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The Protector	By : muteandtremorless Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 3710 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Title: The Protector
Summary: Through disobedience to his father Draco begins to care for Harry, but does he take it too far? And if so what will he do?
Rating: NC-17, for sex [m/m]
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, and am not profiting from them.
Warnings: nonconsensual sex, slash, abuse.

It's not that I reached the end, not completely, not entirely, it's just that everyday had begun to hurt. Everyday the emptiness and the longing grew so intense that it made my mind break apart. It's hard to remember the first time, the first incidence that set it off, only because the memory hurts. Only because my mind has to forget it, because without it I wouldn't be who I am today.
It was the Christmas of my first year at Hogwarts. The year I first tried to befriend Potter. The first year that I was truly able to fail at something. My father didn't even say hello, he didn't have to say anything, I knew, I knew already his thousands of secrets. I knew what he would beat me with, and I knew for how long, I'd known for years. It was always the same, when I did something wrong.
That time it was different though. He used more force. Like he really wanted to kill me, like I was that terrible of a child, a person. At first I resisted, I moved my arms and legs against him. I was so cocky then, still thinking that thinking I was the best; that somehow my new found school glory would come with me, would walk upright into my father's house. But no, I was still the frightened little boy I'd always been. I can still feel it now; the memory is that vivid. The pain bit so hungrily into my skin, wanting to tear off pieces like scabs. Now I realize that this beating surpassed me, it's root lay in my father's failure, in Voldemort's failure.
I couldn't stop crying afterwards. I tried everything to stop. To keep such immaturity inside. I slapped my face, but that only made me scream. Shout. Yell. My hand covered my mouth, my teeth bit into my hand, but the scream cracked through me, everything through me. Shattering me. My life poured out of me in such a messy spilling of emotions. That was the first time I ever thought of killing myself. Then it wasn't such a milestone, but now, seemingly ages later it is. It was too late though, my father had come back, wanting to hurt and humiliate me more.
"Shut up!" I watched his thin lips form those words, the points of his teeth even quivered with rage. The viciousness in his voice a warning, a pay heed or else. I couldn't though. I begged the silence to pull up out of me and to rush over my lips like a blanket. By that time I couldn't breathe. The tears only fell harder like sticky drops of rain. He began to hit me hard, very, very hard in the face.
"Stop it, stop it! I just want to die!" The words stuck to my tongue; they barely trickled out of my mind. What finally did come forth came out in a breathless whine.
"Dad." It was barely a whisper. I could only say it once more before his fist landed upside my head and I blacked out.
I was stupid then, I still expected him to love me, to see me as more than a tool. It wasn't just that though that set the wheels of pain in motion.
I'll tell you the real reason why I hate muggles so much: they can wear their scars. Their pain isn't magicked away. It stays forever visible on their skin, a reminder, a warning.
I got nothing, to keep, to hold onto. The memories and pain were only trapped in my mind, never anyone else's.
After a beating my mother would usually rush to my side and comfort me. She was naturally a very cold woman, but she was a mother too. She would hold me in her arms, and stroke my hair with her long fingernails. Sometimes when I was little and the beatings were really bad she would rock me back and fourth in her arms as she murmured softly the words that would bring me sleep as my body became whole again. As the scars ripped themselves away from me and into nothingness. That Christmas though, that Christmas she didn't come. Though I lay there unconscious for a long time, she would not come to my aide. When I awoke I found her in the dining room reading a magazine. She didn't look up until I drew close enough to touch her. I was just going to tug on her sleeve, just to get her attention, but she practically jumped, hissing in surprise.
"Draco." It wasn't a soft soothing tone though, it was an I've-heard-this-too-man-times tone. That was what hurt. She healed me quickly, using the spell in loud severe tones, and left me there to sleep it off. Alone.
Perhaps that was what inspired me to disobey. To not be the perfect son, to not recruit Harry Potter but to push him away, every chance that I got. To be cruel to him, to scare him away from all Slytherins, from his second destiny.
Not only was he The Boy Who Lived, but as the rest of the wizarding world new, he had the potential to be the next Voldemort.
I grew over time to like Potter, because he was not me. Because he had loving friends, and all the staff loved him. I liked him as everyone else liked him, but I noticed something else about Potter too. He was lonely. He longed for his parents and wanted nothing more than to be reunited with them. I watched him, so very carefully I watched him. Making sure that he would indeed remain The Boy Who Lived.
Snape knew what I was doing. He could see through me, he could see through everyone. He gave Harry a hard time too. Snape also knew when I began to see Harry as more than just an enemy-friend. He tried to warn me, he tried to say that I wouldn't be able to protect him if I loved him, but I wouldn't listen. I was still so stubborn. Harry had become the only good thing in my life. He was the only reason I awoke in the morning. The only reason I could move, could sit through the monotony of my classes, of my father's beatings, of my mother's frigidness, of the lack of love and true friends in my life.
Love isn't something you can keep bottled up inside. Especially if it's forbidden, or taboo. I held my affections for Harry on my tongue like a sin and I wanted nothing more than to shout it to the world or even just to him.
So one night I stole his invisibility cloak. He was distraught, thinking he had lost it, he cried himself to sleep.
Late that night I covered myself and my broom in the cloak then I flew to his window. It was hard to pry open and took one or two spells to break the locks. The window swung open soundlessly, for which I was thankful. The evening was a little cold but it only caused Ron to sniff and Longbottom to whimper and shove his head under his pillow. I set the broom on the window ledge and crept in. He looked so beautiful sleeping; the tears having dried themselves in his eyes made the fleshy parts look puffy and swollen. I lay on his top of him pressing my weight onto his chest until his eyes flew open and he nearly gasped.
