asking you to indulge me and not interrupt with constant pleas for me to leave parts out. Questions are fine, but all of this gets told or none of it. You aren't just the only possible candidate to help me fix this matter...you should feel privileged. You'll be witness to my confession. I don't need absolution...or want it...but someone should know how this all came about. That someone will be you. Your reputation suggests that you'll keep my confidences to yourself. As odd as it might sound coming from me...and don't think for a second that I'm unaware of the irony...I trust you, Granger. You're Gryffindor right down to your mismatched socks. You aren't one to betray a person who deals with you in complete honesty."

Hermione looked a little put off by the candor and the compliment. "You're buttering me up. None of this changes the deal. I want my apology when you finish. But fine...tell it your way...whatever that is. The teapot's full. I can't imagine you feeling the need to confess much of anything. I'm all ears."

Draco steeled himself and sipped at the tea. This was really happening, and while he'd prepared himself for the notion of it, the reality of baring his soul was still strange and discomforting in the extreme.

"It starts like this...I stumbled onto Potter in the most unlikely of places, which is probably part of why he was there. You already know a bit about my habits...I see the papers stacked up here and there. I seem to be a favorite when it comes to salacious gossip. Not all of it's true, but enough that you get the idea. I'm not the least ashamed of liking what I like. Sex isn't fun unless there are bruises...pain is reality, suffering is part of life. Some people in this world hunger for that pain...it gives them a moment of clarity...lets them expiate their sins. And just like there are some people born to need that pain...there are people like me who are made to give it. It's what I do...and I enjoy it.

My kind of habits make relationships of any length a challenge...to say the least. Typically, I make use of someone until they move on. No coercion. They get what they need, and I get what I need. There are a few bars that cater to my specialized interests. It's why I came to London in the first place. The luxurious isolation of the Malfoy Estate didn't really suit me. About five months ago my previous partner finally drifted off...which seems to happen a lot. I can't even say why, since I can't recall asking much about his personal life, or caring about it for that matter. It's enough to say that the kind of young fellows I favor usually aren't given to great stability. It became necessary to make a few sojourns to the bars and find myself a new toy. That's how I found him.

The place was an appalling dive, really the bottom of the barrel when it comes to bars. I may not like it, but it does attract the desperate and the destitute. The kind of boys who frequent it usually leave with someone who can deliver the sort of chastisement they're looking for...someone like me. I made my way to the bar, took a seat and asked for a drink...and while I surveyed the line of persons already present I measured them up. They usually fall into the two obvious categories...they sort who prefer to give pain, to dominate, to punish...and the ones who are looking for us. You wouldn't have recognized him...I almost didn't at first. He had all the hallmarks of my 'type'. Piercings every which way, one on either side of his lower lip, in his eyebrows, his ears, his nose...and in his nipples. He was decked out in a tartan kilt and black fishnet, with his hair dyed an eye stabbing shade of violet. Skinny, too. He was already being chatted up some..."

Hermione interrupted his monologue for the first time with an air of incredulity. "Seriously...you're telling me Harry was covered in piercings...wearing fishnet...and with violet hair??"

"That's not the half of it. He was smeared in cheap black kohl around the eyes, black lipstick, black nail polish that was badly chipped and needed a recoat. A few bits of tarty jewelry here and there...spiked dog collar with a handy place to get a leash onto it if you wanted. He all but screamed submissive and into pain. A radical departure from the familiar Potter of old...but it certainly explains how he's stayed off the Wizarding scene for so long. Who'd even think to look twice at another gutter punk in London? I was a bit floored at first. The scar was barely visible through the mass of hair and the poor lighting, but I caught a glimpse and knew it was him.

Imagine the temptation. I couldn't resist. To be perfectly candid, humbling him figured prominently in some of my most treasured fantasies. It was too good to pass up. Of course I had to get the cretin who was pouring drinks into him out of the way first...and when I walked up and interrupted I earned the instant enmity of the fellow. Mind like butter, though, so it wasn't a long issue. A little magical nudge and he suddenly developed an irresistible urge to find the nearest policeman and punch him. Probably still in the clink...which is all for the better in my book. Very low class character, which doesn't say much for the company Potter was keeping these days.

