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Rugburn	By : lildove42 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 3193 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 1-Rugburn
- 1
Title: rugburn
Author: lildove42
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: H/D
Warnings: Mmmm, it’s not non-con, I dunno what it is, really. It’s sort of OOC. Oh, character death. Oh, and it’s definitely bottom!Harry.
Length: 3062
Disclaimer: There’d be a lot more rug burn if I were in charge…
A/N: Special thanks to ninjette72 who issued this challenge and millions of kisses to hansbekhart who stayed up really late with me and read parts of it for me as I was writing!
Sticking out his hand, he carefully tested the water’s temperature before easing himself under the showerhead. He winced in pain as the water slid over his knees and feet, mixing with the blood and pus oozing from the open wounds found there. “Fucking Potter,” he muttered sharply under his breath. Still, he found some small pleasure in knowing that Potter’s shower would be even more uncomfortable than his.

Leaning back into the water, he washed himself gently, finding his cock already semi-hard only recalling the image of Potter’s rashed and bloodied back. Yes, fucking Potter was enjoyable enough but making him bleed was ecstasy. And Potter loved to bleed for him. Called out his name like a fucking girl when Draco pushed into him, grinding his naked back into the carpeted floor.

He was surprised to find himself jerking at his dick when he returned from his thoughts. Just a few moments more and Potter would have pleasured him again without ever knowing about it. But no, wanking to Potter’s mental image was something that he would not allow himself to do. This was not some silly crush. Potter was nothing more than a good fuck. Draco promptly removed his hand from its pleasures and continued to wash himself, gently around the still-tender areas.

Stepping out of the shower, he poked and prodded at the burns on his knees, picking at the scab. True he enjoyed making Potter bleed, but he also enjoyed prolonging his own pain. Enjoyed the soreness of it, the pain of it, the feel of it. He felt this pain and knew that Potter’s would be so much greater.

Easing into his trousers and other clothes, he began planning his next rendezvous with Potter. Where he would take him, how. The things he would say to make Potter beg for it like some pathetic puppy, make him writhe like some simpering whore. That’s all Potter was to anyone anyway, just their little fucking whore.
****
Harry sat straight in his chair, far from resting on the back. Ron looked at him with a puzzled expression which he ignored. His shoulders were throbbing painfully. He had seen Madame Pomfrey and told her it was from Quidditch; she had chastised him for being so careless and was attempting to “teach him a lesson” by letting it heal naturally. Blasted nurse.

His eyes wandered over to Draco. The giver of the bruises. The keeper of his heart. He would gladly sacrifice his body again and again if it meant one minute spent with Draco Malfoy. His stomach fluttered whenever the Slytherin so much as glanced in his direction.

Harry kicked himself for giving in to the temptation that was Draco Malfoy. He knew that this could never be a relationship. They had both ruined any chance of that years ago. Still, something about Draco kept Harry returning to him each and every time.

He jumped to attention when the Slytherin stood from his potions’ station and strode purposefully to the store closet. One raised eyebrow was the only indication Harry needed to know that he was to follow Draco. He sidled up next to the blond and picked up various bottles, attempting to look busy.

“11 p.m. Charms classroom. Do not be late.” That said, Harry was left dumbly alone at the stores closet with Snape eyeing him suspiciously from the front of the room.

Returning to his seat, he thought that no one could be any happier than he was in that moment. And he was at least capable of recognizing that the anticipation of the thing was much greater than the sex itself. As he was always left injured after a tryst with Draco. For the life of him, Harry couldn’t figure out what was so enticing about the carpeted floor of the Charms Room that they had to meet there again.
****
He was waiting for Potter in the Charms Room at 10:45. He had healed his own wounds before coming down to the room. He was willing to tolerate pain, but he was no glutton for punishment. Potter played that role rather well; there was no need for both of them to fill it.

He looked at the door as Potter came rushing in, out of breath. “11:02, Potter,” he reprimanded disdainfully.

The other boy had the decency to blush as he began shucking his robes onto the floor. He found himself tsking Potter in a disappointed manner. “Merlin, Potter. I’ve never seen anyone so anxious to be buggered,” he muttered.

The black haired boy looked at him with an apology on the tip of his lips. He shushed him with a harsh kiss. Potter melted into him, which he tolerated momentarily before shoving Potter to the floor.

He casually removed his clothes, one article at a time. His robes slipped from his shoulders, gathering in the crooks of his elbows as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Oh, he knew how sexy he looked. Potter was practically salivating in front of him. Next went the belt, the shoes and socks, and finally, the trousers.

He watched as Potter’s cock went from pallid and soft to nearly purple and absolutely turgid with the blood pooled there. Poor, poor Potter. Insipid little shit, so in love with him, he couldn’t see hatred staring him in the face. Because he did hate Potter. That’s what this was all about. The fucking, the rug burn, it was all about how much he hated Potter.