"Shhhh." I whispered, easing off his chest and covering his mouth with my cloak swathed hand. I'm sure he could feel the material on his tongue and lips. His eyes widened "If you come with me I'll give you the cloak back." He nodded slowly. I stood and tiptoed carefully back to the window, I positioned myself on the broom and swished the cloak so that he would see where I was. I left the tail end of the broom sticking out. He jumped on and slid his hands around my middle.
I'd already picked the room long ago; it was buried deep within a set of several other locked rooms. It lay on the first level and was rather warm. I covered his eyes as I led him silently through the labyrinth of now dusty abandoned nothingness. He remained quiet the entire time. When we finally got the room I lit two candles and sat him down on the blanket on the ground. He looked around a little weary, perhaps frightened.
"What do you want?"
That was a stupid question really. I pressed gently on his shoulders until he lay down. Then I kissed him through the fabric of the cloak; he spit it back at me. I pulled my wand from my pocket and muttered blintious softly. His eyes clouded over with a blue murkiness. "I can't see!" I threw the cloak off.
"It will go away, just do what I want." He started to talk again but I silenced him with my mouth. He tasted of watery spit and his breath was hot and almost a delicious liquidy moist. He only wore a thin white sleeping gown and a somewhat ratty looking pair of underwear. His humanity made me smirk. He squeaked when I removed it. He really didn't want it to go. To calm him down I began to talk my voice lower than normal and far softer.
"I've been watching you, protecting you." I began to remove my clothes. "Ever since I met you I knew that I had to keep you safe."
"From what?" I placed my clothes next to his in a pile. Then I lay on top of him just savoring the feel of his chest pressed against mine. Gently I stroked the base of his cock with my nails. It sprang to life a bit unwillingly. I knew he would like it though. He nearly moaned. I knew that sometimes he woke up wet. I knew that he looked at Ron just a little differently than he looked at all the other boys, but I knew too that he looked at girls the same way. I kissed him, just because he looked so sexy and helpless, my hips straddling his, my cock pressed against his. I began to rock forward as I spoke.
"From the things that want to hurt you." He began to shiver, I don't think he'd ever done this before. I knew that once, while Ron slept, as Ron was such a heavy sleeper Harry touched him, just to sleep what it would be like, but that was as far as he'd ever gotten with a boy. Ever.
"Are you going to hurt me?" I stared down at his cock hungrily. He was still developing, with one hand I let the fleshy parts of my finger tips gently creep up to his tip, while I stuck one of my fingers in my mouth.
"I told you," I began before I stuck one finger into his hole. His body froze and went ramrod straight. "I'm here to protect you." He started to struggle then but only tore his opening by forcing his soft warm skin against my nails. He gritted his teeth in pain. I pressed onto the soft part of his abdomen with my free hand until it caused him enough discomfort to stop his movement. He tried to push me off him. He was rather strong, but unfortunately wandless and still sleepy. The night prior he'd been out running around in his invisibility cloak, he hadn't sleep decently in a long while.
"Remember your cloak." That didn't stop him though, he only pushed harder, thinking in his blindness and exhaustion he could still over power me. "Harry." I begged, pulling my finger out of him and gripping the sides of his hands. "Harry, please stop." My voice was getting higher and more alarmed. I just wanted him to stop, I just wanted to show him love, the only kind of love.
I hit him.
He recoiled shocked and I pushed his hands onto the blanket, I cast a spell: cantenaous and his hands stayed sprawled away from his body. I began to cry softly. In almost a comforting way his name rose to my lips and I would say it quietly to myself as I worked. My hands started to shake as I lubricated him. I tried to be gentle. Every so often I placed my hands on his hips and would massage slowly as I slid my tongue into him and licked him. The helplessness of his situation must have hit him because he remained quiet. After a while he began to whimper and I held him, pressing him close to my body before entering him. Then he started to cry. To sob. I wanted him to enjoy this. I wanted to show him love. I kissed him, but his mouth still frowned and horrid sounds emerged from it. His tears pressed themselves against me and lifted off his face.
"Stop crying, Harry. Stop crying." I fucked him slowly, nice and slow. I wanted it to be love. I wanted so much for him to just start enjoying it. He was so frightened, and scared. He wouldn't stop crying.
I began hitting him again and again each time harder, more furious than the previous. I could feel my father in me. I could feel his disappointment and his rage. I could feel his failure in succeeding, only this was a little different. This, this was love. I began to fuck him harder, faster, and faster until his body could no longer take it peacefully. His arousal had long since dissipated, and his fearful sobbing turned to painfully loud cries. I wanted to hear him scream. If he was going to be so unhappy all the time, if he wasn't going to accept my love, I would hurt him. I rode him so hard that when I came it even hurt me, I was jammed so far inside of him, and he was so tight it was almost suffocating. He screamed though. He screamed like he held the pain of the entire world inside of him. It echoed inside of me, staining me.
My hand flew to his mouth, but it didn't matter. I pulled out of him fast and then I gathered him into my arms and undid all the spells. His eyes were closed though and he no longer wanted to move. I rocked him back and fourth, back and fourth and whispered the healing spell my mother had taught me time and time again.
I held him in my arms the rest of the night as he slept. When morning crept up I knew that I had to return him. That I had to put him back in his bed, I only wanted to run away with him. To wake him up so he could look at me so I could apologize and say I would never do it again if he would just come with me. That I would keep him safe from everything, even his loneliness. I put his clothes back on him though, and took him back to his bed. Carefully I lay the cloak at his feet, and went back to my own room.
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The Protector