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Nova Cupiditas	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 37321 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am not making any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
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Chapter Five�Five
Fingers On a Hand

�� Harry
caught his breath and looked around. The place they were standing wasn�t
particularly desolate; it had some trees and the ground rose beneath his feet.
He could hear the restless sound of wind on water somewhere near, too. It was
probably a place that a lot of people would like to live.

�� But for
some odd reason, it made him feel as if he had ice water in his vertebra. He
drew his wand and turned in a circle, trying at one and the same time to look
out for danger and to make sure that he wasn�t stepping on any evidence or
clues that Draco might need.

�� Draco had
already broken away from Harry and was stooping down next to what might have
been a firepit. He ran his fingers through the grass there and then cocked his
head, listening intently. When a murderer�s smile wrinkled his lips, Harry
started to wonder whether this revenge idea had been the best after all.

�� This is something Draco needs, he
reminded himself. I have to remember what
he�s suffering under this curse, and that he might not have listened to or
cooperated with me at all if I had tried to deny him. This won�t really change
the progress of the curse, but it will make him feel better.

�� I thought
so,� Draco said quietly. �They couldn�t resist the temptation to have a
symbolic fire.�

�� Harry
frowned. He hadn�t heard that phrase either when he was in Auror training or
afterwards. �What do you mean?�

�� Draco
turned towards him and extended his hand. His fingers were dotted with ash.
Harry sniffed, but had to admit that he couldn�t smell or see anything strange
about it. It just looked like the usual thick grey stuff to him. After thinking
for a minute, he said so.

�� Draco shook
his head. �Perhaps it was foolish to think you would know it,� he said. �This
is Dark magic. They fed the fire with something that would make it burn
brighter than normal, to terrify me and to hide their faces even more
effectively. You�ll have no night vision left after looking at a fire like that.
But there�s something else. The fire itself is an instrument of their
vengeance. It�ll make the curses cast that night seem to cut deeper, if not
deeper in reality. And it increases the prisoner�s mood of despair.�

�� Harry
blinked. �Are you sure? I thought these were Muggleborn fanatics. It seems
strange that they would do something that they would associate with
pure-bloods.�

�� Draco stared
at him. �This curse I�m under was originally developed by pure-bloods,� he
said, every word cut into the air so sternly that Harry could practically touch
it. �Why would they disdain to use something else Dark, as long as it served
their purpose?�

�� Harry had
to bow his head in acknowledgment of that, though he disliked it. Draco turned
his head away and walked back to the firepit.

�� There�s
another property that symbolic fires like this have, and one they don�t tend to
know,� he added, a leaven of satisfaction in his voice. �The fire holds and
reflects the memories of what happened around it that night�and when it burns
out, the memory remains in the ashes. That is
something that the pure-bloods would be most likely to know.�

�� He dropped
to one knee and swept up more of the ash. Then he reached out a commanding hand
without looking at Harry. �This does need blood, Potter, and it doesn�t matter
whose. Are you going to prove as good as your word?�

�� Harry
gritted his teeth. He didn�t know why Draco had suddenly turned to challenging
and doubting him, unless the sight of the fire and the other clues that Draco
was probably spotting around him affected him powerfully by bringing the memory
back. But Harry turned and cut into his arm without answering, and then showed
the bleeding wound to Draco.

�� It took
Draco a moment to notice. When he did lift his head, his eyes were distant. He
seemed to have traveled a long way into himself, although as far as Harry knew,
he hadn�t actually cast the spell yet.

�� Ah,� Draco
said. �There.� And not a word of thanks did he give as he dipped his wand into
Harry�s blood and combined it with the ash.

�� Harry
rolled his eyes and turned his back to stare out into the countryside again.
There was always the chance that he might spot something Draco had overlooked.
Besides, he didn�t think he wanted to see what Draco did next.

*

�� Draco
hissed beneath his breath. Potter had grown unaccountably obstinate since they
came here. Or perhaps he had started to become that when Draco cast the spell
to bring them here. Did he resent that he didn�t get to play a part in that
procedure? Of course, it must be unusual for him, with his strange magical
field, to see other people having knowledge and performing spells that he
couldn�t.