Still, it did suggest attainability, which worked in my favor. As you can imagine, Potter wasn't too pleased to recognize me, and he wasn't very amused by my getting rid of what was apparently a 'regular' date of his. Obviously, bringing him around wasn't going to be easy. He was stand offish to say the least, but the promise of another string of free drinks got him to tolerate my presence. Again, my honest opinion, he looked rough. Not in an intimidating way, he was never a large one, but rather he looked like he'd been living on starvation rations and cigarettes for too long. You could see his ribs easily through that fishnet shirt of his, and frankly the smell coming off of him said he needed a decent wash. As a general rule, poor hygiene doesn't do much for me, but it was Potter, so I was willing to tolerate a lot to get what I wanted. He looked frayed around the edges, like rope that had been put to too much use for too long. Even so, I wanted him.

Five whiskeys later I had him. It took a lot of fast talking, keeping my cool demeanor and heavily implying that I could deliver all the pain he needed, better than the best he'd had, and that treating him like garbage would be a walk in the proverbial park for me. I wasn't lying...I am confident in my abilities and my experience...it was just a matter of convincing him of that. Our first encounter was in the alleyway behind the pub, and I used him like the pathetic cast off thing he was. I left some marks, but not a fraction of what I could do if I had time and leisure in a place more suited to privacy. I left him bruised and used, with my number and told him to ring me up if he needed more like that, but with the promise that anything done with planning would be infinitely more intense.

Not to make light of it, but I have to admit, however crudely it was done in that alley, it was glorious. I've never savored anything the way I enjoyed that moment. Granger...if I live to be two hundred...I will never forget how excellent it was to find release buried to the hilt in Potter's arse during a rough spit fuck in that alleyway. Grinding his face into the bricks and using him like the cheap tart he'd made himself out to be...was as close to a religious experience as I've ever had. The odd thing about it was what I'd noticed from him. He didn't 'respond' the same way others had. Not like any of them. The body tenses during times like those...it's normal...it's how people respond to violence even when they desire it. These are primal reflexes I'm talking about...purely involuntary. The difference was that unlike all the others, he was a tense and miserable mess until we started...and by the time I was finished and ready to saunter off...he looked like the cat that had got the cream. Even during the act...he relaxed at a level I've never seen before. Not...acceptance...more like relief. And I've seen relief when it was over...just never in the middle of it all.

In any case, I chalked it up to his being a natural, somehow ideally suited for life as a submissive. I admit, the thought certainly pleased me, but even then, something didn't ring true. I had the nagging feeling there was more to it than that, but mostly I hoped he'd ring me up sometime and let me show off what I can do when I have more than a dirty alley to work with. It took awhile, and it's embarrassing to admit, but this is a confession after all...so yes, I was eager to hear his voice on the other end of the phone. After that night, what I wanted most of all was entirely clear to me: I wanted him and nothing less. I wanted to shake his calm, push him farther than anyone had ever taken him, vent every wickedness I'd ever dreamed up on a single chastened being...Potter."

Hermione looked thoroughly repulsed by the relish with which Draco was delivering his tale of ardor. She'd averted her eyes at points and focused carefully on the teacup and its contents. She shook her head. "What is this nonsense? This is bragging, not a confession, Malfoy. Do you really expect me to believe that Harry is wandering London as a goth punk with a fetish for submission to sexual violence...and enjoys it? Your lurid fantasies are sorry enough, but if you think dragging Harry into the story will finally get you an audience..."

Draco put his hand up. "Remember what I said at the beginning of this...you may not like the gory details, but there is a curse at work here, and I barely understand it even now that I'm sure it exists, but hear me out and let me work through the rest of this before I lose my nerve. I may enjoy telling parts of this, but I haven't even scratched the surface of it all. If I weren't certain that time was running out, I'd be content with things as they are...perhaps...or maybe not. It's complicated, Granger. As much as a black and white, good and evil, right and wrong world is a favorite view of Gryffindors, I think you're more than clever enough to know that this world is a place with many shades of gray. I'm not lying. May I continue?"

"As you wish." Hermione's jaw was set with determination. Draco sipped at the tea to wet his throat, took a deep breath and began again.

TBC
- 1
- 2
- 3
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

The Curse