Potter was crawling towards him now, on his hands and knees. Waiting, wanting to take his cock and lap at it hungrily. The Golden Boy of Gryffindor was making pathetic moans that strongly resembled the mewling of a cat. Draco grabbed that face in his hand and spat, “If I’d wanted pussy, Potter, I’d have Pansy in here.”

He shoved Potter onto the ground and lifted the boy’s hips so that he was in a position to take him. His little whore looked at him questioningly , and he nodded. “Wh…Why can’t I ever be on top, Draco?” His laugh echoed throughout the room. He simply shook his head and went back to business.

He found that he was kinder to Potter since he had begun their little affair. At some point, he had begun using lubricant. Not because he felt sorry for Potter, his Golden Whore of Gryffindor, but, well, for some reason that he could not quite translate into language.

Once again he shoved himself full-hilt into Potter, ramming and driving him into the carpet. Potter’s face was a contorted mixture of pleasure and pain. He cried out at the thrill of Draco’s cock against his prostate while tears seeped from the corners of his eyes at the opening of those wounds on his shoulders and back.

Still, in spite of the pain, Potter came screaming his name just as he had every time before. “Gods, YES, Draco!!!!”

He couldn’t understand how the little prick always came like that. He never touched him. Never helped him along by deigning to touch that dick with his hands. Never so much as gave it a second glance.

Potter reached for him in an effort to embrace but he pushed those hands away. He cared nothing for pathetic cuddling and empty, meaningless words and declarations. He left the other boy reaching up to him and returned to his clothes, putting them back on in the same meticulous order that he had shed them.
****
Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower and made his way to the bathroom. He cringed and whimpered as he peeled his shirt off of his bleeding back. Glancing in the mirror, angling for the best view, he could only shake his head. The skin had simply vanished, burned off due to the friction of flesh on carpet.

The first time he had been angry at Draco. Not gone to him again for a week. Gotten Hermione to heal it for him, ignoring her raised eyebrows and looks of concern. But it had become routine. The Charms Room, some night, some time, on the carpet. Always on the carpet.

It had only begun to occur to him that perhaps Draco wanted it this way, that Draco enjoyed hurting him like this. Harry knew that Draco wasn’t there for Harry’s gratification, and he didn’t mind that. He had come to terms with that long ago.

But lately, with this rug burn, Harry didn’t understand. Couldn’t comprehend what drove Draco to do this to him. And yet…And yet he had begun to expect it. To almost enjoy the combination of overwhelming feelings when he was with Draco. That disturbed him perhaps more than anything else included in his involvement with Draco.

He cast a quick cleaning spell on his shirt and went to his bed. Easing himself onto the mattress and shutting himself off from the world with the closing of his curtains.

The following morning, Harry woke and cast another cleaning spell on his sheets after he had peeled them off his back. Then he rushed to the showers so that he could be out and dressed before anyone could see his back.

Hermione and Ron eyed him suspiciously throughout the day. And during Quidditch practice, Fred or George clapped him on the back resulting in a yelp and flinch that left them all asking if he needed to see the nurse. He hastily nodded no and practically ran from the pitch. Ron, however, caught up with him and pinned him against a wall.

“Look, mate, I dunno what’s been going on with you, but you’ve got to come off it. I don’t care who she is or what it is, but you’re killing yourself. You think none of us see the difference? I saw you in the bathroom last night, Harry. I fucking saw you. Who the hell is doing this to you?”

His friend’s face was furrowed with worry, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead he shrugged Ron’s hand off his shoulder and looked past him. “I’m handling it, Ron. I swear. Just…just let it go for now.”

He sighed as Ron let out a strangled sound of disbelief and left him leaning up against the wall.

He cornered Draco in the Great Hall later that evening. “Draco, we need to talk…”

Draco looked at him sharply. “Fuck, Potter. Not here. Char-”

He interrupted the Slytherin before he had a chance to finish. “No, not the Charms Room. The Transfiguration Room. 9:00.”

He stalked off leaving a slightly bewildered blond behind him.
****
He stormed into the Transfiguration Room at 9:01. Two could play at this fucking game, he thought. Whatever the fuck Potter wanted, it had better be good.

Looking up, he saw Potter leaning casually against the desk. If he thought this was going to be some sort of warped role reversal, he had another thing coming. He, Draco Malfoy, did not bottom.

“Well? What the fuck is it, Potter?” he asked scathingly.

“Draco, people are talking. People are noticing. We can’t keep on like we have…”

“People are noticing what? That you’re sneaking off to meet a Slytherin? That you’re fucking Draco Malfoy? If that’s the case, they’re probably all bloody jealous. What, pray tell Potter, can we not keep on like?”

“Ron saw my back. People know and they’re worried. We can’t keep meeting in the Charms Room. Merlin, Draco, I can’t sleep sometimes. I don’t want to stop what we have, I just think we need another room to meet…” Harry was cut off by the harsh set of Draco’s face.

“Listen, Potter…” Draco paused and took a deep breath, “Harry, we meet on my terms, got that? I started this little assignation and I set the rules. So we meet when I say, where I say. Got it, Potter?”