�� Draco
sneered and trickled the blood through the ashes, then tapped his wand against
the mixture. It was the use of blood that made this spell complicated; the
incantation was quite simple. �Flamma,�
he commanded.

�� The ash and
the blood between them produced a sound like a cackling laugh and gave birth to
a flame rather like the one that had sprung up in the silver bowl from the
mixture of his blood and the salt. Draco avoided breathing or touching it by
sitting back on his heels and tilting his hands away. The newborn fire splashed
into the firepit and grew rapidly.

�� Draco
stared in fascination. He had heard of this spell before, and it was working as
promised, but he had never seen it performed. When the flames of the fire froze
and turned utterly black, so that the pit seemed filled with shards of
obsidian, he quivered and licked his lips.

�� The glassy
flames gleamed with reflections. Draco could see faces he didn�t know coming
and going back and forth, and then the image of himself writhing there, his
head tilted back as he tried to break free, tried to scream.

�� He did his
best to ignore that part, and focus on the leader, who he remembered as
standing back from the fire and to the side. The fire would show everything
that had happened in its range, sooner or later, so all he had to do was wait.

�� Assuming, of course, that the leader ever
took off his hood while he was near the fire.

�� Draco shook
his head. He would try to concentrate on the flames and the reflections that
blazed there.

�� Despite the
sweat dripping down the back of his neck. Despite the way his fingers shook,
which was something that hadn�t happened to him so far. Despite the sudden rush
of his breath in and out of his lungs, which made no sense to him and caused
him to put a hand, shuddering, over his face.

�� Draco?�

�� Potter was
somewhere nearby. That was a good thing. Draco blinked through the sweat and
dropped his hand. He wouldn�t be able to see the leader�s reflection in the
black flames if he wasn�t seeing.

�� Potter
crouched down beside him. He glanced once at Draco, with a frown, but when
Draco said and did nothing, he nodded as if to himself and then focused on the
flames. He caught his breath. �I never heard of an effect like this,� he
murmured. Once again, his hand gave the twitch that seemed to indicate he
wished he had a notebook nearby.

�� Draco
stared at him. He had to widen his eyes, he thought absurdly, because if he
blinked, then Potter might vanish. So many other people had abandoned him since
he was cursed. The Healers at St. Mungo�s. Granger. Even his own mother seemed
to think the cause hopeless. Why did Potter stay?

�� Potter�s
face was set as he watched the flames, but he didn�t look away. In fact, he
flicked his wand, and letters started to scratch themselves in the grass and
sand next to the firepit. His nose wrinkled, and he shook his head. He found
the excesses of the people in the flames disgusting, Draco thought. He probably
hated the way they had tortured Draco.

�� He should.
He was the only friend Draco had left right now, the only one who understood. The only one Draco wanted to
touch, or hold, or be near, or speak to in a low voice. The only one he would
feel comfortable talking about how he suffered under the curse to. The Healers
would say it was hopeless and only ask him how he felt so as to have more
information about the curse. His mother would expect him to hide his emotions
and die with dignity. Granger�Draco didn�t know Granger well enough to think of
what she would have him do.

�� He blinked
his eyes. Sweat dripped into them, but he didn�t know why. The flame, in its
present form, was incapable of exuding heat. It couldn�t be affecting him.

�� Are you
all right, Draco?� Potter looked away from the fire with a frown. He waved a
hand back and forth in front of his eyes.

�� Yes. That
was right, Draco thought. He had opened his mouth to say that Potter should
watch the images moving in the glass and not worry about him, but he couldn�t
say that, because Potter�s attention belonged on him. How could he ever have
thought that it didn�t? He blinked, and his eyelashes sawed across his face.

�� A whip
uncoiled in his mind. Suddenly he was filled with roaring heat, and his belly
was so empty that it hurt. He curled up with a wordless cry, and waited.

�� Potter�s
hand on his shoulder soothed enough of the hunger that Draco knew what he had
to do. He reached up, grabbed Potter�s wand, and hurled it away. He didn�t want
to break it, because he vaguely knew that he might want Potter to perform
spells later. But he couldn�t let Potter have it, in case he used it to fend
Draco off.

