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.

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Harry had sauntered off soon after their argument, muttering something along the lines of ‘heal the wounds?! Fucking heal the wounds... no idea’ and Draco had gone to investigate his temporary lodgings, needing to be out of the kitchen immediately.

Regulus’ room deemed to be distraction enough for Draco, allowing him to stop obsessively replaying his previous actions towards Harry. The young man had lived up to his name, the room finished in a colour scheme one could only describe as black. Taking stock of the room properly for the first time, he noticed an assortment of strange items littered throughout the room, haphazard piles resting precariously against any free surface. Draco bent to pick up a tarnished silver cup that rested by his foot, dropping it with with a start when he felt the dark magic thrum through him.

“The whole house is probably teeming with dark artefacts. Aunt Bella would have loved it” Draco muttered to himself testily as he gingerly picked his way through the room, being careful not to step on anything. “Fuck the psychotic bitch to hell.” He would have to clear a path through the wreckage as soon as possible or he would find himself cursed with the first slip of his mind.

Harry had said he was free to do with the room as he wish, but Draco was hesitant to start making changes. Not so much because he didn't trust Potter to keep his word, but more that Draco didn't trust himself to not fuck up the opportunity like he had every other olive branch he’d been offered. The self harm; well, that was a different story. What had triggered Potter to move from self mutilation to seeking out Draco was unknown, but that step in itself meant Harry was falling deeper, rather than healing.

Draco had his own issues embedded deep within his psyche, never mind the whole herd of skeletons in the closet. He was the last person who should be fixing the Boy Who Lived when Draco’s own title could be the Boy Who Didn't. Still. There was something so fundamentally wrong about seeing Potter broken and bleeding, shunning the pedestal that Draco could have sworn he longed to grace. Harry had compared the two of them, saying that they weren't so different, but Draco failed to see how a homeless ex Death Eater turned whore, devoid of even a wand, was anything like the other man. Yet maybe the redemption of Harry Potter would be the last nail in the wood; proof that Draco had paid enough and that it was time to move on.

Draco needed to go back and find the tipping point that had sent the Golden Boy falling off the edge; somehow erase the compulsion resting inside Potter to pay for his so-called sins.

He had an awful feeling that he was going to have to make Potter bleed again, and this time not just in blood.

Crossing the room to the bed, Draco sat down, running a hand absently over the faded cover, the material feeling like the softest cashmere after years of coarse rags. His hand brushed against something small and solid tangled in the sheets. Being mindful of the cursed cup he gingerly edged it out from under the mess of blankets, his fingers freezing as his eyes touched on the tarnished metal.

A Slytherin house ring.

He was eleven and due to start Hogwarts in a month. “Draco” his father had spoke softly, entering his room. “I have something of the utmost importance to speak to you about.”

Draco sat up in his bed, the covers pooling delicately around his young frame. “Yes f...father?” he had stammered, fervently hoping that this wouldn't be another one of his father’s ‘lessons’.

Lucius had come to sit on the edge of the bed. “You know what this means, I hope, Draco?” he had asked, holding out his hand where a ring had sat heavy on his finger.

“It’s the Slytherin ring father. Given to only the most deserving of wizards and witches to grace the Slytherin house” he replied, parroting the information he had grown up with.

“Do you think I am deserving of this ring, Draco?”

“Of course father” he had dutifully answered, still young enough to believe his father hung the moon and his mother was the most perfect woman ever born.

“Kiss it, Draco. Kiss the ring.” Draco had stared up for a second with wide eyes before quickly darting forward to kiss his father’s ring. His father had studied him for a long minute before slipping the piece of jewellery off his finger. He cast a quick spell on the room before turning back to his son. “Get undressed, please, Draco. That’s a good boy” he hummed as Draco silently complied, tears threatening to spill. “And no crying now. Malfoy's don't show emotion.”
Draco had turned to his father, small body shaking as he tried to cover his now naked form. Lucius had sneered before batting Draco’s hands away to reveal himself. “Don’t be silly, Draco. Now, take my ring and get onto your hands and knees.”

“Pardon, father?” Draco hesitantly questioned.

“Take it, Draco” Lucius had hissed, thrusting it into his son’s hands before he cast a spell forcing small limbs into the desired position. Choking on a cry, Draco felt his father’s hand smooth down the soft skin of his hip. “For this lesson I want you to look at the ring. The whole time, no taking your eyes off it. Perhaps it will serve as a reminder once you enter Hogwarts how real men act, prompt you to remember what this family expects of you when you are undoubtedly placed in Slytherin. And the consequences if you do not perform up to standard.

His father had moved his hand to Draco’s arse cheeks, spreading the delicate flesh before letting out a small grunt and thrusting into his son, his own robes hastily pushed aside. Draco had spent the night staring blankly at the ring held in his hands as his father fucked him and cooed at the blood running slick around his dick.

It wasn't the first time his father had violated him.

It wasn't the last.

Draco was pulled out of his sick flashback to find himself being shaken roughly, his eyes flashing open and a strangled gasp forced from his mouth. On instinct he pulled his body in, tucking his limbs close and wrapping his arms around his legs in an attempt to protect himself.