Harry cocked his head to the side and looked thoughtful before speaking. “What’s in this for me, Draco? I mean, sure I get laid on a pretty regular basis. But what about the pain? I’m in pain all the time. You know that? I think you do, I think you enjoy that. And if that’s the case, I’m not sure I want to do this anymore. So, you think about that for a while and you see if you can’t find somewhere for us to meet besides the Charms Room.”

He didn’t stop to listen for a response. He simply lifted his chin, squared his shoulders and left the room.
****
“Who the fuck does that little shit think he is? Speaking to me that way? I’ll show him and his little pretentious cock what he can do with his demands…Oh, I will find somewhere else to meet. And he’ll be all the more sorry for it.” Draco cursed as he kicked the leg of his bed in his pacing.

He threw down the covers and fell on the bed, punching at the pillow beneath his head.

The next day in Potions, Draco caught Potter’s eye and nodded towards the store closet with a smirk. They reached the door at the same moment and he muttered under his breath. “You want it your way, fine. Tonight. 10:30. This room. If you’re even a minute late, I’m leaving.”

Just as Draco knew he would, Potter showed up early in an attempt to appease him. It was 10:25 when Potter walked into the room. He looked around nervously.

“What’s the matter, Potter? I thought you wanted a new meeting place,” he offered nonchalantly.

“Yeah, sure I did. I just thought it might be somewhere other than the Potions Room…” Potter said quietly as though Snape might jump out at any moment.

“I named a new place. Shall we begin?”

Potter nodded and Draco watched, mildly fascinated with the movement of the boy’s adam’s apple as he swallowed nervously. Potter began disrobing when Draco held up a hand to stop him.

“No, Potter. You wanted something different, yes? Well, come over here. I want you to undress me.”

Potter made his way over to Draco, his hands trembling as they moved up to slide the robe off Draco’s shoulders. His breath ghosted over Draco’s neck and he found himself shivering involuntarily. That sensation, however, only lasted a second before he steeled his will to the task at hand.

The other boy had moved on to his tie and shirt, removing each piece of clothing as carefully as Draco himself would. Finally, the Slytherin stood before the Gryffindor, one completely naked, the other fully clothed.

Draco looked into Potter’s questioning face, knowing that his little slut was dying to remove his own clothes. One sharp look and the unspoken question was gone. Instead, Potter sank to his knees and took Draco tentatively in his mouth.

Not one to let Potter adjust to him, he shoved his cock deep into Potter’s mouth, laughing at the sound of the boy’s gagging. He pulled at that jet-black hair and forced Potter down on his dick. Draco was enjoying the hot wetness of Potter’s mouth when he fisted that hair and dragged the other boy up by it.

He shoved Potter to the floor. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You still think this is about you? You think you can sneak your finger up my ass and I’m not going to notice it? This is not about you, Potter. I gave you a new room so that none of your precious little friends has to know your dirty little secret, but I’ll be damned if you’re getting anything more from me. If you ever pull that shit again, I swear on everything you hold dear that I will kill you.”

He tore the robes off Potter’s body and jerked him back up off the floor. Potter willingly went to the nearest desk and bent over it, spreading his legs to give Draco easier access. Stupid little whore, Draco thought to himself, he keeps coming back for more even when he knows I don’t give a shit.

Since he couldn’t make Potter bleed with the rug burn that had been so successful and brought him so much pleasure lately, he resorted to fucking without the aid of lubricant. He spread Potter’s ass with his hands and without so much as a finger to help him adjust, Draco shoved his cock through Potter’s entrance.

Potter cried out and arched his back, pawing at the desk to get away from Draco. It had been a while since Draco had last taken him like this. He had no doubt that it did indeed hurt. But slowly the blood built up within Potter’s hole and Draco found a rhythm and a wetness in that tight space that brought him to orgasm.

He pulled out and watched the thick mixture of Potter’s blood and his own juices sluicing down the boy’s legs for a moment before pulling his clothes on and leaving Potter sprawled across the desk, his body still wracked with silent sobs.
****
That night a battle broke out on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. By the next day, it was clear who was on what side. Half of Slytherin left to join their families at the side of Voldemort. Draco Malfoy among them.

Harry wondered briefly whether he could kill Draco in battle if he knew that it was Draco he was facing. He doubted it, but as of yet, he had only faced masked Death Eaters.

He had been held down all day in this corner with Ron and Hermione. They had watched many fellow students fall at the hands of Voldemort’s army and the Order. It was hard to remember that there were students on both sides of the field that day. Some on Voldemort’s side that surprised them, like the Creevey brothers.

Harry watched as another Death Eater approached them. He watched in slow motion as the mask was removed and Draco stood before him. Harry looked at him, a thousand unanswerable questions in his eyes. Draco sneered at him.

He raised his hand, whispered the two deadliest words that he knew, and watched as a look of disbelief spread over Draco’s face just before his body crumpled lifelessly to the ground.
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Rugburn