�� Then he
pulled Potter to the ground and used his weight to pin him there. He had to have him now, the need all the
more savage for being denied.

*

�� Harry was
taken totally off-guard, and told himself that that was stupid. He knew what the curse was, knew that the
Cold Water Curse wasn�t likely to last the full three days that it usually did,
and knew how important it was to keep an eye on Draco at all times. But still
he had let his guard down, and here was Draco writhing on top of him, mouthing
at his throat and holding his wrists to the grass with ruthless efficiency.

�� For a
moment, Harry breathed pure fear. He was on the bottom, not as heavy as Draco
in the first place, and without the benefits of full Auror training that Ron
had had. He was without a wand. He was going to be�

�� Draco�s
hand that wasn�t on his wrists plunged between their bodies and came to rest on
Harry�s cock, pulling and massaging in a way that made him writhe with pain.
Then it ripped his clothes away.

�� He knew
exactly what Draco wanted, what the curse would make him desire.

�� Terror and
instinct lent Harry the only weapons he could use. He rammed his head up, and
his forehead hit Draco in the nose.

�� Draco
shuddered and cried out. The note in his voice was strange, alien�not a sound
of pain, Harry realized, but of frustration. Draco cared more about being
balked of the prize that he reached for than he cared about being hurt. He was
ducking down again a minute later, pulling Harry�s legs apart and trying to sit
on them and hold Harry�s hands still at the same time.

�� But his
grip was uncertain, and Harry managed to roll over and catch Draco in the gut
with his knee. Draco folded up, groaning. Harry didn�t stay to see if he had
badly hurt him. He scrambled for his wand.

�� Incarcerous!�

�� Oh, fuck.

�� Draco had
remembered he had a wand. The only possible comfort to Harry at the moment was
the fact that he flung it away in turn as he approached Harry, his hips rolling
and his smile confident and hard-edged. Harry gripped the ropes in his hands
and tried to rip them up�they could only be attached to the grass, which
wouldn�t give them a firm hold�but they stayed in place. Draco dropped down
next to him, breathing hard.

�� You led me
a chase,� he murmured. His face had an ugly flush on it, though Harry didn�t
know if that was perhaps because he was seeing it as the face of his rapist.
�But I�ll make you love it in the end.� He bent over and stuck his tongue into
Harry�s mouth, while his hands went to work ripping Harry�s clothes further
open.

�� Harry bit
his tongue, and sank his teeth deep when Draco snarled a curse and tried to rip
free. He only had one chance, and he didn�t know if it would work, given that
he hadn�t practiced much wandless magic in the last few years.

�� He
channeled as much rejection and power as he could through his teeth. Pain had
brought Draco back to his senses before, when Harry forced it into his body.
Maybe it would happen this time.

�� Draco
jerked as though someone had shoved him into a pool holding a Muggle telly, and
then backed off, breathing wildly while staring at him with what seemed like
hatred. Harry spat blood�Draco�s blood�and stared back, hoping it would work.

�� Then
Draco�s face melted into a grin. �I should have guessed that you would like it
rough,� he said hoarsely, and reached out to grab Harry�s hair.

�� Harry
tossed his head back and forth, trying to dislodge his grip and think of
something else that he could do at the same time. But Draco was being careful
this time, and he dashed Harry�s head against the ground as hard as he could
the moment he got hold of it.

�� Stars whirled
and burst in Harry�s skull. He gasped and thought that he would faint, but he
clung to consciousness by biting his own lip, this time. He was not going to fall unconscious. That
would mean being unable to defend himself from Draco. He would come back and free himself. He would not be raped.

�� But it
didn�t seem as though he had much choice in it. Draco had already undone his
trousers. His eyes were distant and glazed, but they focused on Harry�s arse
well enough. He paused and looked around, apparently distracted because he
needed his wand for a lubrication spell, and then shrugged and spat on his
fingers.

�� Oddly
enough, it was that which gave Harry the final jolt of fury to struggle more.
Having Draco suddenly force his way inside would hurt no matter how it
happened, but to think of it happening with only saliva to slick the way was
intolerable.