“Draco” Potter spoke softly, as if Draco was a small animal, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. He reached his hand towards Draco and he flinched, clambering back till his spine was pressed against the headboard. Harry’s brow furrowed and Draco took a deep breath, bringing himself back to the present and attempting to clear himself of the memory the ring had triggered.

“Fuck!” Draco yelled in frustration, the terror fading only to be replaced by helplessness. “This is fucking bullshit.” He let out a pained groan, uncurling his body before finally meeting the gaze he could feel burning a hole in the side of his head.

“I was just walking past, you were panting and gasping. You wouldn't fucking snap out of it, thought I was going to have to slap you.”

“I’m sorry my uncontrollable flashbacks irritate you” Draco snapped. Sighing, he ran his fingers through still damp hair, misunderstanding what Harry was saying from the state he was in. “I’ll go now” he said awkwardly, eyes darting away to rest on the door. “Thank you for the shower.”

“Where are you going?” Harry shot out quickly, in what was almost a panic.

“Back. I can’t help it if shit triggers me, but luckily you don't need to witness it.”

“I don't care about fucking panic attacks, or whatever the hell that was, Draco. Don’t you think that would be a little hypocritical if I did? Anyway, isn't here better than selling yourself?”

“Maybe I like it, Harry. Maybe that's what I deserve” he stated in resignation. “Why do you care so much? Not like I have any virtue left to protect, and you don't do the hero thing any more. Apparently” he added under his breath.

“I never denied having my own reasons” Harry replied darkly.

“Right. Bleed.” Draco laughed bleakly. “You know, Harry, you really got the short end of the stick. I get to stay here, provided with clothes, water, roof, a bed, and all I have to do in return is a few cuts.” He didn't mention how hard those cuts were to perform. “I mean, shit. I would have sucked you, fucked you, and bleed you just to have a place to stay. Imagine that. Your own live in whore.” Draco wasn't sure why he was insisting on speaking the bitter words; instinct to degrade himself and diminish his worth a constant need.

“You’ve been treated hard enough” Harry spoke quietly, his voice oddly rough.

“More like you don’t want a filthy Death Eater who’s been fucked by The Dark Lord. Save it, Harry, I neither want nor need your pity, and if I was you, I wouldn’t fuck me either.”

Harry was silent, still perched awkwardly on the edge of the old mattress, his thumb gently tracing over his wrist in a movement Draco was starting to recognise. “What happened to it?” he finally asked, and Draco had to strain to hear the soft words.

“To what?” he asked, honestly confused.

“Your mark. I saw it in the shower. What happened to it?”

Draco clenched, arm drawing back instinctively to hide behind his back. “It’s the Dark Mark, Potter. It’s never been pretty.”

“You know what I mean, Draco.” Harry was staring intently at his arm, as if he could will Draco’s sleeve to disintegrate on the spot and reveal his ruined flesh for all to see.

“Acid.” Potter looked up, alarmed at Draco. “Fire, then Acid.”

“Who?” Harry all but breathed out.

“Me. And then them. Now, leave it.”

*
Somewhere in the house, someone was screaming.

A resonant, tortured howl that emanated from deep within the body; a symphony of anguish wrenched from the darkest cavity that rested within the soul. Low and guttural, it seemed to seep into the innermost bowels of Draco’s existence, shredding its way through his very core, leaving him gasping in torment.

Flinging himself out of bed, Draco ran, searching for the concinnity of pain that was radiating throughout the house. Yanking open a door, Draco stumbled towards a thrashing Harry, shaking him roughly and ripping a strangled gasp from his mouth as he sat up abruptly in bed, arms already fumbling beside him as though searching for something.

“Harry, you were screaming… fuck I just heard this sound and I-” Draco was stammering, words spilling out of his mouth in the face of horror, but Harry was louder, his voice drowning out Draco’s feeble words.

“Bleed me. Bleed me, Draco. You need to bleed me, cut me, mark me, scar me, bleed me, need to bleed, Draco, make me bleed-” Harry lunged frantically at Draco, grabbing his hands and pulling him roughly onto the bed, cutting off his frenzied chant as he shakily presented his wrists to Draco. “Now, Draco, do it now, please. I need it.”

“You’ve already done it this morning! And I can’t, not after that-”

“You said you would!” Harry interrupted hysterically, eyes wild as they flicked from Draco’s face to his wrists and back up, fist clutching the blade Draco could only assume he had been looking for before. “Why do you question it?!”

Draco sagged, all fight leaving his body as he stared at Harry’s broken form. Silently holding out his palm he felt the deceptively insignificant weight of the blade drop onto it, and he disjointedly wondered why it didn’t feel heavier when it held life and death in its steel.

Harry closed his eyes, faintly murmuring “cut after cut after cut” under his breath as Draco gently ran the pad of his thumb over the ruined flesh of Harry’s wrist. As quickly and efficiently as he could, he pulled the blade as hard as he dared over the skin, A to B, repeating the movement on the other wrist.

“Down, not across” Harry quietly chastened, but the slits were complete and blood was already starting to seep hypnotically down his wrists. Draco stared numbly as Harry sighed, languidly stretching a wrist out to inspect it before running his tongue over both cuts. “Thank you, Draco” Harry said, his words almost but not quite slurred. Draco left the room quietly, getting back into his own bed while futilely attempting to keep his inner demons away.
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Make Me Bleed