�� Harry felt
a surge of fear pass through him and slam into Draco, the way that he
remembered feeling his anger right before he blew up Aunt Marge. Draco went
flying and crashed into the ground five feet away. When he tried to sit back
up, Harry�s magic grabbed his head and slammed it down in a perfect imitation
of the way that he had used Harry�s.

�� Draco
panted as he staggered back up. The glaze in his eyes flickered like a swaying
curtain and returned, but Harry thought it was a little thinner this time.
�Harry?� he whispered, frowning as though he didn�t understand.

�� Draco.�
Harry wanted to leap to his feet and run away. He wanted to get in the shower
and bathe until he had scraped a layer of skin free. But he kept his voice
steady, because being able to do either of those things depended on getting
through to Draco. Harry knew that he wouldn�t be able to remove these ropes by
himself, especially not if he had a concussion. �I don�t want this. It�s the
curse taking hold again. Can you hear me? Can you understand what I�m saying to
you?�

�� Draco�s
nostrils flared, and he snapped his head up in a short nod, as though to say
that Harry was trying his patience. �Stop treating me like a child, Potter��

�� He stopped.
But Harry had heard enough to close his eyes in relief. The tone was Draco�s as
he knew him, Draco in control of his mind.

�� Oh, God,�
Draco said in a small voice, terrible to hear.

�� Get me out
of these ropes,� Harry murmured. He kept his voice neutral, as though Draco had
done nothing bad, as though he were merely interested in standing up again. He
thought things would be easier on both of them that way.

�� He couldn�t
help it when Draco�s hand came to rest on the ropes; he flinched. Draco stopped
and made a low, doubtful sound, rather like a dog Harry had once known at the
house next to the Dursleys� that wouldn�t take food from strangers. Harry
rasped a few breaths that made his chest hurt and remind himself that the curse
might come back at any moment.

�� Use your
wand.�

�� Draco
scrambled up and went for it. Harry waited until the ropes snapped away from
his limbs. Then he stood up and rearranged his clothes. He didn�t look in
Draco�s direction, not wanting to see what he looked like at the moment.

�� He would in
a little while, he told himself as he went to retrieve his own wand. Just�not
right now.

*

�� It was
strange, the way Draco remembered it. It was as though he had opened a door in
his soul and invited someone he�d never met before, a lustful creature with
only fucking on its mind, to come through.

�� Not invited, he reminded himself when he
realized that he was thinking like that. You
didn�t cast the curse on yourself. It�s the fault of whoever did.

�� Their fault
that Potter avoided his eyes now and spoke in clipped tones. Their fault that
Potter was careful to keep a constant distance between their bodies. Their
fault that Potter was scraping his nails against his skin, the way Draco saw
him doing several times out of the corner of his eye, on his face and his chest
and his wrists, where Draco had touched him.

�� Their fault
that somewhere under the surface of his mind an eager voice murmured and valued those signs of Potter�s reaction,
rather than feeling sick because of them.

�� The flames
seem to be dead,� Potter said, pointing his wand at the glassy black shards in
the firepit but not casting a spell yet. Draco appreciated that, with the third
of his mind that was focused on what happened around him instead of on blame or
on the thought that Potter might never want to come near him again after this.
�Is there any way that we can get the vision back?�

�� Draco shook
his head. Bile clogged his throat. �No,� he admitted. �That spell only works
once. We�ve lost the chance to find out who they were�if we ever had it.� He
turned away, driving his fingers into his palm, welcoming the pain.

�� I wonder,�
Potter said. �There was no reason for the Cold Water Curse to fade that
abruptly. I saw it happen. I wonder�you said that this symbolic fire
strengthened curses that were cast near it. Do you think that Nova Cupiditas could have returned
suddenly because of that?�

�� Draco felt
a surge of hope pass through him, but in the end, he had to shake his head. �I
don�t think so,� he said. �Or maybe it did happen. We don�t know. I don�t know. Did anything you read
about the curse mention that the Cold Water one was usually used to combat it?�

�� No,�
Potter said, and his voice was gentle, though�Draco couldn�t help thinking�not
as gentle as it would have been a short while ago. �I was surprised it worked.
I reckon that surprise was the right reaction, rather than being shocked when
the curse reasserted itself.�

�� Bitterness
scored his voice. Draco turned swiftly towards him. Potter was picking through
the ashes in the pit, his face set in a fierce frown.

�� You can�t
give up,� Draco said. He wanted to scream at the thought of that happening. It couldn�t. �Promise me that you won�t
give up.�

�� Potter
blinked and glanced at him. �I�m not,� he said. �But the curse is more powerful
and trickier than I suspected. And�� He wrapped his arms around himself and
turned his head briefly aside. Draco blinked in turn. He had never seen Potter
look lost or abandoned before. If asked, he would have said that it wasn�t a
look Potter was capable of.

�� Go on,�
Draco said. It didn�t sound right when Potter stopped speaking. The air lacked
a sound it should have held. Draco found himself wanting to turn his head, as
though to catch the last flying echoes of the words in the direction they had
passed.

�� So even my ears can be hungry for him.

�� The
disgust, mingled with fascination and yearning, threatened to come to the
surface again. Draco bent his head and gnawed on his own bitten tongue, which
was still bleeding, until the impulse to speak passed.

�� I didn�t
realize how hard this would be to deal with,� Potter said in a low voice. �I
was stupid. Somehow, I thought I would always be prepared when you�came for
me.�

�� Or failed
to come, as it were,� Draco muttered. He should have kept still, he knew. Now
wasn�t a time for jokes. But he had to have some means of coping with it, and
Potter seemed to do better with that than Draco had expected, the same way he
had known that Draco wouldn�t want to talk about what Granger had witnessed.

�� How does he understand me so well? The curse
doesn�t create a bond of understanding between its object and its victim, or he
should have known at once what had happened to me.

�� Yes,�
Potter said, accepting the joke for what it was. �But I had to realize that you
might attack me when I wasn�t ready.� He exhaled hard suddenly, and when Draco
dared to look at him, he was shaking his head. �I�m sorry,� he said, startling
Draco immensely. �I wish English had better words for things like this. You
aren�t the one who attacked me. It�s the curse, using your body.�

�� It�s still
me,� Draco said. �Speaking with my voice, using my hands. I can�t blame you for
being shy of me.�

�� Potter
nodded soberly. �All right. Thanks. But I think�I think we should go back to my
house, work on wards and spells that might help with keeping you at bay and
giving me some warnings, and then do research.� He glanced at Draco with deep,
haunted eyes. �I know you might want revenge, but it will have to wait.�

�� I agree,�
Draco said, trying to make his words sound like something other than sticks
breaking. He reached out for Potter without thinking, to do the Side-Along.

�� Potter
stepped back.

�� For a
moment, they faced each other, unspeaking, in the wind that blew past them.
Then Draco said, though his mind and his common sense and what he would have
called his conscience if he had one were all against it, �Potter, if you can�t
do this��

�� No! Fuck
them, I will,� Potter said. �They
can�t do this to you. You still deserve help. But it�ll be a bit longer before
I can bear the touches.� He nodded to Draco. �You know enough about my house to
get there?�

�� Draco
nodded back. Potter bowed his head and vanished.

�� Before he
followed, Draco stared at his hand, the one that he had feared he would lose
fingers from. A few minutes ago, he had seen it wrenching at Potter�s clothes,
and his wrists, and his skin.

�� Perhaps it would have been better to lose a
few fingers than have my control diminished.

�� And perhaps
it would have been better to lose his fingers than to hurt Potter, although
Draco had to accept that that was the curse talking. Who was the individual,
other than his parents, whom he would sacrifice his body for?

��

*

�� luvlustblood:
Thank you! I hope you still feel that way after this chapter.

�� SP777:
Their chances of those things are looking smaller by the day.

�� Vibora:
Well, thank you!

�� Lucius�s
reaction will be part of the story a few chapters hence.

�� W�lkchen:
The simple reason is that it won�t work for long, and Harry suspected that even
when he used the Cold Water Curse the first time. He only used it as a
desperation measure, because Draco wasn�t getting off him.

�� Define �happy
ending.�
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Nova Cupiditas